(_Aside._) Thank heaven they have not guessed ... and yet how nearly 2310 My jealousy betrayed me! (_To Fl._) I told you, Flora, I shall discharge you. Tho’I do not doubt Tristram came here without your invitation, Yet in concealing his pretensions from me You have disobeyed,—deceived me. _Fl._ I was afraid My lady would forbid him. _D._ Silence, girl! Go to your room. I’ll speak of this to-morrow. _Fl._ I hope my lady will forgive his boldness. I have told my lady all. _D._ Begone! begone! [_Exit Fl._ (_To R._) What think you of this, Ricardo? 2320 _R._ ’Tis the wrong fox we have hunted. _D._ Ah, I think Fox is the word. I half believe that Frederick And Tristram are in league. _R._ I guessed the truth When Flora first confessed. _D._ I was too hot. _R._ You think too ill of Frederick. _D._ Nay, Ricardo: Do not defend him. ’Tis enough to shame him That Tristram is his servant. _G._ I pray my lady Will now retire. _D._ Yes, true, Sir Gregory. ’Tis time, high time. And let this trophy here Be sent to its owner; and to-morrow morning 2330 Bid him come speak with me. Tell him, Ricardo. Good-night. [_Exit Gregory lighting her out_, R. _R._ I am now secure of her: since in my presence She hath so consented to disgrace her idol. He is quite dethroned: she knows too that I know. He is past recovery. Could she but have seen him Walking with Laura in the garden, plotting Their flight to-morrow! And I to climb by such A ladder of comedy, tottering with laughter, To love’s very heaven! After three years of pain Three days of farce, disguise, and folly; and then, Suddenly win my joy! _Re-enter Sir Gregory._ And thou, Sir Gregory, 2341 Shalt be my major-domo. _G._ Eigh! _R._ (_taking his arm_). I say, Sir Gregory, I’ll have you for my major-domo. [_Exeunt._ SCENE · 2 _Frederick’s room; open portmanteaus, &c. lying about. Near the fireplace R. is a cupboard with key in lock. A table in centre._ _Enter FREDERICK carrying music, and TRISTRAM._ _FREDERICK._ All my clothes are in, you say, Tristram? _TRISTRAM._ Everything, sir. _F._ You pack well, Tristram: put in these. (_handing music._) Is there room for the music? _T._ Anything, sir. Lie there, ye wrigglers. (_begins to sing to himself._) _F._ And this book. _T._ Where is it you may be going, if you please, sir? 2350 _F._ Never mind. You pack very well, Tristram. I shall miss you. _T._ If the Countess has sent you to Milan, will you not want your best black velvet doublet? _F._ I shall wear that on the journey.