VALENTINE. You are an amazing pretty girl, ma'am, but you are a shocking flirt.
PHOEBE. La!
VALENTINE. It has somewhat diverted me to watch them go down before you. But I know you have a kind heart, and that if there be a rapier in your one hand there is a handkerchief in the other ready to staunch their wounds.
PHOEBE. I have not observed that they bled much.
VALENTINE. The Blades and the like, no. But one may, perhaps.
PHOEBE (obviously the reference is to himself). Perhaps I may wish to see him bleed.
VALENTINE (grown stern). For shame, Miss Livvy. (Anger rises in her, but she wishes him to proceed.) I speak, ma'am, in the interests of the man to whom I hope to see you affianced.
(No, she does not wish him to proceed. She had esteemed him for so long, she cannot have him debase himself before her now.)
PHOEBE. Shall we—I have changed my mind, I consent to go home. Please to say nothing.
VALENTINE. Nay——