Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 3.pdf/295

Rh

Vald. My wife, Madam.

Countess. Your wife! You do not say so: you dare not say so. Have they imposed a wife upon you also? Let go her unworthy hand.

Vald. No, Madam; never. It is my hand that is unworthy to hold so much innocent affection.

Countess. You are distracted: let go her hand, or I renounce you for ever.—What, will you not?

Vald. I will not.

Countess. Thou can'st be sturdy, I find, only for thine own ruin. They have confounded and bewildered thee: thou hast joined the conspiracy against thyself, and thy poor mother.—O, I could hate thee more than them all!— Heaven grant me patience!

Walt. I like to hear people pray for what they really want.

Countess. Insolent! Heaven grant you what you need not pray for, the detestation of every one annoyed with your pestiferous society. [ in rage.

Dart. Let us be thankful this tornado is over, and the hurry of an eventful day and night so happily concluded.—I hope, charming Livia, you forgive our deceit, and regret not its consequences.

Liv. The only thing to be regretted, Chevalier, is the wound you have received.

Dart. Thank God! this, though but slight, is the only harm that has been done to-night,