--No, not a word I.
FATHER.
Why, God a mercy.
FRANCES.
Sister, look here, I have a new Dutch maid, and she
speaks so fine, it would do your heart good.
CIVET.
How do you like her, sister?
DELIA.
I like your maid well.
CIVET.
Well, dear sister, will you draw near, and give
directions for supper? guests will be here presently.
DELIA.
Yes, brother; lead the way; I'll follow you.
[Exit all but Delia and Lucy.]
Hark you, Dutch frau, a word.
LUCY.
Vat is your vill wit me?
DELIA.
Sister Lucy, tis not your broken language,
Nor this same habit, can disguise your face
From I that know you: pray tell me, what means this?
LUCY.
Sister, I see you know me; yet be secret.
This borrowed shape, that I have ta'en upon me,
Is but to keep myself a space unknown,
Both from my father, and my nearest friends,
Until I see how time will bring to pass
The desperate course of Master Flowerdale.
DELIA.
O he is worse than bad, I prithee leave him,
And let not once thy heart to think on him.
LUCY.
Do not persuade me once to such a thought.
Imagine yet, that he is worse than naught:
Yet one hour's time may all that ill undo,
That all his former life did run into.
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