brain, nor contains more devils than that imaginations.

CARE. I thought your fear of her had been over. Is not to-morrow
appointed for your marriage with Cynthia, and her father, Sir Paul
Plyant, come to settle the writings this day on purpose?

MEL. True; but you shall judge whether I have not reason to be
alarmed. None besides you and Maskwell are acquainted with the
secret of my Aunt Touchwood's violent passion for me. Since my
first refusal of her addresses she has endeavoured to do me all ill
offices with my uncle, yet has managed 'em with that subtilty, that
to him they have borne the face of kindness; while her malice, like
a dark lanthorn, only shone upon me where it was directed. Still,
it gave me less perplexity to prevent the success of her displeasure
than to avoid the importunities of her love, and of two evils I
thought myself favoured in her aversion. But whether urged by her
despair and the short prospect of time she saw to accomplish her
designs; whether the hopes of revenge, or of her love, terminated in
the view of this my marriage with Cynthia, I know not, but this
morning she surprised me in my bed.

CARE. Was there ever such a fury! 'Tis well nature has not put it
into her sex's power to ravish. Well, bless us, proceed. What
followed?

MEL. What at first amazed me--for I looked to have seen her in all
the transports of a slighted and revengeful woman--but when I
expected thunder from her voice, and lightning in her eyes, I saw
her melted into tears and hushed into a sigh. It was long before
either of us spoke: passion had tied her tongue, and amazement