Frank. I have, sir; and however I could wish
To enjoy the benefit of single freedom,—
For that I find no disposition in me
To undergo the burthen of that care
That marriage brings with it,—yet, to secure
And settle the continuance of your credit,
I humbly yield to be directed by you
In all commands.
O. Thor. You have already used
Such thriving protestations to the maid
That she is wholly yours; and—speak the truth—
You love her, do you not?
Frank. ’Twere pity, sir,
I should deceive her.
O. Thor. Better you’d been unborn.
But is your love so steady that you mean,
Nay, more, desire, to make her your wife?
Frank. Else, sir,
It were a wrong not to be righted.
O. Thor. True,
It were: and you will marry her?
Frank. Heaven prosper it,
I do intend it.
O. Thor. O, thou art a villain!
A devil like a man! Wherein have I
Offended all the powers so much, to be
Father to such a graceless, godless son?
Frank. To me, sir, this! O, my cleft heart!