_Wild._ You have already the original of mine: But some revenge you must allow me: A locket of diamonds, or some such trifle, the next time I kiss your hand. _Jac._ Fie, fie! you do not think me mercenary? Yet, now I think on't, I'll put you into our Spanish mode of love: Our ladies here use to be the bankers of their servants, and to have their gold in keeping. _Wild._ This is the least trial you could have made of me: I have some three hundred pistoles by me; those I'll send by my servant. _Jac._ Confess freely, you mistrust me: But if you find the least qualm about your gold, pray keep it for a cordial. _Wild._ The cordial must be applied to the heart, and mine's with you, madam. Well; I say no more; but these are dangerous beginnings for holding on: I find my month will have more than one-and-thirty days in't. _Enter_ BEATRIX, _running_. _Beat._ Madam, your father calls in haste for you, and is looking for you about the house. _Jac._ Adieu, servant; be a good manager of your stock of love, that it may hold out your month; I am afraid you'll waste so much of it before to-morrow night, that you'll shine but with a quarter moon upon me. _Wild._ It shall be a crescent. [_Exeunt_ WILD. _and_ JAC. _severally_. [BEATRIX _is going, and_ MASKALL _runs and stops her_. _Mask._ Pay your ransom; you are my prisoner. _Beat._ What! do you fight after the French fashion; take towns before you declare a war? _Mask._ I shall be glad to imitate them so far, to be in the middle of the country before you could resist me. _Beat._ Well, what composition, monsieur? _Mask._ Deliver up your lady's secret; what makes her so cruel to my master? _Beat._ Which of my ladies, and which of your masters? For, I suppose, we are factors for both of them. _Mask._ Your eldest lady, Theodosia. _Beat._ How dare you press your mistress to an inconvenience? _Mask._ My mistress? I understand not that language; the fortune of the valet ever follows that of the master; and his is desperate: if his fate were altered for the better, I should not care if I ventured upon you for the worse. _Beat._ I have told you already, Donna Theodosia loves another. _Mask._ Has he no name? _Beat._ Let it suffice, he is born noble, though without a fortune. His poverty makes him conceal his love from her father; but she sees him every night in private; and, to blind the world, about a fortnight ago he took a solemn leave of her, as if he were going into Flanders: In the mean time, he lodges at the house of Don Lopez de Gamboa; and is himself called Don Melchor de Guzman. _Mask._ Don Melchor de Guzman! O heavens! _Beat._ What amazes you? _Theo._ [_Within_.] Why, Beatrix, where are you? _Beat._ You hear I am called.--Adieu; and be sure you keep my counsel. _Mask._ Come, sir, you see the coast is clear. [_Exit_ BEAT. _Enter_ BELLAMY.