FIDELIA. It hath been said that, when Ulysses was Ten years at Troy, and ten years more, alas! Wandering abroad as chance and fortune led, Penelope supposing him for dead: But he, providing still for afterclaps, When he had 'scap'd a thousand hard mishaps, It did him good to reckon up at last Unto his wife his travails he had pass'd, And sweetly then recording his distress To make the more account of happiness. So I----
HERMIONE. Then, as the turtle that hath found her mate Forgets her former woes and wretched state, Renewing now her drooping heart again, Because her pleasure overcomes her pain; The same of thy desired sight I make, Whereon thy faith, thy heart and hand I take.
FIDELIA. And so I swear to thee unfeignedly To live thine own, and eke thine own to die.
BOMELIO. Gog's blood! villains! the devil is in the bed of straw! Wounds! I have been robb'd, robb'd, robb'd! where be the thieves? My books, books! did I not leave thee with my books? Where are my books? my books! where be my books, villain? arrant villain!
HERMIONE. O father! my dear father, hark.
BOMELIO. Father, my dear father? Soul! give me my books. Let's have no more tarrying: the day begins to be dark; it rains: it begins with tempests. Thunder and lightning! fire and brimstone! And all my books are gone, and I cannot help myself, nor my friends. What a pestilence! who came there?
HERMIONE. I'll tell you, father, if you please to hear.
BOMELIO. What can'st thou tell me? tell me of a turd. What, and a' come? I conjure thee, foul spirit, down to hell! Ho, ho, ho! the devil, the devil! A-comes, a-comes, a-comes upon me, and I lack my books. Help! help! help! Lend me a sword, a sword! O, I am gone! [_He raves_.
FIDELIA. Alas! how fell he to this madding mood?
HERMIONE. The heavens and earth deny to do us good!
FIDELIA. O father! my good father, look on me.
BOMELIO. What meant I not to shut up the door, and take the keys with me, and put the books under the bed-straw? Out, you whore! a whore, a whore! Gog's blood! I'll dress you for a whore. I have a cause to curse whores as long as I live. Come away, come away! Give me my books, my books: give me, give me, give! [_Exit_.
FIDELIA. Help, help me, good Hermione! [_Exit_.