Rol. Umh!
Hir. An excellent instrument, to be the bawd
To his dear lady! But, Rollano, hark;
What words, what looks did give my letter welcome?
Rol. Umh!
Hir. Nay, now thy silence is antedated: speak.
Rol. Umh!
Hir. I give thee leave, I say. Speak, be not foolish.
Rol. Then, with your leave, she us'd, upon receipt,
No words, but silent joy purpl'd her face;
And seeing your name, straight clapp'd it to her heart,
To print there a new copy; as she'd say,
The words went by her eyes too long a way.
Hir. You told her my conditions, and my oath
Of silence, and that only you be used?
Rol. All, sir.
Hir. And that this night——