The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. II by Aphra Behn

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_Wild_. At the first glance, and found you knew me too,
And talkt to yonder Lady in revenge,
Whom my Uncle would have me marry. But to avoid
all Discourses of that nature, I came to Night in this
Disguise you see, to be conceal'd from her; that's all.

_Char_. And is that all, on Honour? Is it, Dear?

_Wild_. What, no Belief, no Faith in villanous Women?

_Char_. Yes, when I see the Writings.

_Wild_. Go home, I die if you shou'd be discover'd:
And credit me, I'll bring you all you ask.
Clacket, you and I must have an old Reckoning about
this Night's Jant of yours. [Aside to Clacket.

Sir _Tim_. Well, my Lord, how do you like our English Beauties?

_Wild_. Extremely, Sir; and was pressing this young Lady to give us a
Song.

[_Here is an Italian Song in two Parts_.

Sir _Tim_. I never saw this Lady before: pray who may she be, Neighbour?
[_To_ Clacket.

Mrs. _Clack_. A Niece of mine, newly come out of Scotland, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, then she dances by nature. Gentlemen and Ladies, please
you to sit, here's a young Neighbour of mine will honour us with a Dance.
[_They all sit_; Charl. _and_ Fop. _dance_.
So, so; very well, very well. Gentlemen and Ladies, I am for Liberty of
Conscience, and Moderation. There's a Banquet waits the Ladies, and my
Cellars are open to the Men; but for my self, I must retire; first
waiting on your Lordship to shew you your Apartment, then leave you to
_cher entire_: and to morrow, my Lord, you and I will settle the Nation,
and will resolve on what return we will make to the noble Polanders.

[_Exeunt all but_ Wild. Dres. _and_ Fop. _Sir_ Charles
_leading out Lady_ Galliard.

Sir _Anth_. Well said, _Charles_, thou leav'st her not till she's thy
own, Boy--And Philander was a jolly Swain, &c.
[_Exit singing_.

_Wild_. All things succeed above my Wish, dear _Frank_,
Fortune is kind; and more, _Galliard_ is so;
This night crowns all my Wishes.
Laboir, are all things ready for our purpose? [_To his Footman_.

_Lab_. Dark Lanthorns, Pistols, Habits and Vizards, Sir.

_Fop_. I have provided Portmantles to carry off the Treasure.

_Dres_. I perceive you are resolv'd to make a thorow-stitcht Robbery
on't.

_Fop_. Faith, if it lie in our way, Sir, we had as good venture a Caper
under the Triple-Tree for one as well as t'other.

_Wild_. We must consider on't. 'Tis now just struck eleven; within this
Hour is the dear Assignation with _Galliard_.

_Dres_. What, whether our Affairs be finish'd or not?

_Wild_. 'Tis but at next Door; I shall return time enough for that
trivial Business.

_Dres_. A trivial Business of some six thousand pound a year?

_Wild_. Trivial to a Woman, _Frank_: no more; do you make as if you went
to bed.--Laboir, do you feign to be drunk, and lie on the Hall-table: and
when I give the sign, let me softly in.

_Dres_. Death, Sir, will you venture at such a time?

_Wild_. My Life and future Hope--I am resolv'd.
Let Politicians plot, let Rogues go on
In the old beaten Path of Forty one;
Let City Knaves delight in Mutiny,
The Rabble bow to old Presbytery;
Let petty States be to confusion hurl'd,
Give me but Woman, I'll despise the World.

[_Exeunt_.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. _A Dressing-Room_.

_Lady_ Galliard _is discover'd in an undress at her Table, Glass
and Toilette_, Closet _attending: As soon as the Scene draws off
she rises from the Table as disturbed and out of Humour_.

L. _Gal_. Come, leave your everlasting Chamber-maid's Chat, your dull
Road of Slandering by rote, and lay that Paint aside. Thou art fuller of
false News, than an unlicens'd Mercury.

_Clos_. I have good Proof, Madam, of what I say.

L. _Gal_. Proof of a thing impossible!--Away.

_Clos_. Is it a thing so impossible, Madam, that a Man of Mr. _Wilding's_
Parts and Person should get a City-Heiress? Such a bonne Mien, and such a
pleasant Wit!

L. _Gal_. Hold thy fluent Tattle, thou hast Tongue
Enough to talk an Oyster-Woman deaf:
I say it cannot be.
--What means the panting of my troubled Heart!
Oh, my presaging Fears! shou'd what she says prove true,
How wretched and how lost a thing am I! [_Aside_.

_Clos_. Your Honour may say your Pleasure; but I hope
I have not liv'd to these Years to be impertinent--No,
Madam, I am none of those that run up and down the
Town a Story-hunting, and a Lye-catching, and--

L. _Gal_. Eternal Rattle, peace--
Mrs. _Charlot Gett-all_ go away with _Wilding_!
A Man of _Wilding's_ extravagant Life
Get a Fortune in the City!
Thou mightst as well have told me, a Holder-forth were married to a Nun:
There are not two such Contraries in Nature,
'Tis flam, 'tis foolery, 'tis most impossible.

_Clos_. I beg your Ladyship's Pardon, if my Discourse offend you; but all
the World knows Mrs. Clacket to be a person--

L. _Gal_. Who is a most devout Baud, a precise Procurer;
A Saint in the Spirit, and Whore in the Flesh;
A Doer of the Devil's Work in God's Name.
Is she your Informer? nay, then the Lye's undoubted--
I say once more, adone with your idle Tittle-Tattle,
--And to divert me, bid Betty sing the Song which _Wilding_ made
To his last Mistress; we may judge by that,
What little Haunts, and what low Game he follows.
This is not like the Description of a rich Citizen's Daughter
and Heir, but some common Hackney of the Suburbs.

_Clos_. I have heard him often swear she was a Gentlewoman, and liv'd
with her Friends.

L. _Gal_. Like enough, there are many of these Gentlewomen who live with
their Friends, as rank Prostitutes, as errant Jilts, as those who make
open profession of the Trade--almost as mercenary--But come, the Song.

[_Enter_ Betty.

SONG.

_In Phillis all vile Jilts are met,
Foolish, uncertain, false, Coquette.
Love is her constant welcome Guest,
And still the newest pleases best.
Quickly she likes, then leaves as soon;
Her Life on Woman's a Lampoon.

Yet for the Plague of human Race,
This Devil has an Angel's Face;
Such Youth, such Sweetness in her Look,
Who can be Man, and not be took?
What former Love, what Wit, what Art,
Can save a poor inclining Heart?

In vain a thousand Times an hour
Reason rebels against her Power.
In vain I rail, I curse her charms;
One Look my feeble Rage disarms.
There is Inchantment in her Eyes;
Who sees 'em, can no more be wise_.

_Enter_ Wilding, _who runs to embrace L_. Gal.

_Wild_. Twelve was the lucky Minute when we met:
Most charming of your Sex, and wisest of all Widows,
My Life, my Soul, my Heaven to come, and here!
Now I have liv'd to purpose, since at last--Oh, killing Joy!
Come, let me fold you, press you in my Arms,
And kiss you Thanks for this dear happy Night.

L. _Gal_. You may spare your Thanks, Sir, for those that will deserve
'em; I shall give you no occasion for 'em.

_Wild_. Nay, no scruples now, dearest of Dears, no more,
'Tis most unseasonable--
I bring a Heart full fraight with eager Hopes,
Opprest with a vast Load of longing Love;
Let me unlade me in that soft white Bosom,
That Storehouse of rich Joys and lasting Pleasures,
And lay me down as on a Bed of Lillies.
[_She breaks from him_.

L. _Gal_. You're wondrous full of Love and Rapture, Sir; but certainly
you mistake the Person you address 'em to.

_Wild_. Why, are you not my Lady _Galliard_, that very Lady _Galliard_,
who, if one may take her Word for't, loves _Wilding_? Am I not come
hither by your own Appointment; and can I have any other Business here at
this time of night, but Love, and Rapture, and--

L. _Gal_. Scandalous and vain! by my Appointment, and for so leud a
purpose; guard me, ye good Angels. If after an Affront so gross as this,
I ever suffer you to see me more, Then think me what your Carriage calls
me, An impudent, an open Prostitute, Lost to all sense of Virtue, or of
Honour.

_Wild_. What can this mean? [_Aside_.
Oh, now I understand the Mystery.
[_Looking on_ Closet.
Her Woman's here, that troublesome piece of Train.
--I must remove her. Hark ye, Mrs. Closet, I had forgot to tell you, as I
came up I heard a Kinsman of yours very earnest with the Servants below,
and in great haste to speak with you.

_Clos_. A Kinsman! that's very likely indeed, and at this time of night.

_Wild_. Yes, a very near Kinsman, he said he was your Father's own
Mother's Uncle's Sister's Son; what d'ye call him?

_Clos_. Ay, what d'ye call him indeed? I shou'd be glad to hear his Name.
Alas, Sir, I have no near Relation living that I know of, the more's my
Misfortune, poor helpless Orphan that I am.
[_Weeps_.

_Wild_. Nay, but Mrs. Closet, pray take me right,
This Country-man of yours, as I was saying--

L. _Gal_. Chang'd already from a Kinsman to a Countryman! a plain
Contrivance to get my Woman out of the Room. Closet, as you value my
Service, stir not from hence.

_Wild_. This Countryman of yours, I say, being left Executor by your
Father's last Will and Testament, is come--Dull Waiting-woman, I wou'd be
alone with your Lady; know your Cue and retire.

_Clos_. How, Sir!

_Wild_. Learn, I say, to understand Reason when you hear it. Leave us
awhile; Love is not a Game for three to play at.
[_Gives her Mony_.

_Clos_. I must own to all the World, you have convinc'd me; I ask a
thousand Pardons for my Dulness. Well, I'll be gone, I'll run; you're a
most powerful Person, the very Spirit of Persuasion--I'll steal out--You
have such a taking way with you--But I forgot my self. Well, your most
obedient Servant; whenever you've occasion, Sir, be pleas'd to use me
freely.

_Wild_. Nay, dear Impertinence, no more Complements, you see I'm busy
now; prithee be gone, you see I am busy.

_Clos_. I'm all Obedience to you, Sir--Your most obedient--

L. _Gal_. Whither are you fisking and giggiting now?

_Clos_. Madam, I am going down, and will return immediately, immediately.
[_Exit_ Clos.

_Wild_. So, she's gone; Heaven and broad Gold be prais'd for the
Deliverance. And now, dear Widow, let's lose no more precious time; we
have fool'd away too much already.

L. _Gal_. This to me!

_Wild_. To you, yes, to whom else should it be? Unless being sensible you
have not Discretion enough to manage your own Affairs your self, you
resolve like other Widows, with all you're Worth to buy a Governour,
commonly call'd a Husband. I took ye to be wiser; but if that be your
Design I shall do my best to serve you--though to deal freely with you--

L. _Gal_. Trouble not your self, Sir, to make Excuses; I'm not so fond of
the Offer to take you at your Word. Marry you! a Rakeshame, who have not
Esteem enough for the Sex to believe your Mother honest--without Money or
Credit, without Land either in presenter prospect; and half a dozen
hungry Vices, like so many bauling Brats at your Back, perpetually
craving, and more chargeable to keep than twice the number of Children.
Besides, I think you are provided for; are you not married to Mrs.
_Charlot Gett-all_?

_Wild_. Married to her! Do I know her, you shou'd rather ask. What Fool
has forg'd this unlikely Lye? but suppose 'twere true, cou'd you be
jealous of a Woman I marry? Do you take me for such an Ass, to suspect I
shall love my own Wife? On the other side, I have a great Charge of
Vices, as you well observe, and I must not be so barbarous to let 'em
starve. Every body in this Age takes care to provide for their Vices,
though they send their Children a begging; I shou'd be worse than an
Infidel to neglect them. No, I must marry some stiff aukward thing or
other with an ugly Face, and a handsom Estate, that's certain: but
whoever is ordain'd to make my Fortune, 'tis you only can make me happy--
Come, do it then.

L. _Gal_. I never will.

_Wild_. Unkindly said, you must.

L. _Gal_. Unreasonable Man! because you see
I have unusual Regards for you,
Pleasure to hear, and Trouble to deny you;
A fatal yielding in my Nature toward you,
Love bends my Soul that way--
A Weakness I ne'er felt for any other;
And wou'd you be so base? and cou'd you have the Heart
To take th' advantage on't to ruin me,
To make me infamous, despis'd, loath'd, pointed at?

_Wild_. You reason false,
According to the strictest Rules of Honour,
Beauty should still be the Reward of Love,
Not the vile Merchandize of Fortune,
Or the cheap Drug of a Church-Ceremony.
She's only infamous, who to her Bed
For Interest takes some nauseous Clown she hates:
And though a Jointure or a Vow in publick
Be her Price, that makes her but the dearer Whore.

L. _Gal_. I understand not these new Morals.

_Wild_. Have Patience I say, 'tis clear:
All the Desires of mutual Love are virtuous.
Can Heav'n or Man be angry that you please
Your self, and me, when it does wrong to none?
Why rave you then on things that ne'er can be?
Besides, are we not alone, and private? who can know it?

L. _Gal_. Heaven will know't; and I--that, that's enough:
But when you are weary of me, first your Friend,
Then his, then all the World.

_Wild_. Think not that time will ever come.

L. _Gal_. Oh, it must, it will.

_Wild_. Or if it should, could I be such a Villain--
Ah cruel! if you love me as you say,
You wou'd not thus distrust me.

L. _Gal_. You do me wrong, I love you more than e'er my Tongue,
Or all the Actions of my Life can tell you--so well--
Your very Faults, how gross soe'er to me,
Have something pleasing in 'em. To me you're all
That Man can praise, or Woman can desire;
All Charm without, and all Desert within.
But yet my Virtue is more lovely still;
That is a Price too high to pay for you;
The Love of Angels may be bought too dear,
If we bestow on them what's kept for Heaven.

_Wild_. Hell and the Devil! I'll hear no more
Of this religious Stuff, this godly Nonsense.
Death, Madam, do you bring me into your Chamber to preach Virtue to me?

L. _Gal_. I bring you hither! how can you say it?
I suffer'd you indeed to come, but not
For the base end you fancy'd, but to take
A last Leave of you. Let my Heart break with Love,
I cannot be that wretched thing you'd have me;
Believe I still shall have a Kindness for you,
Always your Friend, your Mistress now no more.

_Wild_. Cozen'd, abus'd, she loves some other Man!
Dull Blockhead, not to find it out before! [_Aside_.
--Well, Madam, may I at last believe
This is your fix'd and final Resolution?
And does your Tongue now truly speak your Heart,
That has so long bely'd it?

L. _Gal_. It does.

_Wild_. I'm glad on't. Good Night; and when I visit you again,
May you again thus fool me.
[_Offers to go_.

L. _Gal_. Stay but a Moment.

_Wild_. For what? to praise your Night-dress, or make
Court to your little Dog? No, no, Madam, send for Mr.
Flamfull, and Mr. Flutterbuz, Mr. Lap-fool and Mr.
Loveall; they'll do it better, and are more at leisure.

L. _Gal_. Hear me a little: You know I both despise, and hate those civil
Coxcombs, as much as I esteem and love you. But why will you be gone so
soon? and why are ye so cruel to urge me thus to part either with your
good Opinion or your Kindness? I wou'd fain keep 'em both.
[_In a soft Tone_.

_Wild_. Then keep your Word, Madam.

L. _Gal_. My Word! and have I promis'd then to be
A Whore? A Whore! Oh, let me think of that!
A Man's Convenience, his leisure Hours, his Bed of Ease,
To loll and tumble on at idle times;
The Slave, the Hackney of his lawless Lust!
A loath'd Extinguisher of filthy Flames,
Made use of, and thrown by--Oh, infamous!

_Wild_. Come, come, you love me not, I see it plain;
That makes your Scruples; that, that's the Reason
You start at Words, and turn away from Shadows.
Already some pert Fop, some Ribbon Fool,
Some dancing Coxcomb, has supplanted me
In that unsteady treacherous Woman's Heart of yours.

L. _Gal_. Believe it if you will. Yes, let me be false, unjust,
ungrateful, any thing but a--Whore--

_Wild_. Oh, Sex on purpose form'd to plague Mankind!
All that you are, and all you do's a Lye.
False are your Faces, false your floating Hearts;
False are your Quarrels, false your Reconcilements:
Enemies without Reason, and dear without Kindness;
Your Friendship's false, but much more false your Love;
Your damn'd deceitful Love is all o'er false.

L. _Gal_. False rather are the Joys you are so fond of.
Be wise, and cease, Sir, to pursue 'em farther.

_Wild_. No, them I can never quit, but you most easily:
A Woman changeable and false as you.

L. _Gal_. Said you most easily? Oh, inhuman!
Your cruel Words have wak'd a dismal Thought;
I feel 'em cold and heavy at my Heart,
And Weakness steals upon my Soul apace;
I find I must be miserable--
I wou'd not be thought false.
[_In a soft Tone, coming near him_.

_Wild_. Nor wou'd I think you so; give me not Cause.

L. _Gal_. What Heart can bear distrust from what it loves?
Or who can always her own Wish deny? [_Aside_.
My Reason's weary of the unequal Strife;
And Love and Nature will at last o'ercome.
--Do you not then believe I love you?
[_To him in a soft Tone_.

_Wild_. How can I, while you still remain unkind?

L. _Gal_. How shall I speak my guilty Thoughts?
I have not Power to part with you; conceal my Shame, I doubt
I cannot, I fear I wou'd not any more deny you.

_Wild_. Oh heavenly Sound! Oh charming Creature!
Speak that word again, agen, agen! for ever let me hear it.

L. _Gal_. But did you not indeed? and will you never,
never love Mrs. _Charlot_, never?

_Wild_. Never, never.

_L, Gal_. Turn your Face away, and give me leave
To hide my rising Blushes: I cannot look on you.

[_As this last Speech is speaking, she sinks into his
Arms by degrees_.

But you must undo me if you will--
Since I no other way my Truth can prove,
--You shall see I love.
Pity my Weakness, and admire my Love.

_Wild_. All Heaven is mine, I have it in my Arms,
Nor can ill Fortune reach me any more.
Fate, I defy thee, and dull World, adieu.
In Love's kind Fever let me ever lie,
Drunk with Desire, and raving mad with Joy.

[_Exeunt into the Bed-chamber_, Wild. _leading her
with his Arms about her_.

SCENE II. _Changes_.

_Another Room in Lady_ Galliard's _House_.

Enter Sir_ Charles Meriwill _and Sir_ Anthony, _Sir_
Charles _drunk_.

Sir _Anth_. A Dog, a Rogue, to leave her!

Sir _Char_. Why, look ye, Uncle, what wou'd you have a Man do? I brought
her to her Coach--

Sir _Anth_. To her Coach! to her Coach! Did not I put her into your Hand,
follow'd you out, wink'd, smil'd and nodded; cry'd 'bye _Charles_, 'bye
Rogue; which was as much as to say, Go home with her, _Charles_, home to
her Chamber, _Charles_; nay, as much as to say, Home to her Bed,
_Charles_; nay, as much as to say--Hum, hum, a Rogue, a Dog, and yet to
be modest too! That I shou'd bring thee up with no more Fear of God
before thy Eyes!

Sir _Char_. Nay, dear Uncle, don't break my Heart now! Why, I did
proffer, and press, and swear, and ly'd, and--but a pox on her, she has
the damn'dst wheedling way with her, as dear _Charles_, nay prithee, fie,
'tis late, to morrow, my Honour, which if you lov'd you wou'd preserve;
and such obliging Reasons.

Sir _Anth_. Reasons! Reason! a Lover, and talk of Reason! You lye,
Sirrah, you lye. Leave a Woman for Reason, when you were so finely drunk
too, a Rascal!

Sir _Char_. Why look ye, d'ye see, Uncle, I durst not trust my self alone
with her in this pickle, lest I shou'd ha' fallen foul on her.

Sir _Anth_. Why, there's it; 'tis that you shou'd have done; I am
mistaken if she be not one of those Ladies that love to be ravisht of a
Kindness. Why, your willing Rape is all the Fashion, _Charles_.

Sir _Char_. But hark ye, Uncle.

Sir _Anth_. Why, how now, Jack-sauce, what, capitulate?

Sir _Char_. Why, do but hear me, Uncle; Lord, you're so hasty! Why, look
ye, I am as ready, d'ye see, as any Man on these Occasions.

Sir _Anth_. Are you so, Sir? and I'll make you willing, or try Toledo
with you, Sir--Why, what, I shall have you whining when you are sober
again, traversing your Chamber with Arms across, railing on Love and
Women, and at last defeated, turn whipping _Tom_, to revenge your self on
the whole Sex.

Sir _Char_. My dear Uncle, come kiss me and be friends; I will be rul'd.
[_Kisses him_.

Sir _Anth_.--A most admirable good-natur'd Boy this! [_Aside_.
Well then, dear _Charles_, know, I have brought thee now hither to the
Widow's House, with a Resolution to have thee order matters so, as before
thou quitst her, she shall be thy own, Boy.

Sir _Char_. Gad, Uncle, thou'rt a Cherubin! Introduce me, d'ye see, and
if I do not so woo the Widow, and so do the Widow, that e'er morning she
shall be content to take me for better for worse--Renounce me! Egad, I'll
make her know the Lord God from _Tom Bell_, before I have done with her.
Nay, backt by my noble Uncle, I'll venture on her, had she all Cupid's
Arrows, genus's Beauty, and Messalina's Fire, d'ye see.

Sir _Anth_. A sweet Boy, a very sweet Boy! Hum, thou art damnable
handsome to Night, _Charles_--Ay, thou wilt do't; I see a kind of
resistless Leudness about thee, a most triumphant Impudence, loose and
wanton.
[_Stands looking on him_.

_Enter_ Closet.

_Clos_. Heavens, Gentlemen, what makes you here at this time of Night?

Sir _Char_. Where's your Lady?

_Clos_. Softly, dear Sir.

Sir _Char_. Why, is she asleep? Come, come, I'll wake her.
[_Offers to force in as to the Bed-chamber_.

_Clos_. Hold, hold, Sir; No, no, she's a little busy, Sir.

Sir _Char_. I'll have no Business done to Night, Sweetheart.

_Clos_. Hold, hold, I beseech you, Sir, her Mother's with her;
For Heaven's sake, Sir, be gone.

Sir _Char_. I'll not budge.

Sir _Anth_. No, not a Foot.

_Clos_. The City you know, Sir, is so censorious--

Sir _Char_. Damn the City.

Sir _Anth_. All the Whigs, _Charles_, all the Whigs.

Sir _Char_. In short, I am resolv'd, d'ye see, to go to the Widow's
Chamber.

Sir _Anth_. Harkye, Mrs. Closet I thought I had entirely engag'd you this
Evening.

_Clos_. I am perfectly yours, Sir; but how it happens so, her Mother
being there--Yet if you wou'd withdraw for half an hour, into my Chamber,
till she were gone--

Sir _Anth_. This is the Reason, _Charles_. Here, here's two Pieces to buy
thee a Gorget.
[_Gives her Money_.

Sir _Char_. And here's my two, because thou art industrious.
[_Gives her Money, and they go out with her_.

_Enter Lady_ Galliard _in rage, held by_ Wilding.

L. _Gal_. What have I done? Ah, whither shall I fly?
[_Weeps_.

_Wild_. Why all these Tears? Ah, why this cruel Passion?

L. _Gal_. Undone, undone! Unhand me, false, forsworn;
Be gone, and let me rage till I am dead.
What shou'd I do with guilty Life about me?

_Wild_. Why, where's the harm of what we two have done?

L. _Gal_. Ah, leave me--
Leave me alone to sigh to flying Winds,
That the Infection may be borne aloft,
And reach no human Ear.

_Wild_. Cease, lovely Charmer, cease to wound me more.

L. _Gal_. Shall I survive this Shame? No, if I do,
Eternal Blushes dwell upon my Cheeks,
To tell the World my Crime.
--Mischief and Hell, what Devil did possess me?

_Wild_. It was no Devil, but a Deity;
A little gay wing'd God, harmless and innocent,
Young as Desire, wanton as Summer-breezes,
Soft as thy Smiles, resistless as thy Eyes.

L. _Gal_. Ah, what malicious God,
Sworn Enemy to feeble Womankind,
Taught thee the Art of Conquest with thy Tongue?
Thy false deluding Eyes were surely made
Of Stars that rule our Sex's Destiny:
And all thy Charms were by Inchantment wrought,
That first undo the heedless Gazers on,
Then shew their natural Deformity.

_Wild_. Ah, my _Galliard_, am I grown ugly then?
Has my increase of Passion lessen'd yours?
[_In a soft Tone_.

L. _Gal_. Peace, Tempter, Peace, who artfully betrayest me,
And then upbraidest the Wretchedness thou'st made.
--Ah, Fool, eternal Fool! to know my Danger,
Yet venture on so evident a Ruin.

_Wild_. Say,--what one Grace is faded?
Is not thy Face as fair, thy Eyes as killing?
By Heaven, much more! This charming change of Looks
Raises my Flame, and makes me wish t'invoke
The harmless God again.
[Embraces her.

L. _Gal_. By Heaven, not all thy Art
Shall draw me to the tempting Sin again.

_Wild_. Oh, I must, or die.

L. _Gal_. By all the Powers, by--

_Wild_. Oh, do not swear, lest Love shou'd take it ill
That Honour shou'd pretend to give him Laws,
And make an Oath more powerful than his Godhead.
--Say that you will half a long Hour hence--

L. _Gal_. Hah!

_Wild_. Or say a tedious Hour.

L. _Gal_. Death, never--

_Wild_. Or if you--promise me then to morrow.

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