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Mar. Come, Sir Timothy, be pacify'd; I fancy we fhall agree much better as Uncle and Neice, than as Man and Wife,

Sir Tim. Oh thou false Creature! I am enrag’d, and wish all the Western World was on FireBut I'll take Post for the East-Indies this Instant, and sever converse with Man, Woman or Child again, that was born on this side the Cape of Good-hope.

[Exit Sir Tim. Clev. Let him go; we shall find some way to mollifie him, I warrant you, when the first Heat is over.

Short are the passionate Firs of Love, and Rage,
Which warm the fickly Veins of feeble Age.
And tho the Flame
Blaze out, and for a Moment seem to rise,
Yet soon the Fuel fails, and then it dies.

[Exeunt Omnesi

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