Allworth: My much-lov’d lord, were Margaret only fair, The cannon of her more than earthly form, Though mounted high, commanding all beneath it, And ramm’d with bullets of her sparkling eyes, Of all the bulwarks that defend your senses Could batter none, but that which guards your sight. But when the well-tun’d accents of her tongue Make music to you, and with numerous sounds Assault your hearing, (such as if Ulysses Now liv’d again, howe’er he stood the Syrens, Could not resist,) the combat must grow doubtful Between your reason and rebellious passions. And this too; when you feel her touch, and breath Like a swift western wind when it glides o’er Arabia, creating gums and spices; And, in the van, the nectar of her lips, Which you must taste, bring the battalia on, Well arm’d, and strongly lin’d with her discourse, And knowing manners, to give entertainment;— Hippolytus himself would leave Diana, To follow such a Venus. Lord Lovell: Love hath made you poetical, Allworth. In another scene, between Sir Giles Overreach, an extortioner, and his daughter Margaret, the father gives his daughter amatory but sinister advice that is tantamount to the prescriptions of the _Kama Sutra_ and similar manuals: Margaret: There’s too much disparity between his quality and mine, to hope it. Overreach: I more than hope’t, and doubt not to effect it. Be thou no enemy to thyself, my wealth Shall weigh his titles down, and make you equals. Now for the means to assure him thine, observe me: Remember he’s a courtier and a soldier, And not to be trifled with; and therefore, when He comes to woo you, see you do not coy it: This mincing modesty has spoil’d many a match By a first refusal, in vain after hop’d for. Margaret: You’ll have me, sir, preserve the distance that Confines a virgin? Overreach: Virgin me no virgins! I must have you lose that name, or you lose me. I will have you private—start not—I say, private; If thou art my true daughter, not a bastard, Thou wilt venture alone with one man, though he came Like Jupiter to Semele, and come off, too; And therefore, when he kisses you, kiss close. Margaret: I have heard this is the strumpet’s fashion, sir, Which I must never learn. Overreach: Learn any thing, And from any creature that may make thee great; From the devil himself. Margaret (aside): This is but devilish doctrine! Overreach: Or, if his blood grows hot, suppose he offer Beyond this, do not you stay till it cool, But meet his ardor; if a couch be near, Sit down on’t, and invite him.