--I hate you,
and shall for ever.
FAIN. For loving you?
MRS. MAR. I loathe the name of love after such usage; and next to
the guilt with which you would asperse me, I scorn you most.
Farewell.
FAIN. Nay, we must not part thus.
MRS. MAR. Let me go.
FAIN. Come, I'm sorry.
MRS. MAR. I care not. Let me go. Break my hands, do--I'd leave
'em to get loose.
FAIN. I would not hurt you for the world. Have I no other hold to
keep you here?
MRS. MAR. Well, I have deserved it all.
FAIN. You know I love you.
MRS. MAR. Poor dissembling! Oh, that--well, it is not yet -
FAIN. What? What is it not? What is it not yet? It is not yet
too late -
MRS. MAR. No, it is not yet too late--I have that comfort.
FAIN. It is, to love another.
MRS. MAR. But not to loathe, detest, abhor mankind, myself, and the
whole treacherous world.
FAIN. Nay, this is extravagance. Come, I ask your pardon. No
tears--I was to blame, I could not love you and be easy in my
doubts.
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