return hither to morrow, to learn how Pauline
likes her new dignity.

Mel. Are you not gone yet?

Beau. Your highness's most obedient, most faithful

Gla. And most humble servants. Ha! ha! [Exeunt BEAUSEANT and GLAVIS.

Mel. Thank heaven I had no weapon, or I should have slain them. Wretch!
what can I say? Where turn? On all sides mockery--the very boors
within--[Laughter from the Inn].--'Sdeath, if even in this short absence
the exposure should have chanced. I will call her. We will go hence. I
have already sent one I can trust to my mother's house. There, at least,
none can insult her agony--gloat upon her shame! There alone must she
learn what a villain she has sworn to love. [As he turns to the door
enter PAULINE from the Inn.

Pauline. Ah! my lord, what a place! I never saw such rude people. They
stare and wink so. I think the very sight of a prince, though he travels
incognito, turns their honest heads. What a pity the carriage should
break down in such a spot! You are not well--the drops stand on your
brow--your hand is feverish.

Mel. Nay, it is but a passing spasm;--the air

Pauline. Is not the soft air of your native south--How pale he
is!--indeed thou art not well. Where are our people? I will call them.

Mel. Hold! I--I am well.

Pauline. Thou art!--Ah! now I know it.
Thou fanciest, my kind lord--I know thou dost--
Thou fanciest these rude walls, these rustic gossips,
Brick'd floors, sour wine, coarse viands, vex Pauline;
And so they might, but thou art by my side,
And I forget all else.

Enter Landlord, the Servants peeping and laughing over his shoulder.

Land. My lord--your highness--Will your most noble excellency choose--

Mel. Begone, sir! [Exit Landlord laughing.

Pauline. How could they have learn'd thy rank?
One's servants are so vain!--nay, let it not
Chafe thee, sweet prince!--a few short days and we
Shall see thy palace by its lake of silver,
And--nay, nay, spendthrift, is thy wealth of smiles,
Already drain'd, or dost thou play the miser?

Mel. Thine eyes would call up smiles in deserts, fair one.
Let us escape these rustics: close at hand
There is a cot, where I have bid prepare
Our evening lodgment--a rude, homely roof,
But honest, where our welcome will not be
Made torture by the vulgar eyes and tongues
That are as death to Love! A heavenly night!
The wooing air and th