The happiest fool in Italy, for my age!
And all the damning tales you fed me with,
You Sprite of Twilight, Imp of the old Moon!—
Miriam [bowing].
Were arrant lies as ever woman told;
And though not mine, I claim the price for them—
This cap stuffed full of ducats twice a year!
Lara.
A trap! a trap that only caught a fool!
So thin a plot, I might have seen through it.