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Bren. What made thee stop?

Str. One in's falling sickness

Had a fit which choked the passage; but all is well.

Softly, we are near the place.

Alm. What noise is here to-night? Something on fire?

What, ho!

Send to the virgin-tower; there is disorder thereabouts.

Sol. All's lost, all's lost!

The enemy's upon the place of arms;

And is by this time master of that and of the tower.

Alm. Thou liest!

Mor. Save yourself, my lord, and haste unto the camp;

Ruin gets in on every side.

Alm. There's something in it, when this fellow flies.

Villains, my arms! I'll see what devil, reigns.

Iph. Look, the day breaks!

Fran. You think I'll be so kind

As swear it does not now? Indeed, I will not.

Iph. Will you

Not send me neither your picture, when y'are gone?

That, when my eye is famish'd for a look,

It may have where to feed,

And to the painted feast invite my heart.

Fran. Here, take this virgin bracelet of my hair,

And if, like other men, thou shalt hereafter

Throw it with negligence

'Mongst the records of thy weak female conquests;