LOVELESS.
Will you then keep my secret?
BERINTHIA.
I will.
LOVELESS.
Well—but swear it.
BERINTHIA.
I swear by woman.
LOVELESS.
Nay, that’s swearing by my deity; swear by your own, and I shall believe you.
BERINTHIA.
Well then, I swear by man!
LOVELESS.
I’m satisfied. Now hear my symptoms, and give me your advice. The first were these; when I saw you at the play, a random glance you threw at first alarmed me. I could not turn my eyes from whence the danger came—I gazed upon you till my heart began to pant—nay, even now, on your approaching me, my illness is so increased that if you do not help me I shall, whilst you look on, consume to ashes. [Takes her hand.]
BERINTHIA.
O Lord, let me go! ’tis the plague, and we shall be infected. [Breaking from him.]
LOVELESS.
Then we’ll die together, my charming angel.
BERINTHIA.
O Gad! the devil’s in you! Lord, let me go!—here’s somebody coming.