SCENE II.

_The same. A Room in the same._

_Shouts within. Enter_ CLEORA _and_ TIMANDRA.

_Timand._ They are at our gates: my heart! affrights and horrors Increase each minute. No way left to save us, No flattering hope to comfort us, or means, But miracle, to redeem us from base wrongs And lawless rapine! Are there gods, yet suffer Such innocent sweetness to be made the spoil Of brutish violence? And, of these rebel slaves, He that should offer up his life to guard you, Marullo, cursed Marullo, your own bondman, Purchased to serve you, and fed by your favours-- Nay, start not: it is he; he, the grand captain Of these libidinous beasts, that have not left One cruel act undone that barbarous conquest Yet ever practised in a captive city; He, doting on your beauty, and to have fellows In his foul sin, hath raised these mutinous slaves. Wring not your hands, 'tis bootless; use the means That may preserve you. 'Tis no crime to break A vow when you are forced to it; show your face, And with the majesty of commanding beauty Strike dead his loose affections: if that fail, Give liberty to your tongue, and use entreaties: There cannot be a breast of flesh and blood, Or heart so made of flint, but must receive Impression from your words; or eyes so stern, But, from the clear reflection of your tears, Must melt, and bear them company. Will you not Do these good offices to yourself? poor I, then, Can only weep your fortune.--Here he comes.

_Enter_ MARULLO, _speaking at the door_.

_Mar._ He that advances A foot beyond this comes upon my sword: You have had your ways, disturb not mine.

_Timand._ Speak gently; Her fears may kill her else.

_Mar._ Now Love inspire me! Still shall this canopy of envious night Obscure my suns of comfort? and those dainties Of purest white and red, which I take in at My greedy eyes, denied my famish'd senses?-- The organs of your hearing yet are open; And you infringe no vow, though you vouchsafe To give them warrant to convey unto Your understanding parts the story of A tortured and despairing lover, whom Not fortune but affection marks your slave:-- Shake not, best lady! for, believe 't, you are As far from danger as I am from force: All violence I shall offer tends no further Than to relate my sufferings, which I dare not Presume to do, till, by some gracious sign, You show you are pleased to hear me.

_Timand._ If you are, Hold forth your right hand. [CLEORA _holds forth her right hand._

_Mar._ So, 'tis done; and I With my glad lips seal humbly on your robe My soul's thanks for the favour: I forbear To tell you who I am, what wealth, what honours I made exchange of, to become your servant: And though I knew worthy Leosthenes (For sure he must be worthy, for whose love You have endured so much) to be my rival, When rage and jealousy counsell'd me to kill him, Which then I could have done with much more ease, Than now, in fear to grieve you, I dare speak it, Love, seconded with duty, boldly told me The man I hated, fair Cleora favour'd; And that was his protection. [CLEORA _bows._

_Timand._ See, she bows Her head in sign of thankfulness.

_Mar._ He removed by The occasion of the war, (my fires increasing By being closed and stopp'd up,) frantic affection Prompted me to do something in his absence That might deliver you into my power, Which you see is effected: and even now, When my rebellious passions chide my dulness, And tell me how much I abuse my fortunes, Now it is in my power to bear you hence, [CLEORA _starts._ (Nay, fear not, madam; true love is a servant, But brutish lust a tyrant,) only thus much Be pleased I may speak in my own dear cause; And think it worthy your consideration, (I have loved truly, cannot say deserved, Since duty must not take the name of merit,) That I so far prize your content, before All blessings that my hope can fashion to me, That willingly I entertain despair, And, for your sake, embrace it; for I know, This opportunity lost, by no endeavour The like can be recover'd. To conclude, Forget not that I lose myself to save you: For what can I expect but death and torture, The war being ended? and, what is a task Would trouble Hercules to undertake, I do deny you to myself, to give you, A pure unspotted present, to my rival. I have said: if it distaste not, best of virgins! Reward my temperance with some lawful favour, Though you contemn my person. [CLEORA _kneels, then pulls off her glove, and offers her hand to_ MARULLO.

_Timand._ See, she kneels, And seems to call upon the gods to pay The debt she owes your virtue: to perform which, As a sure pledge of friendship, she vouchsafes you Her fair right hand.

_Mar._ I am paid for all my sufferings. Now, when you please, pass to your private chamber: My love and duty, faithful guards, shall keep you From all disturbance; and when you are sated With thinking of Leosthenes, as a fee Due to my service, spare one sigh for me. [_Exeunt._ CLEORA _makes a low courtesy as she goes off._