SCENE III.—BERINTHIA’S Dressing-room.
Enter LOVELESS.
LOVELESS.
So, thus far all’s well: I have got into her dressing-room, and it being dusk, I think nobody has perceived me steal into the house. I heard Berinthia tell my wife she had some particular letters to write this evening, before she went to Sir Tunbelly’s, and here are the implements of correspondence.—How shall I muster up assurance to show myself, when she comes? I think she has given me encouragement; and, to do my impudence justice, I have made the most of it.—I hear a door open, and some one coming. If it should be my wife, what the devil should I say? I believe she mistrusts me, and, by my life, I don’t deserve her tenderness. However, I am determined to reform, though not yet. Ha! Berinthia!—So, I’ll step in here, till I see what sort of humour she is in. [Goes into the closet.]
Enter BERINTHIA.
BERINTHIA.
Was ever so provoking a situation! To think I should sit and hear him compliment Amanda to my face! I have lost all patience with them both! I would not for something have Loveless know what temper of mind they have piqued me into; yet I can’t bear to leave them together. No, I’ll put my papers away, and return, to disappoint them.—[Goes to the closet.]—O Lord! a ghost! a ghost! a ghost!
Re-enter LOVELESS.
LOVELESS.
Peace, my angel; it’s no ghost, but one worth a hundred spirits.
BERINTHIA.
How, sir, have you had the insolence to presume to—run in again; here’s somebody coming. [LOVELESS goes into the closet.]
Enter MAID.
MAID.
O Lord, ma’am, what’s the matter?