Nev. Louisa! is it possible?
Vapid. There's light and shade!—Yes, your brother brought her here, and she expects him to return every moment.
Nev. My brother! then 'tis he means to marry her—nay, perhaps they are already married—Heavens! I shall go wild!
Vapid. Don't, don't go wild—that will ruin the denouement.
Nev. No matter—I am resolved—I'll bid her farewell for ever—Vapid, 'tis the last favour I shall ask of you—give her this, [A Letter.] and tell her, since I have resented Willoughby's attack on her honour, I think I may be allowed to vindicate my own; tell her, great as have been my faults, my truth has still been greater, and wherever I wander—
Vapid. Here's a flourish, now!—why you misunderstand—she is not married, nor going to be married.
Nev. Come, this is no time for raillery.
Vapid. Raillery!—why, I'm serious—serious as the fifth act—she is now weeping on your account.
Nev. Pr'ythee leave fooling, it will produce no effect, believe me.
Vapid. Won't it? it will produce a very great effect though, believe me. Zounds! go to her—preserve the unity of action,—marry her directly, and if the catastrophe does not conclude with spirit, damn my comedy—damn my comedy—that's all, damn my comedy.