Duke. Since when, madam, have the world and you been upon these equal terms of hostility? Time was, you have been better friends.
Luc. No doubt I have been vain, and sinful; but the remembrance of those days cannot be pleasant to me now, and therefore, if you please, do not refresh their memory.
Duke. Their memory! you speak as if they were ages past.
Luc. You think me still what I was once—a vain, fond, giddy creature: I see, sir, whither your discourses tend, and therefore take my leave.
Duke. Yes, madam, I know you see whither my discourses tend, and therefore 'twill not be convenient that you should take your leave. Disguise yourself no farther; you are known, as well as you knew me in masquerade.
Luc. I am not used enough to the world to interpret riddles; therefore, once more, heaven keep you.
Duke. This will not do; your voice, your mien, your stature, betray you for the same I saw last night: you know the time and place.
Luc. You were not in this chapel, and I am bound by vow to stir no farther.
Duke. But you had too much wit to keep that vow.
Luc. If you persist, sir, in this raving madness, I can bring witness of my innocence. [Is going.