Enter_ LOVELESS _and_ SERVANT.
_Love_. Is my wife within?
_Ser_. No, sir, she has gone out this half-hour.
_Love_. Well, leave me.--[_Exit_ SERVANT.] How
strangely does my mind run on this widow!--Never was my heart so
suddenly seized on before. That my wife should pick out her, of
all womankind, to be her playfellow! But what fate does, let fate
answer for: I sought it not. So! by Heavens! here she comes.
_Enter_ BERINTHIA.
_Ber_. What makes you look so thoughtful, sir? I hope you
are not ill.
_Love_. I was debating, madam, whether I was so or not, and
that was it which made me look so thoughtful.
_Ber_. Is it then so hard a matter to decide? I thought all
people were acquainted with their own bodies, though few people
know their own minds.
_Love_. What if the distemper I suspect be in the mind?
_Ber_. Why then I'll undertake to prescribe you a cure.
_Love_. Alas! you undertake you know not what.
_Ber_. So far at least, then, you allow me to be a
physician.
_Love_. Nay, I'll allow you to be so yet further: for I have
reason to believe, should I put myself into your hands, you would
increase my distemper.
_Ber_. How?
_Love_. Oh, you might betray me to my wife.
_Ber_. And so lose all my practice.
_Love_. Will you then keep my secret?
_Ber_. I will.
_Love_. Well--but swear it.
_Ber_. I swear by woman.
_Love_. Nay, that's swearing by my deity; swear by your own,
and I shall believe you.
_Ber_. Well then, I swear by man!
_Love_. I'm satisfied. Now hear my symptoms, and give me
your advice. The first were these; when I saw you at the play, a
random glance you threw at first alarmed me. I could not turn my
eyes from whence the danger came--I gazed upon you till my heart
began to pant--nay, even now, on your approaching me, my illness
is so increased that if you do not help me I shall, whilst you
look on, consume to ashes. [_Takes her hand.]
_Ber_. O Lord, let me go! 'tis the plague, and we shall be
infected. [_Breaking from him.]
_Love_. Then we'll die together, my charming angel.
_Ber_. O Gad! the devil's in you! Lord, let me go!--here's
somebody coming.
_Re-enter_ SERVANT.
_Ser_. Sir, my lady's come home, and desires to speak with
you.
_Love_. Tell her I'm coming.--[_Exit_ SERVANT.] But
before I go, one glass of nectar to drink her health. [_To_
BERINTHIA.]
_Ber_. Stand off, or I shall hate you, by Heavens!
_Love_. [_Kissing her_.] In matters of love, a woman's
oath is no more to be minded than a man's. [_Exit.]
Ber_. Um!
_Enter_ COLONEL TOWNLY.
_Col. Town_. [_Aside_.] So? what's here--Berinthia and
Loveless--and in such close conversation!--I cannot now wonder at
her indifference in excusing herself to me!--O rare woman!--Well
then, let Loveless look to his wife, 'twill be but the retort
courteous on both sides.--[_Aloud_.] Your servant, madam; I
need not ask you how you do, you have got so good a colour.
_Ber_. No better than I used to have, I suppose.
_Col. Town_. A little more blood in your cheeks.
_Ber_. I have been walking!
_Col. Town_. Is that all? Pray was it Mr. Loveless went from
here just now?
_Ber_. O yes--he has been walking with me.
_Col. Town_. He has!
_Ber_. Upon my word I think he is a very agreeable man; and
there is certainly something particularly insinuating in his
address.
_Col. Town_. [_Aside_.] So, so! she hasn't even the
modesty to dissemble! [_Aloud_.] Pray, madam, may I, without
impertinence, trouble you with a few serious questions?
_Ber_. As many as you please; but pray let them be as little
serious as possible.
_Col. Town_. Is it not near two years since I have presumed
to address you?
_Ber_. I don't know exactly--but it has been a tedious long
time.
_Col. Town._ Have I not, during that period, had every
reason to believe that my assiduities were far from being
unacceptable?
_Ber._ Why, to do you justice, you have been extremely
troublesome--and I confess I have been more civil to you than you
deserved.
_Col. Town._ Did I not come to this place at your express
desire, and for no purpose but the honour of meeting you?--and
after waiting a month in disappointment, have you condescended to
explain, or in the slightest way apologise for, your conduct?
_Ber._ O heavens! apologise for my conduct!--apologise to
you! O you barbarian! But pray now, my good serious colonel, have
you anything more to add?
_Col. Town._ Nothing, madam, but that after such behaviour I
am less surprised at what I saw just now; it is not very
wonderful that the woman who can trifle with the delicate
addresses of an honourable lover should be found coquetting with
the husband of her friend.
_Ber._ Very true: no more wonderful than it was for this
honourable lover to divert himself in the absence of this
coquette, with endeavouring to seduce his friend's wife! O
colonel, colonel, don't talk of honour or your friend, for
Heaven's sake!
_Col. Town_. [_Aside.]_ 'Sdeath! how came she to
suspect this!--[_Aloud._] Really, madam, I don't understand
you.
_Ber._ Nay, nay, you saw I did not pretend to misunderstand
you.--But here comes the lady; perhaps you would be glad to be
left with her for an explanation.
_Col. Town._ O madam, this recrimination is a poor resource;
and to convince you how much you are mistaken, I beg leave to
decline the happiness you propose me.--Madam, your servant.
_Enter_ AMANDA. COLONEL TOWNLY _whispers_ AMANDA,
_and exit_.
_Ber. [Aside._] He carries it off well, however; upon my
word, very well! How tenderly they part!--[_Aloud_] So,
cousin; I hope you have not been chiding your admirer for being
with me? I assure you we have been talking of you.
_Aman_. Fy, Berinthia!--my admirer! will you never learn to
talk in earnest of anything?
_Ber_. Why this shall be in earnest, if you please; for my
part, I only tell you matter of fact.
_Aman_. I'm sure there's so much jest and earnest in what
you say to me on this subject, I scarce know how to take it. I
have just parted with Mr. Loveless; perhaps it is fancy, but I
think there is an alteration in his manner which alarms me.
_Ber_. And so you are jealous; is that all?
_Aman_. That all! is jealousy, then, nothing?
_Ber_. It should be nothing, if I were in your case.
_Aman_. Why, what would you do?
_Ber_. I'd cure myself.
_Aman_. How?
_Ber_. Care as little for my husband as he did for me. Look
you, Amanda, you may build castles in the air, and fume, and
fret, and grow thin, and lean, and pale, and ugly, if you please;
but I tell you, no man worth having is true to his wife, or ever
was, or ever will be so.
_Aman_. Do you then really think he's false to me? for I did
not suspect him.
_Ber_. Think so? I am sure of it.
_Aman_. You are sure on't?
_Ber_. Positively--he fell in love at the play.
_Aman_. Right--the very same. But who could have told you
this?
_Ber_. Um!--Oh, Townly! I suppose your husband has made him
his confidant.
_Aman_. O base Loveless! And what did Townly say on't?
_Ber. [Aside_.] So, so! why should she ask that?--
[_Aloud_.] Say! why he abused Loveless extremely, and said
all the tender things of you in the world.
_Aman_. Did he?--Oh! my heart!--I'm very ill--dear
Berinthia, don't leave me a moment. [_Exeunt_.]