_Enter_ Cleon, Strato, Diphilus.

_Cle_. Your sister is not up yet.

_Diph_. Oh, Brides must take their mornings rest, The night is troublesome.

_Stra_. But not tedious.

_Diph_. What odds, he has not my Sisters maiden-head to night?

_Stra_. No, it's odds against any Bridegroom living, he ne're gets it while he lives.

_Diph_. Y'are merry with my Sister, you'l please to allow me the same freedom with your Mother.

_Stra_. She's at your service.

_Diph_. Then she's merry enough of her self, she needs no tickling; knock at the door.

_Stra_. We shall interrupt them.

_Diph_. No matter, they have the year before them.

Good morrow Sister; spare your self to day, the night will come again.

[_Enter Amintor_.

_Amint_. Who's there, my Brother? I am no readier yet, your Sister is but now up.

_Diph_. You look as you had lost your eyes to night; I think you ha' not slept.

_Amint_. I faith I have not.

_Diph_. You have done better then.

_Amint_. We ventured for a Boy; when he is Twelve, He shall command against the foes of _Rhodes_.

_Stra_. You cannot, you want sleep.

[_Aside_.

_Amint_. 'Tis true; but she As if she had drunk _Lethe_, or had made Even with Heaven, did fetch so still a sleep, So sweet and sound.

_Diph_. What's that?

_Amint_. Your Sister frets this morning, and does turn her eyes upon me, as people on their headsman; she does chafe, and kiss, and chafe again, and clap my cheeks; she's in another world.

_Diph_. Then I had lost; I was about to lay, you had not got her Maiden-head to night.

_Amint_. Ha! he does not mock me; y'ad lost indeed; I do not use to bungle.

_Cleo_. You do deserve her.

_Amint_. I laid my lips to hers, and [t]hat wild breath That was rude and rough to me, last night

[_Aside.

Was sweet as _April_; I'le be guilty too, If these be the effects.

[_Enter Melantius_.

_Mel_. Good day _Amintor_, for to me the name Of Brother is too distant; we are friends, And that is nearer.

_Amint_. Dear _Melantius_!

Let me behold thee; is it possible?

_Mel_. What sudden gaze is this?

_Amint_. 'Tis wonderous strange.

_Mel_. Why does thine eye desire so strict a view Of that it knows so well?

There's nothing here that is not thine.

_Amint_. I wonder much _Melantius_, To see those n.o.ble looks that make me think How vertuous thou art; and on the sudden 'Tis strange to me, thou shouldst have worth and honour, Or not be base, and false, and treacherous, And every ill. But--

_Mel_. Stay, stay my Friend, I fear this sound will not become our loves; no more, embrace me.

_Amint_. Oh mistake me not; I know thee to be full of all those deeds That we frail men call good: but by the course Of nature thou shouldst be as quickly chang'd As are the winds, dissembling as the Sea, That now wears brows as smooth as Virgins be, Tempting the Merchant to invade his face, And in an hour calls his billows up, And shoots 'em at the Sun, destroying all He carries on him. O how near am I

[_Aside_.

To utter my sick thoughts!

_Mel_. But why, my Friend, should I be so by Nature?

_Amin_. I have wed thy Sister, who hath vertuous thoughts Enough for one whole family, and it is strange That you should feel no want.

_Mel_. Believe me, this complement's too cunning for me.

_Diph_. What should I be then by the course of nature, They having both robb'd me of so much vertue?

_Strat_. O call the Bride, my Lord _Amintor_, that we may see her blush, and turn her eyes down; it is the prettiest sport.

_Amin_. _Evadne_!

_Evad_. My Lord!

[_Within_.

_Amint_. Come forth my Love, Your Brothers do attend to wish you joy.

_Evad_. I am not ready yet.

_Amint_. Enough, enough.