Can I hear this, and live?--I am a Villian!
In my Creation destin'd for all Mischief,
--To commit Rapes, and Murders, to break Vows,
As fast as Fools do Jests.
Come hither, Boy--
And said the Lady nothing to thee?

_Page_. Yes, e'er she read the Letter, ask'd your Health,
And Joy dispers'd it self in Blushes through her Cheeks.

_Bel_. Her Beauty makes the very Boy adore it.

_Page_. And having read it,
She drew her Tablets from her Pocket,
And trembling, writ what I have brought you, Sir.

_Bel_. Though I before had loaded up my Soul
With Sins, that wou'd have weigh'd down any other,
Yet this one more it bears, this Sin of Murder;
And holds out still--What have I more to do,
But being plung'd in Blood, to wade it through?

_Enter_ Friendlove _in Masquerade. A Jigg_.

_Friend_. There stands the Traitor, with a guilty Look,
That Traitor, who the easier to deceive me,
Betray'd my Sister; yet till I came and saw
The Perjury, I could not give a Faith to't.
By Heaven, _Diana_ loves him, nay, dotes on him,