_Are_. O you are welcome, what good news?

_Gal_. As good as any one can tell your Grace, That saies she hath done that you would have wish'd.

_Are_. Hast thou discovered?

_Gal_. I have strained a point of modesty for you.

_Are_. I prethee how?

_Gal_. In listning after bawdery; I see, let a Lady live never so modestly, she shall be sure to find a lawful time, to harken after bawdery; your Prince, brave _Pharamond_, was so hot on't.

_Are_. With whom?

_Gal_. Why, with the Lady I suspect: I can tell the time and place.

_Are_. O when, and where?

_Gal_. To night, his Lodging.

_Are_. Run thy self into the presence, mingle there again With other Ladies, leave the rest to me: If destiny (to whom we dare not say, Why thou didst this) have not decreed it so In lasting leaves (whose smallest Characters Were never altered:) yet, this match shall break.

Where's the boy?

_La_. Here Madam.

[ _Enter _Bellario.

_Are_. Sir, you are sad to change your service, is't not so?

_Bell_. Madam, I have not chang'd; I wait on you, To do him service.

_Are_. Thou disclaim'st in me; Tell me thy name.

_Bell_. _Bellario_.

_Are_. Thou canst sing, and play?

_Bell_. If grief will give me leave, Madam, I can.

_Are_. Alas! what kind of grief can thy years know?

Hadst thou a curst master, when thou went'st to School?

Thou art not capable of other grief; Thy brows and cheeks are smooth as waters be, When no [b]reath troubles them: believe me boy, Care seeks out wrinkled brows, and hollow eyes, And builds himself caves to abide in them.

Come Sir, tell me truly, does your Lord love me?

_Bell_. Love Madam? I know not what it is.

_Are_. Canst thou know grief, and never yet knew'st love?

Thou art deceiv'd boy; does he speak of me As if he wish'd me well?

_Bell_. If it be love, To forget all respect of his own friends, In thinking of your face; if it be love To sit cross arm'd and sigh away the day, Mingled with starts, crying your name as loud And hastily, as men i'the streets do fire: If it be love to weep himself away, When he but hears of any Lady dead, Or kill'd, because it might have been your chance; If when he goes to rest (which will not be) 'Twixt every prayer he saies, to name you once As others drop a bead, be to be in love; Then Madam, I dare swear he loves you.

_Are_. O y'are a cunning boy, and taught to lie, For your Lords credit; but thou knowest, a lie, That bears this sound, is welcomer to me, Than any truth that saies he loves me not.

Lead the way Boy: Do you attend me too; 'Tis thy Lords business hasts me thus; Away.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter _Dion, Cleremont, Thrasilin, Megra _and _Galatea.

_Di_. Come Ladies, shall we talk a round? As men Do walk a mile, women should take an hour After supper: 'Tis their exercise.

_Gal_. Tis late.

_Meg_. 'Tis all My eyes will do to lead me to my bed.

_Gal_. I fear they are so heavy, you'l scarce find The way to your lodging with 'em to night.

[ Enter _Pharamond_.

_Thra_. The Prince.

_Pha_. Not a bed Ladies? y'are good sitters up; What think you of a pleasant dream to last Till morning?

_Meg_. I should choose, my Lord, a pleasing wake before it.

[_Enter _Arethusa _and _Bellario.

_Are_. 'Tis well my Lord y'are courting of Ladies.

Is't not late Gentlemen?

_Cle_. Yes Madam.

_Are_. Wait you there.

[_Exit _Arethusa.

_Meg_. She's jealous, as I live; look you my Lord, The Princess has a _Hilas_, an _Adonis_.

_Pha_. His form is Angel-like.

_Meg_. Why this is he, must, when you are wed, Sit by your pillow, like young _Apollo_, with His hand and voice, binding your thoughts in sleep; The Princess does provide him for you, and for her self.

_Pha_. I find no musick in these boys.

_Meg_. Nor I.

They can do little, and that small they do, They have not wit to hide.

_Di_. Serves he the Princess?

_Thra_. Yes.

_Di_. 'Tis a sweet boy, how brave she keeps him!