_Casta._ Oh good my Lord, retire into your honor: You're spoken good and virtuous, plac'd [at] Helme To govern others from mischances: from example Of such fair Chronicles as great ones are, We do, or sure we should direct our lives. I know y'are full of worth, a school of virtue Daily instructing us that live below ye, I make no doubt, dwells there. _Lav._ I cannot answer, She has struck me dumb with wonder. _Casta._ Goodness guide ye. [_Exeunt._ _Lav._ She's gone, and with her all [l]ight, and has left me Dark as my black desires. Oh devil lust, How dost thou hug my bloud, and whisper to me, There is no day again, no time, no living, Without this lusty Beauty break upon me! Let me collect my self, I strive like billows, Beaten against a rock, and fall a fool still. I must enjoy her, and I will: from this hour My thoughts, and all my bus'ness shall be nothing. _Enter_ Maria. My eating, and my sleeping, but her beauty, And how to work it. _Mar._ Health to my Lord _Lavall_. Nay good Sir, do not turn with such displeasure; I come not to afflict your new born pleasures; My honour'd Mistriss, neither let that vex ye, For nothing is intended, but safe to you. _Lav._ What of your Mistriss? I am full of bus'ness. _Mar._ I will be short, my Lord; she, loving Lady, Considering the unequal tie between ye, And how your ruine with the Duke lay on it, As also the most noble match now made, By me sends back all links of marriage, All Holy Vows, and Rights of Ceremony, All promises, oaths, tears, and all such pawns You left in hostage: only her love she cannot, For that still follows ye, but not to hurt ye; And still beholds ye Sir, but not to shame ye: In recompence of which, this is her suit, Sir, Her poor and last petition, but to grant her, When weary nights have cloyed ye up with kisses, (As such must come) the honor of a Mistriss, The honor but to let her see those eyes, (Those eyes she doats on, more than gods do goodness) And but to kiss you only: with this prayer, (a prayer only to awake your pity) And on her knees she made it, that this night You'ld bless her with your company at supper. _Lav._ I like this well, and now I think on't better, I'll make a present use from this occasion. _Mar._ Nay, good my Lord, be not so cruel to her Because she has been yours. _Lav._ And to mine own end A rare way I will work. _Mar._ Can love for ever, The Love of her (my Lord) so perish in ye? As ye desire in your desires to prosper. What gallant under Heaven, but _Anjou_'s Heir then Can brag so fair a Wife, and sweet a Mistriss? Good noble Lord.