_Aim._ Consider! Do you doubt my honour, or my love? _Dor._ Neither--I do believe you equally just as brave; and were your whole sex drawn out for me to chuse, I should not cast a look upon the multitude, if you were absent.--But, my lord, I'm a woman; colours, concealments, may hide a thousand faults in me--therefore, know me better first; I hardly dare affirm, I know myself in any thing, except my love. _Aim._ Such goodness who could injure! I find myself unequal to the task of villain; she has gained my soul, and made it honest like her own--I cannot hurt her. [_Aside._] Doctor, retire. [_Exit_ FOIGARD.] Madam, behold your lover, and your proselyte, and judge of my passion by my conversion.--I'm all a lie, nor dare I give a fiction to your arms;--I am all a counterfeit, except my passion. _Dor._ Forbid it, Heaven!--A counterfeit! _Aim._ I am no lord, but a poor, needy man, come with a mean, a scandalous design, to prey upon your fortune:--But the beauties of your mind and person, have so won me from myself, that, like a trusty servant, I prefer the interest of my mistress to my own. _Dor._ Pray, sir, who are you? _Aim._ Brother to the man, whose title I usurped, but stranger to his honour or his fortune. _Dor._ Matchless honesty!--Once I was proud, sir, of your wealth and title, but now am prouder that you want it: now I can show, that my love was justly levelled, and had no aim but love.--Doctor, come in. _Enter_ FOIGARD, _at one Door_, GIPSEY _at another, who whispers_ DORINDA. Your pardon, sir; we shan't want you now, sir. You must excuse me--I'll wait on you presently. [_Exit with_ GIPSEY. _Foig._ Upon my shoul, now, dis is foolish. [_Exit._ _Aim._ Gone! and bid the priest depart--It has an ominous look! _Enter_ ARCHER. _Arch._ Courage, Tom----Shall I wish you joy? _Aim._ No. _Arch._ Oons, man! what ha' you been doing? _Aim._ O Archer, my honesty, I fear, has ruined me. _Arch._ How! _Aim._ I have discovered myself. _Arch._ Discovered! and without my consent?--What! have I embarked my small remains in the same bottom with yours, and you dispose of all without my partnership? _Aim._ O, Archer, I own my fault. _Arch._ After conviction--'tis then too late for pardon.--You may remember, Mr. Aimwell, that you proposed this folly--As you begun, so end it--Henceforth, I'll hunt my fortune single--so farewell. _Aim._ Stay, my dear Archer, but a minute. _Arch._ Stay! What, to be despised, exposed, and laughed at?--No, I would sooner change conditions with the worst of the rogues we just now bound, than bear one scornful smile from the proud knight, that once I treated as my equal. _Aim._ What knight? _Arch._ Sir Charles Freeman, brother to the lady that I had almost----But, no matter for that, 'tis a cursed night's work, and so I leave you to make the best on't. _Aim._ Freeman!--One word, Archer--Still I have hopes; methought, she received my confession with pleasure. _Arch._ 'Sdeath! who doubts it?