Spark. Nay, if this be her hand—for I never saw it.

Pinch. ’Tis no matter whether that be her hand or no; I am sure this hand, at her desire, led her to Mr. Horner, with whom I left her just now, to go fetch a parson to ’em at their desire too, to deprive you of her for ever; for it seems yours was but a mock marriage.

Spark. Indeed, she would needs have it that ’twas Harcourt himself, in a parson’s habit, that married us; but I’m sure he told me ’twas his brother Ned.

Pinch. O, there ’tis out; and you were deceived, not she: for you are such a frank person. But I must be gone.—You’ll find her at Mr. Horner’s. Go, and believe your eyes.

[Exit.

Spark. Nay, I’ll to her, and call her as many crocodiles, sirens, harpies, and other heathenish names, as a poet would do a mistress who had refused to hear his suit, nay more, his verses on her.—But stay, is not that she following a torch at t’other end of the Piazza? and from Horner’s certainly—’tis so.

Enter Alithea following a torch, and Lucy behind. You are well met, madam, though you don’t think so. What you have made a short visit to Mr. Horner? but I suppose you’ll return to him presently, by that time the parson can be with him.

Alith. Mr. Horner and the parson, sir!

Spark. Come, madam, no more dissembling, no more jilting; for I am no more a frank person.

Alith. How’s this?

Lucy. So, ’twill work, I see.

Spark. Could you find out no easy country fool to abuse? none but me, a gentleman of wit and pleasure about the town? But it was your pride to be too hard for a man of parts, unworthy false woman! false as a friend that lends a man money to lose; false as dice, who undo those that trust all they have to ’em.

Lucy. He has been a great bubble, by his similes, as they say.

[Aside.

Alith. You have been too merry, sir, at your wedding-dinner, sure.

Spark. What, d’ye mock me too?

Alith. Or you have been deluded.

Spark. By you.

Alith. Let me understand you.

Spark. Have you the confidence (I should call it something else, since you know your guilt) to stand my just reproaches? you did not write an impudent letter to Mr. Horner? who I find now has clubbed with you in deluding me with his aversion for women, that I might not, forsooth, suspect him for my rival.

Lucy. D’ye think the gentleman can be jealous now, madam?

[Aside.

Alith. I write a letter to Mr. Horner!