Gla. [aside]. He’s an awkward fellow to deal with: come away, Beauseant.
Beau. I know the respect clue to rank. Adieu, my prince. Any commands at Lyons? Yet hold—I promised you 200 Louis on your wedding-day; here they are.
Mel. [dashing the purse to the ground]. I gave you revenge, I did not sell it. Take up your silver, Judas; take it. Ay, it is fit you should learn to stoop.
Beau. You will beg my pardon for this some clay. [Aside to GLAVIS.] Come to my chateau—I shall return hither to morrow, to learn how Pauline likes her new dignity.
Mel. Are you not gone yet?
Beau. Your highness’s most obedient, most faithful
Gla. And most humble servants. Ha! ha! [Exeunt BEAUSEANT and GLAVIS.
Mel. Thank heaven I had no weapon, or I should have slain them. Wretch! what can I say? Where turn? On all sides mockery—the very boors within—[Laughter from the Inn].—‘Sdeath, if even in this short absence the exposure should have chanced. I will call her. We will go hence. I have already sent one I can trust to my mother’s house. There, at least, none can insult her agony—gloat upon her shame! There alone must she learn what a villain she has sworn to love. [As he turns to the door enter PAULINE from the Inn.
Pauline. Ah! my lord, what a place! I never saw such rude people. They stare and wink so. I think the very sight of a prince, though he travels incognito, turns their honest heads. What a pity the carriage should break down in such a spot! You are not well—the drops stand on your brow—your hand is feverish.
Mel. Nay, it is but a passing spasm;—the air