Lady Town. Dear sister, take her off o' my hands; there's no bearing this.
[Apart.
Lady Grace. I fancy I know you, Madam.
Mask. I fancy you don't: what makes you think you do?
Lady Grace. Because I have heard you talk.
Mask. Ay, but you don't know my voice, I'm sure.
Lady Grace. There is something in your wit and humour, Madam, so very much your own, it is impossible you can be any body but my Lady Trifle.
Mask. [Unmasking.] Dear Lady Grace! thou art a charming creature.
Lady Grace. Is there no body else we know here?