_Jane S._ Cast round your eyes Upon the high-born beauties of the court; Behold, like opening roses, where they bloom, Sweet to the sense, unsully'd all, and spotless; There choose some worthy partner of your heart, To fill your arms and bless your virtuous bed; Nor turn your eyes this way. _Lord H._ What means this peevish, this fantastic, change? Where is thy wonted pleasantness of face, Thy wonted graces, and thy dimpled smiles? Where hast thou lost thy wit and sportive mirth? That cheerful heart, which us'd to dance for ever, And cast a ray of gladness all around thee? _Jane S._ Yes, I will own I merit the reproach; And for those foolish days of wanton pride, My soul is justly humbled to the dust: All tongues, like yours, are licens'd to upbraid me, Still to repeat my guilt; and urge my infamy, And treat me like that abject thing I have been. _Lord H._ No more of this dull stuff. 'Tis time enough To whine and mortify thyself with penance, The present moment claims more gen'rous use; Thy beauty, night, and solitude, reproach me, For having talk'd thus long--come, let me press thee, [_laying hold of her._ Pant on thy bosom, sink into thy arms, And lose myself in the luxurious flood. _Jane S._ Forbear, my lord!--here let me rather die, [_kneeling._ And end my sorrows and my shame for ever. _Lord H._ Away with this perverseness----'tis too much. Nay, if you strive--'tis monstrous affectation! [_striving._ _Jane S._ Retire! I beg you, leave me---- _Lord H._ Thus to coy it!---- With one who knows you too.---- _Jane S._ For mercy's sake---- _Lord H._ Ungrateful woman! Is it thus you pay My services?---- _Jane S._ Abandon me to ruin---- Rather than urge me---- _Lord H._ This way to your chamber; [_pulling her._ There if you struggle---- _Jane S._ Help, O gracious heaven! Help! Save me! Help! [_exit._ _Enter Dumont; he interposes._ _Dum._ My lord! for honour's sake---- _Lord H._ Hah! What art thou?--Be gone! _Dum._ My duty calls me To my attendance on my mistress here. _Lord H._ Avaunt! base groom---- At distance wait, and know thy office better. _Dum._ No, my lord---- The common ties of manhood call me now, And bid me thus stand up in the defence Of an oppress'd, unhappy, helpless, woman. _Lord H._ And dost thou know me, slave? _Dum._ Yes, thou proud lord! I know thee well; know thee with each advantage Which wealth, or pow'r, or noble birth, can give thee. I know thee too for one who stains those honours, And blots a long illustrious line of ancestry, By poorly daring thus to wrong a woman. _Lord H._ 'Tis wondrous well! I see, my saint-like dame, You stand provided of your braves and ruffians, To man your cause, and bluster in your brothel.