The hue of dungeons, and the Schoole of night:
And beauties crest becomes the heauens well

Ber. Diuels soonest tempt resembling spirits of light.
O if in blacke my Ladies browes be deckt,
It mournes, that painting vsurping haire
Should rauish doters with a false aspect:
And therfore is she borne to make blacke, faire.
Her fauour turnes the fashion of the dayes,
For natiue bloud is counted painting now:
And therefore red that would auoyd dispraise,
Paints it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow

Dum. To look like her are Chimny-sweepers blacke


Lon. And since her time, are Colliers counted bright

King. And Aethiops of their sweet complexion crake

Dum. Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light

Ber. Your mistresses dare neuer come in raine,
For feare their colours should be washt away

Kin. 'Twere good yours did: for sir to tell you plaine,
Ile finde a fairer face not washt to day

Ber. Ile proue her faire, or talke till dooms-day here