Palm. Speak quickly; what have you resolved to do?

Leon. To keep my faith inviolate to you. 
He threatens me with exile, and with shame,
To lose my birthright, and a prince’s name;
But there’s a blessing which he did not mean,
To send me back to love and you again.

Palm. Why was not I a princess for your sake? 
But heaven no more such miracles can make: 
And, since that cannot, this must never be;
You shall not lose a crown for love of me. 
Live happy, and a nobler choice pursue;
I shall complain of fate, but not of you.

Leon. Can you so easily without me live?  Or could you take the counsel, which you give?  Were you a princess, would you not be true?

Palm. I would; but cannot merit it from you.

Leon. Did you not merit, as you do, my heart,
Love gives esteem, and then it gives desert. 
But if I basely could forget my vow,
Poor helpless innocence, what would you do?

Palm. In woods, and plains, where first my love began,
There would I live, retired from faithless man: 
I’d sit all day within some lonely shade,
Or that close arbour which your hands have made: 
I’d search the groves, and every tree, to find
Where you had carved our names upon the rind: 
Your hook, your scrip, all that was yours, I’d keep,
And lay them by me when I went to sleep. 
Thus would I live:  And maidens, when I die,
Upon my hearse white true-love-knots should tie;
And thus my tomb should be inscribed above,
Here the forsaken Virgin rests from love.

Leon. Think not that time or fate shall e’er divide Those hearts, which love and mutual vows have tied.  But we must part; farewell, my love.

Palm. Till when?

Leon. Till the next age of hours we meet again. 
Meantime, we may,
When near each other we in public stand,
Contrive to catch a look, or steal a hand: 
Fancy will every touch and glance improve;
And draw the most spirituous parts of love. 
Our souls sit close, and silently within,
And their own web from their own entrails spin;
And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such,
That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch. [Exeunt.

ACT III.  SCENE I.

Enter RHODOPHIL, meeting DORALICE and ARTEMIS; RHODOPHIL and
DORALICE embrace.

Rho. My own dear heart!

Dor. My own true love! [She starts back.] I had forgot myself to be so kind; indeed, I am very angry with you, dear; you are come home an hour after you appointed:  if you had staid a minute longer, I was just considering whether I should stab, hang, or drown myself.
          
                                           [Embracing him.