Lach. My Pamphilus, I can not be displeas’d
That you prefer to all the world a parent.
But take heed your resentment don’t transport you
Beyond the bounds of reason, Pamphilus.
Pam. Ah, what resentment can I bear to her,
Who ne’er did any thing I’d wish undone,
But has so often deserv’d well of me?
I love her, own her worth, and languish for her;
For I have known her tenderness of soul:
And Heaven grant that with some other husband