_Doddles._ Silence! A very proper rule: not that I see any harm in folks having comforts, but then they ought to be corked. Silence! _Albina._ Rule fifth. 'Henceforth no milliner shall presume to--to--to'---- _Doddles_ (_reads_). 'Wear a mask.' _2nd Milliner._ A very excellent and moral regulation Now we shall see who's who. _1st Milliner._ If some people never wore anything else, their faces wouldn't be the losers. _Betty._ A mask, ma'am, may be good at a pinch--at a pinch, ma'am; but as I've said, ma'am, I don't sell gloves, ma'am. _1st Milliner._ Why, you scandalising, wicked---- _Doddles._ Silence! Silence! _3rd Milliner._ Company! Company! To your stalls, ladies. (_All the Milliners station themselves at their stalls. Albina retires among them._) _Visitors come down the Burse from c. Enter Lord and Lady Ortolan, she masked._ _Lord O._ My dear Lady Ortolan, you know I have the worst taste. I am a very Vandal--a Hottentot. I know no more about gowns and petticoats than an ancient Briton. _Lady O._ Oh, my lord, I will not have you libel your capacity; for, certainly, no one has studied the subject with greater perseverance. I _must_ have your judgment on a satin. _Lord O._ (_aside_). She has dragged me here. I had as lieve made a journey on a hurdle. One comfort is, I don't see my enigma in white. _Lady O._ (_aside_). She is not here: yet I'll not stir till I confront them. _Doddles_ (_bringing down Albina_). Here 'tis; rule fifth: no masks. So you must conform: therefore, uncover your face and---- _Lady O._ She's here! _Lord O._ Confusion! _Doddles._ Rule the fifth, which forbids masks, and--and---- _Lady O._ Nay, poor girl, I'll answer for't she has good reason for her mystery. Eh, my liege lord? a modest, excellent, worthy maid, no doubt? _Lord O._ (_aside_). When women _do_ praise women, what kind creatures! _Albina_ (_aside_). Surely there stands my tormentor. Her liege lord! So, so, now for my revenge. _Lady O._ Come, we would see your merchandise. His lordship has forced me here to buy a dress. _Albina._ And his lordship is such a judge of satin. _Lady O._ Indeed? _Albina._ Oh, yes, and so good to his mother. _Lord O._ (_aside_). Would I were hanged, now, in a skein of silk! _Albina._ Twenty gowns for his honoured parent. _Lord O._ Nay, the girl mistakes me for some other customer. She--she---- _Lady O._ This insult, my lord, passes endurance. (_Unmasking herself_) Tell me, woman---- _Albina_ (_aside_). Heavens! Olivia! You, _you_ his wife! _Lady O._ You see Lady Ortolan. _Albina._ Happy chance; I have much, indeed, to tell you--much to reveal. _Lord O._ (_aside_). Was ever poor married rogue in such a plight?"