MEL. Death and furies, will you not hear me?--Why by heaven she
laughs, grins, points to your back; she forks out cuckoldom with her
fingers, and you're running horn-mad after your fortune. [As she is
going she turns back and smiles at him.]

LORD TOUCH. I fear he's mad indeed.--Let's send Maskwell to him.

MEL. Send him to her.

LADY TOUCH. Come, come, good my lord, my heart aches so, I shall
faint if I stay.


SCENE XXI.


MELLEFONT alone.

MEL. Oh, I could curse my stars, fate, and chance; all causes and
accidents of fortune in this life! But to what purpose? Yet,
'sdeath, for a man to have the fruit of all his industry grow full
and ripe, ready to drop into his mouth, and just when he holds out
his hand to gather it, to have a sudden whirlwind come, tear up tree
and all, and bear away the very root and foundation of his hopes:-
what temper can contain? They talk of sending Maskwell to me; I
never had more need of him. But what can he do? Imagination cannot
form a fairer and more plausible design than this of his which has
miscarried. O my precious aunt, I shall never thrive without I deal
with the devil, or another woman.