Scud. I would speak with the Lady Bellafront from the young Lady Lucy.
Sir J. Wor. You had best send in your letter; she is withdrawn.
Scud. My lady gave me charge of the delivery,
And I must do't myself, or carry it back.
Sir J. Wor. A trusty servant. That way leads you to her.
C. Fred. This trust in servants is a jewel. Come,
Let us to bowls i' th' garden.
[Exeunt.
SCUD. Blessed fate!
[Scudmore passeth one door, and entereth the other, where Bellafront sits asleep in a chair, under a taffata canopy.
Scud. O thou, whose words and actions seem'd to me
As innocent as this smooth sleep which hath
Lock'd up thy powers! Would thou hadst slept, when first
Thou sent'st and profferedst me beauty and love!
I had been ignorant, then, of such a loss.
Happy's that wretch, in my opinion,
That never own'd scarce jewels or bright sums:
He can lose nothing but his constant wants;
But speakless is his plague, that once had store,
And from superfluous state falls to be poor.
Such is my hell-bred hap! could nature make
So fair a superficies to enclose
So false a heart? This is like gilded tombs,
Compacted of jet pillars, marble stones,
Which hide from 's stinking flesh and rotten bones.
Pallas so sat (methinks) in Hector's tent.
But time, so precious and so dangerous,
Why do I lose thee? Madam, my lady, madam.
Bel. Believe me, my dear friend, I was enforc'd.
Ha! I had a dream as strange as thou art, fellow.
How cam'st thou hither? what's thy business?