Why I think he's a very mad fellow; but yet I have some
obligements to him: he teaches me new airs of the guitar, and talks
wildly to me, and I to him.
_Mel_. But tell me in earnest, do you think he loves you?
_Olin_. Can you doubt it? There were never two so cut out for one
another; we both love singing, dancing, treats, and music. In short,
we are each other's counterpart.
_Mel_. But does he love you seriously?
_Olin_. Seriously?--I know not that; if he did, perhaps I should
not love him: But we sit and talk, and wrangle, and are friends; when
we are together, we never hold our tongues; and then we have always a
noise of fiddles at our heels; he hunts me merrily, as the hound does
the hare; and either this is love, or I know it not.
_Mel_. Well, go back, and call Sabina to me.
[_OLINDA goes behind_.
This is a riddle past my finding out: Whether he loves her, or no,
is the question; but this, I am sure of, she loves him:--O my little
favourite, I must ask you a question concerning Celadon: is he in love
with you?
_Sab_. I think, indeed, he does not hate me; at least, if a man's
word may be taken for it.
_Mel_. But what expressions has he made you?
_Sab_. Truly, the man has done his part: He has spoken civilly to
me, and I was not so young but I understood him.
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