HIR. What! Landora, the Trinobantic lady? How grow your hopes? what metal is her breast? EUL. All steel and adamant. 'Tis beauty's pride to stain Her lily white with blood of lovers slain, Their groans make music, and their scalding sighs Raise a perfume, and vulture-like she gnaws Their bleeding hearts. No gifts, no learned flattery, No stratagems, can work Landora's battery. As a tall rock maintains majestic state, Though Boreas gallop on the tottering seas, And tilting split his froth out, spurging waves Upon his surly breast; so she resists, And all my projects on her cruel heart Are but retorted to their author's smart. HIR. Why, then, let scorn succeed thy love: and bravely Conquer thyself, if thou wilt conquer her: Stomachs with kindness cloy'd disdain must stir. EUL. Most impious thoughts! O, let me rather perish, And loving die, than living cease to love: And when I faint, let her but hear my cry. Ah me! there's none which truly loves, but I. HIR. O ye cross darts of Cupid! this very lady, This lady-wasp wooes me, as thou dost her, With glances, jewels, bracelets of her hair, Lascivious banquets and most eloquent eyes: All which my heart misconstrues as immodest, It being pointed for another pole. But hence learn courage, coz. Why stand you dumb? Women are women, and may be o'ercome. EUL. Your words are earwigs to my vexed brain; Like henbane juice or aconite diffus'd, They strike me senseless. My kinsman and Hirildas, to my end; But I'll ne'er call you councillor or friend. Adieu. HIR. Stay, stay. For now I mean with gentler breath[275] To waft you to your happy landing-place. Seeing this crocodile pursues me flying, Flies you pursuing, we'll catch her by a trick. With promise feign'd I'll 'point a Cupid's stage, But in the night and secret, and disguis'd, Where thou, which art myself, shalt act my part. In Venus' games all cosening goes for art.