BEL. Thou hast prevail'd! I'll conquer my misdoubt,
And in thy love and counsel drown my fear.
I fear no more; love now is all my thoughts!
Why sit we not? for pleasure asketh ease.
HOR. The more thou sitt'st within these leafy bowers,
The more will Flora deck it with her flowers.
BEL. Aye; but, if Flora spy Horatio here,
Her jealous eye will think I sit too near.
HOR. Hark, madame, how the birds record by night,
For joy that Bel-imperia sits in sight!
BEL. No; Cupid counterfeits the nightingale,
To frame sweet music to Horatio's tale.
HOR. If Cupid sing, then Venus is not far,—
Aye, thou art Venus, or some fairer star!
BEL. If I be Venus, thou must needs be Mars;
And where Mars reigneth, there must needs be wars.
HOR. Then thus begin our wars: put forth thy hand,
That it may combat with my ruder hand.
BEL. Set forth thy foot to try the push of mine.
HOR. But, first, my looks shall combat against thee.