Man. Triumphant impudence! but married too!
Oliv. O, speak not so loud, my servants know it not: I am married, there's no resisting one's destiny or love, you know.
Man. Why, did you love him too?
Oliv. Most passionately; nay, love him now, though I have married him, and he me: which mutual love I hope you are too good, too generous a man to disturb, by any future claim, or visits to me. 'Tis true, he is now absent in the country, but returns shortly; therefore I beg of you, for your own ease and quiet, and my honour, you will never see me more.
Man. I wish I never had seen you.
Oliv. But if you should ever have anything to say to me hereafter, let that young gentleman there be your messenger.
Man. You would be kinder to him; I find he should be welcome.
Oliv. Alas! his youth would keep my husband from suspicions, and his visits from scandal; for we women may have pity for such as he, but no love: and I already think you do not well to spirit him away to sea; and the sea is already but too rich with the spoils of the shore.
Man. True perfect woman! If I could say anything more injurious to her now, I would; for I could outrail a bilked whore, or a kicked coward; but now I think on't, that were rather to discover my love than hatred; and I must not talk, for something I must do. [Aside.
Oliv. I think I have given him enough of me now, never to be troubled with him again. [Aside.