_Ser. Lisander_? Yes, I am sure it was _Lisander_, _Cal. Lisander_? 'twas _Lisander_. _Cle._ 'Tis _Lisander_. O my base thoughts! my wicked! To make question this act could be another mans: 'Tis _Lisander_, a handsome timber'd man? _Ser._ Yes. _Cle._ My _Lisander_! Was this friends absence to be mourn'd? _Cal._ I grant it: I'le mourn his going now, and mourn it seriously: When you weep for him, Sir, I'le bear you company. That so much honour, so much honesty Should be in one man, to do things thus bravely, Make me his Saint, to me give this brave service: What may I do to recompence his goodness? I cannot tell. _Cle._ Come Sir, I know you are sickly, so are your men. _Dor._ I must confess I am weak, And fitter for a bed than long discourses. _Cle._ You shall hear to morrow, to morrow provide Surgeons. _Dor_. _Lisander_-- _Cal._ What new fire is this? _Lisander_-- [_Exeunt._ _Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._ _Enter_ Lisander, _and_ Lancelot. _Lis._ Prethee good _Lancelot_ remember that Thy Master's life is in thy trust, and therefore Be very carefull. _Lanc._ I will lose mine own, rather than hazard yours. _Lisa._ Take what disguise You in your own discretion shall think fittest, To keep your self unknown. _Lanc._ I warrant ye; 'Tis not the first time I have gone invisible: I am as fine a Fairie in a business Concerning night-work-- _Lisa._ Leave your vanities: With this purse (which deliver'd, You may spare your Oratory) convey this Letter to _Calista's_ woman. _Lanc._ 'Tis a handsom girle, Mistris _Clarinda_. _Lisa._ I have made her mine. You know your work. _Lan._ And if I sweat not in it, At my return discard me. [_Exit._ _Lisa._ O _Calista_! the fairest! cruellest! _Enter_ Clarange. _Clar._ So early stirring? a good day to you. _Lisa._ I was viewing Sir, The site of your house, and the handsomness about it: Believe me it stands healthfully and sweetly. _Clar._ The house and Master of it really Are ever at your service. _Lisa._ I return it: Now if you please go forward in your storie Of your dear friend and Mistris. _Clar._ I will tell it, And tell it short, because 'tis breakfast time, (And love is a tedious thing to a quick stomach) You eat not yester-night. _Lisa._ I shall endure Sir.