Chris. Why, do you know me?
Ran. [Aside.] I must not own it.—No, madam, but—[Offers to whisper.
Chris. Whispering, sir, argues an old acquaintance; but I have not the vanity to be thought of yours, and resolve you shall never have the disparagement of mine.—Mr. Vincent, pray let us go in here.
Ran. How's this! I am undone, I see; but if I let her go thus, I shall be an eternal laughing-stock to Vincent. [Aside.
Vin. Do you not know him, madam? I thought you had come hither on purpose to meet him.
Chris. To meet him!
Vin. By your own appointment.
Chris. What strange infatuation does delude you all? you know, he said he did not know me.
Vin. You writ to him; he has your letter.
Chris. Then, you know my name sure? yet you confessed but now you knew me not.