Drawes Inkehorne and paper.
Nou. Pox of this Gunne.
Rom. Withall, sir, you must sweare, and put your oath
Vnder your hand, (shake not) ne’re to frequent
This Ladies company, nor euer send [185]
Token, or message, or letter, to incline
This (too much prone already) yeelding Lady.
Nou. ’Tis done, sir.
Rom. Let me see, this first is right,
And heere you wish a sudden death may light
Vpon your body, and hell take your soule, [190]
If euer more you see her, but by chance,
Much lesse allure. Now, my Lord, your hand.
Nou. My hand to this?
Rom. Your heart else I assure you.
Nou. Nay, there ’tis.
Rom. So keepe this last article
Of your fayth giuen, and stead of threatnings, sir, [195]
The seruice of my sword and life is yours:
But not a word of it, ’tis Fairies treasure;
Which but reueal’d, brings on the blabbers, ruine.
Vse your youth better, and this excellent forme
Heauen hath bestowed vpon you. So good morrow to your Lordship. [200]
Nou. Good diuell to your rogueship. No man’s safe:
Ile haue a Cannon planted in my chamber, (Exit.
Against such roaring roagues.