—No, no, I have much finer things in store for thee. [Hugs her.
La Nu. What shall I do?
Here’s powerful Interest prostrate at my Feet, [Pointing to Beau.
Glory, and all than Vanity can boast;
—But there—Love unadorn’d, no covering but his Wings, [To Will.
No Wealth, but a full Quiver to do mischiefs,
Laughs at those meaner Trifles—
Beau. Mute as thou art, are not these Minutes mine?
But thou—ah false—hast dealt ’em out already,
With all thy Charms of Love, to this unknown—