Helen. And now
Let’s talk about Sir Thomas—much I’m sure
He loves you.
Julia. Much I’m sure, he has a right!
Those know I who would give their eyes to be
Sir Thomas, for my sake!
Helen. Such too, know I.
But ’mong them none that can compare with him,
Not one so graceful.
Julia. What a graceful set
Your feather has!
Helen. Nay, give it back to me,
Unless you pay me for’t.
Julia. What was’t to get?
Helen. A minute’s talk with thee about Sir Thomas.
Julia. Talk of his title, and his fortune then.
Clif. [Aside.] Indeed! I would not listen, yet I must!
Julia. An ample fortune, Helen—I shall be
A happy wife! What routs, what balls, what masques,
What gala-days!