GUENDOLEN. Austin, how we must--!
TRESHAM. Must what? Must speak truth, Malignant tongue! Detect one fault in him! I challenge you!
GUENDOLEN. Witchcraft's a fault in him, For you're bewitched.
TRESHAM. What's urgent we obtain Is, that she soon receive him--say, to-morrow--, Next day at furthest.
GUENDOLEN. Ne'er instruct me!
TRESHAM. Come! --He's out of your good graces, since forsooth, He stood not as he'd carry us by storm With his perfections! You're for the composed Manly assured becoming confidence! --Get her to say, "to-morrow," and I'll give you... I'll give you black Urganda, to be spoiled With petting and snail-paces. Will you? Come!
SCENE III. --MILDRED'S Chamber. A Painted Window overlooks the Park
GUENDOLEN. Now, Mildred, spare those pains. I have not left Our talkers in the library, and climbed The wearisome ascent to this your bower In company with you,--I have not dared... Nay, worked such prodigies as sparing you Lord Mertoun's pedigree before the flood, Which Thorold seemed in very act to tell --Or bringing Austin to pluck up that most Firm-rooted heresy--your suitor's eyes, He would maintain, were grey instead of blue-- I think I brought him to contrition!--Well, I have not done such things, (all to deserve A minute's quiet cousin's talk with you,) To be dismissed so coolly.