Myrt. I am sure Mr. Bevil cannot doubt but I had rather have satisfaction from his innocence than his sword.
Bev. Why, then, would you ask it first that way?
Myrt. Consider, you kept your temper yourself no longer than till I spoke to the disadvantage of her you loved.
Bev. True; but let me tell you, I have saved you from the most exquisite distress, even though you had succeeded in the dispute. I know you so well, that I am sure to have found this letter about a man you had killed would have been worse than death to yourself—Read it.—[Aside.] When he is thoroughly mortified, and shame has got the better of jealousy, when he has seen himself throughly, he will deserve to be assisted towards obtaining Lucinda.
Myrt. With what a superiority has he turned the injury on me, as the aggressor? I begin to fear I have been too far transported—A treaty in our family! is not that saying too much? I shall relapse.—But I find (on the postscript) something like jealousy. With what face can I see my benefactor, my advocate, whom I have treated like a betrayer? [Aside.]—Oh! Bevil, with what words shall I——
Bev. There needs none; to convince is much more than to conquer.
Myrt. But can you——
Bev. You have o'erpaid the inquietude you gave me, in the change I see in you towards me. Alas! what machines are we! thy face is altered to that of another man; to that of my companion, my friend.
Myrt. That I could be such a precipitant wretch!
Bev. Pray, no more.