Enter Fidelia, and Manly treading softly and staying behind at some distance.
So, are you come? (but not the husband-bucket, I hope, again.)—Who's there? my dearest? [Softly.
Fid. My life—
Oliv. Right, right.—Where are thy lips? Here, take the dumb and best welcomes, kisses and embraces; 'tis not a time for idle words. In a duel of love, as in others, parleying shows basely. Come, we are alone; and now the word is only satisfaction, and defend not thyself.
Man. How's this? Why, she makes love like a devil in a play; and in this darkness, which conceals her angel's face, if I were apt to be afraid, I should think her a devil. [Aside.
Oliv. What, you traverse ground, young gentleman! [Fidelia avoiding her.
Fid. I take breath only.
Man. Good Heavens! how was I deceived! [Aside.
Oliv. Nay, you are a coward; what, are you afraid of the fierceness of my love?