_Col._ My advice then Is, that you would not, (as most Ladies use When they prepare themselves for such encounters) Study to add, by artificial dressings To native excellence; yours (without help) But seen as it is now, would make a Hermit Leave his deaths head, and change his after hopes Of endless comforts for a few short minutes Of present pleasures; to prevent which, Lady, Practice to take away from your perfections, And to preserve your chastity unstain'd, The most deform'd shape that you can put on To cloud your bodies fair gifts, or your minds, (It being laboured to so chast an end) Will prove the fairest ornament. _Luc._ To take from The workmanship of Heaven is an offence As great, as to endeavor to add to it; Of which, I'll not be guilty: Chastity That lodges in deformity, appears rather A mulct impos'd by nature, than a blessing; And 'tis commendable only when it conquers, Though nere so oft assaulted, in resistance: For me, I'll therefore so dispose my self, That if I hold out, it shall be with honor; Or if I yield, _Miranda_ shall find something To make him love his victory. [_Exit._ _Col._ With what cunning This woman argues for her own damnation! Nor should I hold it for a miracle, Since they are all born _Sophisters_ to maintain That lust is lawful, and the end and use Of their creation: would I never had Hop'd better of her; or could not believe, Though seen the ruin, I must ever grieve. [_Exit._ _Scæna Quarta._ _Enter_ Miranda, Norandine, _Servants with Lights_. _Mir._ I'll see you in your chamber. [_A Table out, two stools._ _Nor._ Pray ye no farther: It is a ceremony I expect not, I am no stranger here, I know my lodging, An[d] have slept soundly there, when the _Turks_ Cannon Playd thick upon't: O 'twas Royal Musick, And to procure a sound sleep for a Souldier, Worth forty of [y]our Fiddles. As you love me Press it no farther. _Mir._ You will overcome. Wait on him carefully. _Nor._ I have took since supper A rouse or two too much, and by ---- It warms my blood. _Mir._ You'll sleep the better for't. _Nor._ ---- on't, I should, had but I a kind wench To pull my Boot-hose off, and warm my night-cap, There's no charm like it: I love old _Adams_ way; Give me a diligent _Eve_, to wait towards bed-time, Hang up your smooth chin page: and now I think on't, Where is your _Turkish_ Prisoner? _Mir._ In the Castle, But yet I never saw her.