SCANDAL _and_ JEREMY. SCAN. Well, is your master ready? does he look madly and talk madly? JERE. Yes, sir; you need make no great doubt of that. He that was so near turning poet yesterday morning can’t be much to seek in playing the madman to-day. SCAN. Would he have Angelica acquainted with the reason of his design? JERE. No, sir, not yet. He has a mind to try whether his playing the madman won’t make her play the fool, and fall in love with him; or at least own that she has loved him all this while and concealed it. SCAN. I saw her take coach just now with her maid, and think I heard her bid the coachman drive hither. JERE. Like enough, sir, for I told her maid this morning, my master was run stark mad only for love of her mistress.—I hear a coach stop; if it should be she, sir, I believe he would not see her, till he hears how she takes it. SCAN. Well, I’ll try her:—’tis she—here she comes. SCENE II. [_To them_] ANGELICA _with_ JENNY. ANG. Mr. Scandal, I suppose you don’t think it a novelty to see a woman visit a man at his own lodgings in a morning? SCAN. Not upon a kind occasion, madam. But when a lady comes tyrannically to insult a ruined lover, and make manifest the cruel triumphs of her beauty, the barbarity of it something surprises me. ANG. I don’t like raillery from a serious face. Pray tell me what is the matter? JERE. No strange matter, madam; my master’s mad, that’s all. I suppose your ladyship has thought him so a great while. ANG. How d’ye mean, mad? JERE. Why, faith, madam, he’s mad for want of his wits, just as he was poor for want of money; his head is e’en as light as his pockets, and anybody that has a mind to a bad bargain can’t do better than to beg him for his estate. ANG. If you speak truth, your endeavouring at wit is very unseasonable. SCAN. She’s concerned, and loves him. [_Aside_.] ANG. Mr. Scandal, you can’t think me guilty of so much inhumanity as not to be concerned for a man I must own myself obliged to? Pray tell me truth. SCAN. Faith, madam, I wish telling a lie would mend the matter. But this is no new effect of an unsuccessful passion. ANG. [_Aside_.] I know not what to think. Yet I should be vexed to have a trick put upon me. May I not see him? SCAN. I’m afraid the physician is not willing you should see him yet. Jeremy, go in and enquire. SCENE III. SCANDAL, ANGELICA, JENNY. ANG. Ha! I saw him wink and smile. I fancy ’tis a trick—I’ll try.—I would disguise to all the world a failing which I must own to you: I fear my happiness depends upon the recovery of Valentine. Therefore I conjure you, as you are his friend, and as you have compassion upon one fearful of affliction, to tell me what I am to hope for—I cannot speak—but you may tell me, tell me, for you know what I would ask?