H. Confusion! How's this? [_Aside_.]

LORD TOUCH. His humility long stifled his passion. And his love of
Mellefont would have made him still conceal it. But by encouragement, I
wrung the secret from him, and know he's no way to be rewarded but in
her. I'll defer my farther proceedings in it till you have considered
it; but remember how we are both indebted to him.

SCENE VII.

LADY TOUCHWOOD _alone_.

LADY TOUCH. Both indebted to him! Yes, we are both indebted to him, if
you knew all. Villain! Oh, I am wild with this surprise of treachery:
it is impossible, it cannot be. He love Cynthia! What, have I been bawd
to his designs, his property only, a baiting place? Now I see what made
him false to Mellefont. Shame and distraction! I cannot bear it, oh!
what woman can bear to be a property? To be kindled to a flame, only to
light him to another's arms; oh! that I were fire indeed that I might
burn the vile traitor. What shall I do? How shall I think? I cannot
think. All my designs are lost, my love unsated, my revenge unfinished,
and fresh cause of fury from unthought of plagues.

SCENE VIII.

[_To her_] SIR PAUL.

SIR PAUL. Madam, sister, my lady sister, did you see my lady my wife?

LADY TOUCH. Oh! Torture!

SIR PAUL. Gads-bud, I can't find her high nor low; where can she be,
think you?

LADY TOUCH. Where she's serving you, as all your sex ought to be served,
making you a beast. Don't you know you're a fool, brother?

SIR PAUL. A fool; he, he, he, you're merry. No, no, not I, I know no
such matter.

LADY TOUCH. Why, then, you don't know half your happiness.

SIR PAUL. That's a jest with all my heart, faith and troth. But harkee,
my lord told me something of a revolution of things; I don't know what to
make on't. Gads-bud, I must consult my wife:--he talks of disinheriting
his nephew, and I don't know what. Look you, sister, I must know what my
girl has to trust to, or not a syllable of a wedding, gads-bud!--to show
you that I am not a fool.

LADY TOUCH. Hear me: consent to the breaking off this marriage, and the
promoting any other without consulting me, and I'll renounce all blood,
all relation and concern with you for ever; nay, I'll be your enemy, and
pursue you to destruction: I'll tear your eyes out, and tread you under
my feet.

SIR PAUL. Why, what's the matter now? Good Lord, what's all this for?
Pooh, here's a joke indeed. Why, where's my wife?