Lov. The totall some of my blest deity Is the magazine of Natures treasury.— Soe, this made up, will I take an occasion to dropp where she may find it. But, stay; here's company.
Bon. Mr. Lovell.
Lov. And see, I shall divulge myselfe.
Grimes. A foole, I doubt not.
Bon. Is your lady stirring?
Lov. She is risen, sir, and early occupied in her occasions spiritual, and domesticke busines.
Enter Lady & Magdalen.
Lady. Sweet Mr. Bonvil.
The simple entertain[m]ent you receave here
I feare will scare you from us: you're so early
Up, you do not sleepe well.
Tho. I cannot looke on her
But Ime as violent as a high-wrought sea
In my desires; a fury through my eyes
At every glance of hers invades my heart.
Lady. What ayles you, servant? are you not well?