MYRT. What—what do you intend doing?
SIR F. I did think of shooting the young man!—but it’ll be a far greater punishment to let him live! Think what the poor, unhappy youth will have to suffer from Grace’s “little bits of temper!” poor devil! I know what I had to go through. (LADY F. shakes her hand at SIR F.)
MYRT. But surely you will try and prevent Grace’s departure?
SIR F. (indifferently). I think not!—better as it is. I’m getting used to the idea! I confess it was I who advised Vallance to make just a certain little amount of love to my wife in order to excite your jealousy and show you what energy the young man was capable of; but I must confess I was not at all prepared for the perfect torrent of impassioned eloquence with which he poured forth his unhallowed flame! (Here VALLANCE shakes both his fists at SIR F.)
SIR F. Besides, Myrtle, dear Myrtle, as you very sensibly observed just now, shall I not have you to console me? (with an exaggerated tender look).
MYRT. (alarmed). Me?
SIR F. Why not? Your lover doesn’t care a pin’s point about you, or he wouldn’t have agreed to my plan. My wife has about the same amount of affection for me, or she’d have withered him up with her scorn at the first go-off. This sort of thing! (putting on a haughty and scornful look).
MYRT. Well, what then?
SIR F. Can you ask? Oh, my Myrtle! my beloved Myrtle—behold me at your feet! (falling on both his knees and seizing her hand. Aside.) If Grace stands this, I’m a New Zealander!
MYRT. Monster! (flinging SIR FELIX from her, who falls on his face. LADY FRITTERLY and VALLANCE hurry down).