By some philosopher as yet unborn,
That any chimney-sweep who for twelve hours
Dreams himself king is happy as the king
Who dreams himself twelve hours a chimney-sweep?

CLO.
A theme indeed for wiser heads than yours
To moralize upon--How came you here?--

FIFE.
Not of my own will, I assure you, sir.
No matter for myself: but I would know
About my mistress--I mean, master--

CLO.
Oh, Now I remember--Well, your master-mistress
Is well, and deftly on its errand speeds,
As you shall--if you can but hold your tongue.
Can you?

FIFE.
I'd rather be at home again.

CLO.
Where you shall be the quicker if while here
You can keep silence.

FIFE.
I may whistle, then?
Which by the virtue of my name I do,