'She sent to tell me—last night. God help me, Carlo, for a credulous fool!'
'You went to her? Well?'
'She would give it me, Carlo—O Carlo! on such a condition!'
'Which if you refused——?'
'It shall be a fatal ring to me, she ended.'
'Shall it?—or to her? Well, that's said. And now, wilt thou go rest a little, sweetheart, while I think? I cannot think in company.'
'I will go, but not to rest.'
'Pooh! thy Fool shall drug thy folly with his greater.'
'Alas! he's gone.'
'Gone?'