Vio. You’ll tell my uncle.

Lau. I hate my uncle more than you do.

Vio. You know the man, ’tis signior Camillo:  His birth and fortunes are equal to what I can expect; and he tells me his intentions are honourable.

Lau. Have I not seen him lately in his balcony, which looks into our garden, with another handsome gentleman in his company, who seems a stranger?

Vio. They are the same.  Do you think it a reasonable thing, dear Laura, that my uncle should keep us so strictly, that we must be beholden to hearsay, to know a young gallant is in the next house to us?

Lau. ’Tis hard, indeed, to be mewed like hawks, and never manned:  To be locked in like nuns here.

Vio. They, that look for nun’s flesh in me, shall be mistaken.

Lau. Well, what answer have you returned to this letter?

Vio. That I would meet him at eight this evening, in the close walk in the garden, attended only by Beatrix, my woman.

Lau. Who comes with him?

Vio. Only his friend’s man, Benito; the same who brought me the letter which you took from me.

Lau. Stay, let me think a little.  Does Camillo, or this Benito, know your maid Beatrix?

Vio. They have never talked with her; but only seen her.

Lau. ’Tis concluded then.  You shall meet your servant, but I’ll be your Beatrix:  I’ll go instead of her, and counterfeit your waiting-woman; in the dark I may easily pass for her.  By this means I shall be present to instruct you, for you are yet a callow maid:  I must teach you to peck a little; you may come to prey for yourself in time.

Vio. A little teaching will serve my turn:  If the old one left me to myself, I could go near to get my living.

Lau. I find you are eager, and baiting to be gone already, and I’ll not hinder you when your hour approaches.  In the mean time, go in, and sigh, and think fondly and ignorantly of your approaching pleasures: 

  Love, in young hearts, is like the must of wine;
  ’Tis sweetest then; but elder ’tis more fine. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.—­The front of a Nunnery.

  Prince FREDERICK, AURELIAN, CAMILLO, and ASCANIO, the Prince’s
  Page.

Fred. My father’s ancient, and may repose himself, if he pleases, after the ceremony of his entrance; but we, who are younger, should think it a sin to spend any part of day-light in a chamber.  What are your ways of living here?

Cam. Why, sir, we pass our time, either in conversation alone, or in love alone, or in love and conversation together.

Fred. Come, explain, explain, my counsel learned in the laws of living.

Cam. For conversation alone; that’s either in going to court, with a face of business, and there discoursing of the affairs of Europe, of which Rome, you know, is the public mart; or, at best, meeting the virtuosi, and there wearying one another with rehearsing our own works in prose and poetry.