Leon. You know your Lady, chaste Calista loves her.
Mal. Too well, that makes her proud.
Leon. Nay, give me leave,
This beauteous Lady, I may stile her so,
(Being the paragon of France for feature)
Is not alone contented in her self
To seem, and be good, but desires to make
All such as have dependance on her, like her;
For this Clarinda's liberty is restrain'd;
And though her kinsman, the gate's shut against me;
Now if you please to make your self the door,
For my conveyance to her, though you run
The hazard of a check for't, 'tis no matter.
Mal. It being for mine own ends.
Leon. I'll give it o'r,
If that you make the least doubt otherwise:
Study upon't: good morrow.
Mal. Pray you stay, Sir;
You are my friend; yet as the Proverb says,
When love puts in, friendship is gone: suppose
You should your self affect her?
Leon. Do you think I'll commit incest? for it is no less,
She being my Cousin German. Fare you well, Sir.
Mal. I had forgot that, for this once forgive me.
Only to ease the throbbing of my heart,
(For I do feel strange pangs) instruct me what
You will say for me.
Leon. First, I'll tell her that
She hath so far besotted you, that you have
Almost forgot to cast accompt.
Mal. Meer truth, Sir.