Sir Cred. How, a dumb Ambassador? Zoz, Man, how shall I deliver my Embassy then, and tell her how much I love her?—besides, I had a pure Speech or two ready by heart, and that will be quite lost. Aside.
Lod. Fy, fy! how dull you are! why, you shall do it by Signs, and I’ll be your Interpreter.
Sir Cred. Why, faith, this will be pure; I understand you now, Zoz, I am old excellent at Signs;—I vow this will be rare.
Lod. It will not fail to do your business, if well manag’d—but stay, here’s my Sister, on your life not a syllable.
Enter Lean. Lucr. and Isab.
Sir Cred. I’ll be rackt first, [Mum budget],—prithee present me, I long to be at it, sure. He falls back, making Faces and Grimaces.
Lod. Sister, I here present you with a worthy Knight, struck dumb with Admiration of your Beauty; but that’s all one, he is employ’d Envoy Extraordinary from the blind God of Love: and since, like his young Master, he must be defective in one of his Senses, he chose rather to be dumb than blind.
Lucr. I hope the small Deity is in good Health, Sir?
Isab. And his Mistress Psyche, Sir? He smiles and bows, and makes Signs.
Lod. He says that Psyche has been sick of late, but somewhat recovered, and has sent you for a Token a pair of Jet Bracelets, and a Cambrick Handkerchief of her own spinning, with a Sentence wrought in’t, Heart in hand, at thy command. Looking every word upon Sir Credulous as he makes signs.