_Syl_. Ye may both, and let him but go with ye.
_Char_. Why do you flie me? what have I so ill about me, or within me, to
deserve it?
_Ang_. I am going to bed, Sir.
_Char_. And I am come to light ye; I am a Maid, and 'tis a Maidens office.
_Ang_. You may have me to bed, Sir, without a scruple, and yet I am chary
too who comes about me. Two Innocents should not fear one another.
_Syl_. The Gentleman says true. Pluck up your heart, Madam.
_Char_. The glorious Sun both rising and declining we boldly look upon;
even then, sweet Lady, when, like a modest Bride, he draws nights
curtains, even then he blushes, that men should behold him.
_Ang_. I fear he will perswade me to mistake him.
_Syl_. 'Tis easily done, if you will give your mind to't.
_Ang_. Pray ye to your bed.
_Char_. Why not to yours, dear Mistris? one heart and one bed.
_Ang_. True, Sir, when 'tis lawful: but yet you know--
_Char_. I would not know, forget it; those are but sickly loves that hang
on Ceremonies, nurs'd up with doubts and fears; ours high and healthful,
full of belief, and fit to teach the Priest: Love shall seal first, then
hands confirm the bargain.
_Ang_. I shall be a Heretick if this continue. What would you do a bed?
you make me blush, Sir.
_Char_. I'd see you sleep, for sure your sleeps are excellent, you that
are waking such a noted wonder, must in your slumber prove an admiration.
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