Our riches by degrees we can display.
A necklace first, the drops then in your ear;
Your mother sees it not; and should she hear,
’Tis easy to invent some fair pretence or other.
Margaret.
But whence the pretty caskets came? I fear
There’s something in it not right altogether. [Knocking.]
Good God!—I hear a step—is it my mother?
Martha. [looking through the casement]
’Tis a strange gentleman. Come in!