_Leon._ Can you so easily without me live? Or could you take the counsel, which you give? Were you a princess, would you not be true? _Palm._ I would; but cannot merit it from you. _Leon._ Did you not merit, as you do, my heart, Love gives esteem, and then it gives desert. But if I basely could forget my vow, Poor helpless innocence, what would you do? _Palm._ In woods, and plains, where first my love began, There would I live, retired from faithless man: I'd sit all day within some lonely shade, Or that close arbour which your hands have made: I'd search the groves, and every tree, to find Where you had carved our names upon the rind: Your hook, your scrip, all that was yours, I'd keep, And lay them by me when I went to sleep. Thus would I live: And maidens, when I die, Upon my hearse white true-love-knots should tie; And thus my tomb should be inscribed above, _Here the forsaken Virgin rests from love._ _Leon._ Think not that time or fate shall e'er divide Those hearts, which love and mutual vows have tied. But we must part; farewell, my love. _Palm._ Till when? _Leon._ Till the next age of hours we meet again. Meantime, we may, When near each other we in public stand, Contrive to catch a look, or steal a hand: Fancy will every touch and glance improve; And draw the most spirituous parts of love. Our souls sit close, and silently within, And their own web from their own entrails spin; And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such, That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch. [_Exeunt._ ACT III. SCENE I. _Enter_ RHODOPHIL, _meeting_ DORALICE _and_ ARTEMIS; RHODOPHIL _and_ DORALICE _embrace._ _Rho._ My own dear heart! _Dor._ My own true love! [_She starts back._] I had forgot myself to be so kind; indeed, I am very angry with you, dear; you are come home an hour after you appointed: if you had staid a minute longer, I was just considering whether I should stab, hang, or drown myself. [_Embracing him._ _Rho._ Nothing but the king's business could have hindered me; and I was so vexed, that I was just laying down my commission, rather than have failed my dear. [_Kisses her hand._ _Arte._ Why, this is love as it should be betwixt man and wife: such another couple would bring marriage into fashion again. But is it always thus betwixt you? _Rho._ Always thus! this is nothing. I tell you, there is not such a pair of turtles in Sicily; there is such an eternal cooing and kissing betwixt us, that indeed it is scandalous before civil company. _Dor._ Well, if I had imagined I should have been this fond fool, I would never have married the man I loved: I married to be happy, and have made myself miserable by over-loving. Nay, and now my case is desperate; for I have been married above these two years, and find myself every day worse and worse in love: nothing but madness can be the end on't.