A King, and No King

by Francis Beaumont; John Fletcher

Then thus I do salute thee, and again,
To make this knot the stronger, Paradise
Is there: It may be you are yet in doubt,
This third kiss blots it out, I wade in sin,
And foolishly intice my self along;
Take her away, see her a prisoner
In her own chamber closely, Gobrias.

Pan.

Alas Sir, why?

Arb.

I must not stay the answer, doe it.

Gob.

Good Sir.

Arb.

No more, doe it I say.

Mard.