_Bar_.
Come hither:
Be not afraid, but come.
_Am_.
Here's none will bite, Sir.
_Lean_.
God forbid Lady.
_Am_.
'Pray come nearer.
_Lean_.
Yes forsooth.
_Bar_.
'Prethee observe these men: just as they stand here,
And see this Lady do not alter 'em,
And be not partial, Pupil.
_Lean_.
No indeed Sir.
_Bar_.
Let her not move a pawn, I'le come back presently,
Nay you shall know I am a Conquerour.
Have an eye Pupil--
[_Exit_.
_Am_.
Can ye play at Chess Sir?
_Lean_.
A little, Lady.
_Am_.
But you cannot tell me
How to avoid this Mate, and win the Game too;
H'as noble eyes: ye dare not friend me so far.
_Lean_.
I dare do any thing that's in mans power Lady,
To be a friend to such a noble beauty.
_Am_.
This is no Lawyers language: I pray ye tell me,
Whither may I remove, Ye see I am set round,
To avoid my husband?
_Lean_.
I shall tell ye happily,
But happily you will not be instructed.
_Am_.
Yes, and thank ye too, shall I move this man?
_Lean_.
Those are unseemly: move one can serve ye,
Can honour ye, can love ye.
_Am_.
'Pray ye tell quickly,
He will return, and then.
_Lean_.
I'le tell ye instantly,
Move me, and I will move any way to serve ye,
Move your heart this way, Lady.
_Am_.
How?
_Lean_.
'Pray ye hear me.
Behold the sport of love, when he is imperious,
Behold the slave of love.
_Am_.
Move my Queen this way?
Sure, he's some worthy man: then if he hedge me,
Or here to open him.
_Lean_.
Do but behold me,
If there be pity in you, do but view me,
But view the misery I have undertaken
For you, the povertie.
_Am_.
He will come presently.
Now play your best Sir, though I lose this Rook here,
Yet I get libertie.
_Lean_.
I'le seise your fair hand,
And warm it with a hundred, hundred kisses.
The God of love warm your desires but equal,
That shall play my game now.
_Am_.
What do you mean Sir?
Why do you stop me?
_Lean_.
That ye may intend me.
The time has blest us both: love bids us use it.
I am a Gentleman nobly descended,
Young to invite your love, rich to maintain it.
I bring a whole heart to ye, thus I give it,
And to those burning altars thus I offer,
And thus, divine lips, where perpetual Spring grows--
_Am_.
Take that, ye are too saucy.
_Lean_.
How, proud Lady?
Strike my deserts?
_Am_.