_Colonel. S._ Yes, yes, madam, I exposed you to the courtship of your fool Clincher, too; I hope your female wiles will impose that upon me----also---- _Lady L._ Clincher! Nay, now you're stark mad. I know no such person. _Colonel S._ Oh, woman in perfection! not know him! 'Slife, madam, can my eyes, my piercing jealous eyes, be so deluded? Nay, madam, my nose could not mistake him; for I smelt the fop by his pulvilio, from the balcony down to the street. _Lady L._ The balcony! ha! ha! ha! the balcony! I'll be hanged but he has mistaken Sir Harry Wildair's footman, with a new French livery, for a beau. _Colonel S._ 'Sdeath, madam! what is there in me that looks like a cully? Did I not see him? _Lady L._ No, no, you could not see him; you're dreaming, colonel. Will you believe your eyes, now that I have rubbed them open?--Here, you friend. _Enter_ TOM ERRAND, _in_ CLINCHER SENIOR'S _Clothes_. _Colonel S._ This is illusion all; my eyes conspire against themselves. Tis legerdemain. _Lady L._ Legerdemain! Is that all your acknowledgment for your rude behaviour?--Oh, what a curse is it to love as I do!--Begone sir, [_To_ TOM ERRAND.] to your impertinent master, and tell him I shall never be at leisure to receive any of his troublesome visits.--Send to me to know when I should be at home!--Begone, sir. [_Exit_ TOM ERRAND.] I am sure he has made me an unfortunate woman. [_Weeps._ _Colonel S._ Nay, then there is no certainty in nature; and truth is only falsehood well disguised. _Lady L._ Sir, had not I owned my fond, foolish passion, I should not have been subject to such unjust suspicions: but it is an ungrateful return. [_Weeping._ _Colonel S._ Now, where are all my firm resolves? I hope, madam, you'll pardon me, since jealousy, that magnified my suspicion, is as much the effect of love, as my easiness in being satisfied. _Lady L._ Easiness in being satisfied! No, no, sir; cherish your suspicions, and feed upon your jealousy: 'tis fit meat for your squeamish stomach. With me all women should this rule pursue: Who think us false, should never find us true. [_Exit in a Rage._ _Enter_ CLINCHER SENIOR _in_ TOM ERRAND'S _Clothes_. _Clinch. sen._ Well, intriguing is the prettiest, pleasantest thing for a man of my parts.--How shall we laugh at the husband, when he is gone?--How sillily he looks! He's in labour of horns already.--To make a colonel a cuckold! 'Twill be rare news for the alderman. _Colonel S._ All this Sir Harry has occasioned; but he's brave, and will afford me a just revenge.--Oh, this is the porter I sent the challenge by----Well sir, have you found him? _Clinch. sen._ What the devil does he mean now? _Colonel S._ Have you given Sir Harry the note, fellow? _Clinch. sen._ The note! what note? _Colonel S._ The letter, blockhead, which I sent by you to Sir Harry Wildair; have you seen him?