Ele.  I know you will defend me.

Hen.  Will defend thee! 
Have I a life, a soule that in thy service
I would not wish expird!  I doe but borrow
My selfe from thee.

Ele.  Rather you put to Interest
And, for that principall you have credited
To Eleonora her heart is paid backe
As the iust Usury.

Hen.  You undoe me, sweet, With too much love; if ere I marry thee I feare thou’lt kill me.

Ele.  How?

Hen.  With tendring me too much, my Eleonora; For in my conscience thou’lt extreamely love me, And extreames often kill.

Ele.  There can be no extreme of love[21], sir.

Hen.  Yes, but there may; and some say Jealousy Runs from the Sea, a rivolet but deducted From the mayne Channell.

Ele.  This is a new language.

Hen.  Have you not heard men have been killd with Joy? 
Our griefe doth but contract the heart, & gladnesse
Dilate the same; and soo too much of eyther
Is hott i’th’ fourth degree.

Ele.  Sir, your discourse
Is stuff of severall pieces and knitts not
With that you usd but now:  if we can practize
A vertuous love there’s no hurt to exceed in’t. 
—­What doe you, Sir?

Hen.  Looke on thee.

Ele.  Why doe you eye me soe? this is not usuall.  Are you well?

Hen.  Well, never better.

Ele.  Pray heaven it bode me no unhappinesse!  How doth my father?

Hen.  He’s very well, too; feare not.

Ele.  Still I read in your eyes—­

Hen.  What Babyes[22], prety one?  Thy owne face, naught else;
I receive that way all this beauty into
My heart, and ’tis perhaps come backe to looke
Out at the window.  Come, Ile winke againe,
It shall not trouble you:—­hence my trayterous thoughts.

Ele.  Indeed you are not well.

Hen.  Indeed I am not; all’s not well within me. 
Why should I be a villaine? Eleonora
Doe not looke on me; turne those eyes away,
They would betray thee to thy sorrow; or
Lett me by parting carry along with me
That which to know undoes thee.

Ele.  Are you not hurt?

Hen.  Yes.

Ele.  Good heaven defend!  I have a soveraigne Balme.
          
                                     [Exit.

Hen.  Vanish, you ugly shapes, & with her presence
Quitt your sharp stings! into what monstrous creature
Feele I myself a-growing! yet I cannot
Force backe the streame, it comes so fast upon me;
I cannot.

Enter Eleonora.

Ele.  Here, good Henrico, let me see your wound.