Man.You did ill to-night.
Mar. Forgive me. I said in jest you had learned your love
From Philip. I was sorry.
269
Man.Nay, what’s that?
Yet ’twas ill said, and may have wounded Philip;
Though he must wish us to assume there’s nothing
’Twixt him and Constance: and now he’s our guest
We must not let our courtesy be tainted
By his own lightness; nay, the tales told of him