Chapter XXVII: Act IV: SCENE I.--A Dressing-chamber

_The Masking-habits of_ LUCRETIA _and_ HIPPOLITA _laid in a
Chair.--Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ ASCANIO.

_Fred._ I never thought I should have loved her. Is't come to this, after all my boastings and declarations against it? Sure I loved her before, and did not know it, till I feared to lose her: There's the reason. I had never desired her, if my father had not. This is just the longing of a woman: She never finds the appetite in herself, till she sees the meat on another's plate. I'm glad, however, you took the impression of the key; but 'twas not well to fright them.

_Asca._ Sir, I could not help it; but here's the effect on't: the workman sat up all night to make it. [_Gives a key._

_Fred._ This key will admit me into the seraglio of the godly. The monastery has begun the war, in sallying out upon the world; and therefore 'tis but just that the world should make reprisals on the monastery.

_Asca._ Alas, sir, you and Lucretia do but skirmish; 'tis I and Hippolita that make the war: 'Tis true, opportunity has been wanting for a battle, but the forces have been stoutly drawn up on both sides. As for your concernment, I come just now from the monastery; and have orders from your Platonic mistress to tell you, she expects you this evening in the garden of the nunnery; withal, she delivered me this letter for you.

_Fred._ Give it me.

_Asca._ O, sir, the duke your father!
[_The Prince takes the letter, and, thinking to
put it up hastily, drops it._

_Enter Duke._

_Duke._ Now, Frederick, not abroad yet?

_Fred._ Your last night's entertainment left me so weary, sir, that I overslept myself this morning.

_Duke._ I rather envy you than blame you: Our sleep is certainly the most pleasant portion of our lives. For my own part, I spent the night waking and restless.

_Fred._ Has any thing of moment happened to discompose your highness?

_Duke._ I'll confess my follies to you: I am in love with a lady I saw last night in masquerade.

_Fred._ 'Tis strange she should conceal herself.

_Duke._ She has, from my best search; yet I took exact notice of her masking habit, and described it to those whom I employed to find her.

_Fred._ [_Aside._] 'Sdeath, it lies there unremoved, and, if he turns himself, full in his eye. Now, now, 'twill be discovered.

_Duke._ For 'twas extremely remarkable. I remember very well, 'twas a loose long robe, streaked black and white, girt with a large silver ribband, and the vizor was a Moor's face.

_Fred._ [_Running to the chair where the habits are sits down._] Sir, I beg pardon of your highness for this rudeness; I am--O, Oh!--

_Duke._ What's the matter?

_Fred._ I am taken so extremely ill o' the sudden, that I am forced to sit before you.

_Duke._ Alas, what's your distemper?

_Fred._ A most violent griping, which pulls me together on a heap.

_Duke._ Some cold, I fear, you took last night. [_Runs to the door._] Who waits there? Call physicians to the prince.

_Fred._ Ascanio, remove these quickly.
[ASCANIO _takes away the habits, and Exit._

_Duke._ [_Returning._] How do you find yourself?

_Fred._ [_Arising._] Much better, sir: That which pained me is removed. As it came unexpectedly, so it went as suddenly.

_Enter_ VALERIO.

_Duke._ The air, perhaps, will do you good. If you have health, you may see those troops drawn out, which I design for Milan.

_Fred._ Shall I wait your highness?

_Duke._ No, leave me here with Valerio; I have a little business, which dispatched, I'll follow you immediately.--Well, what success, Valerio? [_Exit_ FREDERICK.

_Val._ Our endeavours are in vain, sir; there has been inquiry made about all the palaces in Rome, and neither of the masking habits can be discovered.

_Duke._ Yet it must be a woman of quality. What paper's that at my foot?

_Val._ [_Taking up the letter._] 'Tis sealed, sir, and directed to the prince.

_Duke._ [_Taking the letter._] 'Tis a woman's, hand. Has he got a mistress in town so soon? I am resolved to open it, though I do not approve my own curiosity. [_Opens and reads it._

_Now my fear is over, I can laugh at my last night's adventure. I find that at fifty all men grow incorrigible, and lovers especially; for, certainly, never any creature could be worse treated than your father;_ [How's this, Valerio? I am amazed.] _and yet the good, old, out-of-fashion gentleman heard himself rallied and bore it with all the patience of a Christian prince._ [Now, 'tis plain, the lady in masquerade is a mistress of my son's, and the undutiful wretch was in the plot to abuse me.] _Ascanio will tell you the latter part of our misfortune, how hardly we got into the cloister._ [A nun, too! Oh, the devil!] _When we meet next, pray provide to laugh heartily; for there is subject sufficient for a plentiful fit, and fop enough to spare for another time._ LUCRETIA.

_Val._ Lucretia! now the mystery is unfolded.

_Duke._ Do you know her?

_Val._ When I was last at Rome I saw her often; she is near kinswoman to the present Pope; and, before he placed her in this nunnery of Benedictines, was the most celebrated beauty of the town.

_Duke._ I know I ought to hate this woman, because she has affronted me thus grossly; but yet, I cannot help it, I must love her.

_Val._ But, sir, you come on too much disadvantage to be your son's rival.

_Duke._ I am deaf to all considerations: Pr'ythee do not think of giving a madman counsel. Pity me, and cure me, if thou canst; but remember, there's but one infallible medicine,--that's enjoyment.

_Val._ I had forgot to tell you, sir, that the governor, Don Mario, is without, to wait on you.

_Duke._ Desire him to come in.

_Enter Don_ MARIO.

_Mar._ I am come, sir, to beg a favour from your highness; and 'tis on the behalf of my sister Sophronia, abbess of the Torr' di Specchi.

_Val._ Sir, she's abbess of that very monastery where your mistress is inclosed. [_Aside to the Duke._

_Duke._ I should be glad to serve any relation of yours, Don Mario.

_Mar._ Her request is, that you would be pleased to grace her chapel this afternoon. There will be music, and some little ceremony, in the reception of my two nieces, who are to be placed on pension there.

_Duke._ Your nieces, I hear, are fair, and great fortunes.

_Mar._ Great vexations, I'm sure they are; being daily haunted by a company of wild fellows, who buzz about my house like flies.

_Duke._ Your design seems reasonable: women in hot countries are like oranges in cold; to preserve them, they must be perpetually housed. I'll bear you company to the monastery.--Come, Valerio; this opportunity is happy beyond our expectation. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ CAMILLO _and_ AURELIAN.

_Cam._ He has smarted sufficiently for this offence. Pr'ythee, dear Aurelian, forgive him. He waits without, and appears penitent; I'll be responsible for his future carriage.

_Aur._ For your sake, then, I receive him into grace.

_Cam._ [_At the door._] Benito, you may appear; your peace is made.

_Enter_ BENITO.

_Aur._ But it must be upon conditions.

_Ben._ Any conditions, that are reasonable; for, as I am a wit, sir, I have not eaten--

_Aur._ You are in the path of perdition already; that's the principal of our conditions, you are to be a wit no more.

_Ben._ Pray, sir, if it be possible, let me be a little wit still.

_Aur._ No, sir; you can make a leg, and dance; those are no talents of a wit: you are cut out for a brisk fool, and can be no other.

_Ben._ Pray, sir, let me think I am a wit, or my heart will break.

_Cam._ That you will naturally do, as you are a fool.

_Aur._ Then no farther meddling with adventures, or contrivances of your own; they are all belonging to the territories of wit, from whence you are banished.

_Ben._ But what if my imagination should really furnish me with some--

_Aur._ Not a plot, I hope?

_Ben._ No, sir, no plot; but some expedient then, to mollify the word, when your invention has failed you?

_Aur._ Think it a temptation of the devil, and believe it not.

_Ben._ Then farewell all the happiness of my life.

_Cam._ You know your doom, Benito; and now you may take your choice, whether you will renounce wit, or eating.

_Ben._ Well, sir, I must continue my body, at what rate soever; and the rather, because now there's no farther need of me in your adventures; for I was assured by Beatrix, this morning, that her two mistresses are to be put in pension, in the nunnery of Benedictines, this afternoon.

_Cam._ Then I am miserable.

_Aur._ And you have deferred the telling it, till it is past time to study for prevention.

_Cam._ Let us run thither immediately, and either perish in't, or free them. You'll assist me with your sword?

_Aur._ Yes, if I cannot do it to more purpose with my counsel. Let us first play the fairest of our game; 'tis time enough to snatch when we have lost it. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.--_A Chapel._

_The_ DUKE, VALERIO, _Attendants. At the other door,_ LAURA,
VIOLETTA, BEATRIX, MARIO. _Instrumental and vocal music; in the time
of which, enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. _After the music, enter_
SOPHRONIA, LUCRETIA, HIPPOLITA, _and other Nuns._

_Duke._ [_To_ VALERIO, _who had whispered to him._] I needed not those marks to know her. She's one continued excellence; she's all over miracle.

_Soph._ [_To the_ DUKE.] We know, sir, we are not capable by our entertainment, of adding any thing to your pleasures; and therefore we must attribute this favour of your presence, to your piety and devotion.

_Duke._ You have treated me with harmony so excellent, that I believed myself among a choir of angels; especially when I beheld so fair a troop behind you.

_Soph._ Their beauty, sir, is wholly dedicated to heaven, and is no way ambitious of a commendation, which, from your mouth, might raise a pride in any other of the sex.

_Cam._ I am impatient, and can bear no longer. Let what will happen--

_Aur._ Do you not see your ruin inevitable? Draw in a holy place! and in the presence of the Duke!

_Mar._ I do not like Camillo's being here: I must cut short the ceremony. [_Whispers_ SOPHRONIA.

_Soph._ [_To_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA.] Come, fair cousins, we hope to make the cloisteral life so pleasing, that it may be an inducement to you to quit the wicked world for ever.

_Vio._ [_Passing by_ CAMILLO.] Take that, and read it at your leisure.
[_Conveys a note into his hand._

_Cam._ A ticket, as I live, Aurelian.

_Aur._ Steal off, and be thankful: if that be my Beatrix with Laura, she's most confoundedly ugly. If ever we had come to love-work, and a candle had been brought us, I had fallen back from that face, like a buck-rabbit in coupling. [_Exeunt_ CAMILLO _and_ AURELIAN.

_Soph._ Daughters, the time of our devotion calls us.--All happiness to your highness.

_Luc._ [_To_ HIPPOLITA.] Little thinks my venerable old love there, that his mistress in masquerade is so near him. Now do I even long to abuse that fop-gravity again.

_Hip._ Methinks, he looks on us.

_Luc._ Farewell, poor love; I am she, I am, for all my demure looks, that treated thee so inhumanly last night. [_She is going off, after_ SOPHRONIA.

_Duke._ [_following her._] Stay, lady; I would speak with you.

_Luc._ Ah! [_Shrieking._

_Soph._ How now, daughter? What's the meaning of that indecent noise you make?

_Luc._ [_Aside._] If I speak to him, he will discover my voice, and then I am ruined.

_Duke._ If your name be Lucretia, I have some business of concernment with you.

_Luc._ [_To_ SOPHRONIA.] Dear madam, for heaven's sake make haste into the cloister; the duke pursues me on some ill design.

_Soph._ [_To the_ DUKE.] 'Tis not permitted, sir, for maids, once entered into religion, to hold discourses here of worldly things.

_Duke._ But my discourses are not worldly, madam; I had a vision in the dead of night, Which shewed me this fair virgin in my sleep, And told me, that from her I should be taught Where to bestow large alms, and great endowments, On some near monastery.

_Soph._ Stay, Lucretia; The holy vision's will must be obeyed. [_Exeunt_ SOPHRONIA _and Nuns._

_Luc._ [_Aside._] He does not know me, sure; and yet I fear religion is the least of his business with me.

_Duke._ I see, madam, beauty will be beauty in any habit; Though, I confess, the splendour of a court Were a much fitter scene for yours, than is A cloistered privacy.

_Luc._ [_counterfeiting her voice._] The world has no temptations for a mind So fixed and raised above it; This humble cell contains and bounds my wishes: My charity gives you my prayers, and that's All my converse with human kind.

_Duke._ Since when, madam, have the world and you been upon these equal terms of hostility? Time was, you have been better friends.

_Luc._ No doubt I have been vain, and sinful; but the remembrance of those days cannot be pleasant to me now, and therefore, if you please, do not refresh their memory.

_Duke._ Their memory! you speak as if they were ages past.

_Luc._ You think me still what I was once--a vain, fond, giddy creature: I see, sir, whither your discourses tend, and therefore take my leave.

_Duke._ Yes, madam, I know you see whither my discourses tend, and therefore 'twill not be convenient that you should take your leave. Disguise yourself no farther; you are known, as well as you knew me in masquerade.

_Luc._ I am not used enough to the world to interpret riddles; therefore, once more, heaven keep you.

_Duke._ This will not do; your voice, your mien, your stature, betray you for the same I saw last night: you know the time and place.

_Luc._ You were not in this chapel, and I am bound by vow to stir no farther.

_Duke._ But you had too much wit to keep that vow.

_Luc._ If you persist, sir, in this raving madness, I can bring witness of my innocence. [_Is going._

_Duke._ To save that labour, see if you know that hand, and let that justify you. [_Shows her letter._

_Luc._ What do I see! my ruin is inevitable.

_Duke._ You know you merit it: You used me ill, and now are in my power.

_Luc._ But you, I hope, are much too noble to Destroy the fame of a poor silly woman?

_Duke._ Then, in few words,--for I am bred a soldier, And must speak plain,--it is your love I ask; If you deny, this letter is produced; You know the consequence.

_Luc._ I hope I do not; For though there are appearances against me, Enough to give you hope I durst not shun you, Yet, could you see my heart, 'tis a white virgin-tablet, On which no characters of earthly love Were ever writ: And, 'twixt the prince and me, If there were any criminal affection, May heaven this minute--

_Duke._ Swear not; I believe you: For, could I think my son had e'er enjoyed you, I should not be his rival. Since he has not, I may have so much kindness for myself, To wish that happiness.

_Luc._ You ask me what I must not grant, Nor, if I loved you, would: you know my vow of chastity.

_Duke._ Yet again that senseless argument? The vows of chastity can ne'er be broken, Where vows of secrecy are kept. Those I'll swear with you. But 'tis enough at present, you know my resolution. I would persuade, not force, you to my love; And to that end I give you this night's respite. Consider all, that you may fear or hope; And think that on your grant, or your denial, Depends a double welfare, yours and mine. [_Exit._

_Luc._ A double ruin, rather, if I grant; For what can I expect from such a father, When such a son betrays me! Could I think, Of all mankind, that Frederick would be base? And, with the vanity of vulgar souls, Betray a virgin's fame? One, who esteemed him, And I much fear did more than barely so--

But I dare note examine myself farther, for fear of confessing to my own thoughts, a tenderness of which he is unworthy.

_Enter_ HIPPOLITA.

_Hip._ I watched till your old gallant was gone, to bring you news of your young one. A mischief on these old dry lovers! they are good for nothing but tedious talking; well, yonder's the prince at the grate; I hope I need say no more to you.

_Luc._ I'll come when I've recovered myself a little. I am a wretched creature, Hippolita! the letter I writ to the prince--

_Hip._ I know it,--is fallen into his father's hands by accident. He's as wretched as you too. Well, well, it shall be my part to bring you together; and then, if two young people, that have opportunity, can be wretched and melancholy--I'll go before, and meet Ascanio. [_Exit._

_Luc._ I am half unwilling to go, because I must be accessary to her assignation with Ascanio; but, for once, I'll meet the prince in the garden-walk: I am glad, however, that he is less criminal than I thought him. [_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.--_The Nunnery-Garden._

HIPPOLITA, ASCANIO, _meeting_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA.

_Hip._ I hear some walking this way.--Who goes there?

_Lau._ We are the two new pensioners, Laura and Violetta.

_Hip._ Go in, to your devotion: These undue hours of walking savour too much of worldly thoughts.

_Lau._ Let us retire to the arbour, where, by this time, I believe, our friends are.--Good-night, sister.

_Hip._ Good angels guard you. [_Exeunt_ LAU. _and_ VIO.] Now, brother, the coast is clear, and we have the garden to ourselves. Do you remember how you threatened me? But that's all one, how good soever the opportunity may be, so long as we two resolve to be virtuous.

_Asca._ Speak for yourself, sister, for I am wickedly inclined. Yet, I confess, I have some remorse when I consider you are in religion.

_Hip._ We should do very well to consider that, both of us; for, indeed, what should young people do, but think of goodness and religion; especially when they love one another, and are alone too, brother?

_Asca._ A curse on't! here comes my lord, and Lucretia. We might have accomplished all, and been repenting by this time; yet who the devil would have thought they should have come so soon--Ah! [_Sets his teeth._

_Hip._ Who the devil would have put it to the venture? This is always the fault of you raw pages: You, that are too young, never use an opportunity; and we, that are elder, can seldom get one.--Ah! [_Sets her teeth._

_Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ LUCRETIA.

_Luc._ I believe, indeed, it troubled you to lose that letter.

_Fred._ So much, madam, that I can never forgive myself that negligence.

_Luc._ Call it not so, 'twas but a casuality, though, I confess, the consequence is dangerous; and therefore have not both of us reason to defy love, when we see a little gallantry is able to produce so much mischief?

_Fred._ [_Aside._] Now cannot I, for my heart, bring out one word against this love.

_Luc._ Come, you are mute upon a subject, that is both easy and pleasant. A man in love is so ridiculous a creature--

_Fred._ Especially to those that are not.

_Luc._ True; for to those that are, he cannot be so: They are like the citizens of Bethlehem, who never find out one another's madness, because they are all tainted. But for such ancient fops, as, with reverence, your father is, what reason can they have to be in love?

_Fred._ Nay, your old fop's unpardonable, that's certain. But--

_Luc._ But what? Come, laugh at him.

_Fred._ But I consider he is my father, I can't laugh at him.

_Luc._ But, if it were another, we should see how you would insult over him.

_Fred._ Ay, if it were another--And yet I don't know neither, 'tis no part of good nature to insult: A man may be overtaken with a passion, or so; I know it by myself.

_Luc._ How, by yourself! You are not in love, I hope?--Oh that he would confess first now! [_Aside._

_Fred._ But, if I were, I should be loth to be laughed at.

_Luc._ Since you are not in love, you may the better counsel me: What shall we do with this same troublesome father of yours?

_Fred._ Any thing, but love him.

_Luc._ But you know he has me at a bay; my letter is in his possession, and he may produce it to my ruin: Therefore, if I did allow him some little favour, to mollify him--

_Fred._ How, madam? Would you allow him favours? I can never consent to it: Not the least look or smile; they are all too precious, though they were to save his life.

_Luc._ What, not your father? Oh that he would confess he loved me first! [_Aside._

_Fred._ What have I done? I shall betray myself, and confess my love to be laughed at, by this hard-hearted woman. [_Aside._] 'Tis true, madam, I had forgot; he is, indeed, my father, and therefore you may use him as kindly as you please.

_Luc._ He's insensible: Now he enrages me. [_Aside._] What if he proposes to marry me? I am not yet professed, and 'twould be much to my advantage.

_Fred._ Marry you! I had rather die a thousand deaths, than suffer it.

_Luc._ This begins to please me. [_Aside._ But why should you be so much my enemy?

_Fred._ Your enemy, madam! Why, do you desire it?

_Luc._ Perhaps I do.

_Fred._ Do it, madam, since it pleases you so well.

_Luc._ But you had rather die, than suffer it.

_Fred._ No, I have changed my mind: I'll live, and not be concerned at it.

_Luc._ Do you contradict yourself so soon? Then know, sir, I did intend to do it; and I am glad you have given me advice so agreeable to my inclinations.

_Fred._ Heaven! that you should not find it out! I delivered your letter on purpose to my father, and 'twas my business, now, to come and mediate for him.

_Luc._ Pray, then, carry him the news of his good success. Adieu, sweet prince!

_Fred._ Adieu, dear madam.

_Asca._ Hey day! what will this come to? They have cozened one another into a quarrel; just like friends in fencing, a chance thrust comes, and then they fall to it in earnest.

_Hip._ You and I, brother, shall never meet upon even terms, if this be not pieced.--Face about, madam; turn quickly to your man, or, by all that's virtuous, I'll call the abbess.

_Asca._ I must not be so bold with you, sir; but, if you please, you may turn towards the lady: and, I suppose, you would be glad I durst speak to you with more authority, to save the credit of your willingness.

_Fred._ Well, I'll shew her I dare stay, if it be but to confront her malice.

_Luc._ I am sure I have done nothing to be ashamed of, that I should need to run away.

_Asca._ Pray give me leave, sir, to ask you but one question; Why were you so unwilling that she should be married to your father?

_Fred._ Because then her friendship must wholly cease.

_Asca._ But you may have her friendship, when she is married to him.

_Fred._ What! when another has enjoyed her?

Asca. _Victoria, Victoria_! he loves you, madam; let him deny it, if he can.

_Luc._ Fye, fye, loves me, Ascanio! I hope he would not forswear himself, when he has railed so much against it.

_Fred._ I hope I may love your mind, madam; I may love spiritually.

_Hip._ That's enough, that's enough: Let him love the mind without the body, if he can.

_Asca._ Ay, ay, when the love is once come so far, that spiritual mind will never leave pulling, and pulling, till it has drawn the beastly body after it.

_Fred._ Well, madam, since I must confess it,--though I expect to be laughed at, after my railing against love,--I do love you all over, both soul and body.

_Asca._ Lord, sir, what a tigress have you provoked! you may see she takes it to the death, that you have made this declaration.

_Hip._ I thought where all her anger was: Why do you not rail, madam? Why do you not banish him? the prince expects it; he has dealt honestly, he has told you his mind, and you may make your worst on't.

_Luc._ Because he does expect it, I am resolved, I'll neither satisfy him nor you: I will neither rail nor laugh: Let him make his worst of that, now.

_Fred._ If I understand you right, madam, I am happy beyond either my deserts or expectation.

_Luc._ You may give my words what interpretation you please, sir; I shall not envy you their meaning in the kindest sense. But we are near the jessamine walk, there we may talk with greater freedom, because 'tis farther from the house.

_Fred._ I wait you, madam. [_Exeunt._

SCENE V.

AURELIAN, _with a dark lanthorn._ CAMILLO _and_ BENITO.

_Cam._ So, we are safe got over into the nunnery-garden; for what's to come, trust love and fortune.

_Aur._ This must needs be the walk she mentioned; yet, to be sure, I'll hold the lanthorn while you read the ticket.

_Cam._ [Reads.] _I prepared this ticket, hoping to see you in the chapel: Come this evening over the garden wall, on the right hand, next the Tiber._

_Aur._ We are right, I see.

Cam. _Bring only your discreet Benito with you, and I will meet you attended by my faithful Beatrix._ VIOLETTA.

_Ben._ Discreet Benito! Did you hear, sir?

_Aur._ Mortify thyself for that vain thought; and, without enquiring into the mystery of these words, which I assure thee were not meant to thee, plant thyself by that ladder without motion, to secure our retreat; and be sure to make no noise.

_Ben._ But, sir, in case that--

_Aur._ Honest Benito, no more questions: _Basta_ is the word. Remember, thou art only taken with us, because thou hast a certain evil daemon, who conducts thy actions, and would have been sure, by some damned accident or other, to have brought thee hither to disturb us.

_Cam._ I hear whispering not far from us, and I think 'tis Violetta's voice.

_Aur._ [_To_ BEN.] Retire to your post; avoid, good Satan.
[_Exit_ BEN.

_Enter_ LAURA, _with a dark lanthorn hid, and_ VIOLETTA.

_Cam._ Ours is the honour of the field, madam; we are here before you.

_Vio._ Softly, dear friend; I think I hear some walking in the garden.

_Cam._ Rather, let us take this opportunity for your escape from hence; all things are here in readiness.

_Vio._ This is the second time we ever have met; let us discourse, and know each other better first; that's the way to make sure of some love beforehand; for, as the world goes, we know not how little we may have when we are married.

_Cam._ Losses of opportunity are fatal in war, you know, and love's a kind of warfare.

_Vio._ I shall keep you yet a while from close fighting.

_Cam._ But, do you know what an hour in love is worth? 'Tis more precious than an age of ordinary life; 'tis the very quintessence and extract of it.

_Vio._ I do not like your chemical preparation of love; yours is all spirit, and will fly too soon; I must see it fixed, before I trust you. But we are near the arbour: Now our out-guards are set, let us retire a little, if you please; there we may walk more freely. [_Exit._

_Aur._ [_To_ LAU.] My lady's woman, methinks you are very reserved to-night: Pray, advance into the lists; though I have seen your countenance by day, I can endure to hear you talk by night. Be cunning, and set your wit to show, which is your best commodity: It will help the better to put off that drug, your face.

_Lau._ The coarsest ware will serve such customers as you are: Let it suffice, Mr Serving-man, that I have seen you too. Your face is the original of the ugliest vizors about town; and for wit, I would advise you to speak reverently of it, as a thing you are never like to understand.

_Aur._ Sure, Beatrix, you came lately from looking in your glass, and that has given you a bad opinion of all faces; but since when am I become so notorious a fool?

_Lau._ Since yesterday; for t'other night you talked like a man of sense: I think your wit comes to you, as the sight of owls does, only in the dark.

_Aur._ Why, when did you discourse by day with me?

_Lau._ You have a short memory. This afternoon in the great street. Do you remember when you talked with Laura?

_Aur._ But what was that to Beatrix?

_Lau._ [_Aside._] 'Slife, I had forgot that I am Beatrix. But pray, when did you find me out to be so ugly?

_Aur._ This afternoon, in the chapel.

_Lau._ That cannot be; for I well remember you were not there, Benito: I saw none but Camillo, and his friend, the handsome stranger.

_Aur._ [_Aside_] Curse on't, I have betrayed myself.

_Lau._ I find you are an impostor: you are not the same Benito: your language has nothing of the serving-man.

_Aur._ And yours, methinks, has not much of the waiting-woman.

_Lau._ My lady is abused, and betrayed by you: But I am resolved, I'll discover who you are. [_Holds out a lanthorn to him._] How! the stranger?

_Aur._ Nay, madam, if you are good at that, I'll match you there too. [_Holds out his lanthorn._] O prodigy! Is Beatrix turned to Laura?

_Lau._ Now the question is, which of us two is the greatest cheat?

_Aur._ That's hardly to be tried, at so short warning: Let's marry one another, and then, twenty to one, in a twelvemonth we shall know.

_Lau._ Marry! Are you at that so soon, signior? Benito and Beatrix, I confess, had some acquaintance; but Aurelian and Laura are mere strangers.

_Aur._ That ground I have gotten as Benito, I am resolved I'll keep as Aurelian. If you will take state upon you, I have treated you with ceremony already; for I have wooed you by proxy.

_Lau._ But you would not be contented to bed me so; or give me leave to put the sword betwixt us.

_Aur._ Yes, upon condition you'll remove it.

_Lau._ Pray let our friends be judge of it; if you please, we'll find them in the arbour.

_Aur._ Content; I am then sure of the verdict, because the jury is bribed already. [_Exeunt._

SCENE VI.

BENITO _meeting_ FREDERICK, ASCANIO, LUCRETIA, _and_ HIPPOLITA.

_Ben._ Knowing my own merits, as I do, 'tis not impossible, but some of these harlotry nuns may love me. Oh, here's my master! now if I could but put this into civil terms, so as to ask his leave, and not displease him--

_Asca._ I hear one talking, sir, just by us.

_Ben._ I am stolen from my post, sir, but for one minute only, to demand permission of you, since it is not in our articles, that if any of these nuns should cast an eye, or so--

_Fred._ 'Slife, we are betrayed; but I'll make this rascal sure.
[_Draws and runs at him._

_Ben._ Help! murder, murder! [_Runs off._

_Enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO; LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA _after them._

_Aur._ That was Benito's voice: We are ruined.

_Cam._ O, here they are, we must make our way.
[AUR. _and the Prince make a pass or two confusedly,
and fight off the stage. The Women shriek._

_Asca._ Never fear, ladies.--Come on, sir; I am your man.

_Cam._ [_Stepping back._] This is the prince's page, I know his voice.--Ascanio?

_Asca._ Signior Camillo?

_Cam._ If the prince be here, 'tis Aurelian is engaged with him. Let
us run in quickly, and prevent the mischief.
[_All go off. A little clashing within. After
which they all re-enter._

_Fred._ [_To_ AUR.] I hope you are not wounded.

_Aur._ No, sir; but infinitely grieved, that--

_Fred._ No more; 'twas a mistake: But which way can we escape? the abbess is coming; I see the lights.

_Luc._ You cannot go by the gate, then. Ah me, unfortunate!

_Cam._ But over the wall you may: We have a ladder ready.--Adieu, ladies.--Curse on this ill luck, when we had just persuaded them to go with us!

_Fred._ Farewell, sweet Lucretia.

_Lau._ Good-night, Aurelian.

_Aur._ Ay, it might have proved a good one: Faith, shall I stay yet, and make it one, in spite of the abbess, and all her works?

_Lau._ The abbess is just here; you will be Caught in the spiritual trap, if you should tarry.

_Aur._ That will be time enough, when we two marry.
[_Exeunt severally._