are him not, he knowes not what a woman is,
Nor how to find the mysterie men aime at.
Are you afraid of your own shadow, Madam?

_Ang_. He followes still, yet with a sober face;
Would I might know the worst, and then I were satisfied.

_Syl_. You may both, and let him but goe with ye.

_Cha_. Why doe you fle me? What have I so ill
About me or within me to deserve it?

_Ang_. I am going to bed Sir. _Cha_. And I am come to light ye;
I am a maide, and 'tis a maidens office.

_Ang_. You may have me to bed Sir, without a scruple,
And yet I am charie too who comes about me.
Two Innocents should not feare one another.

_Syl_. The Gentleman sayes true. Pluck up your heart, Madam.

_Cha_. The glorious Sun both rising and declining
We boldly looke upon; even then sweet Ladie,
When like a modest bride he drawes nights curtaines,
Even then he blushes, that men should behold him.

_Ang_. I feare he will perswade me to mistake him.

_Syl_. Tis easily done, if you will give your minde to't.

_Ang_. Pray ye to your bed. _Cha_. Why not to yours, dear Mistress,
One heart and one bed. _Ang_. True Sir, when 'tis lawful;
But yet you know-- _Cha_. I would not know, forget it;
Those are but sickly loves that hang on Ceremonie,
Nurst up with doubts and feares, ours high and healthful,
Full of beleefe, and fit to teach the Priest;
Love shall seale first, then hands confirme the bargaine.

_Ang_. I shall be an Heretique if this continue.
What would you doe a bed? you make me blush, Sir.

_Cha_. Ide see you sleepe, for sure your sleepes are excellent
You that are waking such a noted wonder,
Must in your slumber prove an admiration:
I would behold your dreames too, if't were possible;
Those were rich showes. _Ang_. I am becomming Traitor.

_Cha_. Then like blew _Neptune_ courting of an Hand,
Where all the perfumes and the pretious things
That wait upon great Nature are laid up,
Ide clip it in mine armes, and chastly kiss it,
Dwell in your bosome like your dearest thoughts,
And sigh and weepe. _Ang_. I've too much woman in me.

_Cha_. And those true teares falling on your pure Chrystals,
Should turne to armelets for great Queenes 't adore.

_Ang_. I must be gone. _Cha_. Do not, I will not hurt ye;
This is to let you know, my worthiest Lady,
Y'have clear'd my mind, and I can speak of love too;
Feare not my manners, though I never knew
Before these few houres what a beautie was,
And such a one that fires all hearts tha