[_To them_] MRS. MARWOOD.
MRS. MAR. I’m surprised to find your ladyship in _déshabillé_ at this
time of day.
LADY. Foible’s a lost thing; has been abroad since morning, and never
heard of since.
MRS. MAR. I saw her but now, as I came masked through the park, in
conference with Mirabell.
LADY. With Mirabell? You call my blood into my face with mentioning
that traitor. She durst not have the confidence. I sent her to
negotiate an affair, in which if I’m detected I’m undone. If that
wheedling villain has wrought upon Foible to detect me, I’m ruined. O my
dear friend, I’m a wretch of wretches if I’m detected.
MRS. MAR. O madam, you cannot suspect Mrs. Foible’s integrity.
LADY. Oh, he carries poison in his tongue that would corrupt integrity
itself. If she has given him an opportunity, she has as good as put her
integrity into his hands. Ah, dear Marwood, what’s integrity to an
opportunity? Hark! I hear her. Dear friend, retire into my closet,
that I may examine her with more freedom—you’ll pardon me, dear friend, I
can make bold with you—there are books over the chimney—Quarles and Pryn,
and the _Short View of the Stage_, with Bunyan’s works to entertain
you.—Go, you thing, and send her in. [_To_ PEG.]