Lov. Not Atlas bore up Heaven with greater Pride.
L. Lam. —I beg your Pardon, Sir, for this Disorder,
That has occasion’d you so great a Trouble—
You seem a Gentleman—and consequently
May need some Service done you; name the way,
I shall be glad to let you see my Gratitude.
Lov. If there be ought in me, that merits this amazing Favour from you, I owe my Thanks to Nature that endow’d me with something in my Face that spoke my Heart.
L. Lam. Heaven! How he looks and speaks— [To Desbro, aside.
L. Des. Oh, these Heroicks, Madam, have the most charming Tongues.
L. Lam. Pray come to me—and ask for any of my Officers, and you shall have admittance—