The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iii Part 98

_Fal_. He was a little too familiar with me.

_Cle_. Madam, my Sister _Isillia_--

_Fal_. A curse, he will out with it-- [_Aside, pulls him by the Arm_.

_Cle_. Confess she is your Mistress. [_Aside_.

_Fal_. I call my Mistress, Madam.

_Am_. My Cousin _Isillia_ your Mistress!

Upon my word, you are a happy Man.

_Fal_. By _Jove_, if she be your Cousin, Madam, I love her much the better for't.

_Am_. I am beholding to you, But then it seems I have lost a Lover of you.

_Cle_. Confess she has, or I'll so handle you.

[_Ex_. Labree.

_Fal_. That's too much, _Cleontius_--but I will, By _Jove_, Madam, I must not have a Mistress that Has more Wit than my self, they ever require More than a Man's able to give them.

_Oli_. Is this your way of Courts.h.i.+p to _Isillia_?

[_Ex_. Cle.

_Fal_. By _Jove_, Ladies, you get no more of that from me, 'Tis that has spoiled you all; I find _Alcander_ can Do more with a dumb show, than I with all my Applications and Address.

_Oli_. Why, my Brother can speak.

_Fal_. Yes, if any body durst hear him; by _Jove_, if you Be not kind to him, he'll hector you all; I'll get The way on't too, 'tis the most prosperous one; I see no Other reason you have to love _Alcander_ Better than I.

_Am_. Why should you think I do?

_Fal_. Devil, I see't well enough by your continual Quarrels with him.

_Am_. Is that so certain a proof?

_Fal_. Ever while you live, you treat me too Well ever to hope.

_Enter_ Alcander, _kneels, offers his Sword to_ Aminta.

--What new Masquerade's this? by _Jove, Alcander_ Has more tricks than a dancing Bear.

_Am_. What mean you by this present?

_Alcan_. Kill me.

_Am_. What have you done to merit it?

_Alcan_. Do not ask, but do't.

_Am_. I'll have a reason first.

_Alcan_. I think I've kill'd _Pisaro_.

_Am_. My Brother dead!

[_She falls into the arms of_ Oli.

_Fal_. Madam, look up, 'tis I that call.

_Am_. I care not who thou beest, but if a Man, Revenge me on _Alcander_.

[_She goes out with_ Oli.

_Fal_. By _Jove_, she has mistook her Man, This 'tis to be a Lover now: A Man's never out of one broil or other; But I have more Wit than _Aminta_ this bout. [_Offers to go_.

_Alcan_. Come back and do your duty e'er you go. [_Pulls him_.

_Fal_. I owe you much, _Alcander_.

_Alcan. Amimta_ said you should revenge her on me.

_Fal_. Her Word's not Law I hope.

_Alcan_. And I'll obey--

_Fal_. That may do much indeed.

[Fal. _answers with great signs of fear_.

_Alcan_. This, if thou wert a Man, she bad thee do, Why dost thou shake?

_Fal_. No, no, Sir, I am not the man she meant.

_Alcan_. No matter, thou wilt serve as well.

A Lover! and canst disobey thy Mistress?

_Fal_. I do disown her, since she is so wicked To bid me kill my Friend.

Why, thou'rt my Friend, _Alcander_.

_Alcan_. I'll forgive thee that.

_Fal_. So will not his Majesty: I may be hang'd for't.

_Alcan_. Thou should'st be d.a.m.n'd e'er disobey thy Mistress.

_Fal_. These be degrees of Love I am not yet arriv'd at; When I am, I shall be as ready to be d.a.m.n'd In honour as any Lover of you all.

_Alcan_. Ounds, Sir, d'ye railly with me?