Mir. Can you so easily cancel all your Vows? Then kill me at your Feet, I do implore it. Kneels and weeps.
Prince. Away, I do forgive thee, wretched Woman.—But yet be gone—lest Love and Rage return, and I should kill you yet with your young Darling.
Mir. Whom mean you, Sir, this lovely Maid?
Oliv. Maid!—What means she? Sure she cannot know me.
Prince. Talk on, false Woman! till thou hast persuaded my Eyes and Ears out of their native Faculties, I scorn to credit other Evidences.
Mir. Try ’em once more, and then repent, and die. Opens Olivia’s Bosom, shews her Breasts.
Prince. Ha—By Heav’n, a Woman!
Mir. You that wou’d smile at my suppos’d undoing, present yourself no more before my Eyes.
’Twas to perplex you that I feign’d this Passion.
I saw you had your Spies to watch for Mischief, To George.