EM.
I grieve to see my Manviles jealousy.

MANVILE.
Ah, Em, faithful love is full of jealousy.
So did I love thee true and faithfully,
For which I am rewarded most unthankfully.

[Exit in a rage. Manet Em.]

EM.
And so away? What, in displeasure gone,
And left me such a bittersweet to gnaw upon?
Ah, Manvile, little wottest thou
How near this parting goeth to my heart.
Uncourteous love, whose followers reaps reward
Of hate, disdain, reproach and infamy,
The fruit of frantike, bedlome jealousy!

[Here enter Mountney to Em.]

But here comes one of these suspitious men:
Witness, my God, without desert of me,
For only Manvile, honor I in heart,
Nor shall unkindness cause me from him to start.

MOUNTNEY.
For this good fortune, Venus, be thou blest,
To meet my love, the mistress of my heart,
Where time and place gives opportunity