He is silenced now, I hope.
1130
F.Here’s his curst lute:
I took it from him.
R.Ha! then give it to me.
The very thing. I’ll step into the gap,
And take the blame of this untimely singing
Upon myself. Go in and leave me here:
And if to-morrow any ask who ’twas
That played and sang at midnight—why ’twas I.