Mir. If I were sure that you would pass no further—
Prince. Let the fond God of Love be my Security—will you not trust a Deity?
Mir. Whom should she trust, that dares not trust her self?
Geo. That is some Lover, whom I must observe. Aside.
Mir. Alas, the Foe’s within that will betray me, Ambition, and our Sex’s Vanity—Sir, you must prevail—
Prince. And in return, for ever take my Soul.
Mir. Anon I’ll feign an Illness, and retire to my Apartment, whither this faithful Friend shall bring you, Sir. Pointing to Manage.
Geo. Hum!—that looks like some Love Bargain, and Manage call’d to Witness. By Heav’n, gay Sir, I’ll watch you.
Ter. But hark ye, my Fellow-Adventurer, are you not marry’d?
Geo. Marry’d—that’s a Bug-word—prithee if thou hast any such Design, keep on thy Mask, lest I be tempted to Wickedness.