_Dap._ I cannot deny it, madam. _Vin._ Dapperwit, you have been all this time on the wrong side; for you love to talk all, and here's a lady would not have hindered you. _Dap._ A pox! I have been talking too long indeed here; for wit is lost upon a silly weak woman, as well as courage. [_Aside._ _Vin._ I have used all common means to move a woman's tongue and mask; I called her ugly, old, and old acquaintance, and yet she would not disprove me:--but here comes Ranger, let him try what he can do; for, since my mistress is dogged, I'll go sleep alone. [_Exit._ _Re-enter_ RANGER. _Lyd._ [_Aside._] Ranger! 'tis he indeed: I am sorry he is here, but glad I discovered him before I went. Yet he must not discover me, lest I should be prevented hereafter in finding him out. False Ranger!--[_To_ Lady FLIPPANT.] Nay, if they bring fresh force upon us, madam, 'tis time to quit the field. [_Exeunt_ LYDIA _and_ Lady FLIPPANT. _Ran._ What, play with your quarry till it fly from you! _Dap._ You frighten it away. _Ran._ Ha! is not one of those ladies in mourning? _Dap._ All women are so by this light. _Ran._ But you might easily discern. Don't you know her? _Dap._ No. _Ran._ Did you talk with her? _Dap._ Yes, she is one of your brisk silly baggages. _Ran._ 'Tis she, 'tis she!--I was afraid I saw her before; let us follow 'em: prithee make haste.--[_Aside._] 'Tis Lydia. [_Exeunt._ _Re-enter, on the other side_, LYDIA _and_ Lady FLIPPANT--DAPPERWIT _and_ RANGER _following them at a distance._ _Lyd._ They follow us yet, I fear. _L. Flip._ You do not fear it certainly; otherwise you would not have encouraged them. _Lyd._ For Heaven's sake, madam, waive your quarrel a little, and let us pass by your coach, and so on foot to your acquaintance in the old Pall-mall[33]: for I would not be discovered by the man that came up last to us. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II.--CHRISTINA'S _Lodging._ _Enter_ CHRISTINA _and_ ISABEL. _Isa._ For Heaven's sake, undress yourself, madam! They'll not return to-night: all people have left the Park an hour ago. _Chris._ What is't o'clock? _Isa._ 'Tis past one. _Chris._ It cannot be! _Isa._ I thought that time had only stolen from happy lovers:--the disconsolate have nothing to do but to tell the clock. _Chris._ I can only keep account with my misfortunes. _Isa._ I am glad they are not innumerable. _Chris._ And, truly, my undergoing so often your impertinency is not the least of them. _Isa._ I am then more glad, madam, for then they cannot be great; and it is in my power, it seems, to make you in part happy, if I could but hold this villainous tongue of mine: but then let the people of the town hold their tongues if they will, for I cannot but tell you what they say. _Chris._ What do they say? _Isa._ Faith, madam, I am afraid to tell you, now I think on't. _Chris._ Is it so ill? _Isa._ O, such base, unworthy things!