Charl. To you! Alas, who are you? for till this moment I never saw your Face.
L. Gal. Mad as the Seas when all the Winds are raging.
Sir Tim. Ay, ay, Madam, stark mad! Poor Soul—Neighbour, pray let her lie i’th’ dark, d’ye hear.
Sir Char. How came you, pretty one, to lose your Wits thus?
Charl. With loving, Sir, strongly, with too much loving. —Will you not let me see the lovely false one? [To L. Gal. For I am told you have his Heart in keeping.
L. Gal_. Who is he? pray describe him.
Charl. A thing just like a Man, or rather Angel!
He speaks, and looks, and loves, like any God!
All fine and gay, all manly, and all sweet:
And when he swears he loves, you wou’d swear too
That all his Oaths were true.
Sir Anth. Who is she? some one who knows her and is wiser, speak—you,
Mistress. [To Clacket.
Mrs. Clack. Since I must speak, there comes the Man of Mischief: ’.is you, I mean, for all your Leering, Sir. [To Wild.
Wild. So.