Sir Pat. A Love-letter!—let me see’t. Goes to take it.
L. Fan. I’ll read it to you, Sir.
Maun. What mean you, Madam? Aside.
Lady Fancy reads.
It was but yesterday you swore you lov’d me, and I poor easy Fool believ’d; but your last Night’s Infidelity has undeceiv’d my Heart, and render’d you the falsest Man that ever Woman sigh’d for. Tell me, how durst you, when I had prepared all things for our Enjoyment, be so great a Devil to deceive my languishing Expectations? and in your room send one that has undone
Your—
Maun. Sure she’s mad to read this to him.
Sir Pat. Hum,—I profess ingenuously—I think it is indeed a Love-letter. My Lady Fancy, what means all this? as I take it, here are Riddles and Mysteries in this Business.
L. Fan. Which thus, Sir, I’ll unfold.— Takes the Pen, and writes Isabella.
Sir Pat. How! undone—Your—Isabella, meaning my Daughter?