LADY TOUCH. When shall we meet?--at eight this evening in my
chamber? There rejoice at our success, and toy away an hour in
mirth.

MASK. I will not fail.


SCENE III.


MASKWELL alone.

I know what she means by toying away an hour well enough. Pox, I
have lost all appetite to her; yet she's a fine woman, and I loved
her once. But I don't know: since I have been in a great measure
kept by her, the case is altered; what was my pleasure is become my
duty, and I have as little stomach to her now as if I were her
husband. Should she smoke my design upon Cynthia, I were in a fine
pickle. She has a damned penetrating head, and knows how to
interpret a coldness the right way; therefore I must dissemble
ardour and ecstasy; that's resolved. How easily and pleasantly is
that dissembled before fruition! Pox on't that a man can't drink
without quenching his thirst. Ha! yonder comes Mellefont,
thoughtful. Let me think. Meet her at eight--hum--ha! By heav'n I
have it.--If I can speak to my lord before. Was it my brain or
providence? No matter which--I will deceive 'em all, and yet secure
myself. 'Twas a lucky thought! Well, this double-dealing is a
jewel. Here he comes, now for me. [MASKWELL, pretending not to see
him, walks by him, and speaks as it were to himself.]