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Show 114 The T^ifappointment; or% I meet that Peace, that minifters a Cure. Lor. Y o u mean Erminia! Alph. I do: M y Wife. Lor. Is there fuch healing Virtue in a Wife? Alph. O h flie's the kind Phyfician of m y Thoughts Lor. N a y then, I ask your Pardon: Faith, Alphonft I thought a Wife, like other Remedies, By often Application might grow (rale,' And lye a worthlefs Drugg upon our Hands. Alph. Lorenzo, thou art alter'd in thy Thoughts, Lor. M e n are not ftill the fame: Our Appetites' Are various, and inconftant as the Moon, That never mines with the fame Face again j Tis Nature's Curfe never to be refolv'dj Bufie to-Day, in the purfuit of what To-Morrow's elder Judgment may defpife. Alph. Thefe are the mouldy Morals of the Dead, Lor. That fpeak the Living plain: Art thou the fa. Art thou not alter'd from what laft I faw thee? The Hero ftrutting in thy pageant Pride: Swell'd with thy Wrongs, and burftingwith Refentm Alph. H a! Lor. G o , you would yet be more her Slave* Alph. What mean thefe Words ? Lor. Your Tongue can beft explain The Dictates of your Heart: But n o w you faitl Y o u wifh'd you k n e w to be enough her Slave j I think 'twas, fo. Alph. It was, by Keav'n!, Lor. And Faith I thought a- Husband needed not that Prayer. Alph. Y'are merry, Friend! Lor. Would thou would'ft be fo too! And learn to think no farther of the Sex Than for thy Eafe and Pleafure. Alph. Still in Riddles! Lor. T o - M o r o w will unfold 'em: I muft leave yen, But Friend, the Night's far fpent, Ermima too Can live 'till Morn without you. Alph. Say'ft thou Friend ? i The MOTHER in Fajhhn. US lor. To Night yoa muft mot fee* her. Alph. N o t fee her ? Alph. Lorenzo, there is fomething in thy Thoughts ou dar'ft not truft m e w i t h - - I hope fhe s Honeft. Lor. O doubtlefs, Honeft. Alph. H o w did fhe bear thy MefTage ? Lor. Faith, Alphonfo, I m a y count her S o r r o w by her Tears, very hardly bore it: For fhe w e p t , - d not all Hell been kindled in her Heart, gh to have cool'd the burning Devil there ! [Apde. Alph. Then I a m fatisfy'd. Lor. Indeed I Alph. Again! lere would'ft thou drive m y Doubts ? If thou wouldft have think thee ftiii the fame, m y Friend, and honeft, orm me of thy Thoughts. Lor. Then thou art wrong'd. g Alph. That's the Difeafe ! and k n ow poifonous Scorpion that has made the Wound, Virtue in its Blood to work a Cure : Man, m y Friend, the Villian that hath done ft! lor. There I muft be excus'd ! Alfh. Not teli m e ? e Honour of thy Friend engag'd J and thou nceal the Villian from a juft Revenge ? Ur. Not n o w j another time. Al\b. This proftituted Outfide-art m a y pafs «n the World, where Intereft is a Friendfhip, t is defpis'd and fcorn'd by nobler Souls. lor. You know m e better j and I thought, Alphonfo, y Virtue had been try'd, and found fufheient o juftifie our Honours to the World ; ou might have trufted m e with yours 'till Morn : oe-wMelo.r«r ow w e fhall meet on better Terms [Exit-., Alph. I was to blame : I k n o w h i m honeft : d h o w his Thoughts are labouring for m y Peace ! Yet |