Geo. Confirm’d you mine, by all the Obligations Profuseness cou’d invent, or Love inspire.
Mir. And yet at your Return you found me marry’d to another.
Geo. Death and Hell! that was not yet the worst: You flatter’d me with some Pretence of Penitence; but on the Night, the dear destructive Night, you rais’d my Hopes to all distracting Love cou’d wish—that very Night—Oh, let me rave and die, and never think that Disappointment o’er!
Mir. What, you saw me courted at the Ball, perhaps.
Geo. Perhaps I saw it in your Chamber too. Breathless and panting, with new-acted Joys, the happy Lover lay—Oh Mirtilla!
Mir. Nay, if he knows it, I’ll deny’t no more. Aside.
Geo. There is no Honesty in all thy Kind.
Mir. Or if there be, those that deal in’t are weary of their Trade. But where’s the mighty Crime?
Geo. No, I expect thou shouldst out-face my Eyes, out-swear my Hearing, and out-lye my Senses.—The Prince! the Prince! thou faithless dear destruction.
Mir. The Prince! good Heaven! Is all this Heat for him?