_Love_. You are too quick in apprehending for me. I viewed
her with a world of admiration, but not one glance of love.
_Aman_. Take heed of trusting to such nice distinctions. But
were your eyes the only things that were inquisitive? Had I been
in your place, my tongue, I fancy, had been curious too. I should
have asked her where she lived--yet still without design--who was
she, pray?
_Love_. Indeed I cannot tell.
_Aman_. You will not tell.
_Love_. Upon my honour, then, I did not ask.
_Aman_. Nor do you know what company was with her?
_Love_. I do not. But why are you so earnest?
_Aman_. I thought I had cause.
_Love_. But you thought wrong, Amanda; for turn the case,
and let it be your story: should you come home and tell me you
had seen a handsome man, should I grow jealous because you had
eyes?
_Aman_. But should I tell you he was exquisitely so, and
that I had gazed on him with admiration, should you not think
'twere possible I might go one step further, and inquire his
name?
_Love_. [_Aside_.] She has reason on her side; I have
talked too much; but I must turn off another way.--
[_Aloud_.] Will you then make no difference, Amanda, between
the language of our sex and yours? There is a modesty restrains
your tongues, which makes you speak by halves when you commend;
but roving flattery gives a loose to ours, which makes us still
speak double what we think.
_Enter_ SERVANT.
_Ser_. Madam, there is a lady at the door in a chair desires