on him with Admiration; that I had look'd with eager Eyes upon him;
shou'd you not think 'twere possible I might go one Step further, and
enquire his Name?
_Lov._ [_Aside._] She has Reason on her side, I have talk'd too much;
but I must turn it off another way. [_To Aman._] Will you then make no
difference, _Amanda_, between the Language of our Sex and yours? There
is a Modesty restrains your Tongues, which makes you speak by halves
when you commend; but roving Flattery gives a loose to ours, which
makes us still speak double what we think: You shou'd not therefore, in
so strict a Sense, take what I said to her Advantage.
_Aman._ Those Flights of Flattery, Sir, are to our Faces only: When
Women once are out of hearing, you are as modest in your Commendations
as we are. But I shan't put you to the trouble of farther Excuses; if
you please, this Business shall rest here. Only give me leave to wish,
both for your Peace and mine, that you may never meet this Miracle of
Beauty more.
_Lov._ I am content.
_Enter Servant._
_Serv._ Madam, there's a young Lady at the door in a Chair, desires
to know whether your Ladyship sees Company. I think her Name is
_Berinthia_.
_Aman._ O dear! 'tis a Relation I have not seen this five Years. Pray
her to walk in.
[_Exit Servant._
_To Lov._] Here's another Beauty for you. She was young when I saw her
last; but I hear she's grown extremely handsome.
_Lov._ Don't you be jealous now, for I shall gaze upon her too.
_Enter ~Berinthia~._
_Lov._ [_Aside._] Ha! By Heavens, the very Woman!
_Ber._ [_Saluting Aman._] Dear _Amanda_, I did not expect to meet with
you in Town.
_Aman._ Sweet Cousin, I'm overjoy'd to see you. [_To Lov._] Mr.
_Loveless_, here's a Relation and a Friend of mine, I desire you'll be
better acquainted with.
_Lov._ [_Saluting Ber._] If my Wife never desires a harder thing,
Madam, her Request will be easily granted.
_Ber._ [_To Aman._] I think, Madam, I ought to wish you Joy.
_Aman._ Joy! Upon what?
_Ber._ Upon your Marriage: You were a Widow when I saw you last.
_Lov._ You ought rather, Madam, to wish me Joy upon that, since I am
the only Gainer.
_Ber._ If she has got so good a Husband as the World reports, she has
gain'd enough to expect the Compliment of her Friends upon it.
_Lov._ If the World is so favourable to me, to allow I deserve that
Title, I hope 'tis so just to my Wife, to own I derive it from her.
_Ber._ Sir, it is so just to you both, to own you are, and deserve to
be, the happiest Pair that live in it.
_Lov._ I'm afraid we shall lose that Character, Madam, whenever you
happen to change your Condition.
_Enter Servant._
_Ser._ Sir, my Lord _Foppington_ presents his humble Service to you,
and desires to know how you do. He but just now heard you were in Town.
He's at the next Door; and if it be not inconvenient, he'll come and
wait upon you.
_Lov._ Lord _Foppington_!--I know him not.
_Ber._ Not his Dignity, perhaps, but you do his Person. 'Tis Sir
_Novelty_; he has bought a Barony, in order to marry a great Fortune:
His Patent has not been pass'd above eight-and-forty-Hours, and he has
already sent How do-ye's to all the Town, to make 'em acquainted with
his Title.
_Lov._ Give my Service to his Lordship, and let him know, I am proud of
the Honour he intends me.
[_Ex._.
_Ser._ Sure this Addition of Quality must have so improv'd this
Coxcomb, he can't but be very good Company for a quarter of an Hour.
_Aman._ Now it moves my Pity more than my Mirth, to see a Man whom
Nature has made no Fool, be so very industrious to pass for an Ass.
_Lov._ No, there you are wrong, _Amanda_; you shou'd never bestow your
Pity upon those who take pains for your Contempt; Pity those whom
Nature abuses, but never those who abuse Nature.
_Ber._ Besides, the Town wou'd be robb'd of one of its chiefest
Diversions, if it shou'd become a Crime to laugh at a Fool.
_Aman._ I could never yet perceive the Town inclin'd to part with any
of its Diversions, for the sake of their being Crimes; but I have seen
it very fond of some, I think, had little else to recommend 'em.
_Ber._ I doubt, _Amanda_, you are grown its Enemy, you speak with so
much warmth against it.
_Aman._ I must confess I am not much its Friend.
_Ber._ Then give me leave to make you mine, by not engaging in its
Quarrel.
_Aman._ You have many stronger Claims than that, _Berinthia_, whenever
you think fit to plead your Title.
_Lov._ You have done well to engage a Second, my Dear; for here comes
one will be apt to call you to an Account for your Country Principles.
_Enter Lord_ Foppington.
_Lord Fop._ [_To Lov._] Sir, I am your most humble Servant.
_Lav._ I wish you Joy, my Lord.
_Lord Fop._ O Laird, Sir----Madam, your Ladyship's welcome to Tawn.
_Aman._ I wish your Lordship Joy.
_Lord Fop._ O Heavens, Madam----
_Lov._ My Lord, this young Lady is a Relation of my Wife's.
_Lord Fop._ [_Saluting her._] The beautifullest Race of People upon
Earth, Rat me. Dear _Loveless_, I am overjoy'd to see you have brought
your Family to Tawn again: I am, stap my Vitals--[_Aside._] For I
design to lie with your Wife. [_To Aman._] Far Gad's sake, Madam, haw
has your Ladyship been able to subsist thus long, under the Fatigue of
a Country Life?
_Aman._ My life has been very far from that, my Lord, it has been a
very quiet one.
_Lord Fop._ Why that's the Fatigue I speak of, Madam: For 'tis
impossible to be quiet, without thinking: Now thinking is to me the
greatest Fatigue in the World.
_Aman._ Does not your Lordship love reading then?
_Lord Fop._ Oh, passionately, Madam----But I never think of what I read.
_Ber._ Why, can your Lordship read without thinking?
_Lord Fop._ O Lard----Can your Ladyship pray without Devotion----Madam?
_Aman._ Well, I must own I think Books the best Entertainment in the
World.
_Lord Fop._ I am so much of your Ladyship's Mind, Madam, that I have a
private Gallery, where I walk sometimes, is furnished with nothing but
Books and Looking-glasses. Madam, I have gilded them, and rang'd 'em,
so prettily, before Gad, it is the most entertaining thing in the World
to walk and look upon 'em.
_Aman._ Nay, I love a neat Library too; but 'tis, I think, the inside
of a Book shou'd recommend it most to us.
_Lord Fop._ That, I must confess, I am not altogether so fand of. Far
to my mind the Inside of a Book, is to entertain one's self with the
forc'd Product of another Man's Brain. Naw I think a Man of Quality
and Breeding may be much diverted with the natural Sprauts of his own.
But to say the truth, Madam, let a Man love reading never so well,
when once he comes to know this Tawn, he finds so many better ways of
passing away the Four-and-twenty Hours, that 'twere ten thousand Pities
he shou'd consume his time in that. Far example, Madam, my Life; my
Life, Madam, is a perpetual Stream of Pleasure, that glides thro' such
a Variety of Entertainments, I believe the wisest of our Ancestors
never had the least Conception of any of 'em.
I rise, Madam, about ten o'clock. I don't rise sooner, because 'tis the
worst thing in the World for the Complection; nat that I pretend to be
a Beau; but a Man must endeavour to look wholesome, lest he make to
nauseous a Figure in the Side-bax, the Ladies shou'd be compell'd to
turn their eyes upon the Play. So at Ten o'clock, I say, I rise. Naw,
if I find it a good Day, I resalve to take a Turn in the Park, and see
the fine Women; so huddle on my Clothes, and get dress'd by One. If it
be nasty Weather, I take a Turn in the Chocolate-house; where, as you
walk, Madam, you have the prettiest Prospect in the World; you have
Looking-glasses all round you----But I'm afraid I tire the Company.
_Ber._ Not at all. Pray go on.
_Lord Fop._ Why then, Ladies, from thence I go to Dinner at _Lacket_'s,
and there you are so nicely and delicately serv'd, that, stap my
Vitals, they can compose you a Dish, no bigger than a Saucer, shall
come to fifty Shillings; between eating my Dinner, and washing my
Mouth, Ladies, I spend my time, till I go to the Play; where, till Nine
o'clock, I entertain myself with looking upon the Company; and usually
dispose of one Hour more in leading them aut. So there's Twelve of the
Four-and-Twenty pretty well over. The other Twelve, Madam, are disposed
of in two Articles: In the first Four I toast myself drunk, and in
t'other Eight I sleep myself sober again. Thus, Ladies, you see my Life
is an eternal raund O of Delights.
_Lov._ 'Tis a heavenly one, indeed!
_Aman._ But, my Lord, you _Beaux_ spend a great deal of your Time in
Intrigues: You have given us no Account of them yet.
_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] Soh, she wou'd enquire into my Amours----That's
Jealousy----She begins to be in love with me. [_To Aman._] Why,
Madam----as to time for my Intrigues, I usually make Detachments of it
from my other Pleasures, according to the Exigency. Far your Ladyship
may please to take notice, that those who intrigue with Women of
Quality, have rarely occasion for above half an Hour at a time: People
of that Rank being under those Decorums, they can seldom give you a
larger View, than will justly serve to shoot 'em flying. So that the
Course of my other Pleasures is not very much interrupted by my Amours.
_Lov._ But your Lordship now is become a Pillar of the State; you must
attend the weighty Affairs of the Nation.
_Lord Fop._ Sir----as to weighty Affairs----I leave them to weighty
Heads. I never intend mine shall be a Burden to my Body.
_Lov._ O, but you'll find the House will expect your Attendance.
_Lord Fop._ Sir, you'll find the House will compound for my Appearance.
_Lov._ But your Friends will take it ill if you don't attend their
particular Causes.
_Lord Fop._ Not, Sir, if I come time enough to give 'em my particular
Vote.
_Ber._ But pray, my Lord, how do you dispose of yourself on _Sundays_?
for that, methinks, shou'd hang wretchedly on your hands.
_Lord Fop._ Why, faith, Madam----_Sunday_----is a vile day, I must
confess; I intend to move for leave to bring in a Bill, That Players
may work upon it, as well as the Hackney Coaches. Tho' this I must say
for the Government, it leaves us the Churches to entertain us----But
then again, they begin so abominable early, a Man must rise by
Candle-light to get dress'd by the Psalm.
_Ber._ Pray which Church does your Lordship most oblige with your
Presence?
_Lord Fop._ Oh, St. _James_'s, Madam----There's much the best Company.
_Aman._ Is there good Preaching too?
_Lord Fop._ Why, faith, Madam----I can't tell. A Man must have very
little to do there, that can give an Account of the Sermon.
_Ber._ You can give us an Account of the Ladies, at least.
_Lord Fop._ Or I deserve to be excommunicated--There is my Lady
_Tattle_, my Lady _Prate_, my Lady _Titter_, my Lady _Lear_, my Lady
_Giggle_, and my Lady _Grin_. These fit in the Front of the Boxes, and
all Church-time are the prettiest Company in the World, stap my Vitals.
[_To Aman._] Mayn't we hope for the Honour to see your Ladyship added
to our Society, Madam?
_Aman._ Alas, my Lord, I am the worst Company in the World at Church:
I'm apt to mind the Prayers, or the Sermon, or----
_Lord Fop._ One is indeed strangely apt at Church to mind what one
should not do. But I hope, Madam, at one time or other, I shall have
the Honour to lead your Ladyship to your Coach there. [_Aside._]
Methinks she seems strangely pleas'd with every thing I say to
her--'Tis a vast pleasure to receive Encouragement from a Woman before
her Husband's Face----I have a good mind to pursue my Conquest, and
speak the thing plainly to her at once--I'gad, I'll do't, and that in
so Cavalier a manner, she shall be surpriz'd at it--Ladies, I'll take
my Leave: I'am afraid I begin to grow troublesome with the length of my
Visit.
_Aman._ Your Lordship is too entertaining to grow troublesome any where.
_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] That now was as much as if she had said----Pray
lie with me. I'll let her see I'm quick of Apprehension. [_To Aman._] O
Lard, Madam, I had like to have forgot a Secret, I must needs tell your
Ladyship. [_To Lov._] Ned, you must not be so jealous now as to listen.
_Lov._ Not I, my Lord; I'm too fashionable a Husband to pry into the
Secrets of my Wife.
_Lord Fop._ [_To Aman. squeezing her Hand._] I am in love with you to
Desperation, strike me speechless.
_Aman._ [_Giving him a Box o' th' Ear._] Then thus I return your
Passion----An impudent Fool!
_Lord Fop._ Gad's Curse, Madam, I'm a Peer of the Realm.
_Lov._ Hey; what the Devil, do you affront my Wife, Sir? Nay then--
[_They draw and fight. The Women run shrieking for Help._
_Aman._ Ah! What has my Folly done? Help! Murder, help! Part 'em, for
Heaven's sake.
_Lord Fop._ [_Falling back, and leaning upon his Sword._] Ah----quite
thro' the Body----Stap my Vitals.
_Enter Servants._
_Lov._ [_Running to him._] I hope I han't kill'd the Fool,
however----Bear him up! Where's your Wound?
_Lord Fop._ Just thro' the Guts.
_Lov._ Call a Surgeon there: Unbutton him quickly.
_Lord Fop._ Ay, pray make haste.
_Lov._ This Mischief you may thank yourself for.
_Lord Fop._ I may so--Love's the Devil indeed, _Ned_.
_Enter ~Syringe~ and Servant._
_Serv._ Here's Mr. _Syringe_, Sir, was just going by the Door.
_Lord Fop._ He's the welcomest Man alive.
_Syr._ Stand by, stand by, stand by. Pray, Gentlemen, stand by. Lord
have mercy upon us! Did you never see a Man run thro' the Body before?
Pray stand by.
_Lord Fop._ Ah, Mr. _Syringe_.----I'm a dead Man.
_Syr._ A dead Man, and I by----I shou'd laugh to see that, I'gad.
_Lov._ Pr'ythee don't stand prating, but look upon his Wound.
_Syr._ Why, what if I won't look upon his Wound this Hour, Sir?
_Lov._ Why then he'll bleed to Death, Sir.
_Syr._ Why, then I'll fetch him to life again, Sir.
_Lov._ 'Slife, he's run thro' the Guts, I tell thee.
_Syr._ Wou'd he were run thro' the Heart, I shou'd get the more Credit
by his Cure. Now I hope you are satisfy'd?----Come, now let me come at
him; now let me come at him. [_Viewing his Wound._] Oons, what a Gash
is here!--Why, Sir, a Man may drive a Coach and Six Horses into your
Body.
_Lord Fop._ Ho----
_Syr._ Why, what the Devil, have you run the Gentleman thro' with a
Scythe?----[_Aside._] A little Prick between the Skin and the Ribs,
that's all.
_Lov._ Let me see his Wound.
_Syr._ Then you shall dress it, Sir; for if any body looks upon it, I
won't.
_Lov._ Why, thou art the veriest Coxcomb I ever saw.
_Syr._ Sir, I am not Matter of my Trade for nothing.
_Lord Fop._ Surgeon!
_Syr._ Well, Sir.
_Lord Fop._ Is there any Hopes?
_Syr._ Hopes!----I can't tell----What are you willing to give for your
Cure?
_Lord Fop._ Five hundred Paunds with Pleasure.
_Syr._ Why then perhaps there may be Hopes. But we must avoid further
Delay. Here, help the Gentleman into a Chair, and carry him to my House
presently, that's the properest place [_Aside._] to bubble him out of
his Money. Come, a Chair, a Chair quickly--There, in with him.
[_They put him into a Chair._
_Lord Fop._ Dear _Loveless_----Adieu. If I die----I forgive thee; and
if I live----I hope thou wilt do as much by me. I am very sorry you
and I shou'd quarrel; but I hope here's an end on't, for if you are
satisfy'd----I am.
_Lov._ I shall hardly think it worth my prosecuting any farther, so you
may be at rest, Sir.
_Lord Fop._ Thou art a generous Fellow, strike me dumb. [_Aside._] But
thou hast an impertinent Wife, stap my Vitals.
_Syr._ So, carry him off, carry him off, we shall have him prate
himself into a Fever by and by; carry him off.
[_Ex. ~Serv.~ with ~L. Fop~._
_Aman._ Now on my Knees, my Dear, let me ask your pardon for my
Indiscretion, my own I never shall obtain.
_Lov._ Oh, there's no harm done: You serv'd him well.
_Aman._ He did indeed deserve it. But I tremble to think how dear my
indiscreet Resentment might have cost you.
_Lov._ O, no matter; never trouble yourself about that.
_Ber._ For Heaven's sake, what was't he did to you?
_Aman._ O nothing; he only squeez'd me kindly by the Hand, and frankly
offer'd me a Coxcomb's Heart. I know I was to blame to resent it as I
did, since nothing but a Quarrel could ensue. But the Fool so surpriz'd
me with his Insolence, I was not Mistress of my Fingers.
_Ber._ Now I dare swear, he thinks you had 'em at great Command, they
obey'd you so readily.
_Enter ~Worthy~._
_Wor._ Save you, save you, good People; I'm glad to find you all alive;
I met a wounded Peer carrying off. For Heav'ns sake, what was the
matter?
_Lov._ O, a Trifle: He would have lain with my Wife before my Face, so
she oblig'd him with a Box o'the Ear, and I run him thro' the Body:
That was all.
_Wor._ _Bagatelle_ on all sides. But, pray, Madam, how long has this
noble Lord been an humble Servant of yours?
_Aman._ This is the first I have heard on't. So I suppose 'tis his
Quality, more than his Love, has brought him into this Adventure. He
thinks his Title an authentick Passport to every Woman's Heart, below
the Degree of a Peeress.
_Wor._ He's Coxcomb enough to think any thing. But I wou'd not have you
brought into Trouble for him: I hope there's no Danger of his Life?
_Lov._ None at all: He's fallen into the Hands of a roguish Surgeon,
who I perceive designs to frighten a little Money out of him. But I saw
his Wound, 'tis nothing; he may go to the Play to-night, if he pleases.
_Wor._ I'm glad you have corrected him without farther Mischief. And
now, Sir, if these Ladies have no farther Service for you, you'll
oblige me if you can go to the Place I spoke to you of t'other Day.
_Lov._ With all my Heart. [_Aside._] Tho' I cou'd wish, methinks, to
stay and gaze a little longer on that Creature. Good God! How beautiful
she is!--But what have I to do with Beauty? I have already had my
Portion, and must not covet more. Come, Sir, when you please.
[_To_ Wor.
_Wor._ Ladies, your Servant. _Aman._ Mr. _Loveless_, pray one Word
with you before you go.
_Lov. ~to~ Wor._] I'll overtake you, Sir: What wou'd my Dear?
_Aman._ Only a Woman's foolish Question, How do you like my Cousin here?
_Lov._ Jealous already, _Amanda_?
_Aman._ Not at all; I ask you for another Reason.
_Lov._ _Aside._] Whate'er her Reason be, I must not tell her true. [_To
Aman._] Why, I confess she's handsome. But you must not think I slight
your Kinswoman, if I own to you, of all the Women who may claim that
Character, she is the last wou'd triumph in my Heart.
_Aman._ I'm satisfy'd.
_Lov._ Now tell me why you ask'd?
_Aman._ At Night I will. Adieu.
_Lov._ I'm yours. [_Kissing her._]
[_Exit Lov._
_Aman._ [_Aside._] I'm glad to find he does not like her; for I have a
great mind to persuade her to come and live with me. [_To Ber._] Now,
dear _Berinthia_, let me enquire a little into your Affairs: for I do
assure you, I am enough your Friend, to interest myself in every thing
that concerns you.
_Ber._ You formerly have given me such Proofs on't, I shou'd be very
much to blame to doubt it; I am sorry I have no Secrets to trust you
with, that I might convince you how entire a Confidence I durst repose
in you.
_Aman._ Why is it possible, that one so young and beautiful as you,
shou'd live and have no Secrets?
_Ber._ What Secrets do you mean?
_Aman._ Lovers.
_Ber._ O Twenty; but not one secret one amongst 'em. Lovers in this
Age have too much Honour to do any thing under-hand; they do all
above-board.
_Aman._ That now, methinks, wou'd make me hate a Man.
_Ber._ But the Women of the Town are of another mind: For by this means
a Lady may, with the Expence of a few Coquet Glances, lead twenty Fools
about in a String, for two or three Years together. Whereas, if she
shou'd allow 'em greater Favours, and oblige 'em to Secrecy, she wou'd
not keep one of 'em a Fortnight.
_Aman._ There's something indeed in That to satisfy the Vanity of a
Woman, but I can't comprehend how the Men find their Account in it.
_Ber._ Their Entertainment, I must confess, is a Riddle to me. For
there's very few of them ever get farther than a Bow and an Ogle. I
have half a Score for my share, who follow me all over the Town; and
at the Play, the Park, and the Church, do, with their Eyes, say the
violent'st things to me----But I never hear any more of 'em.
_Aman._ What can be the Reason of that?
_Ber._ One Reason is, They don't know how to go farther. They have
had so little Practice, they don't understand the Trade. But besides
their Ignorance, you must know there is not one of my half-score Lovers
but what follows half a score Mistresses. Now their Affections being
divided amongst so many, are not strong enough for any one, to make 'em
pursue her to the Purpose. Like a young Puppy in a Warren, they have a
Flirt at all, and catch none.
_Aman._ Yet they seem to have a Torrent of Love to dispose of.
_Ber._ They have so: But 'tis like the River of a Modern Philosopher,
whose Works, tho' a Woman, I have read: it sets out with a violent
Stream, splits in a thousand Branches, and is all lost in the Sands.
_Aman._ But do you think this River of Love runs all its Course without
doing any Mischief? Do you think it overflows nothing?
_Ber._ O yes; 'tis true, it never breaks into any body's Ground that
has the least Fence about it; but it overflows all the Commons that
lie in its way. And this is the utmost Achievement of those dreadful
Champions in the Field of Love--the Beaux.
_Aman._ But pr'ythee, _Berinthia_, instruct me a little farther; for I
am so great a Novice, I'm almost asham'd on't. My Husband's leaving me
whilst I was young and fond, threw me into that Depth of Discontent,
that ever since I have led so private and recluse a Life, my Ignorance
is scarce conceivable. I therefore fain would be instructed: Not,
Heaven knows, that what you call Intrigues have any Charms for me:
my Love and Principles are too well fix'd. The practick Part of all
unlawful Love is----
_Ber._ O 'tis abominable: But for the Speculative--that we must all
confess is entertaining. The Conversation of all the virtuous Women in
the Town turns upon that and new Clothes.
_Aman._ Pray be so just then to me, to believe, 'tis with a World of
Innocency I wou'd enquire, Whether you think those Women we call Women
of Reputation, do really 'scape all other Men, as they do those Shadows
of 'em, the Beaux.
_Ber._ O no, _Amanda_; there are a sort of Men make dreadful Work
amongst 'em: Men that may be call'd The Beaux Antipathy; for they agree
in nothing but walking upon two Legs.
These have Brains: The Beau has none.
These are in Love with their Mistress: The Beau with himself.
They take care of her Reputation: He's industrious to destroy it.
They are decent: He's a Fop.
They are sound: He's rotten.
They are Men: He's an Ass.
_Aman._ If this be their Character, I fancy we had here e'en now a
Pattern of 'em both.
_Ber._ His Lordship and Mr. _Worthy_?
_Aman._ The same.
_Ber._ As for the Lord, he's eminently so; And for the other, I can
assure you, there's not a Man in Town who has a better Interest with
the Women, that are worth having an Interest with. But 'tis all
private: He's like a Back-stair Minister at Court, who, whilst the
reputed Favourites are sauntering in the Bed-chamber, is ruling the
Roast in the Closet.
_Aman._ He answers then the Opinion I had ever of him. Heavens! What
a difference there is between a Man like him, and that vain nauseous
Fop, Sir _Novelty_! [_Taking her Hand._] I must acquaint you with a
Secret, Cousin. 'Tis not that Fool alone has talked to me of Love,
_Worthy_ has been tampering too: 'Tis true, he has done it in vain: Not
all his Charms or Art have power to shake me. My Love, my Duty, and
my Virtue, are such faithful Guards, I need not fear my Heart shou'd
e'er betray me. But what I wonder at is this: I find I did not start at
his Proposal, as when it came from one whom I contemn'd. I therefore
mention this Attempt, that I may learn from you whence it proceeds,
that Vice, which cannot change its Nature, shou'd so far change at
least its Shape, as that the self-same Crime propos'd from one shall
seem a Monster gaping at your Ruin, when from another it shall look so
kind, as tho' it were your Friend, and never meant to harm you. Whence
think you, can this Difference proceed? For 'tis not Love, Heaven knows.
_Ber._ O no; I wou'd not for the World believe it were. But possibly,
shou'd there a dreadful Sentence pass upon you, to undergo the Rage
of both their Passions; the Pain you apprehend from one might seem so
trivial to the other, the Danger wou'd not quite so much alarm you.
_Aman._ Fy, fy, _Berinthia_! you wou'd indeed alarm me, cou'd you
incline me to a Thought, that all the Merit of Mankind combin'd, cou'd
shake that tender Love I bear my Husband: No, he sits triumphant in my
Heart, and nothing can dethrone him.