Cæl. It were good,
If euery Maiden blush, had such a bloud.
Kin. A coward bloud, why whom should maidens feare?
Cæ. Men, were Maides cowards, they’d not come so nere,
My Lord the Measure’s done, I pleade my duetie.
Kin. Onelie my heart takes measure of thy beautie.
Sir quin. Now by my hose I sweare, that’s no deepe oath,
This was a fine sweet earth-quake gentlie moou’d,
By the soft winde of whispring Silkes: come Ladies,
Whose ioynts are made out of the dauncing Orbes,
Come, follow me, walke a colde measure now;
In the Brides Chamber; your hot beautie’s melt,
Take euerie one her fan, giue them their places,
And waue the Northerne winde vpon your faces.
Cælestine and all the Ladyes doing obeysance to the King, who onely kisses her, Exeunt, Shorthose manning them, the Gallants stand aloofe.
Kin. Sir Walter Terrill.
Ki. Beautie out of her bountie, thee hath lent,
More then her owne with liberall extent.