Volp. My blood,
My spirits are return’d; I am alive:
And, like your wanton gamester at primero,
Whose thought had whisper’d to him, not go less,
Methinks I lie, and draw—for an encounter.

Mos. Sir, here conceal’d, [shews him a closet.] you may hear all.
But, pray you,
Have patience, sir; [knocking within.]—the same’s your father
knocks:
I am compell’d to leave you.

[Exit.

Bon. Do so.—Yet
Cannot my thought imagine this a truth.

[Goes into the closet.

Scene III.—Another Part of the same.

Enter Mosca and Corvino, Cella following.

Mos. Death on me! you are come too soon, what meant you?
Did not I say, I would send?

Corv. Yes, but I fear’d

Mos. Prevent! did e’er man haste so, for his horns?
A courtier would not ply it so, for a place.

[Exit.

Corv. Where are you, Celia?
You know not wherefore I have brought you hither?

Cel. Not well, except you told me.

Corv. Now, I will:
Hark hither.

Mos. Sir, your father hath sent word,
It will be half an hour ere he come;
And therefore, if you please to walk the while
Into that gallery—at the upper end,
There are some books to entertain the time:
And I’ll take care no man shall come unto you, sir.