Wor. Endeavours we may use, but Flesh and Blood are got in t'other Scale; and they are pond'rous things.
Aman. Whate'er they are, there is a Weight in Resolution sufficient for their Balance. The Soul, I do confess, is usually so careless of its Charge, so soft, and so indulgent to Desire, it leaves the Reins in the wild Hand of Nature, who, like a Phaeton, drives the fiery Chariot, and sets the World on Flame. Yet still the Sovereignty is in the Mind, whene'er it pleases to exert its Force. Perhaps you may not think it worth your while to take such mighty pains for my Esteem; but that I leave to you.
You see the Price I set upon my Heart; }
Perhaps 'tis dear: But spite of all your Art, }
You'll find on cheaper Terms we ne'er shall part. }
[Exit Amanda.
Worthy solus.
Sure there's Divinity about her; and she'as dispens'd some portion on't to me. For what but now was the wild Flame of Love, or (to dissect that specious Term) the vile, the gross Desires of Flesh and Blood, is in a Moment turn'd to Adoration. The coarser Appetite of Nature's gone, and 'tis, methinks, the Food of Angels I require: how long this Influence may last, Heaven knows. But in this Moment of my Purity, I cou'd on her own Terms accept her Heart. Yes, lovely Woman, I can accept it. For now 'tis doubly worth my Care. Your Charms are much increas'd, since thus adorn'd. When Truth's extorted from us, then we own the Robe of Virtue is a graceful Habit.
Cou'd Women but our secret Counsels scan,
Cou'd they but reach the deep Reserves of Man,
They'd wear it on, that That of Love might last;
For when they throw off one, we soon the other cast.
Their Sympathy is such——
The Fate of one, the other scarce can fly—
They live together, and together die.
[Exit.
Enter Miss and Nurse.