Chrys. Boor! when you dare to say I’m insincere
You tell the truth—there, make the most of that!
Zor. Chrysal, your hand; I’m glad to find at last
Your eyes are opened to your many faults.
Chrys. How, sir, is this intentional affront?
Zor. No, not intentional. I tried to frame
A pleasant speech, but, by some awkward slip,
The truth escaped me quite against my will.
(With great admiration) You systematic liar!
Chrys.Insolent!