Jul. This was your speaking of them, made them come.
Hip. There is but one, perhaps he may go by.
Ang. Where had I courage for this bold disguise,
Which more my nature than my sex belies?
Alas! I am betrayed to darkness here;
Darkness, which virtue hates, and maids most fear:
Silence and solitude dwell every where:
Dogs cease to bark; the waves more faintly roar,
And roll themselves asleep upon the shore:
No noise but what my footsteps make, and they
Sound dreadfully, and louder than by day:
They double too, and every step I take
Sounds thick, methinks, and more than one could
make.
Ha! who are these?
I wished for company, and now I fear.
Who are you, gentle people, that go there?
Jul. His voice is soft as is the upper air,
Or dying lovers' words: O pity us.
Ang. O pity me! take freely as your own
My gold, my jewels; spare my life alone.
Hip. Alas, he fears as much as we.
Jul. What say you, Sir, will you join with us?
Ang. Yes, madam; but If you would take my sword, you'll use it better.
Hip. Ay, but you are a man.
Ang. Why, so are you.
Hip. Truly my fear had made me quite forget it.