MRS. FAIN. Bless me, how have I been deceived! Why, you profess a libertine. MRS. MAR. You see my friendship by my freedom. Come, be as sincere, acknowledge that your sentiments agree with mine. MRS. FAIN. Never. MRS. MAR. You hate mankind? MRS. FAIN. Heartily, inveterately. MRS. MAR. Your husband? MRS. FAIN. Most transcendently; ay, though I say it, meritoriously. MRS. MAR. Give me your hand upon it. MRS. FAIN. There. MRS. MAR. I join with you; what I have said has been to try you. MRS. FAIN. Is it possible? Dost thou hate those vipers, men? MRS. MAR. I have done hating ’em, and am now come to despise ’em; the next thing I have to do is eternally to forget ’em. MRS. FAIN. There spoke the spirit of an Amazon, a Penthesilea. MRS. MAR. And yet I am thinking sometimes to carry my aversion further. MRS. FAIN. How? MRS. MAR. Faith, by marrying; if I could but find one that loved me very well, and would be throughly sensible of ill usage, I think I should do myself the violence of undergoing the ceremony. MRS. FAIN. You would not make him a cuckold? MRS. MAR. No; but I’d make him believe I did, and that’s as bad. MRS. FAIN. Why had not you as good do it? MRS. MAR. Oh, if he should ever discover it, he would then know the worst, and be out of his pain; but I would have him ever to continue upon the rack of fear and jealousy. MRS. FAIN. Ingenious mischief! Would thou wert married to Mirabell. MRS. MAR. Would I were. MRS. FAIN. You change colour. MRS. MAR. Because I hate him. MRS. FAIN. So do I; but I can hear him named. But what reason have you to hate him in particular? MRS. MAR. I never loved him; he is, and always was, insufferably proud. MRS. FAIN. By the reason you give for your aversion, one would think it dissembled; for you have laid a fault to his charge, of which his enemies must acquit him. MRS. MAR. Oh, then it seems you are one of his favourable enemies. Methinks you look a little pale, and now you flush again. MRS. FAIN. Do I? I think I am a little sick o’ the sudden. MRS. MAR. What ails you? MRS. FAIN. My husband. Don’t you see him? He turned short upon me unawares, and has almost overcome me. SCENE II. [_To them_] FAINALL _and_ MIRABELL. MRS. MAR. Ha, ha, ha! he comes opportunely for you. MRS. FAIN. For you, for he has brought Mirabell with him. FAIN. My dear. MRS. FAIN. My soul. FAIN. You don’t look well to-day, child. MRS. FAIN. D’ye think so? MIRA. He is the only man that does, madam. MRS. FAIN. The only man that would tell me so at least, and the only man from whom I could hear it without mortification. FAIN. Oh, my dear, I am satisfied of your tenderness; I know you cannot resent anything from me; especially what is an effect of my concern. MRS. FAIN. Mr. Mirabell, my mother interrupted you in a pleasant relation last night: I would fain hear it out.