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Ant. (aside.) My own words in the coxcomb's mouth!

Liv. This is an objection proceeding from genuine sensibility: yet you never mentioned it before.

Vald. Perhaps I am too fastidious; but any eyes that I can thus stedfastly look upon, are not to me the eyes of Livia.

Liv. Ah! these are in truth the words of a too partial friend.

Vald. Words from the heart, divine Livia, will tell from whence they came. (They both walk to the bottom of the stage, speaking in dumb-shew, while Ant. remains in the front.)

Ant. (aside.) With my own words he woos her, and before my face too: matchless impudence!—And such a man as this pleases Livia!—He whispers in her ear, and she smiles.—My heart sickens at it: I'll look no more, lest I become envious and revengeful, and hateful to myself.—O Nature! hast thou made me of such poor stuff as this?

Vald. (turning round from the bottom of the stage.) Ha! De Bertrand, are you declaiming? Some speech of a tragedy, I suppose, from the vehemence of your gesture. Pray let Livia hear you: she is partial, you know, to every thing you do, and finds every exhibition you make before her particularly amusing.

Ant. (sternly.) Come nearer to me, Sir; the first part of my speech is for your private ear.—Come nearer.

Liv. Pray go to him: by the tone of his voice he personates some tyrant, and must be obeyed.