holding his Sword in Hand; he takes hold of _Olivia_.

_Prince._ Love--thus I fling thy gaudy Fetters off, and am no more a
Slave to faithless Beauty.
[The _Prince_ holding _Olivia_ by the Bosom of her Coat, her
Breast appears to _Mirtilla_.

_Mir._ Ha! what do I see?--Two Female rising Breasts. By Heav'n,
a Woman.--Oh fortunate Mischance!
[This while _George_ is arguing with the _Prince_ not to hurt
_Olivia_.

_Prince._ No, I will not hurt thee, cease thy trembling.

_Mir._ Oh, Sir, 'twere Sin to hurt the lovely Youth.

_Prince._ No, Madam, since I have taken back my Heart, I can present you
with another Lover.
[Gives _Olivia_ to her.

_Mir._ Ha! another Lover!--What means my Prince?

_Prince._ Eternally to leave you to your Frailty.

_Mir._ Can you so easily cancel all your Vows? Then kill me at your
Feet, I do implore it.
[Kneels and weeps.

_Prince._ Away, I do forgive thee, wretched Woman.--But yet be
gone--lest Love and Rage return, and I should kill you yet with your
young Darling.

_Mir._ Whom mean you, Sir, this lovely Maid?

_Oliv._ Maid!--What means she? Sure she cannot know me.

_Prince._ Talk on, false Woman! till thou hast persuaded my Eyes and
Ears out of their native Faculties, I scorn to credit other Evidences.

_Mir._ Try 'em once more, and then repent, and die.
[Opens _Olivia's_ Bosom, shews her Breasts.

_Prince._ Ha--By Heav'n, a Woman!

_Mir._ You that wou'd smile at my suppos'd undoing, present yourself no
more before my Eyes.
'Twas to perplex you that I feign'd this Passion.
I saw you had your Spies to watch for Mischief, [To _George_.
And poison all my Happiness with the Prince.--

And since I am thought so criminal, I'll take an everlasting leave of
you.
[To the _Prince_.
When I am dead, may she you honour next repay your Tenderness as I
have done--But may she never meet my wretched Fate.
[She snatches _Olivia's_ Sword out.

_Prince._ Hold, thou most valu'd Treasure of the World, or turn the
pointed Weapon to my Heart.

_Mir._ No, I'm false, unworthy of your Love.

_Geo._ Yes, by Heaven. But thou hast jilted him so handsomly, thou'st
vanquish'd all my Rage.

_Mir._ Yes, I am false; false to this Gallant Man,-- [To _George_.
false to my Husband, to my Sex's Fame; for you more charming, I alas
am perjur'd.

_Prince._ _Lejere_, have I then injur'd thee?

_Geo._ This is the fatal Beauty, Sir, for whom so often