Of Treasures, I'm too wretched to possess.
And were't not pity that vast store of Beauty
Shou'd, like rich Fruit, die on the yielding Boughs?

_Dia_. And are you then resolved to be a Stranger to me?

_Bel_. For ever! for a long Eternity!

_Dia_. O thou'st undone me then; hast thou found out
A Maid more fair, more worthy of thy Love?
Look on me well.

_Bel_. I have consider'd thee,
And find no Blemish in thy Soul, or Form;
Thou art all o'er Divine, yet I must hate thee,
Since thou hast drawn me to a mortal Sin,
That cannot be forgiven by Men, or Heaven.
--Oh, thou hast made me break a Vow, _Diana_,
A sacred solemn Vow;
And made me wrong the sweetest Innocence,
That ever blest the Earth.

_Dia_. Instead of cooling this augments my Fire;
No Pain is like defeated new Desire. [_Aside_.
'Tis false, or but to try my Constancy.
Your Mistress is not so divine as I,
And shou'd I, 'gainst himself, believe the Man
Who first inspir'd my Heart with Love's soft Flame?

_Bel_. What Bliss on me insensibly you throw!