Belv. The Vice-Roy’s Son!
Death and Confusion! was this Plague reserved
To compleat all the rest?—oblig’d by him!
The Man of all the World I would destroy. [Aside.
Ant. You seem disorder’d, Sir.
Belv. Yes, trust me, Sir, I am, and ’tis with pain
That Man receives such Bounties,
Who wants the pow’r to pay ’em back again.
Ant. To gallant Spirits ’tis indeed uneasy;
—But you may quickly over-pay me, Sir.