Scene XII

[To them] Waitwell with a box of writings.

LADY. O Sir Rowland! Well, rascal?

WAIT. What your ladyship pleases. I have brought the black box at last, madam.

MIRA. Give it me. Madam, you remember your promise.

LADY. Ay, dear sir.

MIRA. Where are the gentlemen?

WAIT. At hand, sir, rubbing their eyes,—just risen from sleep.

FAIN. ’Sdeath, what’s this to me? I’ll not wait your private concerns.