Her. There you may freely speak.

Leon. Let us make haste; For some affairs, and of no small importance, Call me another way. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

  Enter PALAMEDE and RHODOPHIL, with Vizor Masques in their
  Hands, and Torches before them.

Pala. We shall have noble sport to-night, Rhodophil; this masquerading is a most glorious invention.

Rho. I believe it was invented first by some jealous lover, to discover the haunts of his jilting mistress; or, perhaps, by some distressed servant, to gain an opportunity with a jealous man’s wife.

Pala. No, it must be the invention of a woman, it has so much of subtilty and love in it.

Rho. I am sure ’tis extremely pleasant; for to go unknown, is the next degree to going invisible.

Pala. What with our antic habits and feigned voices,—­Do you know me? and—­I know you,—­methinks we move and talk just like so many overgrown puppets.

Rho. Masquerade is only vizor-mask improved; a heightening of the same fashion.

Pala. No, masquerade is vizor-mask in debauch, and I like it the better for’t:  for, with a vizor-mask, we fool ourselves into courtship, for the sake of an eye that glanced; or a hand that stole itself out of the glove sometimes, to give us a sample of the skin:  But in masquerade there is nothing to be known, she’s all terra incognita; and the bold discoverer leaps ashore, and takes his lot among the wild Indians and savages, without the vile consideration of safety to his person, or of beauty, or wholesomeness in his mistress.

  Enter BELIZA.

Rho. Beliza, what make you here?

Bel. Sir, my lady sent me after you, to let you know, she finds herself a little indisposed; so that she cannot be at court, but is retired to rest in her own apartment, where she shall want the happiness of your dear embraces to night.

Rho. A very fine phrase, Beliza, to let me know my wife desires to lie alone.

Pala. I doubt, Rhodophil, you take the pains sometimes to instruct your wife’s woman in these elegancies.

Rho. Tell my dear lady, that since I must be so unhappy as not to wait on her to-night, I will lament bitterly for her absence.  ’Tis true I shall be at court, but I will take no divertisement there; and when I return to my solitary bed, if I am so forgetful of my passion as to sleep, I will dream of her; and betwixt sleep and waking, put out my foot towards her side, for midnight consolation; and, not finding her, I will sigh, and imagine myself a most desolate widower.

Bel. I shall do your commands, sir. [Exit.