Duke. You have back-friends, my lord?
De C. That some malignant cloud does interpose
The king's cheerful favour, I am most sensible.
Duke. It wou'd spread to me too, if they durst.
De C. Had they but so much virtue left, they durst
Own their names by, I should make pale envy blush.
Duke. Come, we'll to cards, and leave them to parl. [Exeunt.
Des. Madam, but mean it in a smile.
Claud. What!
Des. Love.
Claud. Fie!
Des. Yet stay; the air has busy wings. But give
The thought consent, and I will take it in soft
Whispers from your lip.