Mod. Nay, prithee, don't--try on!

Helen. And if I do, I fear you'll think me bold.

Mod. For what?

Helen. To trust my face so near to thine.

Mod. I know not what you mean.

Helen. I'm glad you don't!
Cousin, I own right well behaved you are,
Most marvellously well behaved! They've bred
You well at college. With another man
My lips would be in danger! Hang the ruff!

Mod. Nay, give it up, nor plague thyself, dear cousin.

Helen. Dear fool! [Throws the ruff on the ground.]
I swear the ruff is good for just
As little as its master! There!--'Tis spoiled -
You'll have to get another! Hie for it,
And wear it in the fashion of a wisp,
Ere I adjust it for thee! Farewell, cousin!
You'd need to study Ovid's Art of Love.

[HELEN goes out.]

Mod. [Solus.] Went she in anger! I will follow her, -
No, I will not! Heigho! I love my cousin!