Iph. [spying her]. Francelia!
If, through the ignorance of places, I
Have intruded on your privacies, found out40
Forbidden paths, 'tis fit you pardon, madam;
For 'tis my melancholy, not I, offends.
Fran. So great a melancholy would well become
Mischances, such as time could not repair.
Those of the war are but the petty cures45
Of every coming hour.
Iph. [aside]. Why
Should I not tell her all? since 'tis in her
To save my life? Who knows, but she may be
Gallant so far, as to undo herself50
To make another happy?
[Aloud] Madam,
The accidents of war contribute least
To my sad thoughts (if any such I have)—
Imprisonment can never be,55
Where the place holds what we must love; and yet
Fran. My lord?
Iph. In this imprisonment
Fran. Proceed,
My lord.
Iph. I dare not, madam.
Fran. I see.60
I do disturb you, and enter upon secrets,
Which when I know, I cannot serve you in them.
Iph. O, most of any! You are the cause of all.
Fran. I, my lord?
Iph. You, madam, you alone!
Fran. [aside]. Alas, that 'tis so soon to understand!65
Iph. Must not you marry Almerin?
Fran. They tell me 'tis design'd.
Iph. If he have you, I am for ever lost.
Fran. Lost!
The heavens forbid they should design so ill;70
Or, when they shall, that I should be the cause!
Iph. [aside]. Ha!
Her eyes are strangely kind: she prompts me excellently.
Stars, be propitious: and I am safe!—
A way I not expected.75
Fran. [aside]. His passion labours for vent.
Iph. Is there a hope you will not give yourself
To Almerin?
