. Lo, then, your opportunity--she comes--
My cousin also:--her will I engage,
Whilst you converse together.

_Clif_. Nay, not yet!
My heart turns coward at the sight of her.
Stay till it finds new courage! Let them pass.

[CLIFFORD and MODUS retire into the other Arbour.]

[Enter JULIA and HELEN.]

_Helen_. So, Monday week will say good morn to thee
A maid, and bid good night a sober wife!

_Julia_. That Monday week, I trust, will never come,
That brags to make a sober wife of me!

_Helen_. How changed you are, my Julia!

_Julia_. Change makes change.

_Helen_. Why wedd'st thou, then?

_Julia_. Because I promised him!

_Helen_. Thou lovest him?

_Julia_. Do I?

_Helen_. He's a man to love!
A right well-favoured man!

_Julia_. Your point's well favoured.
Where did you purchase it? In Gracechurch Street?

_Helen_. Pshaw! never mind my point, but talk of him.

_Julia_. I'd rather talk with thee about the lace.
Where bought you it? In Gracechurch Street, Cheapside,
Whitechapel, Little Britain? Can't you say
Where 'twas you bought the lace?

_Helen_. In Cheapside, then.
And now, then, to Sir Thomas! He is just
The height I like a man.

_Julia_. Thy feather's just
The height I like a feather! Mine's too short!
What shall I give thee in exchange for it?

_Helen_. What shall I give thee for a minute's talk
About Sir Thomas?

_Julia_. Why, thy feather.

_Helen_. Take it!

_Clif_. [Aside to MODUS.] What, likes she not to speak of me?

_Helen_. And now
Let's talk about Sir Thomas--much I'm sure
He loves you.

_Julia_. Much I'm sure, he has a right!
Those know I who would give their eyes to be
Sir Thomas, for my sake!

_Helen_. Such too, know I.
But 'mong them none that can compare with him,
Not one so graceful.

_Julia_. What a graceful set
Your feather has!

_Helen_. Nay, give it back to me,
Unless you pay me for't.

_Julia_. What was't to get?

_Helen_. A minute's talk with thee about Sir Thomas.

_Julia_. Talk of his title, and his fortune then.

_Clif_. [Aside.] Indeed! I would not listen, yet I must!

_Julia_. An ample fortune, Helen--I shall be
A happy wife! What routs, what balls, what masques,
What gala-days!

_Clif_. [Aside.] For these she marries me!
She'll talk of these!

_Julia_. Think not, when I am wed,
I'll keep the house as owlet does her tower,
Alone,--when every other bird's on wing.
I'll use my palfrey, Helen; a