Mask. Their names are—out with it boldly—
Beat. A secret—not to be disclosed.
Mask. A secret, say you? Nay, then, I conjure you, as you are a woman, tell it me.
Beat. Not a syllable.
Mask. Why, then, as you are a waiting-woman; as you are the sieve of all your lady's secrets, tell it me.
Beat. You lose your labour; nothing will strain through me.
Mask. Are you so well stopped in the bottom?
Beat. It was enjoined me strictly as a secret.
Mask. Was it enjoined thee strictly, and canst thou hold it? Nay, then, thou art invincible: But, by that face, that more than ugly face, which I suspect to be under thy veil, disclose it to me.
Beat. By that face of thine, which is a natural visor, I will not tell thee.