The Stolen Heiress

Luc. Which Way rash Man, is he not surrounded By numerous Friends, and waiting Slaves? Does not inevitable Death attend Thy desperate Purpose?

Pal. Then let that same Sword, the old Acquaintance Of my Arm, pierce its lost Master's Breast, and End my Sorrows.

Luc. Forbid it Heaven, is there no other Way?

Pal. But one, and that I dare not name.

Luc. Oh! how has thy Lucasia, since first our Mutual Vows were plighted, given Cause for Doubt. Why dost thou fear to ask, since all is thine, within The Bounds of Honour.

Pal. When I attempt ought against Lucasia, Contrary to the nicest Rules of Virtue, May Heaven, and she, forsake me.

Luc. Oh, I know it, and when I refuse what May advance our Loves, may I be curs