NICHOLAS (heard entering unseen).
Very sweet!
R. (aside). Ha! have I an audience after all?
N. Ricardo, I believe.
R.St Nicholas, is’t not?
N. Your lute, sir, as Amphion drew the trees
Up by the roots, hath drawn me from my bed.
R. Would I could make the lyrical apology
With which, I doubt not, he replanted them.
N. Nay, no apology. And, to say truth,