Mask. to Cam. Now, lady mine, what think you of my master?
Cam. I think, I would not serve him for the world: Nay, if he can know our thoughts by looking on us, we women are hypocrites to little purpose.
Mask. He can do that and more; for, by casting his eyes but once upon them, he knows whether they are maids, better than a whole jury of mid-wives.
Cam. Now heaven defend me from him!
Mask. He has a certain small familiar, which he carries still about him, that never fails to make discovery.
Cam. See, they have done writing; not a word more, for fear he knows my voice.
Bel. One thing I had forgot, madam; you must subscribe your name to it.
Aur. There 'tis; farewell, cavalier, keep your promise, for I expect it furiously.
Cam. If he sees me, I am undone.
[Hiding her face.
Bel. Camilla!