Cham. Yes, my fair monitor, old men always talk thus.
Acast. Chamont, you told me of some doubts that pressed you.
Are you yet satisfied that I'm your friend?
Cham. My lord, I would not lose that satisfaction
For any blessing I could wish for.
As to my fears, already I have lost them;
They ne'er shall vex me more, nor trouble you.
Acast. I thank you. Daughter, you must do so too.
My friends, 'tis late;
For my disorder, it seems all past and over,
And I methinks begin to feel new health.
Cast. Would you but rest, it might restore you quite.
Acast. Yes, I'll to bed; old men must humour weakness.
Let me have music then, to lull and chase
This melancholy thought of death away.
Good-night, my friends! Heaven guard ye all! Good-night!
To-morrow early we'll salute the day,
Find out new pleasures, and redeem lost time.
[Exeunt all but Chamont and Chaplain.
Cham. Hist, hist, Sir Gravity, a word with you.
Chap. With me, sir?
Cham. If you're at leisure, sir, we'll waste an hour;
'Tis yet too soon to sleep, and 'twill be charity
To lend your conversation to a stranger.