L. _Gal_. What Heart can bear distrust from what it loves? Or who can always her own Wish deny? [_Aside_. My Reason’s weary of the unequal Strife; And Love and Nature will at last o’ercome. --Do you not then believe I love you? [_To him in a soft Tone_. _Wild_. How can I, while you still remain unkind? L. _Gal_. How shall I speak my guilty Thoughts? I have not Power to part with you; conceal my Shame, I doubt I cannot, I fear I wou’d not any more deny you. _Wild_. Oh heavenly Sound! Oh charming Creature! Speak that word again, agen, agen! for ever let me hear it. L. _Gal_. But did you not indeed? and will you never, never love Mrs. _Charlot_, never? _Wild_. Never, never. _L, Gal_. Turn your Face away, and give me leave To hide my rising Blushes: I cannot look on you. [_As this last Speech is speaking, she sinks into his Arms by degrees_. But you must undo me if you will-- Since I no other way my Truth can prove, --You shall see I love. Pity my Weakness, and admire my Love. _Wild_. All Heaven is mine, I have it in my Arms, Nor can ill Fortune reach me any more. Fate, I defy thee, and dull World, adieu. In Love’s kind Fever let me ever lie, Drunk with Desire, and raving mad with Joy. [_Exeunt into the Bed-chamber_, Wild. _leading her with his Arms about her_. SCENE II. _Changes_. _Another Room in Lady_ Galliard’s _House_. Enter Sir_ Charles Meriwill _and Sir_ Anthony, _Sir_ Charles _drunk_. Sir _Anth_. A Dog, a Rogue, to leave her! Sir _Char_. Why, look ye, Uncle, what wou’d you have a Man do? I brought her to her Coach-- Sir _Anth_. To her Coach! to her Coach! Did not I put her into your Hand, follow’d you out, wink’d, smil’d and nodded; cry’d ‘bye _Charles_, ‘bye Rogue; which was as much as to say, Go home with her, _Charles_, home to her Chamber, _Charles_; nay, as much as to say, Home to her Bed, _Charles_; nay, as much as to say--Hum, hum, a Rogue, a Dog, and yet to be modest too! That I shou’d bring thee up with no more Fear of God before thy Eyes! Sir _Char_. Nay, dear Uncle, don’t break my Heart now! Why, I did proffer, and press, and swear, and ly’d, and--but a pox on her, she has the damn’dst wheedling way with her, as dear _Charles_, nay prithee, fie, ’.is late, to morrow, my Honour, which if you lov’d you wou’d preserve; and such obliging Reasons. Sir _Anth_. Reasons! Reason! a Lover, and talk of Reason! You lye, Sirrah, you lye. Leave a Woman for Reason, when you were so finely drunk too, a Rascal! Sir _Char_. Why look ye, d’ye see, Uncle, I durst not trust my self alone with her in this pickle, lest I shou’d ha’ fallen foul on her. Sir _Anth_. Why, there’s it; ‘tis that you shou’d have done; I am mistaken if she be not one of those Ladies that love to be ravisht of a Kindness. Why, your willing Rape is all the Fashion, _Charles_. Sir _Char_. But hark ye, Uncle. Sir _Anth_. Why, how now, Jack-sauce, what, capitulate?