Ty of Thoughts load my afflicted Breast, that I know not

 I Lov'd, I ly'd. Inconstant as the wandring Bee, From once touch'd
Sweets I us'd to flee; Nor all the Power of Female Skill, Cou'd curb the
freedom of my Will:_ Clarinda _only found the Art, To Conquer and so
keep my Heart._ [_After this a Dance, and then the Scene shuts._ Enter_
Friendly _and_ Clara. _Friend._ This is a Day of Mirth and Jollity my
_Clara_. _Clara._ 'Tis so, for such as can be merry, Mr. _Friendly_.
_Friend._ Why not for us my Love, we have a Noble President, and
methinks shou'd Imitate (thro Envy) this their happiness. _Clara._ I am
not of your Opinion. _Friend._ Why not my Fair? _Clara._ I'll tell you,
because I purpose not to Marry. _Fri._ Prithee be serious, and reform
that Thought: Think of my past Service, and judge by that my future;
weigh all the respect I have paid you long, and ever lov'd you beyond my
self. _Cla._ I know your Weakness, and will reward it too. _Fri._ I am
sure you will, you must be kind; And can you think an Answer of this
killing Nature, a just return for all my faithful Love? _Cla._ As to
that I have already said. _Fri._ Oh speak, from whence this Coldness
doth arise! Be at least so kind as to tell me that; Is it some late
Disgust you ha

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