Was it a rogue who wore a mask in antiquity, or was iniquity the initial harlot’ s joke? Shall I blame some atom prior to mankind that grew like poppies to befog the mind? When did this menace, love, commence its dire sport? Before all history, I gauge, a heart was whole, and then it broke. Was this then the rude crisis of proliferating need— there must be human fragments split to beget a seed.
SCENE IV— LUCILLE.
LUCILLE: Everyone’ s suspicious, there is mischief in the air. Methinks the Madam is intending assignation with the friar. Perchance that rascal Mascarille again my window will intrude, the Madam will have contretemps of matrimony, mortified. But, best of all, should serve‘ em right, that errant knave, my Mascarille, who should be decently affied to me, and make me his right wife. Why are these monstrosities called men so rarely ever men? When they’ re young, and fit, and lean they act like children in knee pants. When they’ re handsome, strong, and apt they misbehave like neonates. The snuff, the drink, the gambling debts are barely more than nurs’ ry toys;