I love you--love as passionately now as I did when my passion was hopeless; and, now that I can win you, do you think I will forego you?
Cruel cruel Calista! you little know the power of your own charms if you think their effect is so easily obliterated--you little know the constancy of this pure and noble heart if you think that, having once loved, it can ever cease to adore you.

No! I swear by your cruelty that I will revenge it; by your wonderful beauty that I will win it, and be worthy to win it.

Lovely, fascinating, fickle, cruel woman! you shall be mine--I swear it! Your wealth may be great; but am I not of a generous nature enough to use it worthily?
Your rank is lofty; but not so lofty as my ambition.

You threw yourself away once on a cold and spiritless debauchee: give yourself now, Honoria, to a MAN; and one who, however lofty your rank may be, will enhance it and become it!' As I poured words to this effect out on the astonished widow, I stood over her, and fascinated her with the glance of my eye; saw her turn red and pale with fear and wonder; saw that my praise of her charms and the exposition of my passion were not unwelcome to her, and witnessed with triumphant composure the mastery I was gaining over her.

Terror, be sure of that, is not a bad ingredient of love.