Dor. I am glad he sent him. I long to know the consequence of our parting.

Footman. Sir, my master desires you to come to my Lady Townley’s presently, and bring Mr. Medley with you. My Lady Woodvil and her daughter are there.

Med. Then all’s well, Dorimant.

Footman. They have sent for the fiddles and mean to dance! He bid me tell you, sir, the old lady does not know you, and would have you own yourself to be Mr. Courtage. They are all prepared to receive you by that name.

Dor. That foppish admirer of quality who flatters the very meat at honourable tables, and never offers love to a woman below a lady-grandmother.

Med. You know the character you are to act, I see.

Dor. This is Harriet’s contrivance—wild, witty, lovesome, beautiful and young—come along, Medley.

Med. This new woman would well supply the loss of Loveit.

Dor. That business must not end so; before to-morrow’s sun is set I will revenge and clear it:

[Exeunt.