[Here enter Mountney to Em.]

But here comes one of these suspitious men: 
Witness, my God, without desert of me,
For only Manvile, honor I in heart,
Nor shall unkindness cause me from him to start.

Mountney. 
For this good fortune, Venus, be thou blest,
To meet my love, the mistress of my heart,
Where time and place gives opportunity
At full to let her understand my love.

[He turns to Em and offers to take her by the hand, and she goes from him.]

Fair mistress, since my fortune sorts so well,
Hear you a word.  What meaneth this? 
Nay, stay, fair Em.

Em. 
I am going homewards, sir.

Mountney. 
Yet stay, sweet love, to whom I must disclose
The hidden secrets of a lovers thoughts,
Not doubting but to find such kind remorse
As naturally you are enclined to.

Em. 
The Gentle-man, your friend, Sir,
I have not seen him this four days at the least.

Mountney. 
Whats that to me? 
I speak not, sweet, in person of my friend,
But for my self, whom, if that love deserve
To have regard, being honourable love,
Not base affects of loose lascivious love,
Whom youthful wantons play and dally with,
But that unites in honourable bands of holy rites,
And knits the sacred knot that Gods—­

[Here Em cuts him off.]

Em. 
What mean you, sir, to keep me here so long? 
I cannot understand you by your signs;
You keep a pratling with your lips,
But never a word you speak that I can hear.

Mountney. 
What, is she deaf? a great impediment. 
Yet remedies there are for such defects. 
Sweet Em, it is no little grief to me,
To see, where nature in her pride of art
Hath wrought perfections rich and admirable—­

Em. 
Speak you to me, Sir?

Mountney. 
To thee, my only joy.

Em. 
I cannot hear you.

Mountney. 
Oh, plague of Fortune!  Oh hell without compare! 
What boots it us to gaze and not enjoy?

Em. 
Fare you well, Sir.

[Exit Em.  Manet Mountney.]

Mountney. 
Fare well, my love.  Nay, farewell life and all! 
Could I procure redress for this infirmity,
It might be means she would regard my suit. 
I am acquainted with the Kings Physicians,
Amongst the which theres one mine honest friend,
Seignior Alberto, a very learned man. 
His judgement will I have to help this ill. 
Ah, Em, fair Em, if Art can make thee whole,
I’ll buy that sence for thee, although it cost me dear. 
But, Mountney, stay:  this may be but deceit,
A matter fained only to delude thee,
And, not unlike, perhaps by Valingford. 
He loves fair Em as well as I—­
As well as I? ah, no, not half so well. 
Put case:  yet may he be thine enemy,
And give her counsell to dissemble thus. 
I’ll try the event and if it fall out so,
Friendship, farewell:  Love makes me now a foe.