Volume Iii Part 91 (1/2)

_Oli_. Faith, Madam, that's his way of making love.

_Am_. It will not take with me, I love a Man Can kneel, and swear, and cry, and look submiss, As if he meant indeed to die my Slave: Thy Brother looks--but too much like a Conqueror. [_Sighs_.

_Oli_. How, _Aminta_, can you sigh in earnest?

_Am_. Yes, _Olinda_, and you shall know its meaning; I love _Alcander_, and am not asham'd o'th' secret, But prithee do not tell him what I say.

--Oh, he's a man made up of those Perfections, Which I have often lik'd in several men; And wish'd united to compleat some one, Whom I might have the glory to o'ercome.

--His Mein and Person, but 'bove all his Humour, That surly Pride, though even to me addrest, Does strangely well become him.

_Oli_. May I believe this?

_Am_. Not if you mean to speak on't, But I shall soon enough betray my self.

_Enter_ Falatius _with a patch or two on his Face_.

_Falatius_, welcome from the Wars; I'm glad to see y'ave scap'd the dangers of them.

_Fal_. Not so well scap'd neither, Madam, but I Have left still a few testimonies of their Severity to me. [_Points to his face_.

_Oli_. That's not so well, believe me.

_Fal_. Nor so ill, since they be such as render us No less acceptable to your fair Eyes, Madam!

But had you seen me when I gain'd them, Ladies, In that heroick posture.

_Am_. What posture?

_Fal_. In that of fighting, Madam; You would have call'd to mind that antient story Of the stout Giants that wag'd War with Heaven; Just so I fought, and for as glorious prize, Your excellent Ladis.h.i.+p.

_Am_. For me, was it for me you ran this hazard then?

_Fal_. Madam, I hope you do not question that, Was it not all the faults you found with me, The reputation of my want of Courage, A thousand Furies are not like a Battle; And but for you, By _Jove_, I would not fight it o'er again For all the glory on't; and now do you doubt me?

Madam, your heart is strangely fortified That can resist th'efforts I have made against it, And bring to boot such marks of valour too.

_Enter to them_ Alcander, _who seeing them would turn back, but_ Olinda _stays him_.

_Oli_. Brother, come back.

_Fal_. Advance, advance, what, Man, afraid of me?

_Alcan_. How can she hold discourse with that Fantastick. [_Aside_.

_Fal_. Come forward, and be complaisant. [_Pulls him again_.

_Alcan_. That's most proper for your Wit, _Falatius_.

_Am_. Why so angry?

_Alcan_. Away, thou art deceiv'd.