Lady Grace. 'Tis that, I know, has made him bear so long: but you that feel for him, Mr. Manly, will assist him to support his honour, and, if possible, preserve his quiet! therefore I beg you don't leave the house, 'till one or both of them can be wrought to better temper.
Man. How amiable is this concern, in you!
Lady Grace. For heaven's sake don't mind me, but think of something to preserve us all.
Man. I shall not take the merit of obeying your commands, Madam, to serve my Lord——but pray, Madam, let me into all that has past, since yesternight.
Lady Grace. When my intreaties had prevail'd upon my Lord, not to make a story for the town, by so public a violence, as shutting her at once out of his doors; he order'd the next apartment to my lady's to be made ready for him——while that was doing——I try'd by all the little arts I was mistress of, to amuse him into temper; in short, a silent grief was all I could reduce him to——on this, we took our leaves, and parted to our repose: what his was, I imagine by my own: for I ne'er clos'd my eyes. About five, as I told you, I heard my lady at the door; so I slipt on a gown, and sat almost an hour with her in her own chamber.
Man. What said she, when she did not find my Lord there?
Lady Grace. O! so far from being shock'd or alarm'd at it; that she blest the occasion! and said that in her condition, the chat of a female friend was far preferable to the best husband's company in the world.
Man. Where has she spirits to support so much insensibility?
Lady Grace. Nay! it's incredible! for though she had lost every shilling she had in the world, and stretch'd her credit ev'n to breaking; she rallied her own follies with such vivacity, and painted the penance, she knows she must undergo for them, in such ridiculous lights, that had not my concern for a brother been too strong for her wit, she had a'most disarm'd my anger.