Clarin. I do not blush.
Cal. Why dost thou hang thy head wench?
Clarin. Madam, ye are deceiv'd, I look upright,
I understand ye not: she has spied Leon, [Aside.
Shame of his want of caution.
Cal. Look on me; what, blush again?
Clarin. 'Tis more than I know, Madam;
I have no cause that I find yet.
Cal. Examine then.
Clarin. Your Ladyship is set I think to shame me.
Cal. Do not deserv't, who lay with you last night?
What bed-fellow had ye? none of the maids came near ye.
Clarin. Madam, they did.
Cal. 'Twas one in your Cousins cloaths then,
And wore a sword; and sure I keep no Amazons;
Wench do not lye, 'twill but proclaim thee guilty;
Lyes hide our sins like nets; like perspectives,
They draw offences nearer still, and greater:
Come, tell the truth.