Lord. Hear me, sir, if the lady's in that apartment, I shall be convinced that you and your brother are the sole authors of all this treachery; if she is there, by the honour of my ancestors, she shall be Willoughby's wife to-morrow morning.
Flor. [Rising.] Shall she, my lord? Pray, were you ever in Italy?
Lord. Why, coxcomb?
Flor. Because, I'm afraid you've been bitten by a tarantula—you'll excuse me, but the symptoms are wonderfully alarming—There is a blazing fury in your eye—a wild emotion in your countenance, and a green spot—
Lord. Damn the green spot! open that door, and let me see immediately: I'm a peer, and have a right to look at any thing.
Flor. [Standing before the Door.] No, sir; this door must not be open'd.
Lord. Then I'll forget my peerage, and draw my sword.
Flor. [To Lady Waitfor't, who is going to interfere.] Don't be alarm'd, ma'am, I'll only indulge him for my own amusement—mere trout fishing, ma'am—
Enter Louisa, from the Apartment.
Louisa. Hold! I charge you, hold!—let not my unhappy fate be the source of more calamities.