Dia. Oh, how his Softness moves me! [Aside. —But can all this Disorder spring from Love?
Cel. Or may I still prove wretched.
Dia. And can you think there are no ways For me to gratify that Love? What ways am I constrain’d to use to work out my Revenge! [Aside.
Cel. How mean you, Madam?
Dia. Without a Miracle, look on my Eyes— And Beauty—which you say can kindle Fires; —She that can give, may too retain Desires.
Cel. She’ll ravish me—let me not understand you.
Dia. Look on my Wrongs—
Wrongs that would melt a frozen Chastity,
That a religious Vow had made to Heaven:
—And next survey thy own Perfections.
Cel. Hah—
Dia. Art thou so young, thou canst not apprehend me? Fair bashful Boy, hast thou the Power to move, And yet not know the Bus’ness of thy Love?
Cel. How in an instant thou hast chill’d my Blood, And made me know no Woman can be good? ’.is Sin enough to yield—but thus to sue Heav’n—’tis my Business—and not meant for you.