Burr. Now I'm sure you have a mind to me; when a woman once falls a preaching, the next thing is ever use and application.
Isa. Forbear your rudeness!—
Burr. Then I am sure you mean to jilt me: You decline Failer, because he has wit; and you think me such an ass, that you may pack me off so soon as you are married; no, no, I'll not venture certainties for uncertainties.
Isa. I can hold no longer;—Mr Failer, what do you think this fellow was saying of you?
Fail. Of me, madam?
Isa. That you were one of the arrantest cowards in Christendom, though you went for one of the Dear Hearts; that your name had been upon more posts than playbills; and that he had been acquainted with you these seven years, drunk and sober, and yet could never fasten a quarrel upon you.
Burr. Do you believe this, dear heart?
Isa. If you deny it, I'll take his sword, and force you to confess it.
Fail. I vow to gad; this will not do, madam: You shall not set us at variance so easily; neither shall you have Sir Timorous.
Isa. No! then mark my words: I'll marry him in spite of you; and, which is worse, you shall both work my ends, and I'll discard you for your pains.