Er. I will revisit thee. [Ex.
Enter Alcander.
Phi. I’m not content with that. —Stay, stay, my dear Erminia.
Alcan. What mean you, Sir?
[He rises and looks still afrighted.
Phi. Alcander, look, look, how she glides away, Dost thou not see’t?
Alcan. Nothing, Sir, not I.
Phi. No, now she’s gone again.
Alcan. You are disorder’d, pray sit down a while.
Phi. No, not at all, Alcander; I’m my self,
I was not in a Dream, nor in a Passion
When she appear’d, her Face a little pale,
But else my own Erminia, she her self,
I mean a thing as like, nay, it spoke too,
And I undaunted answer’d it again;
But when you knockt it vanisht.
Alcan. ‘Twas this Aminta would persuade me to, And, faith, I laught at her, And wish I might have leave to do so now.