hout
A hunting Nag, well breath'd too.

_Din._ All this while,
You ne'r think on the danger.

_Cler._ Why 'tis no more
Than meeting of a dozen friends at Supper,
And drinking hard; mischief comes there unlook'd for,
I am sure as suddain, and strikes home as often,
For this we are prepar'd.

_Din._ _Lamira_ Loves
Her Brother _Beaupre_ dearly.

_Cler._ What of that?

_Din._ And should he call me to account for what
But now I spake, nor can I with mine honour
Recant my words, that little hope is left me,
E're to enjoy what (next to Heaven) I long for,
Is taken from me.

_Cer._ Why what can you hope for,
She being now married?

_Din._ Oh my _Cleremont_,
To you all secrets of my heart lye open,
And I rest most secure that whatsoe're
I lock up there, is as a private thought,
And will no farther wrong me. I am a _French-man_,
And for the greater part we are born Courtiers,
She is a woman, and however yet,
No heat of service had the power to melt
Her frozen Chastity, time and opportunitie
May work her to my ends, I confess ill ones,
And yet I must pursue 'em: now her marriage,
In probabilitie, will no way hurt,
But rather help me.

_Cler._ Sits the wind there? pray you tell me
How far off dwells your love from lust?

_Din._ Too near,
But prethee chide me not.

_Cler._ Not I, goe on boy,
I have faults my self, and will not reprehend
A crime I am not free from: for her Marriage,
I do esteem it (and most batchellors are
Of my opinion) as a fair protection,
To play the wanton without loss of honour.

_Din._ Would she make use of't so, I were most happy.

_Cler._ No more of this. Judge now,
Whether I have the gift of prophecie.

_Enter_ Beaupre, _and_ Verdone.

_Beaup._ Monsieur _Dinant_,
I am glad to find you, Sir.

_Din._ I am at your service.

_Verd._ Good Monsieur _Cleremont_, I have long wish'd
To be known better to you.

_Cler._ My desires
Embrace your wishes Sir.

_Beaup._ Sir, I have ever
Esteem'd you truly noble, and profess
I should have been most proud, to have had the honour
To call you Brother, but my Fathers pleasure
Denied that happiness. I know no man lives,
That can command his passions, and therefore
Dare not condemn the late intemperate language
You were pleas'd to use to my Father and my Sister,
He's old and she a woman, I most sorrie
My honour does compel me to entreat you,
To do me the favour, with your sword to meet me
A mile without the Citie.

_Din._ You muc