Man. No, I am not satisfied, and must stay to be revenged.
Fid. How, sir? You'll use no violence to her, I hope, and forfeit your own life, to take away hers? that were no revenge.
Man. No, no, you need not fear: my revenge shall only be upon her honour, not her life.
Fid. How, sir? her honour? O Heavens! consider, sir, she has no honour. D'ye call that revenge? can you think of such a thing? But reflect, sir, how she hates and loathes you.
Man. Yes, so much she hates me, that it would be a revenge sufficient to make her accessory to my pleasure, and then let her know it.
Fid. No, sir, no; to be revenged on her now, were to disappoint her. Pray, sir, let us begone. [Pulls Manly.
Man. Hold off! What, you are my rival then! and therefore you shall stay, and keep the door for me, whilst I go in for you; but when I'm gone, if you dare to stir off from this very board, or breathe the least murmuring accent, I'll cut her throat first; and if you love her, you will not venture her life.—Nay, then I'll cut your throat too; and I know you love your own life at least.
Fid. But, sir; good sir.
Man. Not a word more, lest I begin my revenge on her by killing you.
Fid. But are you sure 'tis revenge that makes you do this? how can it be?