Cla.  I did indeed, but on mature advice
I have reclaimd that imposition. 
You shall behold me dayly, talke with me,
Doe all the acts that love with Innocence
Can suffer, if youle but overrule your will
To graunt me one request.

Thu.  You wrong my faith
In questioning my graunt of any thing
You can desire wer’t to undoe my selfe
Or combate miseries as yet unheard of,
You[r] least breath may expose me to them.

Cla.  Nay, in this theres no danger; if there be
A real happines on earth, this way
You shall arrive to it.

Tho.  He were unwise Would he not graunt it then.

Thu.  Please you declare it.

Cla.  There is a lady,
Of such a perfect virtue, grace and sweetnes,
That Nature was to all our sex beside
A niggard, only bountiful to her;
One whose harmonious bewtie may intitule
All hearts its captive:  yet she doats on you
With such a masculine fancy that to love her
Is duty in you.

Thu.  It is herselfe, Ime sure.

Tho.  It surely is no other.

Cla.  No, tis one
So farr transcending me, that twere a sinne
Should I deprive you, the most perfect man,
Of her, the perfectest woman.  She will weepe
Even at your name; breath miriads of sighes;
Wring her hands thus; demonstrate all the signes
Of a destracted lover; that in pitty,
Though I did love you well, I have transferd
My right to her, and charge you by all ties
That you affect her with the same true zeale
Which you did me, and ift be possible,
Purer and better.

Tho.  This is the strangest madnes I ere heard of.

Thu.  Is it you, Clariana, that speake all this?

Cla.  You know and heare it is.

Thu.  But I doe scarce
Credit my hearing, or conceive I am
Mortall, for surely, had I bin, your words
Like the decree of heaven had struck me dead. 
What strong temptation lay you on my faith! 
O, Clariana, let me but decline
Passion, and tell you seriously that this
Is cruel in you, first to scorne my love,
Next to admitt a scruple of beleife,
Though you can be perfidious to your selfe,
That I can be soe.  Noe; since you are lost,
Ile like the solitary turtle mourne
Cause I must live without you.  But, pray, tell me
What is she you would have me love?

Cla.  My Mother.

Thu.  Ha, your Mother!

Tho.  Ist possible, lady? you much doe wrong
Your innocence in laboring to enforce
That upon him which is my interest.  Heaven
Smild at the contract twixt us; quiers of Saints
Receivd our mutuall vowes, and though your Mother
May in her passion seeme to have forgott
Her pretious faith, yet when I shall awake
Her sleeping reason with the memory
Of that has past betwixt us, my strong hope
Tells me I shall induce her to the spheare
Which she has movd from.