SCENE X.
Bellmour, Belinda, Araminta, and Vainlove.
VAIN. Oh, ’twas frenzy all: cannot you forgive it? Men in madness have a title to your pity. [To Araminta.]
ARAM. Which they forfeit, when they are restored to their senses.
VAIN. I am not presuming beyond a pardon.
ARAM. You who could reproach me with one counterfeit, how insolent would a real pardon make you! But there’s no need to forgive what is not worth my anger.
BELIN. O’ my conscience, I could find in my heart to marry thee, purely to be rid of thee—at least thou art so troublesome a lover, there’s hopes thou’lt make a more than ordinary quiet husband. [To Bellmour.]
BELL. Say you so? Is that a maxim among ye?
BELIN. Yes: you fluttering men of the mode have made marriage a mere French dish.
BELL. I hope there’s no French sauce. [Aside.]