Pilia-borza, didst thou meet with Ithimore?

And didst thou deliver my letter?

And what think'st thou, will he come?

Why so?

And what said he?

And where didst meet him?

Is't not a sweet fac'd youth, Pilia?

Though womans modesty should hale me backe, I can with-hold no longer; welcome sweet love.

Whither so soone?

Canst thou be so unkind to leave me thus?

What shall we doe with this base villaine then?

Now, gentle Ithimore, lye in my lap.

Where are my Maids? provide a running Banquet;

Send to the Merchant, bid him bring me silkes,

Shall Ithimore my love goe in such rags?

I have no husband, sweet, I'le marry thee.

Whither will I not goe with gentle Ithimore?

Tis not thy mony, but thy selfe I weigh: Thus Bellamira esteemes of gold; [Throw it aside.] But thus of thee

Come my deare love, let's in and sleepe together.

Come Amorous wag, first banquet and then sleep.