his Life a Sacrifice
To've gain'd one Night with me,
Must now be hired and courted to my Arms.

_Moret._ I told you what wou'd come on't, but _Moretta's_ an old doating
Fool-- Why did you give him five hundred Crowns, but to set himself out
for other Lovers? You shou'd have kept him poor, if you had meant to
have had any good from him.

_Ang._ Oh, name not such mean Trifles.-- Had I given him all
My Youth has earn'd from Sin,
I had not lost a Thought nor Sigh upon't.
But I have given him my eternal Rest,
My whole Repose, my future Joys, my Heart;
My Virgin Heart. _Moretta_! oh 'tis gone!

_Moret._ Curse on him, here he comes;
How fine she has made him too!

Enter _Willmore_ and _Sebast._ _Ang._ turns and walks away.

_Will._ How now, turn'd Shadow?
Fly when I pursue, and follow when I fly!

_Stay gentle Shadow of my Dove,_ [Sings.
_And tell me e'er I go,
Whether the Substance may not prove
A fleeting Thing like you._

There's a soft kind Look remaining yet.
[As she turns she looks on him.

_Ang._ Well, Sir, you may be gay; all Happiness, all Joys pursue you
still, Fortune's your Slave, and gives you every hour choice of new
Hearts and Beauties, till you are cloy'd with the repeated Bliss, which
others vainly languish for-- But know, false Man, that I shall be
reveng'd.
[Turns away in a Rage.

_Will._ So, 'gad, there are of those faint-hearted Lovers, whom such a
sharp Lesson next their Hearts would make as impotent as Fourscore-- pox
o' this whining-- my Bus'ness is to laugh and love-- a pox on't; I hate
your sullen Lover, a Man shall lose as much time to put you in Humour
now, as would serve to gain a new Woman.

_Ang._ I scorn to cool that Fire I cannot raise, Or do the Drudgery of
your virtuous Mistress.

_Will._ A virtuous Mistress! Death, what a thing thou hast found out for
me! why what the Devil should I do with a virtuous Woman?-- a fort of
ill-natur'd Creatures, that take a Pride to torment a Lover. Virtue is
but an Infirmity in Women, a Disease that renders even the handsom
ungrateful; whilst the ill-favour'd, for want of Solicitations and
Address, only fancy themselves so.-- I have lain with a Woman of
Quality, who has all the while been railing at Whores.

_Ang._ I will not answer for your Mistress's Virtue,
Tho she be young enough to know no Guilt:
And I could wish you would persuade my Heart,
'Twas the two hundred thousand Crowns you co