entreated me to tell you, that, at least, in loving you, he never
fostered a thought at which your honour could be offended, and that,
relying solely on his heart's choice, his only desire was to obtain you
for a wife, if destiny had not opposed an obstacle to his pure flame,
through me, who captivated your heart; that, whatever happens, you must
not think that your charms can ever be forgotten by him; that, to
whatever decrees of Heaven he must submit, his fate is to love you to
his last breath; and that if anything checks his pursuit, it is the just
respect he has for my merits. These are his very words; and, far from
blaming him, I think him a gentleman, and I pity him for loving you.

ISA. (_Aside_). His passion does not contradict my secret belief,
and his looks have always assured me of its innocence.

SGAN. What do you say?

ISA. That it is hard that you should so greatly pity a man whom I hate
like death; and that, if you loved me as much as you say, you would feel
how he insults me by his addresses.

SGAN. But he did not know your inclinations; and, from the uprightness
of his intentions, his love does not deserve...

ISA. Is it good intentions, I ask, to try and carry people off? Is it
like a man of honour to form designs for marrying me by force, and
taking me out of your hands? As if I were a girl to live after such a
disgrace!

SGAN. How?