Chapter 43

MOSCON and LIVIA.

MOSCON. Have they gone?

LIVIA. They're gone: all right.

MOSCON. Why, I'm almost dead with fright.

LIVIA. Were you of your sense bereft When but now my room you left And appeared before her sight?

MOSCON. Left your room? Be seen by her? Why, I swear it, Livia dear, Not one moment did I stir.

LIVIA. Who then was it she saw here?

MOSCON. Well, the devil, as I infer. How know I? But then do not Take it so to heart, my soul.

LIVIA. Oh! that's not the cause. [She weeps.

MOSCON. Then what?

LIVIA. Such a question, when the whole Of a day it was his lot With me here locked up to stay? For his comrade far away Must I not a tear then shed, Though I take this day instead, Having wept not yesterday? Would I have him think of me As a woman who could be So forgetful and so frail, As for half a year to fail In what we did both agree?

MOSCON. Half a year? It is above One whole year since he went away.

LIVIA. Quite an error, as I'll prove. Mind, I cannot count a day When I Clarin could not love. This being so, if I to thee Gave up half the year (ah me!), I would give a false amount To place all to his account.

MOSCON. Ah, ungrateful! can it be When my heart on thee depends For its peace, that thine attends To such trifles?

LIVIA. Moscon, yes, For I find, I must confess, Short accounts make longest friends.

MOSCON. Such being then thy constancy, Livia, I must say good-bye, Till to-morrow. Ah! if he Is thy two-day fever, I Hope he's not thy syncope.

LIVIA. Well, my friend, from this you know I no malice bear.

MOSCON. Just so.

LIVIA. See me then no more to-day, But to-morrow, sir, you may: I'll not need to send. Heigho! [Exeunt.

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