Trin. Madam, the waves had drown'd me,
But that your love held up my chin.
Bev. Will't please you
Enter, and rest yourself, refresh the weariness
Of your hard travel; I have good wine and fruits:
My husband's out of town; you shall command
My house, and all that's in't.
Trin. Why, are you married?
Bev. Have you forgot my husband, an angry roarer?
Trin. O, I remember him: but if he come?
Bev. Whence grows this fear? how come you so respectful?
You were not wont be numb'd with such a coldness.
Go in, sweet life, go in.
Trin. I remember while I liv'd in Barbary,
A pretty song the Moors sing to a gridiron:
Sweet, madam, by your favour, I'll sing to this.
Alcoch dolash, &c. Thus 'tis in English—
My heart in flames doth fry
Of thy beauty,
While I
Die.
Fie!
And why
Shouldst thou deny
Me thy sweet company?
My brains to tears do flow,
While all below
Doth glow.
O!
Foe,
If so,
How canst thou go
About to say me no?