o learn the cause.

LADY TOUCH. My lord himself surprised me with the news you were to marry
Cynthia, that you had owned our love to him, and his indulgence would
assist you to attain your ends.

CYNT. How, my lord?

LORD TOUCH. Pray forbear all resentments for a while, and let us hear
the rest.

MASK. I grant you in appearance all is true; I seemed consenting to my
lord--nay, transported with the blessing. But could you think that I,
who had been happy in your loved embraces, could e'er be fond of an
inferior slavery?

LORD TOUCH. Ha! Oh, poison to my ears! What do I hear?

CYNT. Nay, good my lord, forbear resentment; let us hear it out.

LORD TOUCH. Yes, I will contain, though I could burst.

MASK. I, that had wantoned in the rich circle of your world of love,
could be confined within the puny province of a girl? No. Yet though I
dote on each last favour more than all the rest, though I would give a
limb for every look you cheaply throw away on any other object of your
love: yet so far I prize your pleasures o'er my own, that all this
seeming plot that I have laid has been to gratify your taste and cheat
the world, to prove a faithful rogue to you.

LADY TOUCH. If this were true. But how can it be?

MASK. I have so contrived that Mellefont will presently, in the
chaplain's habit, wait for Cynthia in your dressing-room; but I have put
the change upon her, that she may be other where employed. Do you
procure her night-gown, and with your hoods tied over your face, meet him
in her stead. You may go privately by the back stairs, and, unperceived,
there you may propose to reinstate him in his uncle's favour, if he'll
comply with your desires--his case is desperate, and I believe he'll
yield to any conditions. If not here, take this; you may employ it
better than in the heart of one who is nothing when not yours. [_Gives
the dagger_.]

LADY TOUCH. Thou can'st deceive everybody. Nay, thou hast deceived me;
but 'tis as I would wish. Trusty villain! I could worship thee.

MASK. No more; it wants but a few minutes of the time; and Mellefont's
love will carry him there before his hour.

LADY TOUCH. I go, I fly, incomparable Maskwell!

SCENE XVIII.

MASKWELL, CYNTHIA, LORD TOUCHWOOD.

MASK. So, this was a pinch indeed, my invention was upon the rack, and
made discovery of her last plot. I hope Cynthia and my chaplain will be
ready; I'll prepare for the expedition.

SCENE XIX