Enter LAURA, with a dark lanthorn hid, and VIOLETTA.

Cam. Ours is the honour of the field, madam; we are here before you.

Vio. Softly, dear friend; I think I hear some walking in the garden.

Cam. Rather, let us take this opportunity for your escape from hence; all things are here in readiness.

Vio. This is the second time we ever have met; let us discourse, and know each other better first; that’s the way to make sure of some love beforehand; for, as the world goes, we know not how little we may have when we are married.

Cam. Losses of opportunity are fatal in war, you know, and love’s a kind of warfare.

Vio. I shall keep you yet a while from close fighting.

Cam. But, do you know what an hour in love is worth?  ’Tis more precious than an age of ordinary life; ’tis the very quintessence and extract of it.

Vio. I do not like your chemical preparation of love; yours is all spirit, and will fly too soon; I must see it fixed, before I trust you.  But we are near the arbour:  Now our out-guards are set, let us retire a little, if you please; there we may walk more freely.
          
                                                    [Exit.

Aur. [To LAU.] My lady’s woman, methinks you are very reserved to-night:  Pray, advance into the lists; though I have seen your countenance by day, I can endure to hear you talk by night.  Be cunning, and set your wit to show, which is your best commodity:  It will help the better to put off that drug, your face.

Lau. The coarsest ware will serve such customers as you are:  Let it suffice, Mr Serving-man, that I have seen you too.  Your face is the original of the ugliest vizors about town; and for wit, I would advise you to speak reverently of it, as a thing you are never like to understand.

Aur. Sure, Beatrix, you came lately from looking in your glass, and that has given you a bad opinion of all faces; but since when am I become so notorious a fool?

Lau. Since yesterday; for t’other night you talked like a man of sense:  I think your wit comes to you, as the sight of owls does, only in the dark.

Aur. Why, when did you discourse by day with me?

Lau. You have a short memory.  This afternoon in the great street.  Do you remember when you talked with Laura?

Aur. But what was that to Beatrix?

Lau. [Aside.] ’Slife, I had forgot that I am Beatrix.  But pray, when did you find me out to be so ugly?

Aur. This afternoon, in the chapel.

Lau. That cannot be; for I well remember you were not there, Benito:  I saw none but Camillo, and his friend, the handsome stranger.

Aur. [Aside] Curse on’t, I have betrayed myself.