Lord WESTON. Unrighteous, partial law! whose keen restraint
'Gainst female innocence alone is pointed,
Whilst villains riot in its spoils unpunish'd;
So that love's chaste, connubial joys no more,
On its fleet wings, but in the tardy pace
Of sordid interest move. But, thank kind heaven!
My will is free to choose; else, my good lord,
The parish proofs deceive.
Lord BELMOUR. Perish all love!
That one of the first families in Britain,
Shou'd by such whims of folly be dishonour'd!
A moment more, and I shall lose all patience! [He goes off hastily.]

Lord WESTON. It grieves my soul that we should differ thus:
He still has acted as a tender parent
To me an orphan to his care intrusted.
But pride and pageantry engross him wholly;
With these, an avaricious selfish passion,
For some years past hath quite possess'd his heart,
And stagnated the streams of its benevolence,
Save where by humour, or by pleasure prompted.

But no mean views shall ever make me fight
The sacred vows of love I once did plight.
The heart that's true, will still remain the same
Though crosses press, they but refine the flame
And more sure joys the virtuous passion wait
With calm content, than with the pomp of state. [Exit.]