LORD TOUCH. Ha!

MASK. Why do I love! Yet heaven and my waking conscience are my
witnesses, I never gave one working thought a vent, which might
discover that I loved, nor ever must. No, let it prey upon my
heart; for I would rather die, than seem once, barely seem,
dishonest. Oh, should it once be known I love fair Cynthia, all
this that I have done would look like rival's malice, false
friendship to my lord, and base self-interest. Let me perish first,
and from this hour avoid all sight and speech, and, if I can, all
thought of that pernicious beauty. Ha! But what is my distraction
doing? I am wildly talking to myself, and some ill chance might
have directed malicious ears this way. [Seems to start, seeing my
lord.]

LORD TOUCH. Start not; let guilty and dishonest souls start at the
revelation of their thoughts, but be thou fixed, as is thy virtue.

MASK. I am confounded, and beg your Lordship's pardon for those
free discourses which I have had with myself.

LORD TOUCH. Come, I beg your pardon that I overheard you, and yet
it shall not need. Honest Maskwell! Thy and my good genius led me
hither. Mine, in that I have discovered so much manly virtue;
thine, in that thou shalt have due reward of all thy worth. Give me
thy hand. My nephew is the alone remaining branch of all our
ancient family: him I thus blow away, and constitute thee in his
room to be my heir -

MASK. Now heaven forbid -