KING.
When we parted from each other, she betrayed
her liking for me by clearer indications, but still with the
utmost modesty.
Scarce had the fair one from my presence passed,
When, suddenly, without apparent cause,
She stopped; and, counterfeiting pain, exclaimed,
'My foot is wounded by this prickly grass,'
Then, glancing at me tenderly, she feigned
Another charming pretext for delay,
Pretending that a bush had caught her robe
And turned as if to disentangle it.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA
I trust you have laid in a good stock of provisions, for I see you intend making this consecrated grove your game-preserve, and will be roaming here in quest of sport for some time to come.
KING.
You must know, my good fellow, that I have been recognised by some of the inmates of the hermitage. Now I want the assistance of your fertile invention, in devising some excuse for going there again.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
There is but one expedient that I can suggest. You are the King, are you not?
KING.
What then?