Bel. All! (showing bouquet.) Here is your bouquet, returned like a dishonest bill—no effects.
Fle. My bouquet?
Bel. Do you deny that you sent these flowers to Constance?
Fle. I’m in a nice humour to send her flowers. I am going to write to her.
Bel. To anyone else you please, but not to her; this rage is all moonshine. Can’t humbug me!
Fle. Moonshine is it?
Bel. You are in love with Constance, and you would have us believe you intend taking this part from her and lose by the change.
Fle. I will soon prove that.
Bel. I am not a man to be easily imposed on. Can’t humbug me!
Fle. This is folly. It was not I who sent the bouquet.