Heart. And what's her Meaning I don't know; but mine is, that if I had married her—I had had Wife enough.
Sir John. Your People of Wit have got such cramp ways of expressing themselves, they seldom comprehend one another. Pox take you both, will you speak that you may be understood!
Enter Rasor in Sackcloth, pulling in Lady Fancyfull and Madamoiselle.
Rasor. If they won't, here comes an Interpreter.
Lady Brute. Heavens! what have we here?
Rasor. A Villain——but a repenting Villain. Stuff which Saints in all Ages have been made of.
All. Rasor!
Lady Brute. What means this sudden Metamorphose?
Rasor. Nothing, without my Pardon.
Lady Brute. What Pardon do you want?