Wild. Come, come, you love me not, I see it plain;
That makes your Scruples; that, that’s the Reason
You start at Words, and turn away from Shadows.
Already some pert Fop, some Ribbon Fool,
Some dancing Coxcomb, has supplanted me
In that unsteady treacherous Woman’s Heart of yours.
L. Gal. Believe it if you will. Yes, let me be false, unjust, ungrateful, any thing but a—Whore—
Wild. Oh, Sex on purpose form’d to plague Mankind!
All that you are, and all you do’s a Lye.
False are your Faces, false your floating Hearts;
False are your Quarrels, false your Reconcilements:
Enemies without Reason, and dear without Kindness;
Your Friendship’s false, but much more false your Love;
Your damn’d deceitful Love is all o’er false.
L. Gal. False rather are the Joys you are so fond of.
Be wise, and cease, Sir, to pursue ‘em farther.
Wild. No, them I can never quit, but you most easily: A Woman changeable and false as you.
L. Gal. Said you most easily? Oh, inhuman!
Your cruel Words have wak’d a dismal Thought;
I feel ‘em cold and heavy at my Heart,
And Weakness steals upon my Soul apace;
I find I must be miserable—
I wou’d not be thought false.
[In a soft Tone, coming near him.
Wild. Nor wou’d I think you so; give me not Cause.
L. Gal. What Heart can bear distrust from what it loves?
Or who can always her own Wish deny? [Aside.
My Reason’s weary of the unequal Strife;
And Love and Nature will at last o’ercome.
—Do you not then believe I love you?
[To him in a soft Tone.
Wild. How can I, while you still remain unkind?
L. Gal. How shall I speak my guilty Thoughts?
I have not Power to part with you; conceal my Shame, I doubt
I cannot, I fear I wou’d not any more deny you.