Mon. I fear he'll kill me.
Mon. Indeed I do; he's strangely cruel to me;
Which, if it lasts, I'm sure must break my heart.
Cham. What has he done?
Mon. Most barbarously used me:
Nothing so kind as he, when in my arms,
In thousand kisses, tender sighs and joys,
Not to be thought again, the night was wasted.
At dawn of day, he rose, and left his conquest;
But when we met, and I with open arms
Ran to embrace the lord of all my wishes,
Oh, then—
Cham. Go on!
Mon. He threw me from his breast,
Like a detested sin.
Cham. How!
Mon. As I hung too
Upon his knees, and begged to know the cause,
He dragged me like a slave upon the earth,
And had no pity on my cries.
Cham. How! did he
Dash thee disdainfully away with scorn?