SCENE III.

_Enter Abbess_, Cellide, _and Nuns_.

_Ab._ Come to your Mattins Maids; these early hours My gentle Daughter, will disturb a while Your fair eyes, nurtur'd in ease.

_Cel._ No, vertuous Mother, 'Tis for my holy health, to purchase which, They shall forget the Child of ease, soft slumbers. O my afflicted heart, how thou art tortur'd! And Love, how like a Tyrant thou reign'st in me, Commanding and forbidding at one instant; Why came I hither, that desire to have Only all liberty to make me happy? Why did'st thou bring that young man home, O _Valentine_, That vertuous Youth? why didst thou speak his goodness In such a phrase, as if all tongues, all praises Were made for him? O fond and ignorant! Why didst thou foster my affection Till it grew up to know no other Father, And then betray it?

_Ab._ Can ye sing?

_Cel._ Yes, Mother, My sorrows only.

_Ab._ Be gone, and to the Quire then. [_Exeunt._

[_Musick singing._