_Gons_. Repent that word, or I shall hate thee Strangely: Harsh words from her, like blows from angry kings, Though they are meant affronts, are construed favours. _Hip_. Her inclinations and aversions Are both alike unjust; and both, I hope, Too violent to last: Chear up yourself; for if I live, (I hope I shall not long) [_Aside_. She shall be yours. _Amid_. 'Twere much more noble in him, To make a conquest of himself, than her. She ne'er can merit him; and, hadst not thou A mean low soul, thou wouldst not name her to him. _Hip_. Poor child, who would'st be wise above thy years! Why dost thou talk, like a philosopher, Of conquering love, who art not yet grown up, To try the force of any manly passion? The sweetness of thy mother's milk is yet Within thy veins, not soured and turned by love. _Gons_. Thou hast not field enough in thy young breast, To entertain such storms to struggle in. _Amid_. Young as I am, I know the power of love; Its less disquiets, and its greater cares, And all that's in it, but the happiness. Trust a boy's word, sir, if you please, and take My innocence for wisdom; Leave this lady; Cease to persuade yourself you are in love, And you will soon be freed. Not that I wish A thing, so noble as your passion, lost To all the sex: Bestow it on some other; You'll find many as fair, though none so cruel.-- Would I could be a lady for your sake! _Hip_. If I could be a woman, with a wish, You should not be without a rival long. _Amid_. A cedar, of your stature, would not cause Much jealousy. _Hip_. More than a shrub of yours. _Gons_. How eagerly these boys fall out for nothing!-- Tell me, Hippolito, wert thou a woman, Who would'st thou be? _Hip_. I would be Julia, sir, Because you love her. _Amid_. I would not be she, Because she loves not you. _Hip_. True, Amideo; And, therefore, I would wish myself a lady, Who, I am sure, does infinitely love him. _Amid_. I hope that lady has a name? _Hip_. She has: And she is called Honoria, sister to This Julia, and bred up at Barcelona; Who loves him with a flame so pure and noble, That, did she know his love to Julia, She would beg Julia to make him happy. _Gons_. This startles me! _Amid_. Oh, sir, believe him not: They love not truly, who, on any terms, Can part with what they love. _Gons_. I saw a lady At Barcelona, of what name I know not, Who, next to Julia, was the fairest creature My eyes did e'er behold: But, how camest thou To know her? _Hip_. Sir, some other time I'll tell you. _Amid_. It could not be Honoria, whom you saw; For, sir, she has a face so very ugly, That, if she were a saint for holiness, Yet no man would seek virtue there. _Hip_. This is the lyingest boy, sir;--I am sure He never saw Honoria; for her face, 'Tis not so bad to frighten any man-- None of the wits have libelled it.