Ang. Now, sir, I hope you need no instigation to redress our wrongs, since even the injury points the way.
Lady D. Think, sir, that our blood for many generations has run in the purest channel of unsullied honour.
Sir H. Ay, madam. [Bows to her.
Ang. Consider what a tender flower is woman's reputation, which the least air of foul detraction blasts.
Sir H. Yes, madam. [Bows to the other.
Lady D. Call then to mind your rude and scandalous behaviour.
Sir H. Right, madam. [Bows again.
Ang. Remember the base price you offered me. [Exit.
Sir H. Very true, madam. Was ever man so catechized?
Lady D. And think that Vizard,—villain Vizard,—caused all this, yet lives: that's all: farewell.