Geo. That thou art false, false as the insatiate Seas, that smiling tempt the vain Adventurer, whom flattering, far from any saving there, swell their false Waves to a destructive Storm.
Mir. Why all this mighty Rage?—Because I disappointed you to night?
Geo. No, by Heaven, I dully cou’d have waited for the Hour; have hop’d, and wish’d, and languish’d out an Age. But, oh Mirtilla! Oh thou perjur’d Fair!—But vanish all the Softness of my Soul, I will be satirical.
A Plague, a Torment, to your fickle Sex,
Those smiling, sighing, weeping Hypocrites.
Mir. And can you think my Flight is criminal? because I sav’d this worthless Life—for you—
Geo. What Innocence adorns her Tongue, and Eyes! while Hell and Furies give her Heart its motion. You know not where you are?
Mir. Perhaps I do not.
Geo. Swear, for thou’rt damn’d already, and by what black Degrees I will unfold: When first I saw this gay, this glorious Mischief, though nobly born, ’twas hid in mean Obscurity; the shining Viper lay half dead with Poverty, I took it up, and laid it next my Heart, fed it, and call’d its faded Beauties back.
Mir. Confess’d; And what of this?