El.  Lo. Mistris I came to see you.

La. That’s happily dispatcht, the next.

El.  Lo. To take leave of you.

La. To be gone?

El.  Lo. Yes.

La. You need not have despair’d of that, nor have us’d so many circumstances to win me to give you leave to perform my command; is there a third?

El.  Lo. Yes, I had a third had you been apt to hear it.

La. I?  Never apter.  Fast (good servant) fast.

El.  Lo. ’Twas to intreat you to hear reason.

La. Most willingly, have you brought one can speak it?

El.  Lo. Lastly, it is to kindle in that barren heart love and forgiveness.

La. You would stay at home?

El.  Lo. Yes Lady.

La. Why you may, and doubtlesly will, when you have debated that your commander is but your Mistris, a woman, a weak one, wildly overborn with passions:  but the thing by her commanded, is to see Dovers dreadful cliffe, passing in a poor Water-house; the dangers of the merciless Channel ’twixt that and Callis, five long hours sail, with three poor weeks victuals.

El.  Lo. You wrong me.

La. Then to land dumb, unable to enquire for an English hoast, to remove from City to City, by most chargeable Post-horse, like one that rode in quest of his Mother tongue.

El.  Lo. You wrong me much.

La. And all these (almost invincible labours) performed for your Mistris, to be in danger to forsake her, and to put on new allegeance to some French Lady, who is content to change language with your laughter, and after your whole year spent in Tennis and broken speech, to stand to the hazard of being laught at, at your return, and have tales made on you by the Chamber-maids.

El.  Lo. You wrong me much.

La. Louder yet.

El.  Lo. You know your least word is of force to make me seek out dangers, move me not with toyes:  but in this banishment, I must take leave to say, you are unjust:  was one kiss forc’t from you in publick by me so unpardonable?  Why all the hours of day and night have seen us kiss.

La. ’Tis true, and so you told the company that heard me chide.

Elder Lov. Your own eyes were not dearer to you than I.

Lady. And so you told ’em.

Elder Lo. I did, yet no sign of disgrace need to have stain’d your cheek:  you your self knew your pure and simple heart to be most unspotted, and free from the least baseness.

Lady. I did:  But if a Maids heart doth but once think that she is suspected, her own face will write her guilty.

Elder Lo. But where lay this disgrace?  The world that knew us, knew our resolutions well:  And could it be hop’d that I should give away my freedom; and venture a perpetual bondage with one I never kist? or could I in strict wisdom take too much love upon me, from her that chose me for her Husband?