Part 8 (1/2)

_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