And most impatient waits for my return
With tidings of your health, to her so precious.

ANDREWS. This woman is so hackney'd in all baseness,
That even truth from her would be disgrac'd. [Aside.]
Had her condition far exceeded all
Your seeming tender fears; or did I hear
The peal of her death bell, I shou'd not wonder.
Was she not up all night? Was ever seen
Such rapid havock as this life of riot
Spreads o'er her bloom, which ev'ry art abash'd,
Now vainly practis'd to repair its ruin!
Sad victim to the world's most baleful fashions!

MARIA. Some friends staid later here last night than usual.
But if you knew how much she's indispos'd,
I'm sure 'twould pierce your heart; as I well know,
You love her tenderly, as she does you.

ANDREWS. Wou'd I had lov'd her less, or ne'er had seen her!
Retire awhile, I pray--I wou'd be private.

MARIA. [As she goes off] We now shall execute the scheme I plann'd.

ANDREWS. I am the veriest wretch that breathes the air,
And nought but desperation is before me.


[A Servant BOY enters hastily at a different door,
as if passing to another room, with a letter in