Alcan. Nay, do not leave me yet, for still your Scorn Much better than your Absence may be borne.
Am. Well, Sir, your business, for mine requires haste.
Alcan. Say, fair Aminta, shall I never find
You’ll cease this Rigour, and be kind?
Will that dear Breast no Tenderness admit?
And shall the Pain you give no Pity get?
Will you be never touch’d with what I say?
And shall my Youth and Vows be thrown away?
You know my Passion and my Humour too,
And how I die, though do not tell you so.
Am. What arguments will you produce to prove You love? for yet I’ll not believe you love.
Alcan. Since, fair Aminta, I did thee adore,
Alas, I am not what I was before:
My Thoughts disorder’d from my Heart do break;
And Sighs destroy my Language when I speak.
My Liberty and my Repose I gave,
To be admitted but your Slave;
And can you question such a Victory?
Or must I suffer more to make it sure?
It needs not, since these Languishments can be
Nought but the Wounds which you alone can cure.
Am. Alcander, you so many Vows have paid,
So many Sighs and Tears to many a Maid,
That should I credit give to what you say,
I merit being undone as well as they.
—No, no, Alcander, I’ll no more of that.
Alcan. Farewel, Aminta, mayst thou want a Lover,
When I shall hate both thee and thy whole Sex;
I can endure your sober Cruelty,
But do despise it clad in Jollity.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE V.
Discovers a Room hung with Black, a Hearse standing in it with Tapers round about it, Alcippus weeping at it, with Isillia, and other Women with long black Veils round about the Hearse.