Will. Prithee on what Acquaintance? for I know thee not. Ang. Behold this Face!—so lost to thy Remembrance! And then call all thy Sins about thy Soul, And let them die with thee. [Pulls off her Vizard. Will. _Angelica!_ Ang. Yes, Traitor. Does not thy guilty Blood run shivering thro thy Veins? 94 Hast thou no Horrour at this Sight, that tells thee, Thou hast not long to boast thy shameful Conquest? Will. Faith, no Child, my Blood keeps its old Ebbs and Flows still, and that usual Heat too, that cou’d oblige thee with a Kindness, had I but opportunity. Ang. Devil! dost wanton with my Pain—have at thy Heart. Will. Hold, dear Virago! hold thy Hand a little, I am not now at leisure to be kill’d—hold and hear me—Death, I think she’s in earnest. [Aside. Ang. Oh if I take not heed, My coward Heart will leave me to his Mercy. [Aside, turning from him. —What have you, Sir, to say?—but should I hear thee, Thoud’st talk away all that is brave about me: [Follows him with the Pistol to his Breast. And I have vow’d thy Death, by all that’s sacred. Will. Why, then there’s an end of a proper handsom Fellow, that might have liv’d to have done good Service yet:—That’s all I can say to’t. Ang. Yet—I wou’d give thee—time for Penitence. [Pausingly. Will. Faith, Child, I thank God, I have ever took care to lead a good, sober, hopeful Life, and am of a Religion that teaches me to believe, I shall depart in Peace. Ang. So will the Devil: tell me How many poor believing Fools thou hast undone; How many Hearts thou hast betray’d to ruin! — Yet these are little Mischiefs to the Ills Thou’st taught mine to commit: thou’st taught it Love. Will. Egad, ’twas shreudly hurt the while. Ang. —Love, that has robb’d it of its Unconcern, Of all that Pride that taught me how to value it, And in its room a mean submissive Passion was convey’d, That made me humbly bow, which I ne’er did To any thing but Heaven. 95 —Thou, perjur’d Man, didst this, and with thy Oaths, Which on thy Knees thou didst devoutly make, Soften’d my yielding Heart—And then, I was a Slave— Yet still had been content to’ve worn my Chains, Worn ’em with Vanity and Joy for ever, Hadst thou not broke those Vows that put them on. —’Twas then I was undone. [All this while follows him with a Pistol to his Breast. Will. Broke my Vows! why, where hast thou lived? Amongst the Gods! For I never heard of mortal Man, That has not broke a thousand Vows. Ang. Oh, Impudence! Will. _Angelica!_ that Beauty has been too long tempting, Not to have made a thousand Lovers languish, Who in the amorous Favour, no doubt have sworn Like me; did they all die in that Faith? still adoring? I do not think they did. Ang. No, faithless Man: had I repaid their Vows, as I did thine, I wou’d have kill’d the ungrateful that had abandon’d me.