_Mir_. Thy Wife?
_And_. So I assure ye; this night at twelve a clock.
_Mir_. 'Tis neat and handsome; there are twenty Crowns due to thy project,
_Andrew_; I've time to visit _Charles_, and see what Lecture he reads to
his Mistris. That done, I'le not fail to be with you.
_And_. Nor I to watch my master-- [_Exeunt_.
ACTUS IV. SCENA III.
_Enter_ Angelli[n]a, Sylvia, _with a Taper_.
_Ang_. I'm worse than e'er I was; for now I fear, that that I love, that
that I only dote on; he follows me through every room I pass, and with a
strong set eye he gazes on me, as if his spark of innocence were blown
into a flame of lust. Virtue defend me. His Uncle too is absent, and 'tis
night; and what these opportunities may teach him--What fear and endless
care 'tis to be honest! to be a Maid what misery, what mischief! Would I
were rid of it, so it were fairly.
_Syl_. You need not fear that, will you be a child still? He follows you,
but still to look upon you; or if he did desire to lie with ye, 'tis but
your own desire, you love for that end; I'le lay my life, if he were now a
bed w'ye, he is so modest, he would fall asleep straight.
_Ang_. Dare you venture that?
_Syl_. Let him consent, and have at ye; I fear him not, he knows not what
a woman is, nor how to find the mystery men aim at. Are you afraid of your
own shadow, Madam?
_Ang_. He follows still, yet with a sober face; would I might know the
worst, and then I were satisfied.
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