Dor. Spare your fan, madam; you are growing hot, and will want it to cool you.

Lov. Horror and distraction seize you, sorrow and remorse gnaw your soul, and punish all your perjuries to me!—[Weeps.

Dor. So thunder breaks the cloud in twain, And makes a passage for the rain.

[Turning to Belinda. Belinda, you are the devil that have raised this storm; you were at the play yesterday, and have been making discoveries to your dear.

Bel. You’re the most mistaken man i’ the world.

Dor. It must be so, and here I vow revenge; resolve to pursue and persecute you more impertinently than ever any loving fop did his mistress, hunt you i’ the Park, trace you i’ the Mall, dog you in every visit you make, haunt you at the plays and i’ the Drawing-room, hang my nose in your neck, and talk to you whether you will or no, and ever look upon you with such dying eyes, till your friends grow jealous of me, send you out of town, and make the world suspect your reputation. [In a lower voice. At my Lady Townley’s when we go from hence.

[He looks kindly on Belinda.

Bel. I’ll meet you there.

Dor. Enough.

Lov. Stand off, you shall not stare upon her so.

[Pushing Dorimant away.

Dor. Good! There’s one made jealous already.

Lov. Is this the constancy you vowed?

Dor. Constancy at my years! ’tis not a virtue in season; you might as well expect the fruit the autumn ripens i’ the spring.

Lov. Monstrous principle!

Dor. Youth has a long journey to go, madam: should I have set up my rest at the first inn I lodged at, I should never have arrived at the happiness I now enjoy.

Lov. Dissembler, damned dissembler!

Dor. I am so, I confess; good nature and good manners corrupt me. I am honest in my inclinations, and would not, were’t not to avoid offence, make a lady a little in years believe I think her young, wilfully mistake art for nature, and seem as fond of a thing I am weary of as when I doted on’t in earnest.

Lov. False man!

Dor. True woman!

Lov. Now you begin to show yourself!

Dor. Love gilds us over and makes us show fine things to one another for a time, but soon the gold wears off, and then again the native brass appears.

Lov. Think on your oaths, your vows and protestations, perjured man.