Amin. I laid my lips to hers, and that wild breath,
That was so rude and rough to me last night,
Was sweet as April.—I’ll be guilty too,
If these be the effects.

[Aside.

Enter MELANTIUS.

Mel. Good day, Amintor! for, to me, the name
Of brother is too distant: We are friends.
And that is nearer.

Amin. Dear Melantius!
Let me behold thee. Is it possible?

Mel. What sudden gaze is this?

Amin. ’Tis wond’rous strange!

Mel. Why does thine eye desire so strict a view
Of that it knows so well? There’s nothing here
That is not thine.

Amin. I wonder, much, Melantius,
To see those noble looks, that make me think
How virtuous thou art: And, on the sudden,
’Tis strange to me thou shouldst have worth and honour;
Or not be base, and false, and treacherous,
And every ill. But—

Mel. Stay, stay, my friend;
I fear this sound will not become our loves.
No more; embrace me.

Amin. Oh, mistake me not:
I know thee to be full of all those deeds
That we frail men call good; but, by the course
Of nature, thou shouldst be as quickly changed
As are the winds; dissembling as the sea,
That now wears brows as smooth as virgins’ be,
Tempting the merchant to invade his face,
And in an hour calls his billows up,
And shoots ’em at the sun, destroying all
He carries on him.—Oh, how near am I
To utter my sick thoughts!

[Aside.

Mel. But why, my friend, should I be so by nature?

Amin. I have wed thy sister, who hath virtuous thoughts
Enough for one whole family; and, ’tis strange
That you should feel no want.

Mel. Believe me, this compliment’s too cunning for me.

Diph. What should I be then, by the course of nature,
They having both robb’d me of so much virtue?

Stra. Oh, call the bride, my lord Amintor,
That we may see her blush, and turn her eyes down:
’Tis the prettiest sport!

Amin. Evadne!

Evad. [within.] My lord!

Amin. Come forth, my love!
Your brothers do attend to wish you joy.

Evad. I am not ready yet.

Amin. Enough, enough.

Evad. They’ll mock me.

Amin. ’Faith, thou shalt come in.