They having both robb'd me of so much vertue?

_Strat_. O call the Bride, my Lord _Amintor_, that we may
see her blush, and turn her eyes down; it is the
prettiest sport.

_Amin_. _Evadne_!

_Evad_. My Lord!
[_Within_.

_Amint_. Come forth my Love,
Your Brothers do attend to wish you joy.

_Evad_. I am not ready yet.

_Amint_. Enough, enough.

_Evad_. They'l mock me.

_Amint_. Faith thou shalt come in.

[_Enter Evadne_.

_Mel_. Good morrow Sister; he that understands
Whom you have wed, need not to wish you joy.
You have enough, take heed you be not proud.

_Diph_. O Sister, what have you done!