but I'll do my weak endeavour, though I fear I have not art.

LUCY. Hang art, madam, and trust to nature for dissembling.

Man was by nature woman's cully made:
We never are but by ourselves betrayed.


SCENE II.


HEARTWELL, VAINLOVE and BELLMOUR following.

BELL. Hist, hist, is not that Heartwell going to Silvia?

VAIN. He's talking to himself, I think; prithee let's try if we
can hear him.

HEART. Why, whither in the devil's name am I agoing now? Hum--let
me think--is not this Silvia's house, the cave of that enchantress,
and which consequently I ought to shun as I would infection? To
enter here is to put on the envenomed shirt, to run into the
embraces of a fever, and in some raving fit, be led to plunge
myself into that more consuming fire, a woman's arms. Ha! well
recollected, I will recover my reason, and be gone.

BELL. Now Venus forbid!

VAIN. Hush -