Heart. Why, 'faith, Friend, 'tis the Care I have of your Affairs, that makes me so thoughtful; I have been studying all Night how to bring your matter about with Belinda.
Const. With Belinda?
Heart. With my Lady, I mean: And, 'faith, I have mighty Hopes on't. Sure you must be very well satisfied with her Behaviour to you yesterday?
Const. So well, that nothing but a Lover's Fears can make me doubt of Success. But what can this sudden Change proceed from?
Heart. Why, you saw her Husband beat her, did you not?
Const. That's true: A Husband is scarce to be borne upon any terms, much less when he fights with his Wife. Methinks, she shou'd e'en have cuckolded him upon the very spot, to shew that after the Battle she was Master of the Field.
Heart. A Council of War of Women wou'd infallibly have advis'd her to't. But, I confess, so agreeable a Woman as Belinda deserves better Usage.
Const. Belinda again!
Heart. My Lady, I mean. What a Pox makes me blunder so to-day? [Aside.] A Plague of this treacherous Tongue!