Lat. I'll easily convince you—[Pushing away Book.
Y. Book. Pray mind him not, his brain is touched—
Lat. I am the man, he was not near the place——
Love. I can hold out no longer.—Lovemore still lives to adore your noble friendship, and begs a share in't. Be not amazed! but let me grasp you both, who, in an age degenerate as this, have such transcendent virtue—
Y. Book. Oh, Lovemore! Lovemore! how shall I speak my joy at thy recovery—
I fail beneath the too ecstatic pleasure.
What help has human nature from its sorrows,
When our relief itself is such a burthen?
O. Book. Oh, the best burthen upon earth!—I beg your pardon, sir—I never was so taken with a man in my life at first sight. [Kisses Love.] Let me be known to you too. [To Lat.
Lat. Sir, you do me honour.
O. Book. But you, ladies, are the first cause of the many errors we have been in, and you only can extricate us with satisfaction. Such is the force of beauty. The wounds the sword gave this gentleman were slight, but you've transfixed a vital and a noble part—his heart. Had I known his pretences, I had not interposed for my son.
Fred. Come, madam, no more of the cruel—go on, Lovemore; o' my conscience, the man's afraid 'tis impudence to be alive again. You see him now, madam; now you may press his livid lips, and call him back to life with your complaints.
Love. I stand, methinks, on the brink of fate, in an ambiguous interval of life, and doubt to accept of being till you smile. In every human incident besides
I am superior, and can choose or leave;
But in minutest things that touch my love,
My bosom's seized with anguish or with transport.