_Bell_. I am gone; But since I am to part with you my Lord, And none knows whether I shall live to do More service for you; take this little prayer; Heaven bless your loves, your fights, all your designs. May sick men, if they have your wish, be well; And Heavens hate those you curse, though I be one. [_Exit_. _Phi_. The love of boyes unto their Lords is strange, I have read wonders of it; yet this boy For my sake, (if a man may judge by looks, And speech) would out-do story. I may see A day to pay him for his loyalty. [_Exit_ Phi. _Enter_ Pharamond. _Pha_. Why should these Ladies stay so long? They must come this way; I know the Queen imployes 'em not, for the Reverend Mother sent me word they would all be for the Garden. If they should all prove honest now, I were in a fair taking; I was never so long without sport in my life, and in my conscience 'tis not my fault: Oh, for our Country Ladies! Here's one boulted, I'le hound at her. _Enter_ Galatea. _Gal_. Your Grace! _Pha_. Shall I not be a trouble? _Gal_. Not to me Sir. _Pha_. Nay, nay, you are too quick; by this sweet hand. _Gal_. You'l be forsworn Sir, 'tis but an old glove. If you will talk at distance, I am for you: but good Prince, be not bawdy, nor do not brag; these two I bar, and then I think, I shall have sence enough to answer all the weighty _Apothegmes_ your Royal blood shall manage. _Pha_. Dear Lady, can you love? _Gal_. Dear, Prince, how dear! I ne're cost you a Coach yet, nor put you to the dear repentance of a Banquet; here's no Scarlet Sir, to blush the sin out it was given for: This wyer mine own hair covers: and this face has been so far from being dear to any, that it ne're cost penny painting: And for the rest of my poor Wardrobe, such as you see, it leaves no hand behind it, to make the jealous Mercers wife curse our good doings. _Pha_. You mistake me Lady. _Gal_. Lord, I do so; would you or I could help it. _Pha_. Do Ladies of this Country use to give no more respect to men of my full being?