Oliv. Go you, Sir, I’ll sit and read by you till Day.
Wel. ’Sdeath, Sir, d’ye think my bed’s infectious?
Oliv. I shall betray my Sex in my denial, and that at last I can but do if Necessity compel me to’t. Aside.
Go on, Sir, you have shamed me. [Exeunt.]
Enter Prince and George.
Prince. And thus thou hast my whole Adventure out, short was the Conquest, but the Joys are lasting.
Geo. I am glad on’t, Sir.
Prince. Why dost wear a Cloud upon thy brows, when Love’s gay Sunshine dances in my Eyes? If thou’rt her Lover too, I pity thee; her solemn Vows breath’d in the height of Love, disarm me [of thy hopes], if Friendship wou’d permit thee.
Geo. I do not think it, Sir—
Prince. Not think it, not think that she has sworn!