_Hip._ The clock strikes two: Within this half hour we shall be called up to our devotions. Now, good Ascanio--Alas, he's gone too! we are left miserable and forlorn. _Luc._ We have not so much as one place in the town for a retreat. _Hip._ O, for a miracle in our time of need! that some kind good-natured saint would take us up, and heave us over the wall into our cells. _Luc._ Dear sister, pray, for I cannot: I have been so sinful in leaving my cloister for the world, that I am ashamed to trouble my friends above to help me. _Hip._ Alas, sister, with what face can I pray then! Yours were but little vanities, but I have sinned swingingly against my vow; yes, indeed, sister, I have been very wicked,--for I wished the ball might be kept perpetually in our cloister, and that half the handsome nuns in it might be turned to men, for the sake of the other. _Luc._ Well, if I were free from this disgrace, I would never more set foot beyond the cloister, for the sake of any man. _Hip._ And here I vow, if I get safe within my cell, I will not think of man again these seven years. _Re-enter_ ASCANIO. _Asca._ Hold, Hippolita, and make no more rash vows: If you do, as I live, you shall not have the key. _Hip._ The key! why, have you it, brother? _Luc._ He does but mock us. I know you have it not, Ascanio. Asca. _Ecce signum;_ here it is for you. _Hip._ O, sweet brother, let me kiss you. _Asca._ Hands off, sweet sister, you must not be forsworn; you vowed you would not think of a man these seven years. _Hip._ Aye, brother, but I was not so hasty but I had wit enough to cozen the saint to whom I vowed; for you are but a boy, brother, and will not be a man these seven years. _Luc._ But where did you find the key, Ascanio? _Asca._ To confess the truth, madam, I stole it out of Hippolita's pocket, to take the print of it in wax; for I'll suppose you'll give my master leave to wait on you in the nunnery-garden, after your abbess has walked the rounds. _Luc._ Well, well, good-morrow. When you have slept, come to the grate for a letter to your lord. Now will I have the headach, or the megrim, or some excuse; for I'm resolved I'll not rise to prayers. _Hip._ Pray, brother, take care of our masking-habits, that they may be forthcoming another time. _Asca._ Sleep, sleep, and dream of me, sister: I'll make it good, if you dream not too unreasonably. _Luc._ Thus dangers in our love make joys more dear; And pleasure's sweetest when 'tis mixed with fear. [_Exeunt._ ACT IV. SCENE I.--_A Dressing-chamber._ _The Masking-habits of_ LUCRETIA _and_ HIPPOLITA _laid in a Chair.--Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ ASCANIO.