Zen. Seem'd to love you?
Arn. Most infinitely, at first sight, most dotingly.
Zen. She is a goodly Lady.
Arn. Wondrous handsom:
At first view, being taken unprepar'd,
Your memory not present then to assist me,
She seem'd so glorious sweet, and so far stir'd me,
Nay be not jealous, there's no harm done.
Zen. Prethee—didst thou not kiss, Arnoldo?
Arn. Yes faith did I.
Zen. And then—
Arn. I durst not, did not—
Zen. I forgive you, Come tell the truth.
Arn. May be I lay with her.