Gons. Repent that word, or I shall hate thee
Strangely:
Harsh words from her, like blows from angry kings,
Though they are meant affronts, are construed favours.
Hip. Her inclinations and aversions Are both alike unjust; and both, I hope, Too violent to last: Chear up yourself; for if I live, (I hope I shall not long) [Aside. She shall be yours.
Amid. 'Twere much more noble in him,
To make a conquest of himself, than her.
She ne'er can merit him; and, hadst not thou
A mean low soul, thou wouldst not name her to him.
Hip. Poor child, who would'st be wise above thy years!
Why dost thou talk, like a philosopher,
Of conquering love, who art not yet grown up,
To try the force of any manly passion?
The sweetness of thy mother's milk is yet
Within thy veins, not soured and turned by love.
Gons. Thou hast not field enough in thy young breast, To entertain such storms to struggle in.
Amid. Young as I am, I know the power of love;
Its less disquiets, and its greater cares,
And all that's in it, but the happiness.
Trust a boy's word, sir, if you please, and take
My innocence for wisdom; Leave this lady;
Cease to persuade yourself you are in love,
And you will soon be freed. Not that I wish
A thing, so noble as your passion, lost
To all the sex: Bestow it on some other;
You'll find many as fair, though none so cruel.—
Would I could be a lady for your sake!
Hip. If I could be a woman, with a wish, You should not be without a rival long.
Amid. A cedar, of your stature, would not cause Much jealousy.
Hip. More than a shrub of yours.
Gons. How eagerly these boys fall out for nothing!— Tell me, Hippolito, wert thou a woman, Who would'st thou be?