Em. 
Go thy ways, I pray thee heartily.

Trotter. 
That same word (heartily) is of great force.  I will go.  But
I pray, sir, beware you come not too near the wench.

[Exit Trotter.]

Manvile. 
I am greatly beholding to you. 
Ah, Maistres, sometime I might have said, my love,
But time and fortune hath bereaved me of that,
And I, an object in those gratious eyes,
That with remorse earst saw into my grief,
May sit and sigh the sorrows of my heart.

Em. 
In deed my Manvile hath some cause to doubt,
When such a Swain is rival in his love!

Manvile. 
Ah, Em, were he the man that causeth this mistrust,
I should esteem of thee as at the first.

Em. 
But is my love in earnest all this while?

Manvile. 
Believe me, Em, it is not time to jest,
When others joys, what lately I possest.

Em. 
If touching love my Manvile charge me thus,
Unkindly must I take it at his hands,
For that my conscience clears me of offence.

Manvile. 
Ah, impudent and shameless in thy ill,
That with thy cunning and defraudful tongue
Seeks to delude the honest meaning mind! 
Was never heard in Manchester before
Of truer love then hath been betwixt twain: 
And for my part how I have hazarded
Displeasure of my father and my friends,
Thy self can witness.  Yet notwithstanding this,
Two gentlemen attending on Duke William,
Mountney and Valingford, as I heard them named,
Oft times resort to see and to be seen
Walking the street fast by thy fathers door,
Whose glauncing eyes up to the windows cast
Gives testies of their Maisters amorous heart. 
This, Em, is noted and too much talked on,
Some see it without mistrust of ill—­
Others there are that, scorning, grin thereat,
And saith, ‘There goes the millers daughters wooers’. 
Ah me, whom chiefly and most of all it doth concern,
To spend my time in grief and vex my soul,
To think my love should be rewarded thus,
And for thy sake abhor all womenkind!

Em. 
May not a maid look upon a man
Without suspitious judgement of the world?

Manvile. 
If sight do move offence, it is the better not to see. 
But thou didst more, unconstant as thou art,
For with them thou hadst talk and conference.

Em. 
May not a maid talk with a man without mistrust?

Manvile. 
Not with such men suspected amorous.

Em. 
I grieve to see my Manviles jealousy.

Manvile. 
Ah, Em, faithful love is full of jealousy. 
So did I love thee true and faithfully,
For which I am rewarded most unthankfully.

[Exit in a rage.  Manet Em.]

Em. 
And so away?  What, in displeasure gone,
And left me such a bittersweet to gnaw upon? 
Ah, Manvile, little wottest thou
How near this parting goeth to my heart. 
Uncourteous love, whose followers reaps reward
Of hate, disdain, reproach and infamy,
The fruit of frantike, bedlome jealousy!