Ors. Nature, thy Conduct’s wise! nor could thy Favours
Be giv’n to one more apprehensive of ‘em?
—Say, lovely Woman! for I am all on fire,
Impatient of delay,
Can you instruct me what I am to do? [Sighs.
Undress, and let me lead thee to my Bed.
Ura. Alas, Sir, what to do? defend me, Heaven! [Aside.
Ors. Why, I will hold thee—thus, between my Arms,
—I’ll see thee sleep, and wonder at thy Form,
—Then wake thee to be gazing on thy Eyes,
—And something more—but yet I know not what.
Ura. His whole Discourse amazes me, And has more Ignorance than Madness in’t: —But how shall I get free?
Ors. Thou grow’st impatient too, come, let us in—
[Goes to take her in, she strives to get free, he struggles with her.
Ura. Hold off, you are too rude.
Ors. This is the prettiest play I e’er was at, But I shall gain the better.— [Takes her in his Arms to carry her off.
Ura. Help, help!
Enter Amintas in Fetters.