Oliv. Forget her rather, for she’s not worth Revenge, and that way ’twill be none; prostitute in Soul as Body, she doats even on me in Breeches.
Geo. On thee, her Page? doat on thee, a Youth! she knew thee not as Woman.
Oliv. No, that Secret I have kept to do you Service.—At first she said she lov’d me for your sake, because you recommended me; and when I sung, or plaid upon my Flute, wou’d kiss my Cheek, and sigh, and often (when alone) wou’d send for me, and smile, and talk, and set my Hair in Curls, to make me saucy and familiar with her. One Day she said, Endimion, thy Name-sake was thus caress’d by Cynthia: A Goddess did not scorn the humble Swain, whom by her Love she equal’d to her Deity. She found that I had Sense to understand her, and paid her Advances back with equal Ardour.
Geo. Oh, Curse! where learnt she all this Wickedness? Aside.
Oliv. But she being oblig’d to go for Flanders, to see her Sister take the holy Habit, I feign’d a Sickness to be left behind, hoping that Absence might abate her Flame; yet she return’d more amorous, and fearing the Thefts of Love might wound her Honour, she thought a Husband would secure that Shame; and luckily my Aunt arriv’d from Wales, and brought Sir Morgan with her, who lodging where we did, at Mrs. Manage’s, my Aunt (that doats on Quality in either Sex) made up this hasty Match, unknown to me, though for my sake.
Geo. What will not faithless Woman do, when she is raging?
Oliv. And now having so well prepar’d the way, she grows impatient for an Opportunity; and thou art arriv’d, most happily to succour me.
Geo. No, for some days keep this habit on, it may be useful to us; but I must see this faithless perjur’d Woman, which I must contrive with Mrs. Manage.
Oliv. Yet pray resolve to see my Father first; for now’s the critical time to make thy Fortune: he came to Town last night, and lodges here at Mrs. Manage’s, with my Aunt Blunder.
Geo. What, in the House with thee, and not know thee?