ow you and give
you notice.

MEL. How?

CARE. There's Saygrace tripping by with a bundle under his arm. He
cannot be ignorant that Maskwell means to use his chamber; let's follow
and examine him.

MEL. 'Tis loss of time; I cannot think him false.

SCENE XVI.

CYNTHIA, LORD TOUCHWOOD.

CYNT. My lord musing!

LORD TOUCH. He has a quick invention, if this were suddenly designed.
Yet he says he had prepared my chaplain already.

CYNT. How's this? Now I fear indeed.

LORD TOUCH. Cynthia here! Alone, fair cousin, and melancholy?

CYNT. Your lordship was thoughtful.

LORD TOUCH. My thoughts were on serious business not worth your hearing.

CYNT. Mine were on treachery concerning you, and may be worth your
hearing.

LORD TOUCH. Treachery concerning me? Pray be plain. Hark! What noise?

MASK. (within) Will you not hear me?

LADY TOUCH. (within) No, monster! traitor! No.

CYNT. My lady and Maskwell! This may be lucky. My lord, let me entreat
you to stand behind this screen and listen: perhaps this chance may give
you proof of what you ne'er could have believed from my suspicions.

SCENE XVII.

LADY TOUCHWOOD _with a dagger_; MASKWELL; CYNTHIA _and_ LORD TOUCHWOOD
_abscond_, _listening_.

LADY TOUCH. You want but leisure to invent fresh falsehood, and soothe
me to a fond belief of all your fictions: but I will stab the lie that's
forming in your heart, and save a sin, in pity to your soul.

MASK. Strike then, since you will have it so.

LADY TOUCH. Ha! A steady villain to the last.

MASK. Come, why do you dally with me thus?

LADY TOUCH. Thy stubborn temper shocks me, and you knew it would; this
is cunning all, and not courage. No; I know thee well, but thou shalt
miss thy aim.

MASK. Ha, ha, ha!

LADY TOUCH. Ha! Do you mock my rage? Then this shall punish your fond,
rash contempt. Again smile! [_Goes to strike_.] And such a smile as
speaks in ambiguity! Ten thousand meanings lurk in each corner of that
various face.

Oh! that they were written in thy heart,

That I, with this, might lay thee open to my sight!

But then 'twill be too late to know--

Thou hast, thou hast found the only way to turn my rage. Too well thou
knowest my jealous soul could never bear uncertainty. Speak, then, and
tell me. Yet are you silent. Oh, I am wildered in all passions. But
thus my anger melts. [_Weeps_.] Here, take this poniard, for my very
spirits fa