A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic

by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

AMANDA.
Your interference can only add to my distress.

COLONEL TOWNLY.
Ah, madam, if it be the sting of unrequited love you suffer from, seek for your remedy in revenge: weigh well the strength and beauty of your charms, and rouse up that spirit a woman ought to bear. Disdain the false embraces of a husband. See at your feet a real lover; his zeal may give him title to your pity, although his merit cannot claim your love.

LOVELESS.
So, so, very fine, i’faith! [Aside.]

AMANDA.
Why do you presume to talk to me thus? Is this your friendship to Mr. Loveless? I perceive you will compel me at last to acquaint him with your treachery.

COLONEL TOWNLY.
He could not upbraid me if you were.—He deserves it from me; for he has not been more false to you than faithless to me.

AMANDA.
To you?

COLONEL TOWNLY.
Yes, madam; the lady for whom he now deserts those charms which he was never worthy of, was mine by right; and, I imagine too, by inclination. Yes, madam, Berinthia, who now—

AMANDA.
Berinthia! Impossible!

COLONEL TOWNLY.
’Tis true, or may I never merit your attention. She is the deceitful sorceress who now holds your husband’s heart in bondage.

AMANDA.
I will not believe it.