SURFACE. Undoubtedly—for your Husband [should] never be deceived in you—and in that case it becomes you to be frail in compliment to his discernment—
LADY TEAZLE. To be sure what you say is very reasonable—and when the consciousness of my own Innocence——
SURFACE. Ah: my dear—Madam there is the great mistake—'tis this very conscious Innocence that is of the greatest Prejudice to you—what is it makes you negligent of Forms and careless of the world's opinion—why the consciousness of your Innocence—what makes you thoughtless in your Conduct and apt to run into a thousand little imprudences—why the consciousness of your Innocence—what makes you impatient of Sir Peter's temper, and outrageous at his suspicions—why the consciousness of your own Innocence—
LADY TEAZLE. 'Tis very true.
SURFACE. Now my dear Lady Teazle if you but once make a trifling Faux Pas you can't conceive how cautious you would grow, and how ready to humour and agree with your Husband.
LADY TEAZLE. Do you think so—
SURFACE. O I'm sure on't; and then you'd find all scandal would cease at once—for in short your Character at Present is like a Person in a Plethora, absolutely dying of too much Health—
LADY TEAZLE. So—so—then I perceive your Prescription is that I must sin in my own Defence—and part with my virtue to preserve my Reputation.—
SURFACE. Exactly so upon my credit Ma'am[.]
LADY TEAZLE. Well certainly this is the oddest Doctrine—and the newest Receipt for avoiding calumny.