Prince. Come, my eternal Pleasure—each Moment of the happy Lover’s Hour, is worth an Age of dull, and common Life.
Exeunt into the Alcove, the Scene shuts.
[ Scene III.] A Garden by Night still.
Enter George with his Sword in his Hand, as before.
Geo. Why do I vainly call for Vengeance down, and have it in my Hand?—By Heav’n, I’ll back—[Whither?] To kill a Woman, a young perjur’d Woman!—Oh, ye false Fair Ones! shou’d we do you Justice, a universal Ruin wou’d ensue; not one wou’d live to stock the World anew. Who is’t among ye All, ye Fair Deceivers, ye charming Mischiefs to the noble Race, can swear she’s Innocent, without Damnation? No, no, go on—be false—be fickle still: You act but Nature—But, my faithless Friend—where I repose the secrets of my Soul—except this one—Alas! he knew not this:—Why do I blame him then?
Enter Olivia, dress’d as before.
Oliv. Fire! Fire! Fire!
Geo. Olivia’s Voice!—Ha! what art thou? Thy Voice shou’d be Olivia’s, but thy Shape—and yet a Woman is all o’er Disguise.
Enter Lady Blunder in her Night-Gown.
L. Blun. Fire! Fire! Fire! My Son, my dear Sir Morgan.