and to convince you how much you are mistaken, I beg leave to
decline the happiness you propose me.--Madam, your servant.
_Enter_ AMANDA. COLONEL TOWNLY _whispers_ AMANDA,
_and exit_.
_Ber. [Aside._] He carries it off well, however; upon my
word, very well! How tenderly they part!--[_Aloud_] So,
cousin; I hope you have not been chiding your admirer for being
with me? I assure you we have been talking of you.
_Aman_. Fy, Berinthia!--my admirer! will you never learn to
talk in earnest of anything?
_Ber_. Why this shall be in earnest, if you please; for my
part, I only tell you matter of fact.
_Aman_. I'm sure there's so much jest and earnest in what
you say to me on this subject, I scarce know how to take it. I
have just parted with Mr. Loveless; perhaps it is fancy, but I
think there is an alteration in his manner which alarms me.
_Ber_. And so you are jealous; is that all?
_Aman_. That all! is jealousy, then, nothing?
_Ber_. It should be nothing, if I were in your case.
_Aman_. Why, what would you do?
_Ber_. I'd cure myself.
_Aman_. How?
_Ber_. Care as little for my husband as he did for me. Look
you, Amanda, you may build castles in the air, and fume, and
fret, and grow thin, and lean, and pale, and ugly, if you please;
but I tell you, no man worth having is true to his wife, or ever
was, or ever will be so.
_Aman_. Do you then really think he's false to me? for I did
not suspect him.
_Ber_. Think so? I am sure of it.