Amin. How’s that?

Evad. That I may show you one less pleasing to you.

Amin. I pr’ythee, put thy jests in milder looks;
It shows as thou wert angry.

Evad. So, perhaps,
I am indeed.

Amin. Why, who has done thee wrong?
Name me the man, and by thyself I swear,
Thy yet-unconquer’d self, I will revenge thee.

Evad. Now I shall try thy truth. If thou dost love me,
Thou weigh’st not anything compared with me:
Life, honour, joys eternal, all delights
This world can yield, or hopeful people feign,
Or in the life to come, are light as air
To a true lover when his lady frowns,
And bids him do this. Wilt thou kill this man?
Swear, my Amintor, and I’ll kiss the sin
Off from thy lips.

Amin. I will not swear, sweet love,
Till I do know the cause.

Evad. I would thou would’st.
Why, it is thou that wrong’st me; I hate thee;
Thou should’st have kill’d thyself.

Amin. If I should know that, I should quickly kill
The man you hated.

Evad. Know it then, and do’t.

Amin. Oh, no; what look soe’er thou shalt put on
To try my faith, I shall not think thee false:
I cannot find one blemish in thy face,
Where falsehood should abide. Leave, and to bed.
If you have sworn to any of the virgins,
That were your old companions, to preserve
Your maidenhead a night, it may be done
Without this means.

Evad. A maidenhead, Amintor,
At my years?

Amin. Sure, she raves!—This cannot be
Thy natural temper. Shall I call thy maids?
Either thy healthful sleep hath left thee long,
Or else some fever rages in thy blood.

Evad. Neither, Amintor: Think you I am mad,
Because I speak the truth?

Amin. Will you not lie with me to-night?

Evad. To-night! you talk as if I would hereafter.

Amin. Hereafter! yes, I do.

Evad. You are deceived.
Put off amazement, and with patience mark
What I shall utter; for the oracle
Knows nothing truer: ’tis not for a night,
Or two, that I forbear thy bed, but for ever.

Amin. I dream! Awake, Amintor!

Evad. You hear right.
I sooner will find out the beds of snakes,
And with my youthful blood warm their cold flesh,
Letting them curl themselves about my limbs,
Than sleep one night with thee. This is not feign’d,
Nor sounds it like the coyness of a bride.

Amin. Is flesh so earthly to endure all this?
Are these the joys of marriage? Hymen, keep
This story (that will make succeeding youth
Neglect thy ceremonies) from all ears;
Let it not rise up, for thy shame and mine,
To after-ages: We will scorn thy laws,
If thou no better bless them. Touch the heart
Of her that thou hast sent me, or the world
Shall know, there’s not an altar that will smoke
In praise of thee; we will adopt us sons;
Then virtue shall inherit, and not blood.
If we do lust, we’ll take the next we meet,
Serving ourselves as other creatures do;
And never take note of the female more,
Nor of her issue.—I do rage in