_Cesar._ My often visits (sweet _Bianca_) cannot But constantly inform thy judgment, wherein Thy happiness consists, for to steal minutes From great imployments, to converse with beauty, Lodg'd in so mean a fortune, to lay by Consideration of the unequal distance Between my blood and thine, to shun occasions Of courtship with the Ladies of the time: Noble, and fair, only for love to thee, Must of necessity invite a tenderness; As low as nature could have stampt a Bondwomans. To entertain quick motions of rare gratitude For my uncommon favors. _Bian._ 'Deed my Lord, as far as my simplicity can lead me, I freely thank your curtesies. _Cesar._ To thank them, is to reward them pretty one. _Bian._ Then teach me How I may give them back again; in truth I never yet receiv'd a pair of Gloves: A trifling Ring from any that expected An equall satisfaction, but as willingly I parted with the guift unto the owner, as he bestow'd it. _Cæsar._ But I pour before thee Such plenties, as it lies not in the ability Of thy whole kindred, to return proportionable One for a thousand. _Bian._ You my Lord conclude For my instruction, to ingage a debt Beyond a possibility of paiment, I ever thought a sin; and therefore justly Without conceit of scorn, or curious rudeness, I must refuse your bounty. _Cesar._ Canst thou love? _Bian._ Love! Is there such a word in any Language That carries honest sence? _Cesar._ Never dwelt ignorance In so sweet-shap't a building: love, _Bianca_, Is that firm knot which ties two hearts in one: Shall ours be tied so? _Bian._ Use a plainer word, My Lord. In stead of tyes, say marries hearts, Then I may understand. _Cæsar._ Their hearts are married Whose enterchange of pleasures, and embraces, Soft kisses, and the privacies of sweets, Keeps constant league together, when temptation Of great mens oathes and gifts, shall urge contempt, Rather than batter resolution, novelty Of sights, or taste of new delights in wantonness, Breeds surfeit more than appetite in any Reserv'd to noble vowes; my excellent Maid, Live thou but true to me, and my contents, Mine only, that no partner may partake The treasure of those sweets thy youth yet glories in, And I will raise thy lowness to abundance Of all varieties, and more triumph In such a Mistris, than great Princes doating On truth-betraying Wives. _Bian._ Thus to yield up then The cottage of my virtue, to be swallow'd By some hard-neighbouring Landlord, such as you are, Is in effect to love, a Lord so vicious! O where shall innocence find some poor dwelling, Free from temptations tyranny. _Cesar._ Nay prethee.