Either withdraw, or hide that glorious Object.
L. Lam. Thou art a Fool, the very sight of this—
Raises my Pleasure higher:
Methinks I give a Queen into thy Arms,
And where I love I cannot give enough; [Softly.
—Wou’d I cou’d set it on thy Head for ever,
’Twou’d not become my simple Lord
The thousandth part so well. [Goes to put it on his Head, [he puts it back].
Lov. Forbear, and do not play with holy things;
Let us retire, and love as Mortals shou’d,