able life I lead, it may be theſe ten years before my judgment arrives to its neceſſary ſtandard.
Baron.
I have the head-ach, Count—Theſe tidings have diſcompoſed, diſordered me—I beg your abſence for a few minutes.
Count.
I obey—And let me aſſure you, my Lord, that, although, from the extreme delicacy of your honour, you have ever through life ſhuddered at ſeduction; yet, there are conſtitutions, and there are circumſtances, in which it can be palliated.
Baron.
Never, [violently.]
Count.
Not in a grave, ſerious, reflecting man ſuch as you, I grant. But in a gay, lively, inconſiderate, flimſy, frivolous coxcomb, ſuch as myſelf, it is excuſable: for me to keep my word to a woman, would be deceit: ’tis not expected of me. It is in my character to break oaths in love; as it is in your nature, my Lord, never to have ſpoken any thing but wiſdom and truth. [Exit.
Baron.
Could I have thought a creature ſo inſignificant as that, had power to excite ſenſaticns ſuch as I feel at preſent! I am, indeed, worſe than he is, as much as the crimes of a man exceed thoſe of an idiot.
Enter Amelia.
Amelia.
I heard the Count leave you, my Lord, and ſo I am come to enquire——
