Silv. I durst not tell you, but design’d to suffer, Rather than trouble you with my Complaints: But now my Pain is greater than my Courage. Fran. Oh, he will tell her, that he loves her sure. [Aside. Cleo. Sit down and let me see’t. [He sits down, she puts her Hand into his Bosom. Fran. Oh foolish Innocence— [Aside. Cleo. You have deceiv’d me, Brother, here’s no Wound. Silv. Oh take away your Hand— It does increase my Pain, and wounds me deeper. Cleo. No, surely, Sir, my Hand is very gentle. Silv. Therefore it hurts me, Sister; the very thoughts Of Touches by so soft and fair a Hand, Playing about my Heart, are not to be indur’d with Life. [Rises in passion. Cleo. Alas, what means my Brother? Silv. Can you not guess, fair Sister? have my Eyes So ill exprest my Soul? or has your Innocence Not suffer’d you to understand my Sighs? Have then a thousand Tales, which I have told you, 257 Of Broken Hearts, and Lovers Languishments, Not serv’d to tell you, that I did adore you? Cleo. Oh let me still remain in Innocence, Rather than sin so much to understand you. Fran. I can endure no more— [Goes out. Silv. Can you believe it Sin to love a Brother? it is not so in Nature. Cleo. Not as a Brother, Sir; but otherwise, It is, by all the Laws of Men and Heaven. Silv. Sister, so ’tis that we should do no Murder, And yet you daily kill, and I, among the number Of your Victims, must charge you with the sin Of killing me, a Lover, and a Brother. Cleo. What wou’d you have me do? Silv. Why—I would have thee—do—I know not what— Still to be with me—yet that will not satisfy; To let me look—upon thee—still that’s not enough. I dare not say to kiss thee, and imbrace thee; That were to make me wish—I dare not tell thee what— Cleo. I must not hear this Language from a Brother. [She offers to go. Silv. What a vile thing’s a Brother? Stay, take this Dagger, and add one Wound more [He kneels and offers her a Dagger, and holds her by the Coat. To those your Eyes have given, and after that You’ll find no trouble from my Sighs and Tears. Enter _Francisca_. Fran. By this she understands him, curse on her Innocence, ’Tis fuel to his flame— [Aside.] Madam, there is below a Lady, who desires to speak with the Mistress of the House. Cleo. At this hour a Lady! who can it be? Fran. I know not, but she seems of Quality. Cleo. Is she alone? Fran. Attended by a Gentleman and an old Woman. 258 Cleo. Perhaps some one that needs a kind Assistance; my Father is in Bed, and I’ll venture to know their Business; bring her up. Fran. ’Twere good you should retire, Sir. [To _Silvio_, and Exit. Silv. I will, but have a care of me, _Cleonte_, I fear I shall grow mad, and so undo thee: Love me—but do not let me know’t too much. [Goes out. Enter _Francisca_ with Lights; follow’d by _Alonzo_, _Clarinda_, and _Dormida_: _Alonzo_ gazes on _Cleonte_ a while. Cleo. Is’t me you would command? Clar. I know not what to say, I am so disorder’d. [Aside.