Mood. Come away, daughter, I will not trust you in his hands; there's more in it than I imagined.
[Exeunt Moody, Mill. Lady Dupe, and Rose.
Sir Mart. Why do you frown upon me so, when you know your looks go to the heart of me? What have I done besides a little lapsus linguæ?
Warn. Why, who says you have done any thing? You, a mere innocent!
Sir Mart. As the child that's to be born, in my intentions; if I know how I have offended myself any more than——in one word——
Warn. But don't follow me, however: I have nothing to say to you.
Sir Mart. I'll follow you to the world's end, till you forgive me.
Warn. I am resolved to lead you a dance then.
[Exit running.
Sir Mart. The rogue has no mercy in him; but I must mollify him with money.
[Exit.