_The period is that of Cromwell--sixteen something._ _The costumes are, as far as possible, of the same period._ Mistress Dorothy Farthingale _is seated in the middle of the stage, reading a letter and occasionally sighing_. _Enter_ My Lord Carey. ~Carey.~ Mistress Dorothy alone! Truly Fortune smiles upon me. ~Dorothy~ (_hiding the letter quickly_). An she smiles, my lord, I needs must frown. ~Carey~ (_used to this sort of thing and no longer put off by it_). Nay, give me but one smile, sweet mistress. (_She sighs heavily._) You sigh! Is't for me? ~Dorothy~ (_feeling that the sooner he and the audience understand the situation the better_). I sigh for another, my lord, who is absent. ~Carey~ (_annoyed_). Zounds, and zounds again! A pest upon the fellow! (_He strides up and down the room, keeping out of the way of his sword as much as possible._) Would that I might pink the pesky knave! ~Dorothy~ (_turning upon him a look of hate_). Would that you might have the chance, my lord, so it were in fair fighting. Methinks Roger's sword-arm will not have lost its cunning in the wars. ~Carey.~ A traitor to fight against his King. ~Dorothy.~ He fights for what he thinks is right. (_She takes out his letter and kisses it._) ~Carey~ (_observing the action_). You have a letter from him! ~Dorothy~ (_hastily concealing it and turning pale_). How know you that? ~Carey.~ Give it to me! (_She shrieks and rises._) By heavens, madam, I will have it! (_He struggles with her and seizes it._) _Enter_ Sir Thomas. ~Sir Thomas.~ Odds life, my lord, what means this? ~Carey~ (_straightening himself_). It means, Sir Thomas, that you harbour a rebel within your walls. Master Roger Dale, traitor, corresponds secretly with your daughter. (_Who, I forgot to say, has swooned._) ~Sir Thomas~ (_sternly_). Give me the letter. Ay, 'tis Roger's hand, I know it well. (_He reads the letter, which is full of thoughtful metaphors about love, aloud to the audience. Suddenly his eyebrows go up and down to express surprise. He seizes_ Lord Carey _by the arm_.) Ha! Listen! "To-morrow when the sun is upon the western window of the gallery, I will be with thee." The villain! ~Carey~ (_who does not know the house very well_). When is that? ~Sir Thomas.~ Why, 'tis now, for I have but recently passed through the gallery and did mark the sun. ~Carey~ (_fiercely_). In the name of the King, Sir Thomas, I call upon you to arrest this traitor. ~Sir Thomas~ (_sighing_). I loved the boy well, yet---- (_He shrugs his shoulders expressively and goes out with_ Lord Carey _to collect sufficient force for the arrest._) _Enter_ Roger _by secret door R._ ~Roger.~ My love! ~Dorothy~ (_opening her eyes_). Roger! ~Roger.~ At last!