[Turning
from her in a Rage. Ang. By all that's good 'tis real, I never lov'd
before, tho oft a Mistress. -Shall my first Vows be slighted? Will.
What can she mean? [Aside. Ang. I find you cannot credit me. [In an
angry tone. Will. I know you take me for an errant Ass, An Ass that
may be sooth'd into Belief, And then be us'd at pleasure. -But, Madam
I have been so often cheated By perjur'd, soft, deluding Hypocrites,
That I've no Faith left for the cozening Sex, Especially for Women of
your Trade. Ang. The low esteem you have of me, perhaps May bring my
Heart again: For I have Pride that yet surmounts my Love. [She turns
with Pride, he holds her. Will. Throw off this Pride, this Enemy to
Bliss, And shew the Power of Love: 'tis with those Arms I call be only
vanquisht, made a Slave. Ang. Is all my mighty Expectation vanisht?
-No, I will not hear thee talk,- thou hast a Charm In every word, that
draws my Heart away. And all the thousand Trophies I design'd, Thou
hast undone- Why art thou soft? Thy Looks are bravely rough, and meant
for War. Could thou not storm on still? I then perhaps had been as
free as thou. Will. Death! how she throws her Fire about my Soul!
[Aside. -Take heed, fair Creature, how you raise my Hopes, Which once
assum'd pretend to all Dominion. There's not a Joy thou hast in store
I shall not then command: For which I'll pay thee back my Soul, my
Life.
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