_Oliv._ I shall betray my Sex in my denial, and that at last I can but do if Necessity compel me to’t. [Aside. Go on, Sir, you have shamed me. [Exeunt. Enter _Prince_ and _George_. _Prince._ And thus thou hast my whole Adventure out, short was the Conquest, but the Joys are lasting. _Geo._ I am glad on’t, Sir. _Prince._ Why dost wear a Cloud upon thy brows, when Love’s gay Sunshine dances in my Eyes? If thou’rt her Lover too, I pity thee; her solemn Vows breath’d in the height of Love, disarm me of thy hopes, if Friendship wou’d permit thee. _Geo._ I do not think it, Sir-- _Prince._ Not think it, not think that she has sworn! _Geo._ Yes, doubtless, Sir--she’s prodigal of Vows, and I dare swear, by all she’s sworn by, she’ll break ‘em all: She has less Faith than all the fickle Sex, uncertain and more wanton than the Winds, that spare no Births of Nature in their wild course, from the tall Cedar to the Flowers beneath, but ruffle, ravish, and ruin all. _Prince._ I speak of my _Mirtilla_. _Geo._ Why, so do I--of yours, of mine, or any Man’s _Mirtilla._ _Prince._ Away, she that with force of Love can sigh and weep-- _Geo._ This very she, has all the while dissembled! Such Love she deals to every gaudy Coxcomb, how will she practice then upon a Hero? _Prince._ Away, it cannot be. _Geo._ By all your Friendship to me, Sir, ‘tis truth. _Prince._ Racks and Tortures!--let her have made of me a mere Example, by whom the cozen’d World might have grown wise: No matter, then I had been pleas’d, though cullyed--Why hast thou ruined my Repose with Truths that carry more Damnation than a Lye? But Oh--thou art my Friend, and I forgive thee. _Geo._ Sir, I have done, and humbly ask your Pardon. [Offers to go. _Prince._ Stay, stay, _Lejere_,--if she be false, thou’rt all the World has left me; and I believe--but canst thou prove this to me? _Geo._ Perhaps I may before the Morning’s dawn. _Prince._ Ha, prove it here--here, in this very House! _Geo._ Ay, here, Sir. _Prince._ What, in my Lodgings will she receive her Spark--by Heaven, were he the darling Son of a Monarch, an Empire’s Hope, and Joy of all the Fair, he shou’d not live to rifle me of Peace.--Come, shew me this destin’d Victim to my Rage. _Geo._ No, my Revenge is only comical--If you wou’d see how Woman can dissemble, come on, and follow me. _Prince._ What, disturb her Rest! Didst thou not see her fainting with the Fatigues this Night had given her, and begg’d me I would leave her to Repose? _Geo._ Yes, and wonder’d at her Art; and when you begg’d to watch by her Bed-side, with what dear Promises she put you off; while every word fell feebly from her Tongue, as if’t had been her last, so very sick she was--till you were gone--Hark--a Door opens--I will obscure the Lights. [Puts away the Lights. Enter _Olivia._ They retire a little.