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, madam, when I say I have had a gen'rous
and a faithful passion, which you had never favoured, but through revenge
and policy.

LADY TOUCH. Ha!

MASK. Look you, madam, we are alone,--pray contain yourself and hear me.
You know you loved your nephew when I first sighed for you; I quickly
found it: an argument that I loved, for with that art you veiled your
passion 'twas imperceptible to all but jealous eyes. This discovery made
me bold; I confess it; for by it I thought you in my power. Your
nephew's scorn of you added to my hopes; I watched the occasion, and took
you, just repulsed by him, warm at once with love and indignation; your
disposition, my arguments, and happy opportunity accomplished my design;
I pressed the yielding minute, and was blest. How I have loved you
since, words have not shown, then how should words express?

LADY TOUCH. Well, mollifying devil! And have I not met your love with
forward fire?

MASK. Your zeal, I grant, was ardent, but misplaced; there was revenge
in view; that woman's idol had defiled the temple of the god, and love
was made a mock-worship. A son and heir would have edged young Mellefont
upon the brink of ruin, and left him none but you to catch at for
prevention.

LADY TOUCH. Again provoke me! Do you wind me like a larum, only to
rouse my own stilled soul for your diversion? Confusion!

MASK. Nay, madam, I'm gone, if you relapse. What needs this? I say
nothing but what you yourself, in open hours of love, have told me. Why
should you deny it? Nay, how can you? Is not all this present heat
owing to the same fire? Do you not love him still? How have I this day
offended you, but in not breaking off his match with Cynthia? which, ere
to-morrow, shall be done, had you but patience.

LADY TOUCH. How, what said you, Maskwell? Another caprice to unwind my
temper?

MASK. By heav'n, no; I am your slave, the slave of all your pleasures;
and will not rest till I have given you peace, would you suffer me.

LADY TOUCH. O Maskwell! in vain I do disguise me from thee, thou know'st
me, knowest the very inmos