Dar. Madam, the Complaisance I show in bringing you my Rival, will let you see how glad I am to oblige you every way.
Ran. I hope the Danger I have exposed my self to for the Honour of kissing your Hand, Madam, will render me something acceptable—here are my Credentials— Gives her a Letter.
Chrisante reads.
Dear Creature, I have taken this Habit to free you from an impertinent Lover, and to secure the damn’d Rogue Daring to my self: receive me as sent by Colonel Surelove from England to marry you—favour me—no more—
Yours, Ranter.
—Hah, Ranter? Aside. —Sir, you have too good a Character from my Cousin Colonel Surelove, not to receive my Welcome. Gives Surelove the Letter.
Ran. Stand by, General—
Pushes away [Daring, looks] big, and takes Chrisante by the Hand, and kisses it.
Dar. ’Sdeath, Sir, there’s room enough—at first sight so kind! Oh Youth, Youth and Impudence, what Temptations are you to Villanous Woman?
Chris. I confess, Sir, we Women do not love these rough fighting Fellows, they’re always scaring us with one Broil or other.