or your ladyship's service.

LADY TOUCH. That I should trust a man whom I had known betray his
friend!

MASK. What friend have I betrayed? or to whom?

LADY TOUCH. Your fond friend Mellefont, and to me; can you deny it?

MASK. I do not.

LADY TOUCH. Have you not wronged my lord, who has been a father to you
in your wants, and given you being? Have you not wronged him in the
highest manner, in his bed?

MASK. With your ladyship's help, and for your service, as I told you
before. I can't deny that neither. Anything more, madam?

LADY TOUCH. More! Audacious villain! Oh, what's more, is most my
shame. Have you not dishonoured me?

MASK. No, that I deny; for I never told in all my life: so that
accusation's answered; on to the next.

LADY TOUCH. Death, do you dally with my passion? Insolent devil! But
have a care,--provoke me not; for, by the eternal fire, you shall not
'scape my vengeance. Calm villain! How unconcerned he stands,
confessing treachery and ingratitude! Is there a vice more black? Oh, I
have excuses thousands for my faults; fire in my temper, passions in my
soul, apt to ev'ry provocation, oppressed at once with love, and with
despair. But a sedate, a thinking villain, whose black blood runs
temperately bad, what excuse can clear?

MASK. Will you be in temper, madam? I would not talk not to be heard. I
have been [_she walks about disordered_] a very great rogue for your
sake, and you reproach me with it; I am ready to be a rogue still, to do
you service; and you are flinging conscience and honour in my face, to
rebate my inclinations. How am I to behave myself? You know I am your
creature, my life and fortune in your power; to disoblige you brings me
certain ruin. Allow it I would betray you, I would not be a traitor to
myself: I don't pretend to honesty, because you know I am a rascal; but I
would convince you from the necessity of my being firm to you.

LADY TOUCH. Necessity, impudence! Can no gratitude incline you, no
obligations touch you? Have not my fortune and my person been subjected
to your pleasure? Were you not in the nature of a servant, and have not
I in effect made you lord of all, of me, and of my lord? Where is that
humble love, the languishing, that adoration, which once was paid me, and
everlastingly engaged?

MASK. Fixt, rooted in my heart, whence nothing can remove 'em, yet you--

LADY TOUCH. Yet, what yet?

MASK. Nay, misconceive me not,