Enter Charles friendly, with Hæmon.
Charles: So, no farther? you'll stop here?
Hæmon: Sir, if you grant it. I——
Charles (twittingly): Some rendezvous?
Who is she? Ah, young blood and Spring and night!
Hæmon: No rendezvous, my lord.
Charles: Some lay then you
Would muse on?
Hæmon: Yes, a lay.
Charles: And one of love?
The word, you see, founts easy to my lips.
(With confidential archness.) 'Tis recent in my thought—as you will learn.
Hæmon: How, sir, and when?
Charles: O, when? Be not surprised!—
Well, to the lay!
(He goes.