Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 3.pdf/268

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Lor. Nay, you push your hand past it; here, here.

Vald. Where sayest thou? 'Tis mightily perplexed.

Page. (aside to himself.) Either the coat or the coat's master is perplexed enough. (Aloud, offering him his hat.) You won't go, my Lord, without your new hat and plume.

Vald. Plume?

Page. Yes, my Lord, and it will wave so handsomely too, for the company walk by torchlight in procession.

Vald. Let them move on, and I'll follow.

Page. No, they can't go without you, my Lord.

Vald. How is it? Am I one of the pall-bearers?

Page. It is not a funeral, my Lord.

Vald. I forgot; the chillness of the night has bewildered me.

Lor. You are not well, my Lord; what is the matter with you?

Vald. Nothing, leave me alone for a little.

Lor. Will you not join the company? The procession is prepared to set out.

Vald. Aye, very true; tell me when they move the body, and I'll follow it.

Page. He, he, he! a funeral again.

Lor. Unmannerly imp; what art thou snickering at? (To Vald. in a loud distinct voice.) It is not a funeral, my Lord. The Lady Livia, and