Gay. He, by Love, he was the kind Procurer, Contriv’d the means, and brought me to thy Bed.
L. Ful. My Husband! My wise Husband!
What fondness in my Conduct had he seen,
To take so shameful and so base Revenge?
Gay. None—’twas filthy Avarice seduc’d him to’t.
L. Ful. If he cou’d be so barbarous to expose me,
Cou’d you who lov’d me—be so cruel too?
Gay. What—to possess thee when the Bliss was offer’d?
Possess thee too without a Crime to thee?
Charge not my Soul with so remiss a flame,
So dull a sense of Virtue to refuse it.
L. Ful. I am convinc’d the fault was all my Husband’s—
And here I vow—by all things just and sacred,
To separate for ever from his Bed. [Kneels.
Sir Cau. Oh, I am not able to indure it— Hold—oh, hold, my Dear— [He kneels as she rises.
L. Ful. Stand off—I do abhor thee—
Sir Cau. With all my Soul—but do not make rash Vows.
They break my very Heart—regard my Reputation.
L. Ful. Which you have had such care of, Sir, already—
Rise, ‘tis in vain you kneel.