Ere you can say it is, it will be so.

_Nurse_.
How shall I best conceal her, my good lord?

_Julian_.
I have thought of that. There's a deserted room
In the old west wing, at the further end
Of the oak gallery.

_Nurse_.
Not deserted quite.
I ventured, when you left, to make it mine,
Because you loved it when a boy, my lord.

_Julian_.
You do not know, nurse, why I loved it though:
I found a sliding panel, and a door
Into a room behind. I'll show it you.
You'll find some musty traces of me yet,
When you go in. Now take her to your room,
But get the other ready. Light a fire,
And keep it burning well for several days.
Then, one by one, out of the other rooms,
Take everything to make it comfortable;
Quietly, you know. If you must have your daughter,
Bind her to be as secret as yourself.
Then put her there. I'll let her father know
She is in safety.--I must change attire,
And be far off or ever morning break.