Lis. I nobly thank ye;
And may I be the same when I dishonour ye;
This I may do again. [Kissing her hand.
Cal. Ye may, and worthily;
Such comforts Maids may grant with modesty,
And neither make her poor nor wrong her bounty;
Noble Lisander, how fond now am I of ye!
I heard you were hurt.
Lis. You dare not heal me, Lady?
I am hurt here; how sweetly now she blushes!
Excellent Objects kill our sight, she blinds me;
The Roses in the pride of May shew pale to her;
O Tyrant, Custom! and O Coward, Honour!
How ye compel me to put on mine own Chains!
May I not kiss ye now in superstition?
For you appear a thing that I would kneel to;
Let me err that way. [Kisses her.
Cal. Ye shall err for once, I have a kind of noble pity on you,
Among your manly sufferings, make this most,
To err no farther in desire, for then, Sir,
You add unto the gratitudes I owe you;
And after death, your dear friends soul shall bless you.
Lis. I am wondrous honest.
Cal. I dare try. [Kisses.
Lis. I have tasted a blessedness too great for dull mortality,
Once more, and let me dye.
Cal. I dare not murther,
How will maids curse me if I kill with kisses!
And young men flye th' embraces of fair Virgins?
Come, pray sit down, but let's talk temperately.
Lis. Is my dear friend abed?
Cal. Yes, and asleep;
Secure asleep, 'tis midnight too, Lisander,
Speak not so loud.