Mar. A Lover shou'd be so, my Lord.
Amor. But give me up the Heav'n my ravenous Love requires: Let me fill my Sences with thy Sweetness; then let 'em pour upon me, I cou'd laugh at all their idle Tortures, every pleas'd Limb shou'd dance upon the Wheel.
Mar. Dance upon the Wheel! that's a new thought, I am sure, my Lord.
L. Whiff. Your Tract is all new, and must be uncommon, because others can never find it.
Prais. A Pox on him! he has out-done me agen.
Mar. I am your Lordship's very humble Servant: My Lord, How Amorous gazes on her!
L. Whiff. Piercing Eyes, I confess.
Prais. An irresistible Lere——I got in a word.
Isab. Take off your Eyes; mine shou'd be fix'd above; but Love draws 'em downwards, and almost pulls my Heart along.
Amo. Give me your Heart! your Arms! Oh! give me all! see at your Feet the wretched Amorous falls! Be not more cruel than our Foes. Behold me on the Torture! Fastin cannot Punish me with half the Racks denying Beauty lays on longing Love.