Rose. 'Twas a sweet prank your master played us: A lady's well helped up, that trusts her honour in such a person's hands: To tell also,——and to his rival too. Excuse him if thou canst.
[Aside.
Warn. How the devil should I excuse him? Thou know'st he is the greatest fop in nature.
[Aside to Rose.
Rose. But my lady does not know it; if she did—
Mill. I'll have no whispering.
Warn. Alas, madam, I have not the confidence to speak out, unless you can take mercy on me.
Mill. For what?
Warn. For telling Sir John you loved my master, madam. But sure I little thought he was his rival.
Rose. The witty rogue has taken it on himself.
[Aside.
Mill. Your master then is innocent?