II. SCENE 4.]     

                 [HORATIO's garden.]                  Enter HORATIO, BEL-IMPERIA, and PEDRINGANO. HOR. Now that the night begins with sable wings To ouer-cloud the brightnes of the sunne, And that in darkenes pleasures may be done, Come, Bel-imperia, let vs to the bower, And there is safetie passe a pleasant hower. BEL. I follow thee, my loue, and will not backe, Although my fainting hart controles my soule. HOR. Why, make you doubt of Pedringanos faith? BEL. No; he is as trustie as my second selfe. Goe, Pedringano, watch without the gate, And let vs known if any make approach.    PED.  [aside]  In-steed of watching, Ile deserue more golde By fetching Don Lorenzo to this match. Exit PED[RINGANO]. HOR. What means my loue? BEL. I know not what, my-selfe; And yet my hart foretels me some mischaunce. HOR. Sweet, say not so; faire Fortune is our freend, And heauens haue shut vp day to pleasure vs. The starres, thou seest, holde back their twinckling shine And Luna hides her-selfe to pleasure vs. BEL. Thou hast preuailed! Ile conquer my misdoubt, And in thy loue and councell drowne my feare. I feare no more; loue now is all my thoughts! Why sit we not? for pleasure asketh ease. HOR.  The more thou sitst within these leauy bowers, The more will Flora decke it with her flowers. BEL. I; but, if Flora spye Horatio heere, Her iealous eye will think I sit too neere. HOR. Harke, madame, how the birds record by night, For ioy that Bel-imperia sits in sight! BEL. No; Cupid counterfeits the nightingale, To frame sweet musick to Horatios tale. HOR. If Cupid sing, then Venus is not farre,—     I, thou art Venus, or some fairer starre! BEL. If I be Venus, thou must needs be Mars; And where Mars raigneth, there must needs be warres. HOR. Then thus begin our wars:  put forth thy hand, That it may combat with my ruder hand. BEL. Set forth thy foot to try the push of mine. HOR. But, first, my lookes shall combat against thee. BEL. Then ward thy-selfe! I dart this kiss as thee. HOR. Thus I [return] the dart thou threwest at me! BEL. Nay then, to gaine the glory of the field, My twining armes shall yoake and make thee yeeld. HOR. Nay then, my armes are large and strong withall:     Thus elmes by vines are compast till they fall. BEL. O, let me goe, for in my troubled eyes Now maist thou read that life in passion dies! HOR. O, stay a-while, and I will dye with thee; So shalt thou yeeld, and yet haue conquerd me. BEL. Whose there? Pedringano? We are betraide!                  

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