Lady. Call in the dancers;—Sir Rowland, we’ll sit, if you please, and see the entertainment.

[Dance. Now with your permission, Sir Rowland, I will peruse my letter—I would open it in your presence, because I would not make you uneasie. If it should make you uneasie I would burn it—speak if it does—but you may see, the superscription is like a woman’s hand.

Foib. By heaven! Mrs. Marwood’s, I know it,—my heart akes—get it from her—

[To him.

Wait. A woman’s hand? No, madam, that’s no woman’s hand, I see that already. That’s somebody whose throat must be cut.

Lady. Nay, Sir Rowland, since you give me a proof of your passion by your jealousie, I promise you I’ll make a return, by a frank communication—You shall see it—we’ll open it together —look you here. [Reads.] “Madam, though unknown to you,”—Look you there, ’tis from nobody that I know—“I have that honour for your character, that I think myself obliged to let you know you are abused. He who pretends to be Sir Rowland is a cheat and a rascal—” Oh heavens! what’s this?

Foib. Unfortunate, all’s ruined.

Wait. How, how, let me see, let me see [reading], “A rascal and disguised, and suborned for that imposture,”—O villany! O villany!—“by the contrivance of—”

Lady. I shall faint, I shall die, oh!

Foib. Say ’tis your nephew’s hand.—Quickly, his plot, swear, swear it.

[To him.

Wait. Here’s a villain! Madam, don’t you perceive it, don’t you see it?

Lady. Too well, too well. I have seen too much.

Wait. I told you at first I knew the hand—A woman’s hand? The rascal writes a sort of a large hand; your Roman hand—I saw there was a throat to be cut presently. If he were my son, as he is my nephew, I’d pistol him—

Foib. O treachery! But are you sure, Sir Rowland, it is his writing?

Wait. Sure? Am I here? do I live? do I love this pearl of India? I have twenty letters in my pocket from him, in the same character.

Lady. How!

Foib. O what luck it is, Sir Rowland, that you were present at this juncture! This was the business that brought Mr. Mirabell disguised to Madam Millamant this afternoon. I thought something was contriving, when he stole by me and would have hid his face.

Lady. How, how!—I heard the villain was in the house indeed; and now I remember, my niece went away abruptly, when Sir Wilfull was to have made his addresses.

Foib. Then, then, madam, Mr. Mirabell waited for her in her chamber; but I would not tell your ladiship to discompose you when you were to receive Sir Rowland.

Wait. Enough, his date is short.