Isab. Oh Traytor! wou’d thou hadst been that Ravisher I took thee for, rather than such a Villain—false! and with my Mother too!
L. Fan. And just then, Sir, you came to the Door, and lest you shou’d see him, intreated me to hide him from your Anger,—the Offence is not so heinous, Sir, considering he is so soon to marry her.
Sir Pat. Well, Sir, and what have you to say in your Defence?—hah, how, Mr. Knowell,—worse and worse,—why, how came you hither, Sir? hah.—
L. Fan. Not Wittmore! oh, I am ruin’d and betray’d. Falls almost in a swoon.
Sir Pat. Hah, Isabella here too!
Isab. Yes, Sir, to justify her Innocence.
Sir Pat. Hah! Innocence! and justify! take her away; go out of my sight, thou Limb of Satan,—take her away, I say, I’ll talk with you to morrow, Lady Finetricks—I will.—
Isab. —And I’ll know before I sleep, the mystery of all this, and who ’twas this faithless Man sent in his room to deceive me in the Garden. Goes out.
Lod. A plague of all ill-luck—how the Devil came she hither? I must follow and reconcile her. Going out, Sir Patient stays him.
Sir Pat. Nay, Sir, we must not part so till I have known the truth of this Business, I take it.