Gen. I am wounded too,
Though modesty forbids that I should speak
What ignorance makes him bold in: why do you fix
Your eyes so strongly on me?
Luc. Pray you stand still,
There is nothing else, that is worth the looking on:
I could adore you, Lady.
Gen. Can you love me?
Luc. To wait on you, in your chamber, and but touch
What you, by wearing it, have made divine,
Were such a happiness. I am resolved,
I'll sell my liberty to you for this glove,
And write my self your slave.
Enter Lamorall.
Gen. On easier terms,
Receive it as a friend.
Lam. How! giving favor!
I'll have it with his heart.
Gen. What will you do?
Luc. As you are merciful, take my life rather.
Gen. Will you depart with't so?