The Works of Aphra Behn
Chapter 347 : _Fal_. Your pardon, sweet _Alcander_, I protest I am Not in so gay an humour._Alcan_.

_Fal_. Your pardon, sweet _Alcander_, I protest I am Not in so gay an humour.

_Alcan_. Farewell, I had forgot my self.

[_Exit_.

_Fal_. Stark mad, by _Jove_--yet it may be not, for _Alcander_ has many unaccountable humours.

Well, if this be agreeable to _Aminta_, she's e'en as mad As he, and 'twere great pity to part them.

_Enter_ Pisaro, Aminta, _and_ Olinda.

_Am_. Well, have you kill'd him?

_Fal_. Some wiser than some, Madam.

--My Lord--what, alive?-- [_Sees_ Pisaro, _runs to him, and embraces him_.

_Pis_. Worth two dead men, you see.

_Fal_. That's more than I could have said within This half hour. _Alcander's_ very _Orlando_, by _Jove_, and gone To seek out one that's madder yet than himself That will kill him.

_Am_. Oh, dear _Falatius_, run and fetch him back.

_Fal_. Madam, I have so lately 'scap'd a scouring, That I wish you would take it for a mark Of my Pa.s.sion to disobey you; For he is in a d.a.m.n'd humour.

_Am_. He's out of it by this, I warrant you; But do not tell him that _Pisaro_ lives.

_Fal_. That's as I shall find occasion.

[_Exit_ Fal.

_Pis. Alcander_ is a worthy Youth and brave, I wish you would esteem him so; 'Tis true, there's now some difference between us, Our Interests are dispos'd to several ways, But Time and Management will join us all: I'll leave you; but prithee make it thy business To get my Pardon for last night's rudeness.

_Am_. I shall not fail.

[_Exit_ Pis.

_Re-enter_ Falatius, _with_ Alcander _melancholy_.

_Fal_. Here, Madam, here he is.

_Am_. Tell me, _Alcander_, why you treat me thus?

You say you love me, if I could believe you.

_Alcan_. Believe a Man! away, you have no wit, I'll say as much to every pretty Woman.

_Am_. But I have given you no cause to wrong me.

_Alcan_. That was my Fate, not Fault, I knew him not: But yet to make up my offence to you, I offer you my life; for I'm undone, If any faults of mine should make you sad.

_Am_. Here, take your Sword again, my Brother's well.

[_She gives him his Sword again_.

_Fal_. Yes, by _Jove_, as I am: you had been finely serv'd, If I had kill'd you now.

_Am_. What, sorry for the news? ha, ha, ha.

_Alcan_. No, sorry y'are a Woman, a mere Woman.

_Am_. Why, did you ever take me for a Man? ha, ha.

_Alcan_. Thy Soul, I thought, was all so; but I see You have your weakness, can dissemble too; --I would have sworn that Sorrow in your face Had been a real one: Nay, you can die in jest, you can, false Woman: I hate thy s.e.x for this.

_Fal_. By Jove, there is no truth in them, that's flat.

[_She looks sad_.

_Alcan_. Why that repentant look? what new design?

Come, now a tear or two to second that, And I am soft again, a very a.s.s.

--But yet that Look would call a Saint from th'Altar, And make him quite forget his Ceremony, Or take thee for his Deity: --But yet thou hast a very h.e.l.l within, Which those bewitching Eyes draw Souls into.

_Fal_. Here's he that fits you, Ladies.

_Am_. Nay, now y'are too unjust, and I will leave you.

_Alcan_. Ah, do not go, I know not by what Magick, [_Holds her_.

But as you move, my Soul yields that way too.

_Fal_. The truth on't is, she has a strong magnetick Power, that I find.

_Alcan_. But I would have none find it but my self, No Soul but mine shall sympathize with hers.

_Fal_. Nay, that you cannot help.

_Alcan_. Yes, but I can, and take it from thee, if I thought it did so.

_Oli_. No quarrels here, I pray.

_Fal_. Madam, I owe a Reverence to the Place.

_Alcan_. I'll scarce allow thee that; Madam, I'll leave you to your Lover.

_Am_. I hate thee but for saying so.

_Alcan_. Quit him then.

_Am_. So I can and thee too. [_Offers to go out_.

_Alcan_. The Devil take me if you escape me so. [_Goes after her_.

_Fal_. And I'll not be out-done in importunity.

[_Goes after_.