VAL. Nay, now you do me wrong; for if any interest was considered
it was yours, since I thought I wanted more than love to make me
worthy of you.
ANG. Then you thought me mercenary. But how am I deluded by this
interval of sense to reason with a madman?
VAL. Oh, 'tis barbarous to misunderstand me longer.
SCENE XIX.
[To them] JEREMY.
ANG. Oh, here's a reasonable creature--sure he will not have the
impudence to persevere. Come, Jeremy, acknowledge your trick, and
confess your master's madness counterfeit.
JERE. Counterfeit, madam! I'll maintain him to be as absolutely
and substantially mad as any freeholder in Bethlehem; nay, he's as
mad as any projector, fanatic, chymist, lover, or poet in Europe.
VAL. Sirrah, you be; I am not mad.
ANG. Ha, ha, ha! you see he denies it.
JERE. O Lord, madam, did you ever know any madman mad enough to own
it?
VAL. Sot, can't you apprehend?
ANG. Why, he talked very sensibly just now.
JERE. Yes, madam; he has intervals. But you see he begins to look
wild again now.
VAL. Why, you thick-skulled rascal, I tell you the farce is done,
and I will be mad no longer. [Beats him.]
ANG. Ha, ha, ha! is he mad or no, Jeremy?
JERE. Partly, I think,--for he does not know his own mind two
hours. I'm sure I left him just now in the humour to be mad, and I
think I have not found him very quiet at this present. Who's there?
[One knocks.]
VAL. Go see, you sot.
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