Will. Oh Gods! no more! I see a yielding in
thy charming Eyes; The Blushes on thy Face, thy trembling Arms, Thy
panting Breast, and short-breath'd Sighs confess, Thou wo't be mine,
in spite of all thy Art. La Nu. What need you urge my Tongue then to
repeat What from my Eyes you can so well interpret? [Bowing down her
Head to him and sighing. -Or if it must- dispose me as you please-
Will. Heaven, I thank thee! [Rises with Joy. Who wou'd not plough an
Age in Winter Seas, Or wade full seven long Years in ruder Camps, To
find out this Rest at last?- [Leans on, and kisses her Bosom. Upon thy
tender Bosom to repose; To gaze upon thy Eyes, and taste thy Balmy
Kisses, [Kisses her. -Sweeter than everlasting Groves of Spices, When
the soft Winds display the opening Buds: -Come, haste, my Soul, to
Bed- La Nu. You can be soft I find, when you wou'd conquer absolutely.
Will. Not infant Angels, not young sighing Cupids Can be more; this
ravishing Joy that thou hast promis'd me, Has form'd my Soul to such a
Calm of Love, It melts e'en at my Eyes. La Nu. What have I done? that
Promise will undo me. -This Chamber was prepar'd, and I was drest, To
give Admittance to another Lover. Will. But Love and Fortune both were
on my side- Come, come to Bed- consider nought but Love- [They going
out, one knocks.
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