_Bell_. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were Something allied to her; or had preserv'd Her life three times by my fidelity. As mothers fond do use their only sons; As I'de use one, that's left unto my trust, For whom my life should pay, if he met harm, So she does use me. _Phi_. Why, this is wondrous well: But what kind language does she feed thee with? _Bell_. Why, she does tell me, she will trust my youth With all her loving secrets; and does call me Her pretty servant, bids me weep no more For leaving you: shee'l see my services Regarded; and such words of that soft strain, That I am nearer weeping when she ends Than ere she spake. _Phi_. This is much better still. _Bell_. Are you ill my Lord? _Phi_. Ill? No _Bellario_. _Bell_. Me thinks your words Fall not from off your tongue so evenly, Nor is there in your looks that quietness, That I was wont to see. _Phi_. Thou art deceiv'd boy: And she stroakes thy head? _Bell_. Yes. _Phi_. And she does clap thy cheeks? _Bell_. She does my Lord. _Phi_. And she does kiss thee boy? ha! _Bell_. How my Lord? _Phi_. She kisses thee? _Bell_. Not so my Lord. _Phi_. Come, come, I know she does. _Bell_. No by my life. _Phi_. Why then she does not love me; come, she does, I had her do it; I charg'd her by all charms Of love between us, by the hope of peace We should enjoy, to yield thee all delights Naked, as to her bed: I took her oath Thou should'st enjoy her: Tell me gentle boy, Is she not paralleless? Is not her breath Sweet as _Arabian_ winds, when fruits are ripe? Are not her breasts two liquid Ivory balls? Is she not all a lasting Mine of joy? _Bell_. I, now I see why my disturbed thoughts Were so perplext. When first I went to her, My heart held augury; you are abus'd, Some villain has abus'd you; I do see Whereto you tend; fall Rocks upon his head, That put this to you; 'tis some subtil train, To bring that noble frame of yours to nought. _Phi_. Thou think'st I will be angry with thee; Come Thou shalt know all my drift, I hate her more, Than I love happiness, and plac'd thee there, To pry with narrow eyes into her deeds; Hast thou discover'd? Is she fain to lust, As I would wish her? Speak some comfort to me.