La Nu. [Damn all dissembling] now, it is too late—
The Tyrant Love reigns absolute within,
And I am lost, Aurelia.
Pet. How, Love! forbid it Heaven! will Love maintain ye?
La Nu. Curse on your Maxims, will they ease my Heart? Can your wise Counsel fetch me back my Rover?
Pet. Hah, your Rover, a Pox upon him.
La Nu. He’s gone—gone to the Arms of some gay generous Maid, who nobly follows [Love’s diviner Dictates], whilst I ’gainst Nature studying thy dull Precepts, and to be base and infamously rich, have barter’d all the Joys of human Life—Oh give me Love: I will be poor and love.
Pet. She’s lost—but hear me—
La Nu. I won’t, from Childhood thou hast trained me up in Cunning, read Lectures to me of the use of Man, but kept me from the knowledge of the Right; taught me to jilt, to flatter and deceive: and hard it was to learn th’ ungrateful Lessons. But oh how soon plain Nature taught me Love, and shew’d me all the cheat of thy [false Tenents]—No—give me Love with any other Curse.
Pet. But who will give you that when you are poor? when you are wretchedly despis’d and poor?
La Nu. Hah!
Pet. Do you not daily see fine Clothes, rich Furniture, Jewels and Plate are more inviting than Beauty unadorn’d? be old, diseas’d, deform’d, be any thing, so you be rich and splendidly attended, you’ll find your self lov’d and ador’d by all—But I’m an old fool still—Well, Petronella, had’st thou been half as industrious in thy Youth as in thy Age—thou hadst not come to this. [Weeps.