it a Purgatory; and with a little Penance and my Abfolution all this may turn to good Account. L. Touch. (Afide.) Hold in my Paffion, and fall, fall a little thou fwelling Heart; let me have fome Intermiffion of this Rage, and one Minutes Coolnefs to diffemble. [She weeps. Mel. You have been to blame. I like thofe Tears, and hope they are of the pureft kind Penitential Tears. L. Touch O the Scene was fhifted quick before me I had not time to think. I was furprised to fee a Monster in the Glafs, and now I find 'tis my felf. Can you have Mercy to forgive the Faults I have imagin'd, but never put in Practice O confider, confider how fatal you have been to me; you have already kill'd the Quiet of this Life. The Love of you, was the firft wand'ring Fire that e'er milled my Steps, and while I had only that in View, I was betray'd into unthought of Ways of Ruin. Mel. May I believe this true? L. Touch. O be not cruelly incredulons How can you doubt thefe ftreaming Eyes? Keep the fevereft Eye o'er all my future Conduct; aud if I once relapfe, let me not hope Forgiveness, 'twill ever be in your Power to ruin me-My Lord fhall fign to your Defires ; I will my felf create your Happiness, and Cynthia fhall be this Night your Bride-Do but conceal my Failings, and forgive.' Mel. Upon fuch Terms I will be ever yours in ev'ry honeft Way. SCE Have kept my Word, he's here, but I must not be seen. SCENE XX. Lady ToucHWOOD, Lord ToucнWOOD, MELLEFONT. H' Ld. TOUCHWOOD. ELL and Amazement, fhe's in Tears. L. Touch. (Kneeling) Eternal Bleflings thank you-Ha! My Lord lift'ning! O Fortune has o'erpaid me all, all! all's my own! [Afide. Mel. Nay, I befeech you rife. L. Touch. (Aloud.) Never, never! I'll grow to the Ground, be buried quick beneath it. e'er I'll be confenting to fo damn'd a Sin as Inceft! unatural InceftT Mel. Ha! L. Touch. O cruel Man will you not let me go I'll forgive all that's past-O'Heav'n, you will not ravish me! Mel. Damnation ! Ld. Ld. Touch. Monster, Dog! your Life fhall anfwen this [Draws and runs at Mel. is held by Lady Touchwood, L. Touch. O Heav'ns my Lord! Hold, hoid for Heav'ns, fake. Mel. Confufion , my Uncle the damn'd Sorcerefs. L. Touch. Moderate your Rage, good my Lord! He's mad Indeed he is my Lord, and knows See how wild he looks. Mel. By Heav'n 'twere fenfelefs not to be mad, and fee fuch Witchraft. not what he does L. Touch. My Lord, you hear him, he talks idly. Ĺd, Touch. Hence from my Sight, thou living Infamy to my Name; when next I fee that Face, I'll write Villain in't with my Swords Point. Mel. Now, by my Soul, I will not go 'till I have made known my Wrongs- Nay, 'till I have made known yours, which (if poffible) are greater though the has all the Hoft of Hell her Servants. L. Touch. Alas he raves! Talks very Poetry ! For Heav'ns fake away my Lord; he'll either tempt you to Extravagance, or commmit fome himself. Mel. Death and Furies, will you not hear me -Why by Heav'n fhe laughs, grins, points to your Back ; fhe forks out Cuckoldom with her Fingers, and you're running Horn-mad after your Fortune. [As fhe is going fhe turns back and smiles at him. Ld. Touch. I fear he's mad indeed Let's fend Maskwell to him. Mel. Send him to her. L. Touch. Come, come, good my Lord, my Heart akes fo, I fhall faint if I ftay. SCE SCENE XX I. MELLEFONT alone. MELLE FONT. I could curfe my Stars, Fate, and Chance ; all caufes and Accidents of Fortune in this Life! But to what Purpofe? Yet 'fdeath, for a Man to have the Fruit of all his Industry grow full and ripe, ready to drop into his Mouth, and just when he holds out his Hand to gather it, to have a fudden Whirlwind come, tear up Tree and all and bear away the very Root and Foundation of his Hopes; What Temper can contain? They talk of fending Maskwell to me; I never had more need of him But what can he do? Imagination cannot form a fairer and more plaufible Design than this of his which has mifcaried- O my precious Aunt, I fhall never thrive without I deal with the Devil, or another Woman. Women like Flames have a destroying Pow'r; SCENE Jhuts. ACT, A C T. V. SCENE I. Lady Touchwood and Maskwel W Lady TOUCHWOOD. AS'T not lucky? Mask. Lucky! Fortune is your own, and 'tis her Interest so to be; by Heav'n I be lieve you can controul her Power it; though Chance brought my Lord, own Art that turn'd it to Advantage. and the fears 'twas your L. Touch. 'Tis true it might have been my Ruin But yonder's my Lord, I believe he's coming to find you, I'll not be feen. MASKWELL, alone. I durft not own my introducing my Lord, Sthough it fucceeded well for her, for the would have fufpected a Defign which I should have been puzzled to excufe. My Lord is thoughtful - I'll be fo to yet he fhall know my Thoughts; or think he does |