But, tho’ no Laws could my fair Deeds condemn,
Their Laws have agents, and I fly from them.
The Man will live, but he demands his Bed,
And thy kind Father will support his Head;
[Meanwhile], sweet Susan, shall thy Charms repose
In Arms destructive only to our foes.”
“Injur’d and dying!” said the Maid, “and I
Th’ accursed Cause! Go, Man of Terror, fly! 260
I dream’d of one like thee, but he was kind
And did no Murder! Go, thy Safety find!