Volume Iv Part 120 (1/2)

_Man._ Yes, Madam.

_Mir._ Then bring _Endimion_ to me.

_Man._ Madam, I wish you'd think no more of him; for I foresee, that this Amour must ruin you. Remember you have left a Husband for the Prince.

_Mir._ A Husband! my Drudge, to toil for me, and save me the Expence of careful Thoughts: My Cloke, my Led-Horse, for Necessity to fill my Train--no more--but _Endimion_ waits.

[Exit _Manage_.

--There is a native Generosity in me, that checks my Inconstancy to this great Man; yet I have so much Woman in my Soul, cannot pain my self to do him Justice--A new desire of humouring my wish, sways all my Interest, and controuls all my Honour. Why should I lose a Pleasure for a Promise? since Time, that gives our Youth so short a Date, may well excuse our needful Perjury.

Enter _Manage_, and _Olivia_, she runs and embraces him.

--Let the young bashful Maid, unskill'd in Love, deny the pressing Swain.

Let wither'd Age, who fondly dreams of Virtue, lose the dear Opportunities of Life.

The coming Hours present themselves to us; and are too nice, not to be s.n.a.t.c.h'd when offer'd.

_Oliv._ So hasty! this disarms me of Excuse. [Aside.

_Mir._ Why are thy Eyes bent down? Why dost thou pause?

_Oliv._ So hot!--I must prepare to shew my s.e.x's Evidence, if nothing else will do.

[Unb.u.t.tons her Coat.

_Mir._ What, not a Word!

Advance, thou bashful Youth--Love in thy Eyes, and Coward in thy Heart!

The one all Fire, the other too much Ice.

_Prince_ and _George_ looking out.

_Prince._ Yet stay me, my _Lejere_, from my hasty Vengeance.

_Oliv._ Ah, Madam, how are you mistaken! 'Tis not Coldness in me--but--

_Mir._ What, Bashfulness!

Oh, Love will lend thee Courage; This Trembling is the soft Effects of it.

_Oliv._ Oh, how vilely she's mistaken!

_Mir._ Come to my Bed, and press the Roses down; and lend more sweetness to 'em than they bring.

[She leading him to her Bed, the _Prince_ enters, with _Lejere_, holding his Sword in Hand; he takes hold of _Olivia_.

_Prince._ Love--thus I fling thy gaudy Fetters off, and am no more a Slave to faithless Beauty.

[The _Prince_ holding _Olivia_ by the Bosom of her Coat, her Breast appears to _Mirtilla_.

_Mir._ Ha! what do I see?--Two Female rising b.r.e.a.s.t.s. By Heav'n, a Woman.--Oh fortunate Mischance!

[This while _George_ is arguing with the _Prince_ not to hurt _Olivia_.

_Prince._ No, I will not hurt thee, cease thy trembling.