How comes it, said she, that the prince your master, has had the presumption to importune me again, after my absolute commands to the contrary?
The prince, my master, madam! said the man, excessively surprised.
Aye! said Arabella, are you not Sir George's squire? And does he not trust you with his most secret thoughts?
I belong to Sir George Bellmour, madam, replied the man, who did not understand what she meant: I have not the honour to be a squire.
No! interrupted Arabella; it is strange then, that he should have honoured you with his commission; pray, what is it you come to request for him?
My master, madam, said he, ordered me to get this letter delivered to your ladyship, and to stay for your commands.
You would persuade me, said she, sternly, being provoked that he did not deliver the letter upon his knees, as was the custom in romances, that you are not acquainted with the purport of this audacious billet, since you express so little fear of my displeasure. But know, presumptuous, that I am mortally offended with your master, for his daring to suppose I would read this proof at once of his insolence and infidelity; and were you worth my resentment, I would haply make you suffer for your want of respect to me.
The poor man, surprised and confounded at her anger, and puzzled extremely to understand what she meant, was opening his mouth to say something, it is probable in his own defence, when Arabella preventing him—
I know what thou wouldst say, said she: thou wouldst abuse my patience by a false detail of thy master's sighs, tears, exclamations, and despair.
Indeed, madam, I don't intend to say any such thing, replied the man.