Chloe.  But, sweet lady, say; am I well enough attired for the court, in sadness?

Cyth.  Well enough! excellent well, sweet mistress Chloe; this strait-bodied city attire, I can tell you, will stir a courtier’s blood, more than the finest loose sacks the ladies use to be put in; and then you are as well jewell’d as any of them; your ruff and linen about you is much more pure than theirs; and for your beauty, I can tell you, there’s many of them would defy the painter, if they could change with you.  Marry, the worst is, you must look to be envied, and endure a few court-frumps for it.

Chloe.  O Jove, madam, I shall buy them too cheap!—­Give me my muff, and my dog there.-And will the ladies be any thing familiar with me, think you?

Cyth.  O Juno! why you shall see them flock about you with their puff-wings, and ask you where you bought your lawn, and what you paid for it? who starches you? and entreat you to help ’em to some pure laundresses out of the city.

Chloe.  O Cupid!—­Give me my fan, and my mask too.—­And will the lords, and the poets there, use one well too, lady?

Cyth.  Doubt not of that; you shall have kisses from them, go pit-pat, pit-pat, pit-pat, upon your lips, as thick as stones out of slings at the assault of a city.  And then your ears will be so furr’d with the breath of their compliments, that you cannot catch cold of your head, if you would, in three winters after.

Chloe.  Thank you, sweet lady.  O heaven! and how must one behave herself amongst ’em?  You know all.

Cyth.  Faith, impudently enough, mistress Chloe, and well enough.  Carry not too much under thought betwixt yourself and them; nor your city-mannerly word, forsooth, use it not too often in any case; but plain, Ay, madam, and no, madam:  nor never say, your lordship, nor your honour; but, you, and you, my lord, and my lady:  the other they count too simple and minsitive.  And though they desire to kiss heaven with their titles, yet they will count them fools that give them too humbly.

Chloe.  O intolerable, Jupiter! by my troth, lady, I would not for a world but you had lain in my house; and, i’faith, you shall not pay a farthing for your board, nor your chambers.

Cyth.  O, sweet mistress Chloe!  Chloe.  I’faith you shall not, lady; nay, good lady, do not offer it.
                                    [Enter Gallus and tibullus. 
Gal.  Come, where be these ladies?  By your leave, bright stars, this gentleman and I are come to man you to court; where your late kind entertainment is now to be requited with a heavenly banquet.

Cyth.  A heavenly banquet; Gallus!

Gal.  No less, my dear Cytheris.

Tib.  That were not strange, lady, if the epithet were only given for the company invited thither; your self, and this fair gentle-woman.