FAIN. This continence is all dissembled; this is in order to have something to brag of the next time he makes court to Millamant, and swear he has abandoned the whole sex for her sake.
MIRA. Have you not left off your impudent pretensions there yet? I shall cut your throat, sometime or other, Petulant, about that business.
PET. Ay, ay, let that pass. There are other throats to be cut.
MIRA. Meaning mine, sir?
PET. Not I—I mean nobody—I know nothing. But there are uncles and nephews in the world—and they may be rivals. What then? All’s one for that.
MIRA. How? Harkee, Petulant, come hither. Explain, or I shall call your interpreter.
PET. Explain? I know nothing. Why, you have an uncle, have you not, lately come to town, and lodges by my Lady Wishfort’s?
MIRA. True.
PET. Why, that’s enough. You and he are not friends; and if he should marry and have a child, yon may be disinherited, ha!
MIRA. Where hast thou stumbled upon all this truth?