And I’m too young to tell my Tale with Art:
But there must be a wondrous store of Goodness
Where so much Beauty dwells.
Ang. A pretty Advocate, whoever sent thee,
—Prithee proceed—Nay, Sir, you shall not go. [To Will. who is stealing off.
Will. Then shall I lose my dear Gipsy for ever.
—Pox on’t, she stays me out of spite. [Aside.
Hell. I am related to a Lady, Madam,
Young, rich, and nobly born, but has the fate
To be in love with a young English Gentleman.