BELIN. Of all beasts not an ass--which is so like your Vainlove.
Lard, I have seen an ass look so chagrin, ha, ha, ha (you must
pardon me, I can't help laughing), that an absolute lover would
have concluded the poor creature to have had darts, and flames, and
altars, and all that in his breast. Araminta, come, I'll talk
seriously to you now; could you but see with my eyes the buffoonery
of one scene of address, a lover, set out with all his equipage and
appurtenances; O Gad I sure you would--But you play the game, and
consequently can't see the miscarriages obvious to every stander
by.

ARAM. Yes, yes; I can see something near it when you and Bellmour
meet. You don't know that you dreamt of Bellmour last night, and
called him aloud in your sleep.

BELIN. Pish, I can't help dreaming of the devil sometimes; would
you from thence infer I love him?

ARAM. But that's not all; you caught me in your arms when you
named him, and pressed me to your bosom. Sure, if I had not
pinched you until you waked, you had stifled me with kisses.

BELIN. O barbarous aspersion!

ARAM. No aspersion, cousin, we are alone. Nay, I can tell you
more.

BELIN. I deny it all.

ARAM. What, before you hear it?