Leon. I thank you: [Exeunt Leon, Malf.
Happiness attend your honour.
Calist. Who gave warrant to this private parle?
Clar. My innocence; I hope
My conference with a kinsman cannot call
Your anger on me.
Calist. Kinsman? Let me have
No more of this, as you desire you may continue mine.
Clar. Why madam (under pardon)
Suppose him otherwise: yet coming in
A lawfull way, it is excusable.
Calist. How's this?
Clar. I grant you are made of pureness,
And that your tenderness of honour holds
The soveraigntie o're your passions. Yet you have
A noble Husband, with allow'd embraces,
To quench lascivious fires, should such flame in you,
As I must ne're believe. Were I the wife
Of one that could but zanie brave Cleander,
Even in his least perfections, (excuse
My o're-bold inference) I should desire
To meet no other object.
Cal. You grow saucie. Do I look further?
Clar. No, dear Madam: and
It is my wonder or astonishment rather,
You could deny the service of Lisander;
A man without a rival: one the King
And Kingdom gazes on with admiration,
For all the excellencies a Mother could
Wish in her only Son.
Cal. Did not mine honour
And obligation to Cleander, force me
To be deaf to his complaints?