Bel. I know not; but I sweat for fear I should be gravelled.
Mask. Venture out of your depth, and plunge boldly, sir; I warrant you will swim.
Bel. Do not leave me, I charge you; but when I look mournfully upon you, help me out.
Enter Aurelia and Camilla.
Mask. Here they are already.
[Aur. plucks up her veil.
Aur. How am I dressed to-night, Camilla? is nothing disordered in my head?
Cam. Not the least hair, madam.
Aur. No! let me see: Give me the counsellor of the graces.
Cam. The counsellor of the graces, madam!
Aur. My glass, I mean: What, will you never be so spiritual as to understand refined language?