_Clea._ Pray ye one word more, is't in your power mine Host, Answer me softly, some hours before my death, To give me warning? _Host._ I cannot tell ye truly, But if I can, so much alive I lov'd ye, I will appear again, adieu. [_Exit._ _Dor._ Adieu, Sir. _Cle._ I am troubl'd; these strange apparitions are For the most part fatal. _Dor._ This if told, will not Find credit, the light breaks apace, let's lie down And take some little rest, an hour or two, Then do mine host's desire, and so return, I do believe him. _Clean._ So do I, to rest, Sir. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ Calista, _and_ Clarinda. _Cal. Clarinda?_ _Clarin._ Madam. _Cal._ Is the house well ordered? The doors look'd to now in your Masters absence? Your care, and diligence amongst the Servants? _Clarin._ I am stirring, Madam. _Cal._ So thou art, _Clarinda_, More than thou ought'st I am sure, why dost thou blush? _Clarin._ I do not blush. _Cal._ Why dost thou hang thy head wench? _Clarin._ Madam, ye are deceiv'd, I look upright, I understand ye not: she has spied _Leon_, [_Aside._ Shame of his want of caution. _Cal._ Look on me; what, blush again? _Clarin._ 'Tis more than I know, Madam; I have no cause that I find yet. _Cal._ Examine then. _Clarin._ Your Ladyship is set I think to shame me. _Cal._ Do not deserv't, who lay with you last night? What bed-fellow had ye? none of the maids came near ye. _Clarin._ Madam, they did. _Cal._ 'Twas one in your Cousins cloaths then, And wore a sword; and sure I keep no _Amazons_; Wench do not lye, 'twill but proclaim thee guilty; Lyes hide our sins like nets; like perspectives, They draw offences nearer still, and greater: Come, tell the truth. _Clarin._ You are the strangest Lady To have these doubts of me; how have I liv'd, Madam? And which of all my careful services deserves these shames? _Cal._ Leave facing, 'twill not serve ye, This impudence becomes thee worse than lying. I thought ye had liv'd well, and I was proud of't; But you are pleas'd to abuse my thoughts; who was't? Honest repentance yet will make the fault less. _Clarin._ Do ye compel me? do you stand so strict too? Nay, then have at ye; I shall rub that sore, Madam, (Since ye provoke me) will but vex your Ladyship; Let me alone. _Cal._ I will know. _Clarin._ For your own peace, The peace of your own conscience ask no farther; Walk in, and let me alone. _Cal._ No, I will know all. _Clar._ Why, then I'le tell ye, 'twas a man I lay with, Never admire, 'tis easie to be done, Madam, And usual too, a proper man I lay with; Why should you vex at that? young as _Lisander_, And able too; I grudge not at your pleasure, Why should you stir at mine? I steal none from ye.