Sylv. To fall in love, and to fall in love with a soldier! nay, a disbanded soldier too; a fellow with the mark of Cain upon him, which everybody knows him by, and is ready to throw stones at him for.
Enter Courtine.
Cour. Damn her! I shall never enjoy her without ravishing; if she were but very rich and very ugly, I would marry her. Ay, 'tis she; I know her mischievous look too well to be mistaken in it.—Madam.
Sylv. Sir.
Cour. 'Tis a very hard case, that you have resolved not to let me be quiet.
Sylv. 'Tis very unreasonably done of you, sir, to haunt me up and down everywhere at this scandalous rate; the world will think we are acquainted, shortly.
Cour. But, madam, I shall fairly take more care of my reputation, and from this time forward shun and avoid you most watchfully.
Sylv. Have you not haunted this place these two hours?
Cour. 'Twas because I knew it to be your ladyship's home, then, and therefore might reasonably be the place you least of all frequented; one would imagine you were gone a-coxcomb-hunting by this time, to some place of public appearance or other; 'tis pretty near the hour; 'twill be twilight presently, and then the owls come all abroad.