Oliv. Pretty humble creature?
Vict. In this adventure I learnt more than I expected;—my (oh, cruel!) my husband has given this woman an estate, almost all that his dissipations had left us.
Oliv. Indeed!
Vict. To make him more culpable, it was my estate; it was that fortune which my lavish love had made his, without securing it to my children.
Oliv. How could you be so improvident?
Vict. Alas! I trusted him with my heart, with my happiness, without restriction. Should I have shown a greater solicitude for any thing, than for these?
Oliv. The event proves that you should; but how can you be thus passive in your sorrow? since I had assumed the man, I'd make him feel a man's resentment for such injuries.
Vict. Oh, Olivia! what resentment can I show to him I have vowed to honour, and whom, both my duty and my heart compel me yet to love.
Oliv. Why, really now, I think—positively, there's no thinking about it; 'tis among the arcana of the married life, I suppose.
Vict. You, who know me, can judge how I suffered in prosecuting my plan. I have thrown off the delicacy of sex; I have worn the mask of love to the destroyer of my peace—but the object is too great to be abandoned—nothing less than to save my husband from ruin, and to restore him, again a lover, to my faithful bosom.