Paula: 'Tis late, sir, late,
Let me go in!
Charles: You have a mistress who
Keeps quick temptation in her eyes and hair.
A shy mole too lies pillowed on her cheek—
Does she rest well?
Paula: My lord——
Charles: Ah, you would say
She sometimes walks asleep: and you have come
To fetch her?
Paula: Loose me, sir!
Charles: Or she has left
Her kerchief in some nook: you seek it?
Paula: O,
Your eyes! your eyes!
Charles: I have a son: are his
Not like them?
Paula: My wrist, sir!
Charles: It was night, then—night?
You could not see him clearly?