Cam. Since we are all three then expecting lovers, my lord, prithee let's have that song of yours which suits our common purpose.
Ld. H. Call in the boy.
Boy sings.[29]
I.
Ye minutes bring the happy hour,
And Chloe blushing to the bower;
Then shall all idle flames be o'er,
Nor eyes or heart e'er wander more;
Both, Chloe, fixed for e'er on thee,
For thou art all thy sex to me.
II.
A guilty is a false embrace,
Corinna's love's a fairy-chace;
Begone, thou meteor, fleeting fire,
And all that can't survive desire.
Chloe my reason moves and awe,
And Cupid shot me when he saw.
Trim. Look you, gentlemen, since as you are pleased to say we're all lovers, and consequently poets, pray do me the honour to hear a little air of mine. You must know then, I once had the misfortune to fall in love below myself, but things went hard with us at that time, so that my passion, or as I may poetically speak, my fire was in the kitchen; 'twas towards a cook-maid, but before I ever saw Mrs. Deborah.
Ld. H. Come on then, Trim, let's have it.
Trim. I must run into next room for a lute. [Exit.
Cam. This must be diverting! can the rogue play?
Re-enter Trim, with a pair of Tongs.