Do you not tamely see her, ev'ry day,
Destroying wantonly her precious health?
But what is more------I shall proceed too far.

ANDREWS. Go on, I am prepar'd.

WILSON. Her reputation--

ANDREWS. Her reputation!

WILSON. I have said it,

ANDREWS. Heav'n!

WILSON. It has not 'scap'd the busy tongue of censure,
Yet let appearances be what they may,
I think she's innocent.

ANDREWS. What, innocent!
Against appearances!--impossible.
All sense disclaims the thought; these neglected,
Neglect of virtue is the sure attendant,
And ev'n the firmest may be then seduced;--
'Tis as the noon-day plain.--Who? who's the villain?
The murderer of my peace? By heav'n! he dies.

WILSON. Madness indeed! all may be mere surmise;
Wherefore, at present it will be most prudent,
To hush the sad ideas of suspicion.
A little time must prove its truth, or falsehood;