Sir Geo. Ha! my Incognito—upon a Woman, Madam.
Miran. They are the worst Things you can deal in, and damage the soonest; your very Breath destroys 'em, and I fear you'll never see your Return, Sir George, Ha, ha!
Sir Geo. Were they more brittle than China, and drop'd to pieces with a Touch, every Atom of her I have ventur'd at, if she is but Mistress of thy Wit, ballances Ten times the Sum— Prithee let me see thy Face.
Miran. By no means, that may spoil your Opinion of my Sense—
Sir Geo. Rather confirm it, Madam.
Patch. So rob the Lady of your Gallantry, Sir.
Sir Geo. No Child, a Dish of Chocolate in the Morning never spoils my Dinner; the other Lady, I design a set Meal; so there's no danger—
Miran. Matrimony! Ha, ha, ha; what Crimes have you committed against the God of Love, that he should revenge 'em so severely to stamp Husband upon your Forehead—
Sir Geo. For my Folly in having so often met you here, without pursuing the Laws of Nature, and exercising her command— But I resolve e'er we part now, to know who you are, where you live, and what kind of Flesh and Blood your Face is; therefore unmask and don't put me to the trouble of doing it for you.
Miran. My Face is the same Flesh and Blood with my Hand, Sir George, which if you'll be so rude to provoke.