sit to this Woman-- but dare not tell him
so. [Aside.] --I would not have ye meet this angry Youth.

_Will._ Oh, you would preserve him for a farther use.

_La Nu._ Stay-- you must not fight-- by Heaven, I cannot see-- that
Bosom-- wounded.
[Turns and weeps.

_Will._ Hah! weep'st thou? curse me when I refuse a faith to that
obliging Language of thy Eyes-- Oh give me one proof more, and after
that, thou conquerest all my Soul; Thy Eyes speak Love-- come, let us
in, my Dear, e'er the bright Fire allays that warms my Heart.
[Goes to lead her out.

_La Nu._ Your Love grows rude, and saucily demands it. [Flings away.

_Will._ Love knows no Ceremony, no respect when once approacht so near
the happy minute.

_La Nu._ What desperate easiness have you seen in me, or what mistaken
merit in your self, should make you so ridiculously vain, to think I'd
give myself to such a Wretch, one fal'n even to the last degree of
Poverty, whilst all the World is prostrate at my Feet, whence I might
chuse the Brave, the Great, the Rich?
[He stands spitefully gazing at her.
--Still as he fires, I find my Pride augment, and when he cools I burn.
[Aside.

_Will._ Death, thou'rt a-- vain, conceited, taudry Jilt, who wou'st draw
me in as Rooks their Cullies do, to make me venture all my stock of
Love, and then you turn me out despis'd and poor--
[Offers to go.

_La Nu._ You think you're gone now--

_Will._ Not all thy Arts nor Charms shall hold me longer.

_La Nu._ I must submit-- and can you part thus from me?-- [Pulls him.

_Will._ I can-- nay, by Heaven, I will not turn, nor look at thee. No,
when I do, or trust that faithless Tongue again-- may I be--

_La Nu._ Oh do not swear--

_Will._ Ever curst-- [Breaks from her, she holds him.

_La Nu._ You shall not go-- Plague of this needless Pride, [Aside.
--stay-- and I'll follow all the dictates of my Love.

_Will._ Oh never hope to flatter me to faith again.
[His back to her, she holding him.

_La Nu._ I must, I will; what wou'd you have me do?

_Will._ [turning softly to her.] Never-- deceive me more, it may be
fatal to wind me up to an impatient height, then dash my eager Hopes.
[_Sighing._ Forgive my roughness-- and be kind, _La Nuche_, I know
thou wo't--

_La Nu._ Will you then be ever kind and true?

_Will._ Ask thy own Charms, and to confirm thee more, yield and disarm
me quite.

_La Nu._ Will you not marry then? for tho