Fisc. [To HAR. Jun.] Remember, now’s your time; if you o’erslip this minute, fortune perhaps will never send another.

Har.  Jun. I am resolved.

Fisc. Come, gentlemen, I’ll tell you such a pleasant accident, you’ll think the evening short.

Jul. I love a story, and a walk by moonshine.

Fisc. Lend me your hand then, madam. [Takes her by the one hand.

Beam. But one, I beseech you then; I must not quit her so.
                               [Takes her by the other hand.  Exeunt.

Re-enter HARMAN Junior, and ISABINDA.

Isab. Come, sir, which is the way?  I long to see my love.

Har.  Jun. You may have your wish, and without stirring hence.

Isab. My love so near?  Sure you delight to mock me!

Har.  Jun. ’Tis you delight to torture me; behold the man who loves you more than his own eyes; more than the joys of earth, or hopes of heaven.

Isab. When you renewed your friendship with my Towerson, I thought these vain desires were dead within you.

Har.  Jun. Smothered they were, not dead; your eyes can kindle no such petty fires, as only blaze a while, and strait go out.

Isab. You know, when I had far less ties upon me, I would not hear you; therefore wonder not if I withdraw, and find the company.

Har.  Jun. That would be too much cruelty, to make me wretched, and then leave me so.

Isab. Am I in fault if you are miserable? so you may call the rich man’s wealth, the cause and object of the robber’s guilt.  Pray do not persecute me farther:  You know I have a husband now, and would be loth to afflict his knowledge with your second folly.

Har.  Jun. What wondrous care you take to make him happy! yet I approve your method.  Ignorance! oh, ’tis a jewel to a husband; that is, ’tis peace in him, ’tis virtue in his wife, ’tis honour in the world; he has all this, while he is ignorant.

Isab. You pervert my meaning:  I would not keep my actions from his knowledge; your bold attempts I would:  But yet henceforth conceal your impious flames; I shall not ever be thus indulgent to your shame, to keep it from his notice.

Har.  Jun. You are a woman; have enough of love for him and me; I know the plenteous harvest all is his:  He has so much of joy, that he must labour under it.  In charity, you may allow some gleanings to a friend.

Isab. Now you grow rude:  I’ll hear no more.

Har.  Jun. You must.

Imb. Leave me.

Har.  Jun. I cannot.

Isab. I find I must be troubled with this idle talk some minutes more, but ’tis your last.

Har.  Jun. And therefore I’ll improve it:  Pray, resolve to make me happy by your free consent.  I do not love these half enjoyments, to enervate my delights with using force, and neither give myself nor you that full content, which two can never have, but where both join with equal eagerness to bless each other.