Soph. [To Laura and Violetta.] Come, fair cousins, we hope to make the cloisteral life so pleasing, that it may be an inducement to you to quit the wicked world for ever.
Vio. [Passing by Camillo.] Take that, and read it at your leisure. [Conveys a note into his hand.
Cam. A ticket, as I live, Aurelian.
Aur. Steal off, and be thankful: if that be my Beatrix with Laura, she's most confoundedly ugly. If ever we had come to love-work, and a candle had been brought us, I had fallen back from that face, like a buck-rabbit in coupling.
[Exeunt Camillo and Aurelian.
Soph. Daughters, the time of our devotion calls us.—All happiness to your highness.
Luc. [To Hippolita.] Little thinks my venerable old love there, that his mistress in masquerade is so near him. Now do I even long to abuse that fop-gravity again.
Hip. Methinks, he looks on us.
Luc. Farewell, poor love; I am she, I am, for all my demure looks, that treated thee so inhumanly last night.
[She is going off, after Sophronia.
Duke. [following her.] Stay, lady; I would speak with you.
Luc. Ah! [Shrieking.