Med. Not to be so much as civil to a man who speaks to her in the presence of him she professes to love.

Dor. I have encouraged Fopling to talk to her to-night.

Med. Now you are here she will go nigh to beat him.

Dor. In the humour she’s in, her love will make her do some very extravagant thing, doubtless.

Med. What was Belinda’s business with you at my Lady Townley’s?

Dor. To get me to meet Loveit here in order to an éclaircissement. I made some difficulty of it, and have prepared this rencontre to make good my jealousy.

Med. Here they come!

Enter LOVEIT, BELINDA, and PERT.

Dor. I’ll meet her and provoke her with a deal of dumb civility in passing by, then turn short and be behind her when Sir Fopling sets upon her

[Exeunt DORIMANT and MEDLEY.

Bel. How wonderful respectfully he bowed!

Pert. He’s always over-mannerly when he has done a mischief

Bel. Methought indeed at the same time he had a strange despising countenance. SCENE III.]

The Man of Mode

Pert. The unlucky look, he thinks, becomes him.

Bel. I was afraid you would have spoke to him, my dear.

Lov. I would have died first; he shall no more find me the loving fool he has done.

Bel. You love him still!

Lov. No.

Pert. I wish you did not.

Lov. I do not, and I will have you think so. What made you hale me to this odious place, Belinda?

Bel. I hate to be hulched up in a coach; walking is much better.

Lov. Would we could meet Sir Fopling now!

Bel. Lord! would you not avoid him?

Lov. I would make him all the advances that may be.

Bel. That would confirm Dorimant’s suspicion, my dear.

Lov. He is not jealous, but I will make him so, and be revenged a way he little thinks on.