MRS. FAIN. I despise you and defy your malice. You have aspersed me wrongfully—I have proved your falsehood. Go, you and your treacherous—I will not name it, but starve together. Perish.
FAIN. Not while you are worth a groat, indeed, my dear. Madam, I’ll be fooled no longer.
LADY. Ah, Mr. Mirabell, this is small comfort, the detection of this affair.
MIRA. Oh, in good time. Your leave for the other offender and penitent to appear, madam.
SCENE XII.
[To them] Waitwell with a box of writings.
LADY. O Sir Rowland! Well, rascal?
WAIT. What your ladyship pleases. I have brought the black box at last, madam.
MIRA. Give it me. Madam, you remember your promise.
LADY. Ay, dear sir.