_Amint_. Ha'ye your Champions?

_Evad_. Alas _Amintor_, thinkst thou I forbear
To sleep with thee, because I have put on
A maidens strictness? look upon these cheeks,
And thou shalt find the hot and rising blood
Unapt for such a vow; no, in this heart
There dwels as much desire, and as much will
To put that wisht act in practice, as ever yet
Was known to woman, and they have been shown
Both; but it was the folly of thy youth,
To think this beauty (to what Land soe're
It shall be call'd) shall stoop to any second.
I do enjoy the best, and in that height
Have sworn to stand or die: you guess the man.

_Amint_. No, let me know the man that wrongs me so,
That I may cut his body into motes,
And scatter it before the Northern wind.

_Evad_. You dare not strike him.

_Amint_. Do not wrong me so;
Yes, if his body were a poysonous plant,
That it were death to touch, I have a soul
Will throw me on him.

_Evad_. Why 'tis the King.

_Amint_. The King!