Lord. But I am for fair wars; an enemy must first be searched for privy armour, ere we do engage.
[Pulls at her glove.
Chr. What does your lordship mean?
Lord. I fear you bear some spells and charms about you, and, madam, that's against the law of arms.
Chr. My aunt charged me not to pull off my glove, for fear of sun-burning my hand.
Lord. She did well to keep it from your eyes, but I will thus preserve it.
[Hugging her bare hand.
Chr. Why do you crush it so? nay, now you hurt me, nay—if you squeeze it ne'er so hard—there's nothing to come out on't—fie—is this loving one—what makes you take your breath so short?
Lord. The devil take me if I can answer her a word; all my senses are quite employed another way.
Chr. Ne'er stir, my lord, I must cry out.
Lord. Then I must stop your mouth—this ruby for a kiss—that is but one ruby for another.
Chr. This is worse and worse.