_Hon._ O we are too honest, Believe it Sir, too honest, far too honest, The way that you propound too ignorant, And there is no medling with us; for we are fools too, Obstinate, peevish fools: if I would be ill, And had a wantons itch, to kick my heels up, I would not leap into th' Sun, and doe't there, That all the world might see me: an obscure shade Sir, Dark as the deed, there is no trusting light with it, Nor that that's lighter far, vain-glorious greatness. _Duke._ You will love me as your friend? _Ho[n]._ I will honour ye, As your poor humble handmaid serve, and pray for ye. _Du._ What sayes my little one; you are not so obstinate? Lord how she blushes: here are truly fair souls: Come you will be my love? _Viol._ Good Sir be good to me, Indeed I'le doe the best I can to please ye; I do beseech your grace: Alas I fear ye. _Duke._ What shouldst thou fear? _Hon._ Fie Sir, this is not noble. _Duke._ Why do I stand entreating, where my power-- _Hon._ You have no power, at least you ought to have none In bad and beastly things: arm'd thus, I'le dye here, Before she suffer wrong. _Duke._ Another _Archas_? _Hon._ His child Sir, and his spirit. _Duke._ I'le deal with you then, For here's the honour to be won: sit down sweet, Prethee _Honora_ sit. _Hon._ Now ye intreat I will Sir. _Duke._ I doe, and will deserve it. _Hon._ That's too much kindness. _Duke._ Prethee look on me. _Hon._ Yes: I love to see ye, And could look on an age thus, and admire ye: Whilst ye are good and temperate I dare touch ye, Kiss your white hand. _Duke._ Why not my lips? _Hon._ I dare Sir. _Duke._ I do not think ye dare. _Hon._ I am no coward. D[o] you believe me now? or now? or now Sir? You make me blush: but sure I mean no ill Sir: It had been fitter you had kiss'd me. _Du._ That I'le doe too. What hast thou wrought into me? _Hon._ I hope all goodness: Whilst ye are thus, thus honest, I dare do any thing, Thus hang about your neck, and thus doat on ye; Bless those fair lights: hell take me if I durst not-- But good Sir pardon me. Sister come hither, Come hither, fear not wench: come hither, blush not, Come kiss the Prince, the vertuous Prince, the good Prince: Certain he is excellent honest. _Du._ Thou wilt make me-- _Hon._ Sit down, and hug him softly. _Du._ Fie _Honora_, Wanton _Honora_; is this the modesty, The noble chastity your on-set shew'd me, At first charge beaten back? Away. _Hon._ Thank ye: Upon my knees I pray, heaven too may thank ye; Ye have deceiv'd me cunningly, yet nobly Ye have cozen'd me: In all your hopefull life yet, A Scene of greater honour you ne're acted: I knew fame was a lyar, too long, and loud tongu'd, And now I have found it: O my vertuous Master. _Viol._ My vertuous Master too. _Hon._ Now you are thus, What shall become of me let fortune cast for't.