Flor. We were children together. Is his temper sweet as it used to be? Hath he grown taller? I have much to say to him. Is he sunburnt? Doth he wear a beard? They say much ill of him.
Will. Lady! believe it not; [aside]—for I affect much his society. [Aloud.] He is a good master and kind, though of a strange mood. For women, he cannot abear them.
Flor. Indeed! Good friend, nevertheless I must see your master. Bring me to him.
Will. I am going to the inn, where he awaits me. Will it please you to meet me opposite the old barn in two hours?
Flor. I will, I will, for I need his advice much. I am sore distressed. Here is for thee. Lose no time! [Gives him money.] Farewell! [Exit R.]
Will. By'r lady, angels! both of them. [Exit L.]
SCENE III.
An extensile landscape, with a road on the L; overhung with foliage. A Country Inn, U.E.R. Table, chairs, villagers sitting, a waiter bringing in refreshments during the symphony of the following
GLEE and CHORUS.
Cold, oh! cold the March winds be;
High up in a leafless tree
The little bird sits and wearily twits,
The woods with perjury:
But the cuckoo-knave sings hold his stave,
(Ever the spring comes merrily)
And "O poor fool!" sings he—
For this is the way in the world to live,
To mock when a friend hath no more to give,
Whether in hall or tree!