[Footnote: An imitation from Horace, book iii., ode ix., vers. 17 and 18. Quid? si prisca redet Venus Diductosque jugo cogit aheneo?]
LUC. No, no; do no such thing; my weakness is too great. I am afraid I might too quickly grant your request.
ERAS. Oh! you cannot grant it, nor I ask for it, too soon, after what I have just heard. Consent to love me still, madam; so pure a flame ought to burn for ever, for your own sake. I ask for it, pray grant me this kind pardon.
LUC. Lead me home.
SCENE IV.—MARINETTE, GROS-RENÉ.
MAR. Oh! cowardly creature,
GR.-RE. Oh! weak courage.
MAR. I blush with indignation.
GR.-RE. I am swelling with rage; do not imagine I will yield thus.
MAR. And do not think to find such a dupe in me.