Fer.  Come,
You are to blame:  this heaven that now lookes on us
With rugged brow may quickly smile againe
And then I shall revisite my Eleonora. 
So, farewell. [Exit.

Hen.  Till then with greater care then were the Dragons
Supposd to watch the Golden Apples growing
In the Hesperides, shall Henrico wayte
On his best loved.  Oh, my Eleonora,
I would to heaven there were no war but here
To shoote love darts! each smile from this fayre Eye
May take an Army prisoners:  let me give
My life up here unto these lipps, and yet
I shall, by the sweetnes of a kisse, take back
The same againe.  Oh thou in whom alone
Vertue hath perfect figure, hide not day
In such a Cloud:  what feare hath enterd here? 
My life is twisted in a Thread with thine;
Were’t not defenced, there could nothing come
To make this cheeke looke pale, which at your Eye
Will not fall dead before you.—­

    Enter Buzzano.

Sirra, let all your care and duty bee
Employed to cheere this Lady:  pray, be merry.

Buz.  Oh, sir, yonders such doings.

Hen.  Hell on your bawling! not a sillable to affright her, or I shall tune your instrument there.

Buz.  Hele breake the head of my instrument!  Why, sir, weomen are not affraid to heare of doings.

Hen.  Still jarring?

Buz.  When the whole towne is altogether by th’eares you might give me leave to jar a little my selfe:—­I have done, sir.

Hen.  Putt on thy merryest face, Buzzano.

Buz.  I have but one face, but I can make a great many.

Hen.  My best Eleonora, I shall soone returne: 
In the meane time be owner of this house,
The possesour.  All danger, sweet, shall dwell
Far off:  Ile but enquire the state of things
In the Citty, and fly back to thee with loves wings.
          
                                    [Exit.

Ele.  I prithee call him backe.

Buz.                            Signior Henrico,
She has something more to say to you.    [Redit.

Hen.  To me, sweetest?

Ele. Henrico, doe you love me?

Hen.  By this faire hand.

Ele.  And will you leave me, too?

Hen.  Not for the wealth of Spaine.

Ele.  Since I must be your prisoner let me have
My keepers company, for I am afraid
Some enemy in your absence, like a woolfe
May ceize on me.  I know not whither now
I ere shall see my father:  doe not you
Ravish yourselfe from me, for at the worst
We may dye here, Henrico; and I had rather
Fall in your eye than in your absence be
Dishonord; if the destinyes have not
Spun out a longer thread, lets dye together.