Fil.—What haste thou’st made to damn thy self so young!
Hast thou been long thus wicked? hast thou sinn’d past Repentance?
Heaven may do much to save so fair a Criminal;
Turn yet, and be forgiven.
Gal. What a Pox dost thou mean by all this Canting?
Mar. A very pretty Sermon, and from a Priest so gay,
It cannot chuse but edify.
Do Holy men of your Religion, Signior, wear all this Habit?
Are they thus young and lovely? Sure if they are,
Your Congregation’s all compos’d of Ladies;
The Laity must come abroad for Mistresses.
Fil. Oh, that this charming Woman were but honest!
Gal. ‘Twere better thou wert damn’d; honest! Pox, thou dost come out with things so mal a propo—
Mar. Come leave this Mask of foolish Modesty,
And let us haste where Love and Musick calls;
Musick, that heightens Love, and makes the Soul
Ready for soft Impressions.
Gal. So, she will do his business with a Vengeance.
Fil. Plague of this tempting Woman, she will ruin me:
I find weak Virtue melt from round my Heart,
To give her Tyrant Image a Possession:
So the warm Sun thaws Rivers icy Tops.
Till in the stream he sees his own bright Face.
Gal. Now he comes on apace,—how is’t, my Friend?
Thou stand’st as thou’dst forgot thy business here,
—The Woman, Harry, the fair Curtezan;
Canst thou withstand her Charms? I’ve business of my own,
Prithee fall to—and talk of Love to her.
Fil. Oh, I cou’d talk Eternity away, In nothing else but Love;—cou’dst thou be honest?