Vapid. No,—How the devil should I?
Lady. Then know I am Lady Waitfor't!
Vapid. You Lady Waitfor't!
Lady. Yes, sir—the only Lady Waitfor't!
Vapid. Mercy on me!—here's incident!
Lady. Yes, and I am convinced you were sent here by that traitor, Neville.—Speak, is he not your friend?
Vapid. Yes, ma'am:—I know Mr Neville.—Here's equivoque!
Lady. This is some trick, some stratagem of his.—He gave you the letter to perplex and embarrass me.
Vapid. Gave the letter! 'gad that's great.—Pray, ma'am, give me leave to ask you one question—Did you write to Mr Neville?
Lady. Yes, sir,—to confess the truth, I did—but from motives——