Mir. But still there wanted Fool, and Fortune to’t; He does not play at the Groom-Porter’s for it; nor do the Drudgery of some worn-out Lady.
Geo. If I did this, thou hadst the spoils of all my Nation’s Conquests, while all the whole World was wondering whence it came; for Heav’n had left thee nothing but thy Beauty, that dear Reward of my industrious Love.
Mir. I do confess—
Geo. Till time had made me certain of a Fortune, which now was hasting on.—
And is that store of Love and wondrous Joys I had been hoarding up so many tender Hours, all lavish’d on a Brute, who never lusted ’bove my Lady’s Woman? for Love he understands no more than Sense.
Mir. Prithee reproach me on— Sighs.
Geo. ’Sdeath, I cou’d rave! Is this soft tender Bosom to be prest by such a Load of Fool? Damnation on thee—Where got’st thou this coarse Appetite? Take back the Powers, those Charms she’s sworn adorn’d me, since a dull, fat-fac’d, noisy, taudry Blockhead, can serve her turn as well. Offers to go.
Mir. You shall not go away with that Opinion of me.—
Geo. Oh, that false Tongue can now no more deceive—Art thou not marry’d? Tell me that, false Charmer.
Mir. Yes.— Holding him.