Car. Not find my friend! sure, some malignant planet
Rules o'er this night, and, envying the content
Which I in thought possess, debars me thus
From what is more than happy, the lov'd presence
Of a dear friend and love.
Alb. 'Tis wronged Carracus by Albert's baseness:
I have no power now to reveal myself.
Car. The horses stand at the appointed place,
And night's dark coverture makes firm our safety.
My friend is surely fall'n into a slumber
On some bank hereabouts; I will call him.
Friend Albert, Albert!
Alb. Whate'er you are that call, you know my name.
Car. Ay, and thy heart, dear friend.
Alb. O Carracus, you are a slow-pac'd lover!
Your credit had been touch'd, had I not been.
Car. As how, I prythee, Albert?
Alb. Why, I excus'd you to the fair Maria;
Who would have thought you else a slack performer.
For coming first under her chamber-window,
She heard me tread, and call'd upon your name;
To which I answer'd with a tongue like yours,
And told her I would go to seek for Albert,
And straight return.
Car. Whom I have found; thanks to thy faith and heav'n.
But had not she a light when you came first?
Alb. Yes, but hearing of some company,
She at my warning was forc'd to put it out.
And had I been so too, you and I too
Had still been happy.
[Aside.