Pen. Remember you refuse me arm'd in Lobster. [Exit.
Isab. Oh my lost Rugio, welcome, welcome, welcome,
A thousand welcomes here I'll seal.
Cla. Pray ye stay, Lady,
Do you love me ever at this rate? or is the fit now,
By reason of some wrong done by your Husband,
More fervent on ye?
Isab. Can I chuse but love thee?
Thou art my Martyr, thou hast suffered for me,
My sweet, sweet Rugio.
Cla. Do you do this seriously?
'Tis true, I would be entertained thus.
Isab. These are nothing,
No kisses, no embraces, no endearments,
To those—
Cla. Do what you will.
Isab. Those that shall follow,
Those I will crown our love withal; why sigh ye?
Why look ye sad my dear one?
Cla. Nay, faith nothing,
But methinks so sweet a beauty, as yours shews to me,
And such an innocence as you may make it,
Should hold a longer Siege.
Isab. Ha, you speak truth, Sir.