ROSALYNDE
The hardned steele by fire is brought in frame: ROSADER
And Rosalynde my love than any wooll more
softer; And shall not sighes her tender heart inflame?
ROSALYNDE
Were Lovers true, maides would beleeue them
ofter.
ROSADER
Truth and regard, and honour guide my love.
ROSALYNDE
Faine would I trust, but yet I dare not trie.
ROSADER
Oh pitie me sweete Nymph, and doo but prove.
ROSALYNDE
I would resist, but yet I know not why.
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