Alon. [Command me] things impossible to all
Sense but a Lover’s, I will do’t: to shew
The Truth of this, I could even give you
The last Proof of it, and take you at your Word,
To marry you.
Euph. O wondrous Reformation! marry me! [Laughs.
Alon. How, do you mock my Grief?
Euph. What a strange dissembling thing is Man! To put me off too, you were to be married.
Alon. Hah, I had forgotten Hippolyta. [He starts.
Euph. See, Olinda, the Miracle increases, he can be serious too. How do you, Sir?