I have already heard too much. [She walks to and fro
much disorder'd.]

Lord BELMOUR. Too much!
'Tis strange! what have you heard? that I do love,
Admire, adore you, O! beyond all utterance;
But why conceive, that I intend you injury?
Were my possessions as the globe extensive,
You might command the whole, as you may him,
Who lives, or dies, as you shall smile, or frown.

Mrs. ANDREWS. Into what mischiefs do you mean to plunge me?
Or wherefore do you dare insult me thus?
Is it because I'm wedded to a citizen,
(Forgetting that I am of your own kindred)
That you these liberties presume? Know, sir,
That through the world, an honest British trader
Esteem and honour meets. But, were I lower
Than vanity directs you to conceive me,
And you of the first rank; where freedom reigns,
You have no right to offer me such insult.

Lord BELMOUR. Talk not of rank to one who loves as I do;
The pride of kings beneath those eyes might languish,
And prostrate thus, and trembling wait their sentence. [He falls
on his knees, seizes her hand, which she forces from him.]

Mrs. ANDREWS. What have you seen in my deportment, sir,
To warrant this intrusion? 'tis unworthy.