To blast those Rosiall blossomes. Will you kill
This gift of Nature, Beautie in the prime?
Le. Father, I vnderstand not what you say:
The other day you talkt of Penitence,
Commended Patience, Sorrow and Contrition,
As Antidotes against the soules decay:
And now, me thinkes, you speake of no such thing.
Lis. Mistake me not, deare Daughter, I spake then,
Onely to mortifie the sinfull minde,
But now I come with comfort, to restore