San. ——Run you through the guts.
Car. But he's too calm, his heart's too much at ease, to leave me mine at rest.
San. But, Sir, you forget that there are two ways for our hearts to get at ease; when our mistresses come to be very fond of us, or we—not to care a fig for them. Now suppose upon the rebukes you know he has had, it shou'd chance to be the latter.
Car. Again thy ignorance appears; alas, a lover who has broke his chain, will shun the tyrant that enslaved him. Indifference never is his lot; he loves or hates for ever; and if his mistress proves another's prize, he cannot calmly see her in his arms.
San. For my part, Master, I am not so great a philosopher as you be, nor (thank my stars) so bitter a lover, but what I see——that I generally believe; and when Jacinta tells me she loves me dearly, I have good thoughts enough of my person never to doubt the truth on't. See here the baggage comes.
Enter Jacinta with a letter.
Hist! Jacinta! my dear.
Jacin. Who's that? Blunderbuss! Where's your Master?
San. Hard by.