_ Sir, you have mist your way, I am not she.
_Elder Lo._ Would he had mist his way too, though he had
Wandered farther than Women are ill spoken of,
So he had mist this misery, you Lady.
_Lady._ How do you do, Sir?
_Elder Lo._ Well enough I hope.
While I can keep my self out from temptations.
_Lady._ Leap into this matter, whither would ye?
_Elder Lo._ You had a Servant that your peevishness
Injoined to Travel.
_Lady._ Such a one I have
Still, and shall be griev'd 'twere otherwise.
_El. Lo._ Then have your asking, and be griev'd he's dead;
How you will answer for his worth, I know not,
But this I am sure, either he, or you, or both
Were stark mad, else he might have liv'd
To have given a stronger testimony to th' world
Of what he might have been. He was a man
I knew but in his evening, ten Suns after,
Forc'd by a Tyrant storm our beaten Bark
Bulg'd under us; in which sad parting blow,
He call'd upon his Saint, but not for life,
On you unhappy Woman, and whilest all
Sought to preserve their Souls, he desperately
Imbrac'd a Wave, crying to all that saw it,
If any live, go to my Fate that forc'd me
To this untimely end, and make her happy:
His name was _Loveless_: And I scap't the storm,
And now you have my business.
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