_Phi_. Though Hope be faithless, yet I cannot chuse, Coming from thee, but credit the abuse. _Gal. Philander_, do not your Hope’s power distrust, ’.is time enough to die, when that’s unjust. [_Exeunt_. SCENE II. _The Court Gallery_. _Enter_ Aminta _as passing over the Stage, is stayed by_ Olinda. _Oli_. Why so hasty, _Aminta_? _Am_. The time requires it, _Olinda_. _Oli_. But I have an humble suit to you. _Am_. You shall command me any thing. _Oli_. Pray Heaven you keep your word. _Am_. That sad tone of thine, _Olinda_, has almost Made me repent of my promise; but come, what is’t? _Oli_. My Brother, Madam. _Am_. Now fie upon thee, is that all thy business? [_Offers to go off_. _Oli_. Stay, Madam, he dies for you. _Am_. He cannot do’t for any Woman living; But well--it seems he speaks of Love to you; To me he does appear a very Statue. _Oli_. He nought but sighs and calls upon your name, And vows you are the cruell’st Maid that breathes. _Am_. Thou can’st not be in earnest sure. _Oli_. I’ll swear I am, and so is he. _Am_. Nay, thou hast a hard task on’t, to make Vows to all the Women he makes love to; Indeed I pity thee; ha, ha, ha. _Oli_. You should not laugh at those you have undone. Aminta _sings_. _Hang Love, for I will never pine For any Man alive; Nor shall this jolly Heart of mine The thoughts of it receive; I will not purchase Slavery At such a dangerous rate; But glory in my Liberty, And laugh at Love and Fate_. _Oli_. You’ll kill him by this cruelty. _Am_. What is’t thou call’st so? For I have hitherto given no denials, Nor has he given me cause; I have seen him wildly gaze upon me often, And sometimes blush and smile, but seldom that; And now and then found fault with my replies, And wonder’d where the Devil lay that wit, Which he believ’d no Judge of it could find. _Oli_. Faith, Madam, that’s his way of making love. _Am_. It will not take with me, I love a Man Can kneel, and swear, and cry, and look submiss, As if he meant indeed to die my Slave: Thy Brother looks--but too much like a Conqueror. [_Sighs_. _Oli_. How, _Aminta_, can you sigh in earnest? _Am_. Yes, _Olinda_, and you shall know its meaning; I love _Alcander_, and am not asham’d o’th’ secret, But prithee do not tell him what I say. --Oh, he’s a man made up of those Perfections, Which I have often lik’d in several men; And wish’d united to compleat some one, Whom I might have the glory to o’ercome. --His Mein and Person, but ‘bove all his Humour, That surly Pride, though even to me addrest, Does strangely well become him. _Oli_. May I believe this? _Am_. Not if you mean to speak on’t, But I shall soon enough betray my self. _Enter_ Falatius _with a patch or two on his Face_. _Falatius_, welcome from the Wars; I’m glad to see y’ave scap’d the dangers of them.