Scene IV.
A Room in the Palace.
Malgodin alone.
Mal.
(writing.)
A crafty device! I think there is
no sport in the world can equal the undoing of a woman.
What? Good virtue, have I no art? Can I
not reach thee? 'Tis rare to undermine these flimsy
palaces of purity. There, peevishness, wilt thou scorn
me again? Is't not like? Knowest thou the hand?
Canst thou smell a forgery? Here is some gall to mix
with the milk of your tenderness. Oh, to hear her cry,
Did Ethel write this? and see her weep waterfalls, and
then, in a passion, tear it to pieces, and never doubt it
the while! Ho! ho! But I must not show in it.—
Boy!—Softly, let me burn the original. So, so. Here's
a trap for a mouse! Bite, Chastity, bite! Bite, Faith!
—Boy!
Enter Page.
Take this to the Lady Violenzia. Say you found it
in the garden, blown away by the wind—swear it, if
need be. Dost thou mark me? It is the King's work.
Do it dexterously.
[Exit Page.
Enter King.
King.
Well, Malgodin?
Mal.
Will't please your majesty walk; I've news for you;
I have given her working medicine.
[Exeunt.
