MARGARET
Ah, look and see—just look and see!
MARTHA (adorning her)
O, what a blessed luck for thee!
MARGARET
But, ah! in the streets I dare not bear them,
Nor in the church be seen to wear them.
MARTHA
Yet thou canst often this way wander,
And secretly the jewels don,
Walk up and down an hour, before the mirror yonder,—
We’ll have our private joy thereon.
And then a chance will come, a holiday,
When, piece by piece, can one the things abroad display,
A chain at first, then other ornament:
Thy mother will not see, and stories we’ll invent.
MARGARET
Whoever could have brought me things so precious?
That something’s wrong, I feel suspicious.