Mon. He did.
Mir. And how?
Mon. The message came from Thyrsis.
Mir. I'll go with you:
'Tis strange the king should send for you: pray heaven
Thyrsis have done no mischief there: he's handsome,
Of a good grace and moving eloquence:
Perhaps some lady may have taken him
Up for herself, and he, I'll lay a wager,
Will be so squeamish that, if Sylvia
Come in his mind, he ne'er will do her reason,
And then her plot will be how to betray him—
Would I were in his place!
Mon. I would thou wert,
So he were safe.
Mir. I would comply, ne'er fear it;
They live a heavenly life of love in court
To that which we do here; a mistress there
Will satisfy the longings of her lover,
And never trouble Hymen for the matter:
Then, if they like not, they may look elsewhere.
Mon. Thou wilt be punish'd one day for thy mischief.
Mir. The mischief's in my tongue, I ne'er do any.
Mon. No, I have heard that Stella was with child
By thee, and thou must father it.
Mir. Who—I?
Take me at that once—fathering of children,
And make me common father of them all!
A child's a pretty thing, and I should joy
To see one of mine own. I'll tell thee truth,
Montanus. By this hand, I never lay
With any woman in my life.