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.