Page 218
Scene 8.
O Love, dissembling love, that seem'st to be the best of passi∣ons, and yet torments the soul!
What makes your Lordship so melancholy, as to shun all your friends, to walk alone?
I am in Love.
There are many remedies for love.
I would you could tell me one.
May I know the Lady you are in love with?
The Lady say you? she is a poor Lady••
Your Lordship is so rich, as you may marry without a por∣tion,
O I could curse my fate, and rail at my destiny.
For what?
To make me fall in love with one I am asham'd to make her known.
Is she so mean, and yet so beautiful?
O she hath all the Beauties and Graces that can attract a soul to love; for surely Nature sate in Councel to make her body, and the Gods sate in Councel to compose her mind.
May not I see her?
Yes.
Where may I find her?
Upon the next Plain, under a bush that bends much like a bower, there she most commonly sits to watch her sheep; but I will goe with you.
Your Lordship is not jealous?
All Lovers think their Beloved is never secure enough.