_Man._ Whist! _Fid._ 'Tis a strange revenge, indeed. _Man._ If you make me stay, I shall keep my word, and begin with you. No more. [_Exit at the same door_ OLIVIA _went out by._ _Fid._ O Heavens! is there not punishment enough In loving well, if you will have't a crime, But you must add fresh torments daily to't, And punish us like peevish rivals still, Because we fain would find a heaven here? But did there never any love like me, That untried tortures you must find me out? Others at worst, you force to kill themselves; But I must be self-murdress of my love, Yet will not grant me power to end my life, My cruel life; for when a lover's hopes Are dead and gone, life is unmerciful. [_Sits down and weeps._ _Re-enter_ MANLY. _Man._ I have thought better on't: I must not discover myself now I am without witnesses; for if I barely should publish it, she would deny it with as much impudence, as she would act it again with this young fellow here.--Where are you? _Fid._ Here--oh--now I suppose we may be gone. _Man._ I will; but not you. You must stay and act the second part of a lover, that is, talk kindness to her. _Fid._ Not I, sir. _Man._ No disputing, sir, you must; 'tis necessary to my design of coming again to-morrow night. _Fid._ What, can you come again then hither? _Man._ Yes; and you must make the appointment, and an apology for your leaving her so soon; for I have said not a word to her; but have kept your counsel, as I expect you should do mine. Do this faithfully, and I promise you here, you shall run my fortune still, and we will never part as long as we live; but if you do not do it, expect not to live. _Fid._ 'Tis hard, sir; but such a consideration will make it easier. You won't forget your promise, sir? _Man._ No, by Heavens! But I hear her coming. [_Exit._ _Re-enter_ OLIVIA. _Oliv._ Where is my life? Run from me already! You do not love me, dearest; nay, you are angry with me, for you would not so much as speak a kind word to me within: what was the reason? _Fid._ I was transported too much. _Oliv._ That's kind.--But come, my soul, what make you here? Let us go in again; we may be surprised in this room, 'tis so near the stairs. _Fid._ No, we shall hear the better here, if anybody should come up. _Oliv._ Nay, I assure you, we shall be secure enough within: come, come-- _Fid._ I am sick, and troubled with a sudden dizziness; and cannot stir yet. _Oliv._ Come, I have spirits within. _Fid._ O! don't you hear a noise, madam? _Oliv._ No, no; there is none: come, come. [_Pulls her._ _Fid._ Indeed there is; and I love you so much, I must have a care of your honour, if you won't, and go; but to come to you to-morrow night, if you please. _Oliv._ With all my soul. But you must not go yet; come, prithee. _Fid._ Oh!--I'm now sicker, and am afraid of one of my fits. _Oliv._ What fits?