W. Green. O! dear Sir William!
Sir Wil. Nor
A flirt!
W. Green. O! who would take you for a flirt?
Sir Wil. How very kind you are!
W. Green. Go on, Sir William.
Sir Wil. Upon my life, I fear you’ll think me vain!
I’m covered with confusion at the thought
Of what I’ve done. ’Twas very, very wrong
To promise you the story of the ring;
Men should not talk of such things.
W. Green. Such as what?
As ladies’ favours?
Sir Wil. ’Pon my life, I feel
As I were like to sink into the earth.
W. Green. A lady then it was gave you the ring?
Sir Wil. Don’t ask me to say yes, but only scan
The inside of the ring.—How much she’s moved. [Aside.]