_Trim._ No, sir, alas, I can know no satisfaction while she is in jeopardy. Therefore would rather be put in a way to recover her by storming the castle, or other feat of arms, like a true enamoured swain as I am. _Cam._ Since we are all three then expecting lovers, my lord, prithee let's have that song of yours which suits our common purpose. _Ld. H._ Call in the boy. BOY _sings._[29] I. Ye minutes bring the happy hour, And Chloe blushing to the bower; Then shall all idle flames be o'er, Nor eyes or heart e'er wander more; Both, Chloe, fixed for e'er on thee, For thou art all thy sex to me. II. A guilty is a false embrace, Corinna's love's a fairy-chace; Begone, thou meteor, fleeting fire, And all that can't survive desire. Chloe my reason moves and awe, And Cupid shot me when he saw. _Trim._ Look you, gentlemen, since as you are pleased to say we're all lovers, and consequently poets, pray do me the honour to hear a little air of mine. You must know then, I once had the misfortune to fall in love below myself, but things went hard with us at that time, so that my passion, or as I may poetically speak, my fire was in the kitchen; 'twas towards a cook-maid, but before I ever saw Mrs. Deborah. _Ld. H._ Come on then, Trim, let's have it. _Trim._ I must run into next room for a lute. [_Exit._ _Cam._ This must be diverting! can the rogue play? _Re-enter_ TRIM, _with a pair of Tongs._ _Trim._ Dear Cynderaxa herself very well understood this instrument, I therefore always sung this song to it, as thus-- I. Cynderaxa kind and good, Has all my heart and stomach too; She makes me love, not hate, my food, As other peevish wenches do. II. When Venus leaves her Vulcan's cell, Which all but I a coal-hole call; Fly, fly, ye that above stairs dwell, Her face is washed, ye vanish all. III. And as she's fair, she can impart That beauty, to make all things fine; Brightens the floor with wondrous art, And at her touch the dishes shine. _Ld. H._ I protest, Will, thou art a poet indeed. "And at her touch the dishes shine"--and you touch your lute as finely. _Enter_ BOY. _Boy._ There's one Mr. Trusty below would speak with my lord. _Ld. H._ Mr. Trusty? My father's steward? What can he have to say to me? _Cam._ He's very honest, to my knowledge. _Ld. H._ I remember, indeed, when I was turned out of the house he followed me to the gate and wept over me, for which I've heard he'd like to have lost his place. But, however, I must advise with you a little about my behaviour to him; let's in. Boy, bring him up hither, tell him I'll wait on him presently. [_Exit_ BOY. I shall want you, I believe, here, Trim. [_Exeunt._ _Re-enter_ BOY _and_ TRUSTY. _Boy._ My lord will wait on you here immediately. [_Exit_ BOY.