Isa. Sure never poor Maid had more need of Prayers: but you have left me no great Stomach to them. Great things are in Agitation! What can he mean? It must be so——Some old liquorish Rogue with a Title, or a larger Estate hath a mind to supplant my dear Laroon.
SCENE VI.
Young Laroon, Isabel.
Yo. Lar. My Isabel, my Sweet!—how painfully do I count each tedious Hour, till I can call you mine?
Isa. Indeed, you are like to count many more tedious Hours than you imagine.
Yo. Lar. Ha! What means my Love?
Isa. I would not have your Wishes too impatient, that's all; but if you will wait a Week, you shall know whether I intend to marry you or not.
Yo. Lar. And is this possible? Can Words like these fall from Isabel's sweet Lips; can she be false, inconstant, perjured?
Isa. Oh! do not discharge such a Volley of terrible Names upon me before you are certain I deserve them; doubt only whether I can be obedient to my Confessor, and guess the rest.
Yo. Lar. Can he have enjoined you to be perjured, by Heaven it would be sinful to obey him.