your fever has transported you.

ARAM. If love be the fever which you mean, kind heaven avert the cure.
Let me have oil to feed that flame, and never let it be extinct till I
myself am ashes.

BELIN. There was a whine! O Gad, I hate your horrid fancy. This love
is the devil, and, sure, to be in love is to be possessed. 'Tis in the
head, the heart, the blood, the--all over. O Gad, you are quite spoiled.
I shall loathe the sight of mankind for your sake.

ARAM. Fie! this is gross affectation. A little of Bellmour's company
would change the scene.

BELIN. Filthy fellow! I wonder, cousin--

ARAM. I wonder, cousin, you should imagine I don't perceive you love
him.

BELIN. Oh, I love your hideous fancy! Ha, ha, ha, love a man!

ARAM. Love a man! yes, you would not love a beast.

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?

BELIN. My denial is premeditated like your malice. Lard, cousin, you
talk oddly. Whatever the matter is, O my Sol, I'm afraid you'll follow
evil courses.

ARAM. Ha, ha, ha, this is pleasant.

BELIN. You may laugh, but--

ARAM. Ha, ha, ha!

BELIN. You think the malicious grin becomes you. The devil take
Bellmour. Why do you tell me of him?

ARAM. Oh, is it come out? Now you are angry, I am sure you love him. I
t