Save you, sweet youth, the bewties of your Mrs.
Crowne your desires. Are you a suiter?
Bon. Madam, I have occasions of importance Wishes a little privacy with you.
Lady. With me, sweet Mr. Bonvill? Sir Geffrey, Pray you vouchsafe your absence; at more leasure We shall discourse.
Sir Geff. With all my heart: Ile to the wenches. [Exit.
Bon. Madam we are alone?
Lady. You did desire we should.
Bon. But are you sure none can oreheare us.
Lady. Unles we be to loud: What mooves you to require this secresie?
Bon. I come to aske a question, which the winds;
If I could deafe them, should not heare for feare
Their repercussive Eccho should declare it
To all our infamies.
Lady. What ist, I pray you?