Bendish:
And her sister?
Cadwell:
She cannot stand the odor of tobacco.
Bendish: The odor of tobacco? My God! Of all these ladies there isn't one over whom you haven't troubled my head. "Ah, Bendish, tell me she's totally charming. I will love her all my life. I will suffer a thousand deaths rather than even think of changing—" I hear you, I look at her, I examine her, I conclude you are right. The next day, I am a fool. She lacks a delicate heart. Her manners are rude; she loves you too much; she is jealous, or too indifferent; she cannot stand the odor of tobacco. You always find some fault in them to justify YOUR inconstancy.
Cadwell:
What do you care?
Bendish: Huh? What do I care? You don't consider the false oaths I've taken time and again.
Cadwell:
Why do you do that?
Bendish:
To reestablish your tottering reputation.
Cadwell:
Who placed it in your care?
Bendish:
Oh! Oh! This isn't bad. Who made it my duty, you say?
Cadwell:
Yes?