Was it a time for childish freaks like that?
And the deep colour crimsoning thy cheek—
What does it say?—Go to! thou needst not speak.
ZORADA.
ROMIERO.
Go, go! my hour of rest is distant still.
Linger not here, I say; retire to rest„
[Exit Zorada into the chamber.
(After musing some time.) I do not think her wicked, but there lurks
Within her fancy vain and dangerous things.
Those striplings,—those light, beardless play-fellows!
The devil himself hath not an imp more subtle
Than one of these.—They laugh, and mock, and mimic,
And cast upon the lovely face of virtue
The gloomy veil of cloister'd melancholy,
Whilst vice is all so gay and deftly trick'd,
That who can choose but range them on her side?
To break down every sacred tie, what is it?
'Tis but a merry trick!
Ay, she was wary, too, in her expressions:
"Did I e'er tell thee that which afterwards
Thou foundest to be untrue."—Equivocation,
