Count. Let us seat her in this great chair, Basil.
Susan. (Frightened, and exclaims) No!—I won’t sit down!——(After a pause)—This wicked fellow has ruined the poor boy.
Basil. I assure you, my Lord, what I said, was only meant to sound Susan.
Count. No matter, he shall depart! A little, wanton, impudent Rascal, that I meet at every turning—No longer ago than yesterday I surprised him with the Gardener’s daughter.
Basil. Agnes?
Count. In her very bed-chamber.
Susan. Where my Lord happened to have business himself.
Count. Hem!—I was going there to seek your uncle Antonio, Susan, my drunken Gardener; I knock’d at the door, and waited some time; at last Agnes came, with confusion in her countenance—I entered, cast a look round, and perceiving a kind of long Cloak, or Curtain, or some such thing, approach’d, and without seeming to take the least notice, drew it gently aside, thus—Hey!
Basil. Zounds!
(The Count, during his speech, approaches the arm chair, and acting his description draws aside the gown that hides the Page. They all stand motionless with surprise, for some time.)