Meg. As many mornings bring as many days,

Fair, sweet, and hopeful to your grace!

Pha. She gives good words yet; sure this wench is free.

Meg.

If your more serious business do not call you,
Let me hold quarter with you; we will talk

An hour out quickly.

[Aside.

What would your grace talk of?

Pha. Of some such pretty subject as yourself:

I'll go no further than your eye, or lip;

80

There's theme enough for one man for an age. Meg. Sir, they stand right, and my lips are yet even, smooth,

Young enough, ripe enough, and red enough,

Or my glass wrongs me.

Pha. Oh, they are two twinned cherries dyed in blushes Which those fair suns above with their bright

Meg.

beams

Reflect upon and ripen. Sweetest beauty,

Bow down those branches, that the longing taste
Of the faint looker-on may meet those blessings, 90
And taste and live.

Oh, delicate sweet prince!
She that hath snow enough about her heart
To take the wanton spring of ten such lines off,
May be a nun without probation. [Aside.]-Sir,
You have in such neat poetry gathered a kiss,
That if I had but five lines of that number,

Such pretty begging blanks, I should commend Your forehead or your cheeks, and kiss you too. Pha. Do it in prose; you cannot miss it, madam. Meg. I shall, I shall.

Pha.

By my life, but you shall not; 100 I'll prompt you first. [Kisses her.] Can you do it

now?

Meg. Methinks 'tis easy, now you ha' done't before me; But yet I should stick at it.

Pha.

Stick till to-morrow;

I'll never part you, sweetest. But we lose time:
Can you love me?

Meg. Love you, my lord! how would you have me love

you?

Pha. I'll teach you in a short sentence, 'cause I will not load your memory: this is all; love me, and lie

with me.

Meg. Was it lie with you, you said? 'tis impossible. 110 Pha. Not to a willing mind, that will endeavour : if I

do not teach you to do it as easily in one night as you'll go to bed, I'll lose my royal blood for't. Meg. Why, prince, you have a lady of your own That yet wants teaching.

Pha. I'll sooner teach a mare the old measures, than teach her anything belonging to the function. She's afraid to lie with herself, if she have but any masculine imaginations about her. I know, when we are married, I must ravish her.

120

Meg. By my honour, that's a foul fault, indeed;

But time and your good help will wear it out, sir. Pha. And for any other I see, excepting your dear self, dearest lady, I had rather be Sir Tim the schoolmaster, and leap a dairy-maid.

Meg. Has your grace seen the court star, Galatea? Pha. Out upon her! she's as cold of her favour as an apoplex: she sailed by but now.

Meg. And how do you hold her wit, sir? 129 Pha. I hold her wit? The strength of all the guard cannot hold it, if they were tied to it; she would blow 'em out of the kingdom. They talk of Jupiter; he's but a squib-cracker to her: look well about you, and you may find a tongue-bolt. But speak, sweet lady, shall I be freely welcome?

Meg. Whither?

Pha. To your bed. If you mistrust my faith, you do me the unnoblest wrong.

Meg. I dare not, prince, I dare not.

139 Pha. Make your own conditions, my purse shall seal 'em ; and what you dare imagine you can want, I'll furnish you withal: give two hours to your thoughts every morning about it. Come, I know you are bashful ; Speak in my ear, will you be mine? Keep this, [Gives her a ring.

And with it me: soon I will visit you.

Meg. My lord,

My chamber's most unsafe; but when 'tis night,

150

I'll find some means to slip into your lodging;
Till when-

Pha. Till when, this and my heart go with thee!

Re-enter Galatea.

150

[Exeunt severally.

Gal. Oh, thou pernicious petticoat prince! are these Well, if I do not lay a train to

your virtues?

blow your sport up, I am no woman: and, Lady Towsabel, I'll fit you for 't.

SCENE III

Arethusa's Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Arethusa and a Lady.

Are. Where's the boy?

Lady. Within, madam.

Are. Gave you him gold to buy him clothes?
Lady. I did.

Are. And has he done't?

Lady. Yes, madam.

Are. 'Tis a pretty sad-talking boy, is it not?

Asked you his name?

Lady. No, madam.

Enter Galatea.

Are. Oh, you are welcome. What good news?
Gal. As good as any one can tell your grace,

[Exit.

IO

That says, she has done that you would have wished.

Are. Hast thou discovered?

Gal.

Of modesty for you.

I have strained a point

I prithee, how?

Are.
Gal. In listening after bawdry. I see, let a lady
Live never so modestly, she shall be sure to find
A lawful time to hearken after bawdry.
Your prince, brave Pharamond, was so hot on 't!
Are. With whom?

Gal.

Are.

Why, with the lady I suspected:

I can tell the time and place.

Gal. To-night, his lodging.

Oh, when, and where ?

20

Are. Run thyself into the presence; mingle there again With other ladies; leave the rest to me.

[Exit Galatea.

If destiny (to whom we dare not say,
Why thou didst this) have not decreed it so,
In lasting leaves (whose smallest characters
Was never altered yet), this match shall break.

[Aside.

You are sad to change your service; is 't not so? Bel. Madam, I have not changed; I wait on you,

To do him service.

30