Ench.  Where is my precious cup, you Antique flames? 
Tis thou that hast convaide it from my bowre,
And I will binde thee in some hellish cave
Till thou recover it againe for me. 
You that are bodyes made of lightest ayre,
To let a Peasant mounted on a Jade
Coozen your curtesies and run away
With such a Jewell, worthy are to endure
Eternall pennance in the lake of fier.

    Enter Lass. and Lucilia.

Lass.  Wilt thou not cease then to pursue me still? 
Should I entreate thee to attend me thus,
Then thou wouldst pant and rest, then thy soft feete
Would be repining at these niggard stones: 
Now I forbid thee, thou pursuest like winde,
Ne tedious space of time nor storme can tire thee. 
But I will seeke out some high slipperie close[64]
Where every step shall reache the gate of death,
That feare may make thee cease to follow me.

Luc.  There will I bodilesse be when you are there, For love despiseth death and scorneth feare.

Lass.  Ile wander, where some boysterous river parts This solid continent, and swim from thee.

Luc.  And there Ile follow though I drown for thee.

Lass.  But I forbid thee.

Luc.  I desire thee more.

Lass.  Art thou so obstinate?

Luc.  You taught me so.

Lass.  I see thou lovest me not.

Luc.  I know I doo.

Lass.  Do all I bid thee then.

Luc.  Bid then as I may doo.

Lass.  I bid thee leave mee.

Luc.  That I cannot doo.

Lass.  My hate.

Luc.  My love.

Lass.  My torment.

Luc.  My delight.

Lass.  Why do I straine to wearie thee with words?  Speech makes thee live; Ile then with silence kill thee, Henceforth be deafe to thy words and dumbe to thy minde.

Ench.  What rock hath bred this savage-minded man? 
That such true love in such rare beauty shines[65]! 
Long since I pittied her; pittie breeds love,
And love commands th’assistance of my Art
T’include them in the bounds of my command. 
Heere stay your wandering steps; chime[66] silver strings,
Chime, hollow caves, and chime you whistling reedes,
For musick is the sweetest chime for love. 
Spirits, bind him, and let me leave[67] my love.

[SCENE 4.]

    Enter A[l]berdure at one doore, and meetes with
    the Pesant at the other doore.

Alb. Hyanthe, o sweet Hyanthe, have I met thee? 
How is thy beautie changed since our departure! 
A beard, Hyanthe? o tis growne with griefe,
But now this love shall tear thy griefe from thee.