She shrinks away, he close pursues,
And prayers and threats at once does use.
She, softly sighing, begs delay,
And with her hand puts his away;
Now out aloud for help she cries,
And now despairing shuts her eyes.
Har. Sen. I like this song, 'twas sprightly; it would restore me twenty years of youth, had I but such a bride.
A Dance.
After the Dance, enter Harman Junior, and Fiscal.
Beam. Come, let me have the Sea-Fight; I like that better than a thousand of your wanton epithalamiums.