Chapter 11

_Enter_ LOVELESS. _Love_. Now, does she mean to make a fool of me, or not! I shan't wait much longer, for my wife will soon be inquiring for me to set out on our supping party. Suspense is at all times the devil, but of all modes of suspense, the watching for a loitering mistress is the worst.--But let me accuse her no longer; she approaches with one smile to o'erpay the anxieties of a year. _Enter_ BERINTHIA. O Berinthia, what a world of kindness are you in my debt! had you stayed five minutes longer-- _Ber_. You would have gone, I suppose? _Love_. Egad, she's right enough. [_Aside.] Ber_. And I assure you 'twas ten to one that I came at all. In short, I begin to think you are too dangerous a being to trifle with; and as I shall probably only make a fool of you at last, I believe we had better let matters rest as they are. _Love_. You cannot mean it, sure? _Ber_. What more would you have me give to a married man? _Love_. How doubly cruel to remind me of my misfortunes! _Ber_. A misfortune to be married to so charming a woman as Amanda? _Love_. I grant her all her merit, but--'sdeath! now see what you have done by talking of her--she's here, by all that's unlucky, and Townly with her.--I'll observe them. _Ber_. O Gad, we had better get out of the way; for I should feel as awkward to meet her as you. _Love_. Ay, if I mistake not, I see Townly coming this way also. I must see a little into this matter. [_Steps aside_.] _Ber_. Oh, if that's your intention, I am no woman if I suffer myself to be outdone in curiosity. [_Goes on the other side_.] _Enter_ AMANDA. _Aman_. Mr. Loveless come home, and walking on the lawn! I will not suffer him to walk so late, though perhaps it is to show his neglect of me.--Mr. Loveless, I must speak with you.--Ha! Townly again!--How I am persecuted! _Enter_ COLONEL TOWNLY. _Col. Town_. Madam, you seem disturbed. _Aman_. Sir, I have reason. _Col. Town_. Whatever be the cause, I would to Heaven it were in my power to bear the pain, or to remove the malady. _Aman_. Your interference can only add to my distress. _Col. Town_. Ah, madam, if it be the sting of unrequited love you suffer from, seek for your remedy in revenge: weigh well the strength and beauty of your charms, and rouse up that spirit a woman ought to bear. Disdain the false embraces of a husband. See at your feet a real lover; his zeal may give him title to your pity, although his merit cannot claim your love. _Love_. So, so, very fine, i'faith! [_Aside_.] _Aman_. Why do you presume to talk to me thus? Is this your friendship to Mr. Loveless? I perceive you will compel me at last to acquaint him with your treachery. _Col. Town_. He could not upbraid me if you were.--He deserves it from me; for he has not been more false to you than faithless to me. _Aman_. To you? _Col. Town_. Yes, madam; the lady for whom he now deserts those charms which he was never worthy of, was mine by right; and, I imagine too, by inclination. Yes, madam, Berinthia, who now-- _Aman_. Berinthia! Impossible! _Col. Town_. 'Tis true, or may I never merit your attention. She is the deceitful sorceress who now holds your husband's heart in bondage. _Aman_. I will not believe it. _Col. Town_. By the faith of a true lover, I speak from conviction. This very day I saw them together, and overheard-- _Aman_. Peace, sir! I will not even listen to such slander-- this is a poor device to work on my resentment, to listen to your insidious addresses. No, sir; though Mr. Loveless may be capable of error, I am convinced I cannot be deceived so grossly in him as to believe what you now report; and for Berinthia, you should have fixed on some more probable person for my rival than her who is my relation and my friend: for while I am myself free from guilt, I will never believe that love can beget injury, or confidence create ingratitude. _Col. Town_. If I do not prove to you-- _Aman._ You never shall have an opportunity. From the artful manner in which you first showed yourself to me, I might have been led, as far as virtue permitted, to have thought you less criminal than unhappy; but this last unmanly artifice merits at once my resentment and contempt. [_Exit_.] _Col. Town_. Sure there's divinity about her; and she has dispensed some portion of honour's light to me: yet can I bear to lose Berinthia without revenge or compensation? Perhaps she is not so culpable as I thought her. I was mistaken when I began to think lightly of Amanda's virtue, and may be in my censure of my Berinthia. Surely I love her still, for I feel I should be happy to find myself in the wrong. [_Exit_.] _Re-enter_ LOVELESS _and_ BERINTHIA. _Ber_. Your servant, Mr. Loveless. _Love_. Your servant, madam. _Ber_. Pray what do you think of this? _Love_. Truly, I don't know what to say. _Ber_. Don't you think we steal forth two contemptible creatures? _Love_. Why, tolerably so, I must confess. _Ber_. And do you conceive it possible for you ever to give Amanda the least uneasiness again? _Love_. No, I think we never should indeed. _Ber_. We! why, monster, you don't pretend that I ever entertained a thought? _Love_. Why then, sincerely and honestly, Berinthia, there is something in my wife's conduct which strikes me so forcibly, that if it were not for shame, and the fear of hurting you in her opinion, I swear I would follow her, confess my error, and trust to her generosity for forgiveness. _Ber_. Nay, pr'ythee, don't let your respect for me prevent you; for as my object in trifling with you was nothing more than to pique Townly, and as I perceive he has been actuated by a similar motive, you may depend on't I shall make no mystery of the matter to him. _Love_. By no means inform him: for though I may choose to pass by his conduct without resentment, how will he presume to look me in the face again? _Ber_. How will you presume to look him in the face again? _Love_. He, who has dared to attempt the honour of my wife! _Ber_. You who have dared to attempt the honour of his mistress! Come, come, be ruled by me, who affect more levity than I have, and don't think of anger in this cause. A readiness to resent injuries is a virtue only in those who are slow to injure. _Love_. Then I will be ruled by you; and when you think proper to undeceive Townly, may your good qualities make as sincere a convert of him as Amanda's have of me.-When truth's extorted from us, then we own the robe of virtue is a sacred habit.

Could women but our secret counsel scan-- Could they but reach the deep reserve of man-- To keep our love they'd rate their virtue high, They live together, and together die.

[_Exeunt_.]