Heart. Enough!

[Exit BEL. with HEARTFREE.

Lady B. Sure, you think me scandalously free, Mr. Constant; I’m afraid I shall lose your good opinion of me.

Con. My good opinion, madam, is like your cruelty—never to be removed.

Lady B. Indeed I doubt you much. Why, suppose you had a wife, and she should entertain a gallant?

Con. If I gave her just cause, how should I justly condemn her?

Lady B. Ah! but you differ widely about just causes.

Con. But blows can bear no dispute.

Lady B. Nor ill manners much, truly.

Con. Then no woman on earth has so just a cause as you have. But, for heaven’s sake! (for now I must be serious), if pity, or if gratitude can move you;—[taking her hand] if constancy and truth have power to tempt you; if love, if adoration, can affect you, give me at least some hopes, that time may do, what you, perhaps, mean never to perform: ’twill ease my sufferings, though not quench my flame.

Lady B. Your sufferings eased, your flame would soon abate; and that I would preserve, not quench it, sir.

Con. Would you preserve it, nourish it with favours; for that’s the food it naturally requires.

Lady B. Yet on that natural food ’twould surfeit soon should I resolve to grant all you would ask.

Con. And in refusing all, you starve it. Forgive me, there-fore (since my hunger rages), if I at last grow wild; and, in my phrenzy, force at least this from you. [Kissing her hand]. Or if you’d have my flame soar higher still, then grant me this, and this, and thousands more. [Kissing first her hand and then her neck.—Aside.] For now’s the time she melts into compassion.

Lady B. Oh, heavens! let me go.

Con. Ay, go, ay! where shall we go, my charming angel—into this private arbour? Nay, let’s lose no time—moments are precious—

Lady B. And lovers wild. Pray, let us stop here; at least for this time.

Con. ’Tis impossible! he that has power over you, can have none over himself. [As he is forcing her into the arbour, Lady FANCIFUL and MADEMOISELLE rush out upon them, and run across the stage.

Lady B. Ah! I’m lost!

Lady F., Madam. Fe, fe, fe!

[Exeunt.

Con. Death and furies! who are those?

Lady B. Oh, heavens! I’m out of my wits. If they know me, I’m ruined.

Con. Don’t be frightened; ten thousand to one they are strangers to you.