_Old Mir._ Never but once, you rogue, and that was when she longed for six Flanders mares: ay, sir, then she was breeding of you, which showed what an expensive dog I should have of you.
_Petit._ Mad, sir, _con pompos_--Ay, Mr. Mirabel, you'll believe that I speak truth, now, when I confess that I have told you hitherto nothing but lies: our jesting is come to a sad earnest; she's downright distracted!
_Bis._ Where is this mighty victor!----The great exploit is done. O, sir, [_To the old Gentleman._] your wretched ward has found a tender guardian of you, where her young innocence expected protection, here has she found her ruin.
_Old Mir._ Ay, the fault is mine; for I believe that rogue won't marry, for fear of begetting such another disobedient son as his father did. I have done all I can, madam, and now can do no more than run mad for company. [_Cries._
_Old Mir._ Patience! Patience, sir! [OLD MIRABEL _holds him_.] Bob, draw. [_Aside._
_Dug._ Patience! the coward's virtue, and the brave man's failing, when thus provoked--Villain!
_Y. Mir._ Your sister's phrensy shall excuse your madness; and, to show my concern for what she suffers, I'll bear the villain from her brother.--Put up your anger with your sword; I have a heart like yours, that swells at an affront received, but melts at an injury given; and, if the lovely Oriana's grief be such a moving scene, 'twill find a part within this breast, perhaps as tender as a brother's.
_Dug._ To prove that soft compassion for her grief, endeavour to remove it.--There, there, behold an object that's infective; I cannot view her, but I am as mad as she!
_Enter_ ORIANA, _held by Two Maids, who put her in a Chair_.
A sister, that my dying parents left, with their last words and blessing, to my care. Sister, dearest sister! [_Goes to her._
_Old Mir._ Ay, poor child, poor child, d'ye know me?
_Oriana._ You! you are Amadis de Gaul, sir.--Oh! oh, my heart! Were you never in love, fair lady? And do you never dream of flowers and gardens?--I dream of walking fires, and tall gigantic sights. Take heed, it comes now--What's that? Pray stand away: I have seen that face, sure.--How light my head is!
_Y. Mir._ What piercing charms has beauty, even in madness!