MÁ[T.]HAVYA.

Make haste, then, to her aid; you have no time to lose, if you
don't wish this fruit of all the virtues to drop into the mouth
of some greasy-headed rustic of devout habits.

KING.

The lady is not her own mistress, and her foster-father is not at
home.

MÁ[T.]HAVYA.

Well, but tell me, did she look at all kindly upon you?

KING.

Maidens brought up in a hermitage are naturally
shy and reserved; but for all that
She did look towards me, though she quick withdrew
Her stealthy glances when she met my gaze;
She smiled upon me sweetly, but disguised
With maiden grace the secret of her smiles.
Coy love was half unveiled; then, sudden checked
By modesty, left half to be divined.

MÁ[T.]HAVYA.

Why, of course, my dear friend, you never could seriously expect
that at the very first sight she would fall over head ears in