Away they go to bathe; grow full of noise,
As servants use, when masters are abroad.
Meanwhile sleep seiz’d the virgin: I, by stealth,
Peep’d through the fan-sticks thus; then looking round,
And seeing all was safe, made fast the door.
Anti. What then?
Chær. What then, fool!
Anti. I confess.
Chær. D’ye think,
Bless’d with an opportunity like this,