Man. Whist!
Fid. 'Tis a strange revenge, indeed.
Man. If you make me stay, I shall keep my word, and begin with you. No more. [Exit at the same door Olivia went out by.
Fid.
O Heavens! is there not punishment enough
In loving well, if you will have't a crime,
But you must add fresh torments daily to't,
And punish us like peevish rivals still,
Because we fain would find a heaven here?
But did there never any love like me,
That untried tortures you must find me out?
Others at worst, you force to kill themselves;
But I must be self-murdress of my love,
Yet will not grant me power to end my life,
My cruel life; for when a lover's hopes
Are dead and gone, life is unmerciful.
[Sits down and weeps.
Re-enter Manly.
Man. I have thought better on't: I must not discover myself now I am without witnesses; for if I barely should publish it, she would deny it with as much impudence, as she would act it again with this young fellow here.—Where are you?
Fid. Here—oh—now I suppose we may be gone.
Man. I will; but not you. You must stay and act the second part of a lover, that is, talk kindness to her.