LADY TOUCH. Stand off, let me go.
LORD TOUCH. Go, and thy own infamy pursue thee. You stare as you were all amazed,—I don’t wonder at it,—but too soon you’ll know mine, and that woman’s shame.
SCENE the last.
Lord Touchwood, Lord Froth, Lady Froth, Lady Plyant, Sir Paul, Cynthia, Mellefont, Maskwell, Mellefont disguised in a parson’s habit and pulling in Maskwell.
MEL. Nay, by heaven you shall be seen. Careless, your hand. Do you hold down your head? Yes, I am your chaplain, look in the face of your injured friend; thou wonder of all falsehood.
LORD TOUCH. Are you silent, monster?
MEL. Good heavens! How I believed and loved this man! Take him hence, for he’s a disease to my sight.
LORD TOUCH. Secure that manifold villain. [Servants seize him.]
CARE. Miracle of ingratitude!
BRISK. This is all very surprising, let me perish.