That once this day and night were fairly past! For then I'll bid this house and love farewell; Farewell, sweet Devon; farewell, lukewarm John; For with the morning's light will Margaret be gone.
Thanks, courteous Mr.Sandford .-- [_Exeunt divers ways._ ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE .-- _An Apartment in Woodvil Hall._ JOHN WOODVIL--_alone_.

(_Reading parts of a letter_).
"When Love grows cold, and indifference has usurped upon old Esteem, it is no marvel if the world begin to account _that_ dependence, which hitherto has been esteemed honorable shelter.

The course I have taken, (in leaving this house, not easily wrought thereunto,) seemed to me best for the once-for-all releasing of yourself (who in times past have deserved well of me) from the now daily, and not-to-be-endured tribute of forced love, and ill-dissembled reluctance of affection.
"MARGARET." Gone! gone! my girl?
so hasty, Margaret! And never a kiss at parting?
shallow loves, And likings of a ten days' growth, use courtesies, And show red eyes at parting.

Who bids "Farewell!" In the same tone he cries "God speed you, sir ?" Or tells of joyful victories at sea, Where he hath ventures; does not rather muffle His organs to emit a leaden sound, To suit the melancholy dull "farewell," Which they in Heaven not use ?-- So peevish, Margaret?
But 'tis the common error of your sex When our idolatry slackens, or grows less, (As who of woman born can keep his faculty Of Admiration, being a decaying faculty, Forever strain'd to the pitch?
or can at pleasure Make it renewable, as some appetites are, As, namely, Hunger, Thirst!--) this being the case, They tax us with neglect, and love grown cold, Coin plainings of the perfidy of men, Which into maxims pass, and apothegms To be retail'd in ballads .-- I know them all.
They are jealous when our larger hearts receive More guests than one.

(Love in a woman's heart Being all in one.) For me, I am sure I have room here For more disturbers of my sleep than one.
Love shall have part, but love shall not have all.
Ambition, Pleasure, Vanity, all by turns, Shall lie in my bed, and keep me fresh and waking; Yet Love not be excluded.