L. Lam. Ha, he’s yonder, my Heart begins to fail, My trembling Limbs refusing to support me— His Eyes seem fix’d on mine too; ah, I faint— [Leans on _Des_. Gill. My Lady’s Coach, _William_—quickly, she faints. Lov. Madam, can an unfortunate Stranger’s aid add any thing to the recovery of so much Beauty? [Bowing, and holding her. L. Lam. Ah, wou’d he knew how much! [Aside. Gill. Support her, Sir, till her Ladyship’s Coach comes—I beseech ye. Lov. Not _Atlas_ bore up Heaven with greater Pride. L. Lam. —I beg your Pardon, Sir, for this Disorder, That has occasion’d you so great a Trouble— You seem a Gentleman—and consequently May need some Service done you; name the way, I shall be glad to let you see my Gratitude. Lov. If there be ought in me, that merits this amazing Favour from you, I owe my Thanks to Nature that endow’d me with something in my Face that spoke my Heart. L. Lam. Heaven! How he looks and speaks— [To _Desbro_, aside. L. Des. Oh, these Heroicks, Madam, have the most charming Tongues. L. Lam. Pray come to me—and ask for any of my Officers, and you shall have admittance— 352 Lov. Who shall I ask for, Madam? for I’m yet ignorant to whom I owe for this great Bounty. L. Lam. Not know me! Thou art indeed a Stranger. I thought I’d been so elevated above the common Crowd, it had been visible to all Eyes who I was. Lov. Pardon my Ignorance. My Soul conceives ye all that Heaven can make ye, Of Great, of Fair and Excellent; But cannot guess a Name to call you by But such as would displease ye— My Heart begins to fail, and by her Vanity I fear she’s one of the new Race of Quality: —But be she Devil, I must love that Form. [Aside. L. Lam. Hard Fate of Greatness, we so highly elevated Are more expos’d to Censure than the little ones, By being forc’d to speak our Passions first. —Is my Coach ready? Page. It waits your Honour. L. Lam. I give you leave to visit me—ask for the General’s Lady, if my Title be not by that time alter’d. Lov. Pistols and Daggers to my Heart—’tis so. L. Lam. Adieu, Sir. [Ex. all but _Lov._ who stands musing. Enter _Freeman_. Free. How now, what’s the matter with thee? Lov. Prithee wake me, _Freeman_. Free. Wake thee! Lov. I dream; by Heaven I dream; Nay, yet the lovely Phantom’s in my View. Oh! wake me, or I sleep to perfect Madness. Free. What ail’st thou? what did’st dream of? Lov. A strange fantastick Charmer, A thing just like a Woman Friend; It walkt and lookt with wondrous Majesty, Had Eyes that kill’d, and Graces deck’d her Face; 353 But when she talk’d, mad as the Winds she grew, Chimera in the form of Angel, Woman! Free. Who the Devil meanest thou? Lov. By Heav’n I know not, but, as she vanish’d hence, she bad me come to the General’s.