"'Tis a man who loved me, a cur and a knave.

He thought for an hour he was cured of his passion.

I could have told him 'twould spring up and burn more fierce than ever when he saw another man possess me.

'Tis so with knaves and curs; and 'tis so with him.

He hath gone mad again." "Ay, mad!" cried Anne--"mad, and base, and wicked!" Clorinda gazed at the ashes, her lips curling.
"He was ever base," she said--"as he was at first, so he is now.