ake no noyse here: if the Towne
Should yield her strength up to th'invader, thou
Art lockd up like a spirit in a Christall:
Not an enchanted Castle, held up by
Strong charme, is halfe so safe. This house, though now
It carry not the figure & faire shape
Which the first workeman gave it, eating Time
Having devourd the face of't, is within
A Sanctuary, & hath so much cunning
Couchd in the body not a Laborinth
Is so full of Meanders.

_Ele_. Sir, your presence
Confirmes me in opinion of my safety;
Not of my life so much, for that's a thing
I owe to nature & should one day be
A-weary of it; like to Innes we take
Our houses up, having but here a place
Of _Lodging_ not of _dwelling_:--but of _honour_
You give me my assurance, for in such
A time of thicke confusions I much feare
That might be hazarded. And who knowes what
The soldier that hath no lawe but that
Of cruelty and rapine, when like a Bird
Of prey his Tallents are possessd of one
So weake as I am--

_Hen_. He that durst offend
Thee with a sillable or but fright that bloud
Out of thy Cheekes to seeke another place,
Not daring to be seene there where it now
Is of itselfe sufficient to ravish
A mortall that with just eyes can looke on it,
Had better be a divell. But a haire,
The poorest part of thee & in this excellent
Because 'tis thine, should any dare to ravish
From these his soft companions, which the wind
Would be for ever proud to play withall,
H'had better dig his mothers coffin up
And with his teeth eate what the wormes have left.

_Ele_. I know you will defend me.

_Hen_. Will defend thee!
Have I a life, a soule that in thy service
I would not wish expird! I doe but borrow
My selfe from thee.

_Ele_. Rather you put to Interest
And, for that principall you have credited
To _Eleonora_ her heart is paid backe
As the iust Usury.

_Hen_. You undoe me, sweet,
With too much love; if ere I marry thee
I feare thou'lt kill me.

_Ele_. How?

_Hen_. With tendring me too much, my _Eleonora_;
For in my conscience thou'lt extreamely love me,
And extreames often kill.

_Ele_. There can be no extreme of love[21], sir.

_Hen_. Yes, but there may; and some say Jealousy
Runs from the Sea, a rivolet but deducted
From the mayne Channell.

_Ele_. This is a new language.

_Hen_. Have you not heard men have been killd with Joy?
Our griefe doth but contrac