(_Pauses._

Sir _Geo._ Well, Madam--

_Miran._ I have it--Sir _George_, 'tis fit you should allow something;
if you'll excuse my Face, and turn your Back (if you look upon me I
shall sink, even mask'd as I am) I will confess why I have engag'd you
so often, who I am, and where I live?

Sir _Geo._ Well, to show you I'm a Man of Honour I accept the
Conditions. Let me but once know those, and the Face won't be long a
Secret to me.
(_Aside._

_Patch._ What mean you, Madam?

_Miran._ To get off.

Sir _Geo._ 'Tis something indecent to turn ones Back upon a Lady; but
you command and I obey. (_Turns his Back._) Come, Madam, begin--

_Miran._ First then it was my unhappy Lot to see you at _Paris_ (_Draws
back a little while and speaks_) at a Ball upon a Birth-Day; your Shape
and Air charm'd my Eyes; your Wit and Complaisance my Soul, and from
that fatal Night I lov'd you. (_Drawing back._) And when you left the
Place, Grief seiz'd me so--No Rest my Heart, no Sleep my Eyes cou'd
know.--

_Last I resolv'd a hazardous Point to try,_
_And quit the Place in search of Liberty._