L. Dupe. Sir, it shall be to night.
Sir John. This innocence is a dowry beyond all price.
[Exeunt old Lady and Mrs Christian.
Enter Sir Martin to Sir John, musing.
Sir Mart. You are very melancholy, methinks, sir.
Sir John. You are mistaken, sir.
Sir Mart. You may dissemble as you please, but Mrs Millisent lies at the bottom of your heart.
Sir John. My heart, I assure you, has no room for so poor a trifle.
Sir Mart. Sure you think to wheedle me; would you have me imagine you do not love her?
Sir John. Love her! why should you think me such a sot? love a prostitute, an infamous person!