_Moth._ One had need of a great deal, I am sure, to hear you talk at
this rate! Is this your way of making my poor _Myrtilla_ easy?
Count _Bas._ Death! I shall do it still, if the woman will but let me
speak----
_Moth._ Had not you a letter from her this morning?
Count _Bas._ I have it here in my pocket--this is it.
[_Shews it, and puts it up again._
_Moth._ Ay, but I don't find you have made any answer to it.
Count _Bas._ How the devil can I, if you won't hear me!
_Moth._ What! hear you talk of another woman?
Count _Bas._ O lud! O lud! I tell you, I'll make her fortune----'Ounds!
I'll marry her.
_Moth._ A likely matter! if you would not do it when she was a maid,
your stomach is not so sharp set now, I presume.
Count _Bas._ Hey day! why your blood begins to turn, my dear! the
devil! you did not think I proposed to marry her myself!
_Moth._ If you don't, who the devil do you think will marry her?