Page. Doubt not, my lord: he has been always kind Pol. Run quickly then, and prosp'rous be thy wishes. [exit Page. [gives the sign. Flo. [At the window.] Who's there? Pol. 'Tis I. Flo. My lord Castalio? Pol. The same. Flo. Oh! Pol. Tell her I'm here, and let the door be open'd. [exit. Page. Indeed, my lord, 'twill be a lovely morning: Cas. Go, you're an idle prattler: Page. I'll wait upon your lordship, Cas. No, my kind boy. Page. Oh! Cas. You must be whipp'd, youngster, [aside. Page. Why, what must I sing, pray, my dear lord? Cas. Psalms, child, psalms.
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