That false dissimulation looks—Be gone,
And never let me see thy cozening Face again,
Lest I relapse and kill thee.
Will. Yes, you can spare me now,—farewell till you are in a better Humour—I’m glad of this release—
Now for my Gipsy:
For tho to worse we change, yet still we find
New Joys, New Charms, in a new Miss that’s kind. [Ex. Will.
Ang. He’s gone, and in this Ague of My Soul
The shivering Fit returns;
Oh with what willing haste he took his leave,
As if the long’d for Minute were arriv’d,