[_She makes signs she is dumb_.]
Pox, I think, she's dumb: what a vengeance dost thou at court, with
such a rare face, without a tongue to answer to a kind question? Art
thou dumb indeed? then thou canst tell no tales--
[_Goes to kiss her_.
_Flo_. Hold, hold, you are not mad!
_Cel_. Oh, my miss in a mask! have you found your tongue?
_Flo_. 'Twas time, I think; what had become of me if I had not?
_Cel_. Me thinks your lips had done as well.
_Flo_. Ay, if my mask had been over 'em, as it was when you met
me in the walks.
_Cel_. Well; will you believe me another time? Did not I say,
you were infinitely handsome? they may talk of Florimel, if they will,
but, i'faith, she must come short of you.
_Flo_. Have you seen her, then?
_Cel_. I look'd a little that way, but I had soon enough of her;
she is not to be seen twice without a surfeit.
_Flo_. However, you are beholden to her; they say she loves you.
_Cel_. By fate she shan't love me: I have told her a piece of
my mind already? Pox o' these coming women: They set a man to dinner,
before he has an appetite. [FLAVIA _at the door_.
_Fla_. Florimel, you are call'd within--[_Exit_.
_Cel_. I hope in the lord, you are not Florimel!
_Flo_. Ev'n she, at your service; the same kind and coming
Florimel, you have described.
Pages:
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427