VAL. Oh, exceeding good to keep a secret; for though she should tell, yet she is not to be believed.

TATT. Hah! good again, faith.

VAL. I would have music. Sing me the song that I like.

SONG

Set by MR FINGER.

I tell thee, Charmion, could I time retrieve, And could again begin to love and live, To you I should my earliest off'ring give; I know my eyes would lead my heart to you, And I should all my vows and oaths renew, But to be plain, I never would be true.

II.

For by our weak and weary truth, I find, Love hates to centre in a point a.s.sign'd?

But runs with joy the circle of the mind.

Then never let us chain what should be free, But for relief of either s.e.x agree, Since women love to change, and so do we.

No more, for I am melancholy. [Walks musing.]

JERE. I'll do't, sir. [To SCANDAL.]

SCAN. Mr Foresight, we had best leave him. He may grow outrageous, and do mischief.

FORE. I will be directed by you.

JERE. [To MRS FRAIL.] You'll meet, madam? I'll take care everything shall be ready.

MRS FRAIL. Thou shalt do what thou wilt; in short, I will deny thee nothing.

TATT. Madam, shall I wait upon you? [To ANGELICA.]

ANG. No, I'll stay with him; Mr Scandal will protect me. Aunt, Mr Tattle desires you would give him leave to wait on you.

TATT. Pox on't, there's no coming off, now she has said that.

Madam, will you do me the honour?

MRS FORE. Mr Tattle might have used less ceremony.

SCENE XVII.

ANGELICA, VALENTINE, SCANDAL.

SCAN. Jeremy, follow Tattle.

ANG. Mr Scandal, I only stay till my maid comes, and because I had a mind to be rid of Mr Tattle.

SCAN. Madam, I am very glad that I overheard a better reason which you gave to Mr Tattle; for his impertinence forced you to acknowledge a kindness for Valentine, which you denied to all his sufferings and my solicitations. So I'll leave him to make use of the discovery, and your ladyship to the free confession of your inclinations.

ANG. O heav'ns! You won't leave me alone with a madman?

SCAN. No, madam; I only leave a madman to his remedy.

SCENE XVIII.

ANGELICA, VALENTINE.

VAL. Madam, you need not be very much afraid, for I fancy I begin to come to myself.

ANG. Ay, but if I don't fit you, I'll be hanged. [Aside.]

VAL. You see what disguises love makes us put on. G.o.ds have been in counterfeited shapes for the same reason; and the divine part of me, my mind, has worn this mask of madness and this motley livery, only as the slave of love and menial creature of your beauty.

ANG. Mercy on me, how he talks! Poor Valentine!

VAL. Nay, faith, now let us understand one another, hypocrisy apart. The comedy draws toward an end, and let us think of leaving acting and be ourselves; and since you have loved me, you must own I have at length deserved you should confess it.

ANG. [Sighs.] I would I had loved you--for heav'n knows I pity you, and could I have foreseen the bad effects, I would have striven; but that's too late. [Sighs.]

VAL. What sad effects?--what's too late? My seeming madness has deceived my father, and procured me time to think of means to reconcile me to him, and preserve the right of my inheritance to his estate; which otherwise, by articles, I must this morning have resigned. And this I had informed you of to-day, but you were gone before I knew you had been here.

ANG. How! I thought your love of me had caused this transport in your soul; which, it seems, you only counterfeited, for mercenary ends and sordid interest.

VAL. Nay, now you do me wrong; for if any interest was considered it was yours, since I thought I wanted more than love to make me worthy of you.

ANG. Then you thought me mercenary. But how am I deluded by this interval of sense to reason with a madman?

VAL. Oh, 'tis barbarous to misunderstand me longer.

SCENE XIX.

[To them] JEREMY.

ANG. Oh, here's a reasonable creature--sure he will not have the impudence to persevere. Come, Jeremy, acknowledge your trick, and confess your master's madness counterfeit.

JERE. Counterfeit, madam! I'll maintain him to be as absolutely and substantially mad as any freeholder in Bethlehem; nay, he's as mad as any projector, fanatic, chymist, lover, or poet in Europe.

VAL. Sirrah, you be; I am not mad.

ANG. Ha, ha, ha! you see he denies it.