Fain. [Kissing.] No, they are all softness; their delicious sweetness is inexpressible. Here language fails; let me applaud thy lips, not by the utterance, but by the touch of mine.
Enter Clerimont, Sen., drawing his sword.
Cler. Sen. Ha, villain! Ravisher! Invader of my bed and honour! draw.
Mrs. Cler. What means this insolence—this intrusion into my privacy? What, do you come into my very closet without knocking? Who put this into your head?
Cler. Sen. My injuries have alarmed me, and I'll bear no longer, but sacrifice your bravado, the author of 'em.
Mrs. Cler. Oh! poor Mr. Fainlove! Must he die for his complaisance and innocent freedoms with me? How could you, if you might? Oh! the sweet youth! What, fight Mr. Fainlove? What will the ladies say?
Fain. Let me come at the intruder on ladies' private hours. The unfashionable monster! I'll prevent all future interruption from him—Let me come. [Drawing his sword.
Mrs. Cler. Oh the brave pretty creature! Look at his youth and innocence—he is not made for such rough encounters. Stand behind me—Poor Fainlove!—There is not a visit in town, sir, where you shall not be displayed at full length for this intrusion. I banish you for ever from my sight and bed.
Cler. Sen. I obey you, madam, for distance is becoming in no man but a husband [Giving her the letter, which she reads, and falls into a swoon.]—I've gone too far—[Kissing her.]—The impertinent was guilty of nothing but what my indiscretion led her to. This is the first kiss I've had these six weeks—but she awakes. Well, Jenny, you topped your part, indeed. Come to my arms, thou ready, willing, fair one. Thou hast no vanities, no niceties; but art thankful for every instant of love that I bestow on thee. [Embracing her.
Mrs. Cler. What, am I then abused? Is it a wench then of his? Oh me! Was ever poor abused wife, poor innocent lady, thus injured! [Runs and seizes Fainlove's sword.]