Am. Why, did you ever take me for a Man? ha, ha.
Alcan. Thy Soul, I thought, was all so; but I see
You have your weakness, can dissemble too;
—I would have sworn that Sorrow in your face
Had been a real one:
Nay, you can die in jest, you can, false Woman:
I hate thy Sex for this.
Fal. By Jove, there is no truth in them, that’s flat.
[She looks sad.
Alcan. Why that repentant look? what new design?
Come, now a tear or two to second that,
And I am soft again, a very Ass.
—But yet that Look would call a Saint from th’.ltar,
And make him quite forget his Ceremony,
Or take thee for his Deity:
—But yet thou hast a very Hell within,
Which those bewitching Eyes draw Souls into.
Fal. Here’s he that fits you, Ladies.
Am. Nay, now y’are too unjust, and I will leave you.
Alcan. Ah, do not go, I know not by what Magick, [Holds her. But as you move, my Soul yields that way too.
Fal. The truth on’t is, she has a strong magnetick Power, that I find.
Alcan. But I would have none find it but my self, No Soul but mine shall sympathize with hers.
Fal. Nay, that you cannot help.