Ant. 'Tis from the Lady;
From her we saw: from that same miracle,
I know her name now: read but these three lines;
Read with devotion, friend, the lines are holy.
Martine reads.
I dare not chide ye in my Letter, (Sir)
'Twill be too gentle: If you please to look me
In the West-street, and find a fair Stone window,
Carved with white Cupids; there I'll entertain ye:
Night and discretion guide ye.
Call me Ismena.
Ant. Give it me again: Come, come, fly, fly, I am all fire.
Mar. There may be danger.
Ant. So there is to drink
When men are thirsty, to eat hastily
When we are hungry: so there is in sleep, Friend,
Obstructions then may rise and smother us,
We may dye laughing, choak'd even at devotions:
An Apoplexie, or a sodain Palsey
May strike us down.
Mar. May be a train to catch ye.
Ant. Then I am caught: and let Love answer for it.
'Tis not my folly, but his infamy,
And if he be ador'd, and dare do vild things.—
Mar. Well, I will go.