Colonel S. Very pretty principles, truly. If there be truth in woman, 'tis now in thee. Come, madam, you know that you're discovered, and, being sensible that you cannot escape, you would now turn to bay. That ring, madam, proclaims you guilty.
Lady L. O monster, villain, perfidious villain! Has he told you?
Colonel S. I'll tell it you, and loudly too.
Lady L. O, name it not——Yet, speak it out, 'tis so just a punishment for putting faith in man, that I will bear it all. Speak now, what his busy scandal, and your improving malice, both dare utter.
Colonel S. Your falsehood can't be reached by malice nor by satire; your actions are the justest libel on your fame; your words, your looks, your tears, I did believe in spite of common fame. Nay, 'gainst mine own eyes, I still maintained your truth. I imagined Wildair's boasting of your favours to be the pure result of his own vanity: at last he urged your taking presents of him; as a convincing proof of which, you yesterday from him received that ring, which ring, that I might be sure he gave it, I lent him for that purpose.
Lady L. Ha! you lent it him for that purpose!
Colonel S. Yes, yes, madam, I lent it him for that purpose——No denying it—I know it well, for I have worn it long, and desire it now, madam, to restore it to the just owner.
Lady L. The just owner! Think, sir, think but of what importance 'tis to own it: if you have love and honour in your soul, 'tis then most justly yours; if not, you are a robber, and have stolen it basely.
Colonel S. Ha! your words, like meeting flints, have struck a light, to show me something strange ——But tell me instantly, is not your real name Manly?
Lady L. Answer me first: did not you receive this ring about twelve years ago?