_ You are too tender;
I neither doubt you, nor desire longer
To be a man, and live, than I am honest
And only yours; our infinite affections
Abus'd us both.
_Zab._ Where are your favours now?
The courtesies you shew'd this stranger, Madam?
_Hip._ Have I now found the cause?
_Zab._ Attend it further.
_Zen._ Did she invite you, do you say?
_Arn._ Most cunningly,
And with a preparation of that state
I was brought in and welcom'd.
_Zen._ Seem'd to love you?
_Arn._ Most infinitely, at first sight, most dotingly.
_Zen._ She is a goodly Lady.
_Arn._ Wondrous handsom:
At first view, being taken unprepar'd,
Your memory not present then to assist me,
She seem'd so glorious sweet, and so far stir'd me,
Nay be not jealous, there's no harm done.
_Zen._ Prethee--didst thou not kiss, _Arnoldo_?
_Arn._ Yes faith did I.
_Zen._ And then--
_Arn._ I durst not, did not--
_Zen._ I forgive you,
Come tell the truth.
_Arn._ May be I lay with her.
_Hip._ He mocks me too, most basely.
_Zen._ Did ye faith? did ye forget so far?
_Arn._ Come, come, no weeping;
I would have lyen first in my grave, believe that.
Why will you ask those things you would not hear?
She is too untemperate to betray my vertues,
Too openly lascivious: had she dealt
But with that seeming modesty she might,
And flung a little Art upon her ardor,
But 'twas forgot, and I forgot to like her,
And glad I was deceiv'd.
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