Alb. My life, I do confess, is hers,
She gives it,
And let her take it back, I yield it.
My loves intirely thine, none shall touch at it;
None, my Aminta, none.
Amin. Ye have made me happy,
And now I know ye are mine. Fortune, I scorn thee.
Goe to your rest, and I'll sit by ye;
Whilst I have time I'll be your mate, and comfort ye,
For only I am trusted: you shall want nothing,
Not a liberty that I can steal ye.
Alb. May we not celebrate our loves Aminta?
And where our wishes cannot meet.
Amin. You are wanton,
But with cold kisses I'll allay that fever;
Look for no more, and that in private too.
Believe me, I shall blush else.
But, let's consider, we are both lost else.
Alb. Let's in, and prevent fate. [Exeunt.
Enter Crocale, Juletta, Tibalt, Master.
Tib. You do well to ayr us, Ladies, we shall be musty else.
What are your wise wills now?
Cro. You are very crank still.
Tib. As crank as a holy Fryer, fed with hail-stones.
But do ye bring us out to bait, like Bulls?
Mast. Or are you weary of the charge ye are at?
Turn us abroad again, let's jog Ladies;
We are gross, and course, unfit for your sweet pleasures.