_Hen_. Putt on thy merryest face, _Buzzano_.

_Buz_. I have but one face, but I can make a great many.

_Hen_. My best _Eleonora_, I shall soone returne:
In the meane time be owner of this house,
The possesour. All danger, sweet, shall dwell
Far off: Ile but enquire the state of things
In the Citty, and fly back to thee with loves wings.
[_Exit_.

_Ele_. I prithee call him backe.

_Buz_. Signior _Henrico_,
She has something more to say to you. [_Redit_.

_Hen_. To me, sweetest?

_Ele_. _Henrico_, doe you love me?

_Hen_. By this faire hand.

_Ele_. And will you leave me, too?

_Hen_. Not for the wealth of _Spaine_.

_Ele_. Since I must be your prisoner let me have
My keepers company, for I am afraid
Some enemy in your absence, like a woolfe