Atlas. At the barber's, you mean.
[Exeunt.
Enter Albert solus.
Alb. This is the green, and this the chamber-window:
And see, the appointed light stands in the casement,
The ladder of ropes set orderly; yet he
That should ascend, slow in his haste, is not
As yet come hither.
Were't any friend that lives but Carracus,
I'd try the bliss which this fine time presents.
Appoint to carry hence so rare an heir,
And be so slack! 'sfoot, it doth move my patience.
Would any man, that is not void of sense,
Not have watch'd night by night for such a prize?
Her beauty's so attractive that, by heav'n,
My heart half grants to do my friend a wrong.
Forego these thoughts; for,[372] Albert, be not slave
To thy affection; do not falsify
Thy faith to him, whose only friendship's worth
A world of women. He is such a one,
Thou canst not live without his good:
A' is and was ever as thine own heart's blood.
[Maria beckons him in the window.
'Sfoot, see, she beckons me for Carracus:
Shall my base purity cause me neglect
This present happiness? I will obtain it,
Spite of my timorous conscience. I am in person,
Habit, and all so like to Carracus,
It may be acted, and ne'er call'd in question.
Maria calls. Hist! Carracus, ascend:
All is as clear as in our hearts we wish'd.
Alb. Nay, if I go not now, I might be gelded, i' faith!
[Albert ascends; and, being on the top of the ladder, puts out the candle.
Mar. O love, why do you so?
Alb. I heard the steps of some coming this way.
Did you not hear Albert pass by as yet?
Mar. [No;] nor any creature pass this way this hour.