Isab. I find I must be troubled with this idle talk some minutes more, but 'tis your last.
Har. Jun. And therefore I'll improve it: Pray, resolve to make me happy by your free consent. I do not love these half enjoyments, to enervate my delights with using force, and neither give myself nor you that full content, which two can never have, but where both join with equal eagerness to bless each other.
Isab. Bless me, ye kind inhabitants of heaven, from hearing words like these!
Har. Jun. You must do more than hear them. You know you were now going to your bridal-bed. Call your own thoughts but to a strict account, they'll tell you, all this day your fancy ran on nothing else; 'tis but the same scene still you were to act; only the person changed,—it may be for the better.
Isab. You dare not, sure, attempt this villany.
Har. Jun. Call not the act of love by that gross name; you'll give it a much better when 'tis done, and woo me to a second.
Isab. Dost thou not fear a heaven?
Har. Jun. No, I hope one in you. Do it, and do it heartily; time is precious; it will prepare you better for your husband. Come—
[Lays hold on her.
Isab. O mercy, mercy! Oh, pity your own soul, and pity mine; think how you'll wish undone this horrid act, when your hot lust is slaked; think what will follow when my husband knows it, if shame will let me live to tell it him; and tremble at a Power above, who sees, and surely will revenge it.
Har. Jun. I have thought!