conspiracy; still, I am beholden to Providence. If it were not for
Providence, sure, poor Sir Paul, thy heart would break.


SCENE X.


[To him] LADY PLYANT.

LADY PLYANT. So, sir, I see you have read the letter. Well, now,
Sir Paul, what do you think of your friend Careless? Has he been
treacherous, or did you give his insolence a licence to make trial
of your wife's suspected virtue? D'ye see here? [Snatches the
letter as in anger.] Look, read it. Gads my life, if I thought it
were so, I would this moment renounce all communication with you.
Ungrateful monster! He? is it so? Ay, I see it, a plot upon my
honour; your guilty cheeks confess it. Oh, where shall wronged
virtue fly for reparation? I'll be divorced this instant.

SIR PAUL. Gads-bud, what shall I say? This is the strangest
surprise. Why, I don't know anything at all, nor I don't know
whether there be anything at all in the world, or no.

LADY PLYANT. I thought I should try you, false man. I, that never
dissembled in my life, yet to make trial of you, pretended to like
that monster of iniquity, Careless, and found out that contrivance
to let you see this letter, which now I find was of your own
inditing--I do, heathen, I do. See my face no more; I'll be
divorced presently.