Wild. Death and the Devil, Meriwill above!
Sir Anth. Ah, the Boy’s Rival here! By George, here may be breathing this Morning—No matter, here’s two to two; come, Gentlemen, you must in. [Thrusts the Musick in, and goes in.
Dres. Is’t not what you expected? nay, what you wisht?
Wild. What then? it comes too suddenly upon me—
E’er my last Kiss was cold upon her Lips,
Before the pantings of her Breast were laid,
Rais’d by her joys with me; Oh, damn’d deluding Woman!
Dres. Be wise, and do not ruin where you love.
Wild. Nay, if thou com’st to reasoning, thou hast lost me. [Breaks from him, and runs in.
Char. I say ‘twas Wilding’s Voice, and I will follow it.
Fop. How, Madam, wou’d you after him?
Char. Nay, force me not; by Heaven, I’ll cry a Rape, Unless you let me go—Not after him! Yes, to the infernal Shades—Unhand me, Sir.
Fop. How, Madam, have you then design’d my Ruin?