BERINTHIA. Well!—why, were I that thing they call a slighted wife, somebody should run the risk of being that thing they call—a husband. Don’t I talk madly? AMANDA. Madly indeed! BERINTHIA. Yet I’m very innocent. AMANDA. That I dare swear you are. I know how to make allowances for your humour: but you resolve then never to marry again? BERINTHIA. Oh no! I resolve I will. AMANDA. How so? BERINTHIA. That I never may. AMANDA. You banter me. BERINTHIA. Indeed I don’t: but I consider I’m a woman, and form my resolutions accordingly. AMANDA. Well, my opinion is, form what resolutions you will, matrimony will be the end on’t. BERINTHIA. I doubt it. But ah, Heavens! I have business at home, and am half an hour too late. AMANDA. As you are to return with me, I’ll just give some orders, and walk with you. BERINTHIA. Well, make haste, and we’ll finish this subject as we go—[_Exit_ AMANDA.]. Ah, poor Amanda! you have led a country life. Well, this discovery is lucky! Base Townly! at once false to me and treacherous to his friend!—And my innocent and demure cousin too! I have it in my power to be revenged on her, however. Her husband, if I have any skill in countenance, would be as happy in my smiles as Townly can hope to be in hers. I’ll make the experiment, come what will on’t. The woman who can forgive the being robbed of a favoured lover, must be either an idiot or a wanton. [_Exit_.] ACT III. SCENE I.—LORD FOPPINGTON’s _Lodgings. Enter_ LORD FOPPINGTON, _and_ LA VAROLE. LORD FOPPINGTON. Hey, fellow, let thy _vis-à-vis_ come to the door. LA VAROLE. Will your lordship venture so soon to expose yourself to the weather? LORD FOPPINGTON. Sir, I will venture as soon as I can expose myself to the ladies. LA VAROLE. I wish your lordship would please to keep house a little longer; I’m afraid your honour does not well consider your wound. LORD FOPPINGTON. My wound!—I would not be in eclipse another day, though I had as many wounds in my body as I have had in my heart. So mind, Varole, let these cards be left as directed; for this evening I shall wait on my future father-in-law, Sir Tunbelly, and I mean to commence my devoirs to the lady, by giving an entertainment at her father’s expense; and hark thee, tell Mr. Loveless I request he and his company will honour me with their presence, or I shall think we are not friends. LA VAROLE. I will be sure, milor. [_Exit_.] _Enter_ TOM FASHION. TOM FASHION. Brother, your servant; how do you find yourself today? LORD FOPPINGTON. So well that I have ardered my coach to the door—so there’s no danger of death this baut, Tam. TOM FASHION. I’m very glad of it. LORD FOPPINGTON. [_Aside_.] That I believe a lie.—[_Aloud_.] Pr’ythee, Tam, tell me one thing—did not your heart cut a caper up to your mauth, when you heard I was run through the bady? TOM FASHION. Why do you think it should? LORD FOPPINGTON. Because I remember mine did so when I heard my uncle was shot through the head.