Count Bel. Ah, sir, that be ungrateful, for begar, I love some of yours.—Madam——— [Approaching her.
Mrs. Sul. No, sir. [429]
Count Bel. No, sir! garzoon, madam, I am not your husband.
Mrs. Sul. 'Tis time to undeceive you, sir. I believed your addresses to me were no more than an amusement, and I hope you will think the same of my complaisance; and to convince you that you ought, you must know that I brought you hither only to make you instrumental in setting me right with my husband, for he was planted to listen by my appointment.
Count Bel. By your appointment? [440]
Mrs. Sul. Certainly.
Count Bel. And so, madam, while I was telling twenty stories to part you from your husband, begar, I was bringing you together all the while?
Mrs. Sul. I ask your pardon, sir, but I hope this will give you a taste of the virtue of the English ladies.
Count Bel. Begar, madam, your virtue be vera great, but garzoon, your honeste be vera little.
Re-enter Dorinda.