Amint. Your Sister frets this morning, and does turn her eyes upon me, as people on their headsman; she does chafe, and kiss, and chafe again, and clap my cheeks; she's in another world.
Diph. Then I had lost; I was about to lay, you had not
got her Maiden-head to night.
Amint. Ha! he does not mock me; y'ad lost indeed;
I do not use to bungle.
Cleo. You do deserve her.
Amint. I laid my lips to hers, and [t]hat wild breath That was rude and rough to me, last night
[_Aside.
Was sweet as April; I'le be guilty too,
If these be the effects.
[Enter Melantius.
Mel. Good day Amintor, for to me the name Of Brother is too distant; we are friends, And that is nearer.
Amint. Dear Melantius! Let me behold thee; is it possible?