RAVENSBANE [Calls.] Dickon, my pipe! [Dickon glides away to fill Ravensbane’s pipe.]
JUSTICE MERTON [Stands bewildered and horror-struck.] Great God!—Thou inexorable Judge!
RICHARD [To Mistress Merton, scowling at Ravensbane and Rachel.] Are these court manners, in London?
MISTRESS MERTON Don’t ask me, Richard.
RAVENSBANE [Dejectedly to Rachel, as Dickon is refilling his pipe.] Alas! Mistress Rachel is cruel.
RACHEL I?—cruel, your lordship?
RAVENSBANE Your own white hand has written it. [Lifting her palm.] See, these lines: Rejection! you will reject one who loves you dearly.
RACHEL Fie, your lordship! Be not cast down at fortune-telling. Let me tell yours, may I?
RAVENSBANE [Rapturously holding his palm for her to examine.] Ah! Permit me.
JUSTICE MERTON [Murmurs, in terrible agitation.] Dickon! Can it be Dickon?