MIRA. The persons concerned in that affair have yet a tolerable reputation. I am afraid Mr. Fainall will be censorious. MRS. FAIN. He has a humour more prevailing than his curiosity, and will willingly dispense with the hearing of one scandalous story, to avoid giving an occasion to make another by being seen to walk with his wife. This way, Mr. Mirabell, and I dare promise you will oblige us both. SCENE III. FAINALL, MRS. MARWOOD. FAIN. Excellent creature! Well, sure, if I should live to be rid of my wife, I should be a miserable man. MRS. MAR. Ay? FAIN. For having only that one hope, the accomplishment of it of consequence must put an end to all my hopes, and what a wretch is he who must survive his hopes! Nothing remains when that day comes but to sit down and weep like Alexander when he wanted other worlds to conquer. MRS. MAR. Will you not follow ’em? FAIN. Faith, I think not, MRS. MAR. Pray let us; I have a reason. FAIN. You are not jealous? MRS. MAR. Of whom? FAIN. Of Mirabell. MRS. MAR. If I am, is it inconsistent with my love to you that I am tender of your honour? FAIN. You would intimate then, as if there were a fellow-feeling between my wife and him? MRS. MAR. I think she does not hate him to that degree she would be thought. FAIN. But he, I fear, is too insensible. MRS. MAR. It may be you are deceived. FAIN. It may be so. I do not now begin to apprehend it. MRS. MAR. What? FAIN. That I have been deceived, madam, and you are false. MRS. MAR. That I am false? What mean you? FAIN. To let you know I see through all your little arts.—Come, you both love him, and both have equally dissembled your aversion. Your mutual jealousies of one another have made you clash till you have both struck fire. I have seen the warm confession red’ning on your cheeks, and sparkling from your eyes. MRS. MAR. You do me wrong. FAIN. I do not. ’Twas for my ease to oversee and wilfully neglect the gross advances made him by my wife, that by permitting her to be engaged, I might continue unsuspected in my pleasures, and take you oftener to my arms in full security. But could you think, because the nodding husband would not wake, that e’er the watchful lover slept? MRS. MAR. And wherewithal can you reproach me? FAIN. With infidelity, with loving another, with love of Mirabell. MRS. MAR. ’Tis false. I challenge you to show an instance that can confirm your groundless accusation. I hate him. FAIN. And wherefore do you hate him? He is insensible, and your resentment follows his neglect. An instance? The injuries you have done him are a proof: your interposing in his love. What cause had you to make discoveries of his pretended passion? To undeceive the credulous aunt, and be the officious obstacle of his match with Millamant?