Part 6 (2/2)

Would we might weep together and then part; Our sighing parle would much ease my heart.

FABELL.

Sweet beauty, fold your sorrows in the thought Of future reconcilement: let your tears Shew you a woman; but be no farther spent Then from the eyes; for, sweet, experience says That love is firm that's flattered with delays.

MILLISCENT.

Alas, sir, think you I shall ere be his?

FABELL.

As sure as parting smiles on future bliss.

Yond comes my friend: see, he hath doted So long upon your beauty, that your want Will with a pale retirement waste his blood; For in true love Musicke doth sweetly dwell: Severed, these less worlds bear within them h.e.l.l.

[Enter Mounchensey.]

MOUNCHENSEY.

Harry and Francke, you are enjoined to wain Your friends.h.i.+p from me; we must part: the breath Of all advised corruption--pardon me!

Faith, I must say so;--you may think I love you; I breath not, rougher spight do sever us; We'll meet by stealth, sweet friend,--by stealth, you twain; Kisses are sweetest got with struggling pain.

JERNINGHAM.

Our friends.h.i.+p dies not, Raymond.

MOUNCHENSEY.

Pardon me: I am busied; I have lost my faculties, And buried them in Milliscent's clear eyes.

MILLISCENT.

Alas, sweet Love, what shall become of me?

I must to Chesson to the Nunry, I shall ne'er see thee more.

MOUNCHENSEY.

How, sweet?

I'll be thy votary, we'll often meet: This kiss divides us, and breathes soft adieu,-- This be a double charm to keep both true.

FABELL.

Have done: your fathers may chance spy your parting.

Refuse not you by any means, good sweetness, To go unto the Nunnery; far from hence Must we beget your love's sweet happiness.

You shall not stay there long; your harder bed Shall be more soft when Nun and maid are dead.

[Enter Bilbo.]

MOUNCHENSEY.

Now, sirra, what's the matter?

BILBO.

Marry, you must to horse presently; that villainous old gouty churl, Sir Arthur Clare, longs till he be at the Nunry.

HARRY CLARE.

How, sir?

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