AGNES. No man. What about women?
LUCAS. Ho! They have had opportunities of closer observation.
AGNES. Hah! And they report—?
LUCAS. Nothing. They become curiously reticent.
AGNES. [Scornfully, as she is cutting a thread.] These noblemen!
LUCAS. [Taking a packet of letters from his pocket.] Finally, he presented me with these, expressed a hope that he'd see much of me during the week, and dismissed me with a fervent God bless you!
AGNES. [Surprised.] He remains here, then?
LUCAS. It seems so.
AGNES. What are those, dear?
LUCAS. The Duke has made himself the bearer of some letters, from friends. I've only glanced at them: reproaches—appeals—