SCENE IV.


[To him] MELLEFONT, musing.

MASK. Mercy on us, what will the wickedness of this world come to?

MEL. How now, Jack? What, so full of contemplation that you run
over?

MASK. I'm glad you're come, for I could not contain myself any
longer, and was just going to give vent to a secret, which nobody
but you ought to drink down. Your aunt's just gone from hence.

MEL. And having trusted thee with the secrets of her soul, thou art
villainously bent to discover 'em all to me, ha?

MASK. I'm afraid my frailty leans that way. But I don't know
whether I can in honour discover 'em all.

MEL. All, all, man! What, you may in honour betray her as far as
she betrays herself. No tragical design upon my person, I hope.

MASK. No, but it's a comical design upon mine.

MEL. What dost thou mean?

MASK. Listen and be dumb; we have been bargaining about the rate of
your ruin -