Lady Cynthia Darrel:
That were difficult; my friend’s new come to Court.
Herbert:
And yet I’d wager it is Mistress Mary Fitton. [Bows to her and half whispers.] And yester even with Lady Rutland—[louder] shall I say where?
Miss Fitton:
You may, my lord; the place is innocent. ’Tis the intent makes guilt.
Herbert:
You were where my friend saw you, and lost his heart. If you found it, guard it well: he’s worthier than his place.
Miss Fitton:
Men only praise what they wish to part with, or think beneath them.