Oron. But I have sworn to die Euphronia's Slave.
Esop. A decay'd Face always absolves a Lover's Oath.
Oron. Lovers whose Oaths are made to Faces, then; But 'tis Euphronia's Soul that I adore, which never can decay.
Esop. I wou'd fain see a young Fellow in love with a Soul of Threescore.
Oron. Quit but Euphronia to me, and you shall;
At least if Heaven's Bounty will afford us
But Years, enow to prove my Constancy,
And this is all I ask the Gods and you.
[Exit Oron.
Esop solus.
A good Pretence, however, to beg long Life. How grosly do the Inclinations of the Flesh impose upon the Simplicity of the Spirit! Had this young Fellow but study'd Anatomy, he'd have found the Source of his Passion lay far from his Mistress's Soul. Alas! alas! Had Women no more Charms in their Bodies, than what they have in their Minds, we should see more wise Men in the World, and much fewer Lovers and Poets.
[Exit.