_Clar._ Grace me to wear this favour; 'tis a gem That vails to your eyes, though not to the eagle's, And in exchange give me one word of comfort. _Tha._[193] Ay, marry: I like this wooer well: He'll win's pleasure out o' the stones. [_The second change,_ ISABELLA _falls in love with_ MASSINO;[194] _when_[195] _they change she speaks_. _Isa._ Change is no robbery; yet in this change 110 Thou robb'st me of my heart. Sure Cupid's here, Disguisèd like a pretty torch-bearer, And makes his brand a torch, that with more sleight He may entrap weak women. Here the sparks Fly, as in Ætna from his father's anvil. O powerful boy! My heart's on fire, and unto mine eyes The raging flames ascend like to two beacons, Summoning my strongest powers; but all too late; The conqueror already opes the gate. 120 I will not ask his name. _Abi._ You dare put it into my hands. _Rog._[196] Zounds,[197] do you think I will not? _Abi._ Then thus: to-morrow (you'll be secret, servant)-- _Rog._ All that I do, I'll do in secret. _Abi._ My husband goes to Maurano[198] to renew the farm he has. _Rog._ Well, what time goes the jakes-farmer? _Abi._ He shall not be long out, but you shall put in, I warrant you. Have a care that you stand just i' the nick about six o'clock in the evening; my maid shall conduct you up. To save mine honour, you must come up darkling, and to avoid suspicion. 133 _Rog._ Zounds! hoodwink'd! and if you'll open all, sweet lady---- _Abi._ But if you fail to do 't---- _Rog._ The sun shall fail the day first. _Abi._ Tie this ring fast, you may be sure to know. You'll brag of this, now you have brought me to the bay. _Rog._ Pox o' this masque! would 'twere done! I might To my apothecary's for some stirring meats! 141 _Tha._ Methinks, sir, you should blush e'en through your vizor. I have scarce patience to dance out the rest. _Clar._[199] The worse my fate, that ploughs a marble quarry: Pygmalion, yet thy image was more kind, Although thy love[200] not half so true as mine. Dance they that list, I sail against the wind. _Tha._ Nay, sir, betray not your infirmities, You'll make my husband jealous by and by. We will think of you, and that presently. 150 _Mass._[201] The spheres ne'er danced unto a better tune. Sound music there! [_The third change ended, ladies fall off._ _Isa._ 'Twas music that he spake. _Rob._ Gallants, I thank you, and begin a health To your mistresses! _Three or four._ Fair thanks, Sir Bridegroom. _Isa._ [_Aside._] He speaks not to this pledge; has he no mistress? Would I might choose one for him! but 't may be He doth adore a brighter star than we.