Re-enter Falatius, with Alcander melancholy.
Fal. Here, Madam, here he is.
Am. Tell me, Alcander, why you treat me thus? You say you love me, if I could believe you.
Alcan. Believe a Man! away, you have no wit, I’ll say as much to every pretty Woman.
Am. But I have given you no cause to wrong me.
Alcan. That was my Fate, not Fault, I knew him not:
But yet to make up my offence to you,
I offer you my life; for I’m undone,
If any faults of mine should make you sad.
Am. Here, take your Sword again, my Brother’s well.
[She gives him his Sword again.
Fal. Yes, by Jove, as I am: you had been finely serv’d, If I had kill’d you now.
Am. What, sorry for the news? ha, ha, ha.
Alcan. No, sorry y’are a Woman, a mere Woman.