A shout within. Re-enter Brennoralt, Stratheman, Marinel
Bren. What shout is that?
Str. They have taken Almerin, my lord.
Bren. Almerin? the devil thank 'em for't!
When I had hunted hard all day, and now35
At length unherded the proud deer, the curs
Have snatch'd him up.
Sound a retreat: there's nothing now behind.
Who saw Doran?
Str. Shall we bring Almerin in?40
Bren. No; gazing is low triumph;
Convey him fairly to the king; he fought
It fairly.
Re-enter Doran
Dor. What youth was that whom you bestrid, my lord,
And sav'd from all our swords to-day? Was he45
Not of the enemy?
Bren. It may be so.
Str. The governor's son, Fresolin, his mistress' brother.[In Doran's ear
Bren. No matter who. 'Tis pity the rough hand
Of war should early courages destroy,
Before they bud, and show themselves i' th' heat50
Of action.
Mar. I threw, my lord, a youth upon a bank,
Which seeking, after the retreat, I found
Dead, and a woman—the pretty daughter of
The forester, Lucilia.55
Bren. See, see, Doran, a sad experiment!
Woman's the cowardli'st and coldest thing
The world brings forth: yet love, as fire works water,
Makes it boil o'er, and do things contrary
To 'ts proper nature. I should shed a tear,60
Could I tell how! Ah, poor Lucilia!
Thou didst for me what did as ill become thee.
Pray, see her gently bury'd.
Boy, send the surgeon to the tent—I bleed.
What lousy cottages th'ave given our souls!65
Each petty storm shakes them into disorder;
And't costs more pains to patch them up again,
Than they are worth by much. I'm weary of
The tenement.[Exeunt
