LORD TOUCH. No, I am convinced he loves her.
LADY TOUCH. Maskwell love Cynthia? Impossible!
LORD TOUCH. I tell you he confessed it to me.
LADY TOUCH. Confusion! How's this? [Aside.]
LORD TOUCH. His humility long stifled his passion. And his love of
Mellefont would have made him still conceal it. But by
encouragement, I wrung the secret from him, and know he's no way to
be rewarded but in her. I'll defer my farther proceedings in it
till you have considered it; but remember how we are both indebted
to him.
SCENE VII.
LADY TOUCHWOOD alone.
LADY TOUCH. Both indebted to him! Yes, we are both indebted to
him, if you knew all. Villain! Oh, I am wild with this surprise of
treachery: it is impossible, it cannot be. He love Cynthia! What,
have I been bawd to his designs, his property only, a baiting place?
Now I see what made him false to Mellefont. Shame and distraction!
I cannot bear it, oh! what woman can bear to be a property? To be
kindled to a flame, only to light him to another's arms; oh! that I
were fire indeed that I might burn the vile traitor. What shall I
do? How shall I think? I cannot think. All my designs are lost,
my love unsated, my revenge unfinished, and fresh cause of fury from
unthought of plagues.
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