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Am. You've lost your sleep, which puts you out of humour. Alcan. He's damn'd will lose a moment on't for you. Am. Who is't that has displeas'd you? Alcan. You have, and took my whole repose away, And more than that, which you ne'er can restore; I can do nothing as I did before.
Sir, e'er you grow in rage at what I've said, Do you think I love you, or believe my life Were to be valued more than your repose? You seem to think it is not. Phi. Possibly I may. Alcan. The sin of what I have propos'd to you You only seem to hate: Sir, is it so? If such religious thoughts about you dwell, Why is it that you thus perplex your self? Self-murder sure is much the greater sin.
Ever while you live, you treat me too Well ever to hope. Enter Alcander, kneels, offers his Sword to Aminta. What new Masquerade's this? by Jove, Alcander Has more tricks than a dancing Bear. Am. What mean you by this present? Alcan. Kill me. Am. What have you done to merit it? Alcan. Do not ask, but do't. Am. I'll have a reason first. Alcan. I think I've kill'd Pisaro. Am. Fal.
Am. Methinks, Alcander, you should shun that Maid, Of whose too much of kindness you're afraid. Alcan. Nay, do not leave me yet, for still your Scorn Much better than your Absence may be borne. Am. Well, Sir, your business, for mine requires haste. Alcan. Say, fair Aminta, shall I never find You'll cease this Rigour, and be kind? Will that dear Breast no Tenderness admit?
Shall she be made a prey, and I permit it, Who only have the interest to forbid it? Alcan. What mean you, Sir? Phi. Force the bold Ravisher to resign my Right. Alcander, is not she my Wife, and I his Prince? Alcan. 'Tis true, Sir: And y'ave both power and justice on your side; And there are times to exercise 'em both. Phi. Fitter than this, Alcander? Alcan.
Why, what art thou darest tell me so i'th' dark? Day had betray'd thy blushes for this Boldness. Phi. Tell me who 'tis that dares capitulate? Pis. One that dares make it good. Phi. Draw then, and keep thy word. Alcan. Here's thy reward, whoe'er thou art. Phi. Hast thou no hurt? Alcan. I think not much, yet somewhere 'tis I bleed. Pis. What a dull beast am I! My Lord, is't you are fallen?
Fagnot, Millerand et Strohl, La Durée légale du Travail. Félix Alcan: Paris. Paul Boyaval, La Lutte contre le Sweating System. Félix Alcan: Paris. Students might also consult the following Reports: Le Travail
Erminia yet is hardly brought to yield; She wants but some encouragement from you, That may assist her weakness to subdue, And 'twas but faintly she deny'd to see you. Phi. However, I will venture, She can but chide, and that will soon be past: A Lover's Anger is not long to last. Am. Isillia I have won to give you entrance. Phi. Gal. But is Alcippus gone? Alcan. Madam, an hour since. Phi.
Thy Soul, I thought, was all so; but I see You have your weakness, can dissemble too; I would have sworn that Sorrow in your face Had been a real one: Nay, you can die in jest, you can, false Woman: I hate thy Sex for this. Fal. Alcan. Why that repentant look? what new design? Come, now a tear or two to second that, And I am soft again, a very Ass.
But out o'th' Court he knows he cannot pass At this dead time of night; But he believes he is i'th' Groves or Gardens, And thither he is gone to find him out. Alcan. This is no place to make a longer stay in, The King has many Spies about the Prince, 'Twere good you would retire to your Apartment. Gal. We'll take your Counsel, Sir. Good night, Brother. Phi.
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