_Lor._ Good _Curtius_, take it back again then; For a hundred to one but my over-care of keeping it Will betray it. _Cur._ Thou lovest thy self better. _Lor._ Well, that’s a comfort yet. [Exeunt. SCENE III. A Wood. Enter _Cloris_ dressed like a Country-Boy, follow’d by _Guilliam_ a Clown; _Cloris_ comes reading a Letter. _Clo._ [Reads.] Cloris, _beware of Men; for though I my self be one,_ _Yet I have the Frailties of my Sex, and can dissemble too;_ _Trust none of us, for if thou dost, thou art undone;_ _We make Vows to all alike we see,_ _And even the best of Men, the Prince,_ _Is not to be credited in an affair of Love._ --Oh _Curtius_, thy advice was very kind; Had it arriv’d before I’ad been undone! --Can _Frederick_ too be false! A Prince, and be unjust to her that loves him too? --Surely it is impossible-- Perhaps thou lov’st me too, and this may be [Pointing to the Letter. Some Plot of thine to try my Constancy: --Howe’er it be, since he could fail last night Of seeing me, I have at least a cause to justify This shameful change; and sure in this Disguise, I shall not soon be known, dost think I shall? [Looks on herself. _Guil._ Why, forsooth, what do you intend to pass for, A Maid or a Boy? _Clo._ Why, what I seem to be, will it not do? _Guil._ Yes, yes, it may do, but I know not what; I would Love would transmography me to a Maid now, --We should be the prettiest Couple: Don’t you remember when you dress’d me up the last Carnival, was I not the woundiest handsome Lass A body could see in a Summer’s day? There was _Claud_ the Shepherd as freakish after me, I’ll warrant you, and simper’d and tript it like any thing. _Clo._ Ay, but they say ‘tis dangerous for young Maids to live at Court. _Guil._ Nay, then I should be loth to give temptation. --Pray, forsooth, what’s that you read so often there? _Clo._ An advice to young Maids that are in love. _Guil._ Ay, ay, that same Love is a very vengeance thing, Wou’d I were in love too; I see it makes a body valiant; One neither feels Hunger nor Cold that is possest with it. _Clo._ Thou art i’th’ right, it can do Miracles. _Guil._ So it seems, for without a Miracle you and I could never Have rambled about these Woods all night without either Bottle or Wallet: I could e’en cry for hunger now. _Clo._ What a dull Soul this Fellow hath? Sure it can never feel the generous Pains Of Love, as mine does now; oh, how I glory To find my Heart above the common rate! Were not my Prince inconstant, I would not envy what the Blessed do above: But he is false, good Heaven!-- [Weeps. _Guil._ howls. --What dost thou feel, that thou shouldst weep with me? _Guil._ Nothing but Hunger, sharp Hunger, forsooth. _Clo._ Leave calling me forsooth, it will betray us. _Guil._ What shall I call you then?