Chapter XV: Act IV: SCENE I. Antonio’s House

Enter _Ismena_ and _Isabella_.

_Isab._ Madam, turn your back to that side,
For there _Antonio_ is hid; he must not see your
Face: now raise your Voice, that he may hear what ‘tis you say.

_Ism._ I’ll warrant you, _Isabella_:
Was ever wretched Woman’s Fate like mine,
Forc’d to obey the rigid Laws of Parents,
And marry with a Man I did not love?

_Ant._ Oh, there’s my cause of Fear. [_Ant._ peeps.

_Ism._ Though since I had him, thou know’st I have endeavour’d
To make his Will my Law,
Till by degrees and Custom, which makes things natural,
I found this Heart, which ne’er had been engag’d
To any other, grow more soft to him;
And still the more he lov’d, the more I was oblig’d,
And made returns still kinder; till I became
Not only to allow, but to repay his Tenderness.

_Isab._ She counterfeits rarely. [Aside.
Madam, indeed I have observ’d this truth.

_Ism._ See who ‘tis knocks. [One knocks.

_Ant._ What will this come to? [Aside.

_Isab._ Madam, ‘tis _Alberto_.

Enter _Alberto_. Bows.

_Ism._ My Lord, you’ve often told me that you lov’d me,
Which I with Womens usual Pride believ’d;
And now, encourag’d by my hopeful Promises,
You look for some Returns: Sir, is it so?

_Alb._ What means she?
Pray Heaven I answer right. [Aside.
--Madam, if I have err’d in that belief,
To know I do so, is sufficient punishment.
--Lovers, Madam, though they have no returns,
Like sinking Men, still catch at all they meet with;
And whilst they live, though in the midst of Storms,
Because they wish, they also hope for Calms.

_Ism._ And did you, Sir, consider who I was?

_Alb._ Yes, Madam, Wife unto my Friend _Antonio_,
The only Man that has an Interest here:
--But, Madam, that must still submit to Love.

_Ism._ Canst thou at once be true to him and me?

_Alb._ Madam, I know not that;
But since I must lose one,
My Friendship I can better lay aside.

_Ism._ Hast thou forgot how dear thou art to him?

_Alb._ No, I do believe I am, and that his Life
Were but a worthless trifle, if I needed it.
Yet, Madam, you are dearer to him still
Than his _Alberto_; and ‘tis so with me:
--Him I esteem, but you I do adore;
And he whose Soul’s insensible of Love,
Can never grateful to his Friendship prove.

_Ism._ By your example, Sir, I’ll still retain
My Love for him; and what I had for you,
Which was but Friendship, I’ll abandon too.

_Ant._ Happy _Antonio_.-- [Aside.

_Ism._ Pray what have you _Antonio_ cannot own?
Has he not equal Beauty, if not exceeding thine?
Has he not equal Vigour, Wit, and Valour?
And all that even raises Men to Gods,
Wert not for poor Mortality?
--Vain Man, couldst thou believe
That I would quit my Duty to this Husband,
And sacrifice his Right to thee?
--Couldst thou believe me yesterday?
When from thy Importunity and Impudence,
To send thee from me,
I promised thee to love thee.
--Nay, rather, treacherous Man,
Couldst thou believe I did not hate thee then,
Who basely would betray thy Friend and me?

_Alb._ Sure this is earnest. [Aside.

_Ant._ Oh brave _Clarina_! [Aside.

_Ism._ Speak, Traitor to my Fame and Honour;
Was there no Woman, but _Antonio’s_ Wife,
With whom thou couldst commit so foul a Crime?
And none but he to bring to publick Shame?
A Man who trusted thee, and lov’d thee too?
--Speak--and if yet thou hast a sense of Virtue,
Call to the Saints for pardon, or thou dy’st.
[She draws a Poniard, and runs at him; he steps back to avoid it.

_Alb._ Hold, _Clarina_!--I am amaz’d.

_Ism._ But stay.
Thou say’st my Beauty forc’d thee to this Wickedness,
And that’s the cause you have abus’d _Antonio_.
--Nor is it all the Power I have with him,
Can make him credit what I tell him of thee;
And should I live, I still must be pursu’d by thee,
And unbeliev’d by him:
--_Alberto_, thou shalt ne’er be guilty more,
Whilst this--and this may meet.
[Offering to wound her self, is stay’d by _Alb._ and _Isab._ They
set _Ism._ in a Chair; _Alb._ kneels weeping.

_Alb._ Hold, my divine _Clarina_.--

_Ant._ Shall I discover my self, or steal away? [Aside.
And all asham’d of Life after this Action,
Go where the Sun or Day may never find me?
Oh! what Virtue I’ve abus’d--
Curse on my little Faith;
And all the Curses Madness can invent,
Light on my groundless Jealousy. [Ex. _Antonio_.

_Alb._ _Clarina_, why so cruel to my Heart?
‘Tis true, I love you, but with as chaste an Ardour,
As Souls departing pay the Deities,
When with incessant Sighs they haste away,
And leave Humanity behind. Oh! so did I
Abandon all the lesser Joys of Life,
For that of being permitted but t’adore ye.
Alas, if ‘twere displeasing to you,
Why did your self encourage it?
I might have languish’d, as I did before,
And hid those Crimes which make you hate me now.
--Oh, I am lost? _Antonio_, thou’st undone me; [He rises in Rage.
--Hear me, Ungrate; I swear by all that’s good,
I’ll wash away my Mischief with thy Blood.

_Isab._ _Antonio_ hears you not, Sir, for he’s departed.

_Ism._ Is _Antonio_ gone?
[She looks pertly up, who before lay half dead.

_Alb._ How’s this, has she but feign’d?

_Ism._ Know it was but feign’d; I hope this proof
Of what I’ve promis’d you, does not displease you.

_Alb._ Am I thus fortunate, thus strangely happy?

_Ism._ Time will confirm it to you--go, do not
Now thank me for’t, but seek _Antonio_ out;
Perhaps he may have too great a Sense of the
Mischiefs his Jealousies had like to have caus’d:
But conjure him to take no notice of what’s past to me;
This easy slight of mine secures our Fears,
And serves to make _Antonio_ confident,
Who now will unbelieve his Eyes and Ears;
And since before, when I was innocent,
He could suspect my Love and Duty too,
I’ll try what my dissembling it will do.
--Go haste.--

_Alb._ Madam, I go, surpriz’d with Love and Wonder. [Ex. _Alb._

_Ism._ You’ll be more surpriz’d, when you know [Aside.
That you are cheated too as well as _Antonio_.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Street.

Enter _Curtius_ disguis’d in a black Peruke and Beard, with
_Pietro_ disguised also.

_Cur._ Well, what hast thou learn’d?

_Piet._ News enough, Sir, but none good;
That the Prince’s Wounds are small,
So that he intends to take the Air this Evening;
That he sollicits _Laura_ hard;
And, Sir, that you are proclaim’d Traitor.

_Cur._ So, what says the Messenger you sent to _Cloris_?

_Piet._ Sir, he brings sad tidings back.

_Cur._ What tidings? is she dead?
That would revive my Soul,
And fortify my easy Nature with some wicked Notions,
As deep as those this flattering Prince made use of,
When he betray’d my Sister, pretty _Cloris_:
--Come, speak it boldly, for nothing else
Will make me do her Justice.

_Piet._ No, Sir, she is not dead,
But fled, and none knows whither;
Only _Guilliam_ attends her.

_Cur._ Worse and worse; but what of _Laura_?

_Piet._ She, Sir, is kept a Prisoner by her Father,
And speaks with none but those that come from _Frederick_.

_Cur._ _Laura_ confin’d too! ‘tis time to hasten then,
With my, till now, almost disarmed Revenge:
--Thus I may pass unknown the Streets of _Florence_,
And find an opportunity to reach this Prince’s Heart,
--Oh, Vengeance! luxurious Vengeance!
Thy Pleasures turn a Rival to my Love,
And make the mightier Conquest o’er my Heart.
--_Cloris_, I will revenge thy Tears and Sufferings;
And to secure the Doom of him that wrong’d thee,
I’ll call on injur’d _Laura_ too.
--Here take these Pictures--and where thou see’st [Gives him Boxes.
A knot of Gallants, open one or two, as if by stealth,
To gaze upon the Beauties, and then straight close them--
But stay, here comes the only Man
I could have wish’d for; he’ll proclaim my Business
Better than a Picture or a Trumpet. [They stand by.
[_Curtius_ takes back the Pictures.

Enter _Lorenzo_ and _Guilliam_ dressed in fineish Clothes, but
the same high-crown’d Hat.

_Lor._ Did, ha, ha, ha, did, ha, ha; did ever any
Mortal Man behold such a Figure as thou art now?
Well, I see ‘tis a damnable thing not to
Be born a Gentleman; the Devil himself
Can never make thee truly jantee now.
--Come, come, come forward; these Clothes become
Thee, as a Saddle does a Sow; why com’st thou not?
--Why--ha, ha, I hope thou hast not
Hansel’d thy new Breeches,
Thou look’st so filthily on’t. [He advances, looking sourly.

_Guil._ No, Sir, I hope I have more manners than so;
But if I should, ‘tis not my fault;
For the necessary Houses are hard
To be met withal here at Court.

_Lor._ Very well, Sirrah; you begin already to be
Witty with the Court: but I can tell you, it has as
Many necessary Places in’t, as any Court in Christendom
--But what a Hat thou hast?

_Guil._ Why, Sir, though I say’t, this is accounted of
In our Village; but I had another but now,
Which I blew off in a high Wind; and I never mist it,
Till I had an occasion to pluck it off to a young
Squire, they call a Lacquey; and, Fegs,
I had none at all: and because I would not lose
My Leg for want of a Hat, I fetch’d this;
And I can tell you, Sir, it has a fashionable Brim.

_Lor._ A Fool’s head of your own, has it not?
The Boys will hoot at us as we pass--hah,
Who be these, who be these-- [Goes towards _Cur._ and _Piet._

_Cur._ Here--this to _Don Alonso_--this to the
_English_ Count; and this you may shew to the
Young _German_ Prince--and this--
I will reserve for higher Prices. [Gives _Piet._ Pictures.

_Piet._ Will you shew none to the Courtiers, Sir?

_Cur._ Away, you Fool, I deal in no such Trash.

_Lor._ How, Sir, how was that? pray how came we to
Gain your dis-favour?

_Cur._ I cry you mercy, Sir, pray what are you;

_Lor._ A Courtier, Sir, I can assure you,
And one of the best Rank too;
I have the Prince’s ear, Sir.
--What have you there, hah?--Pictures? let me see--
What, are they to be bought?

_Cur._ Sir, they are Copies of most fair Originals,
Not to be bought but hired.

_Lor._ Say you so, Friend? the Price, the Price.

_Cur._ Five thousand Crowns a Month, Sir.

_Lor._ The Price is somewhat saucy.

_Cur._ Sir, they be curious Pieces, were never blown upon,
Have never been in Courts, nor hardly Cities.

_Lor._ Upon my word, that’s considerable;
Friend, pray where do they live?

_Cur._ In the _Piazzo_, near the Palace.

_Lor._ Well, put up your Ware, shew not a face of them
Till I return! for I will bring you
The best Chapman in all _Florence_,
Except the Duke himself.

_Cur._ You must be speedy then,
For I to morrow shall be going towards _Rome_.

_Lor._ A subtle Rascal this: thou think’st, I warrant,
To make a better Market amongst the Cardinals.
--But take my word, ne’er a Cardinal of them all
Comes near this Man, I mean, to bring you in
Matters of Beauty--so, this will infallibly make
My Peace again: [Aside.] Look ye, Friend
--Be ready, for ‘tis the Prince, the noble generous _Frederick_,
That I design your Merchant. [Goes out.

_Cur._ Your Servant, Sir,--that is _Guilliam_;
I cannot be mistaken in him, go call him back.
[_Pietro_ fetches him back, who puts on a surly Face.
--Friend, what art thou?

_Guil._ What am I? why, what am I? dost thou not see
What I am? a Courtier, Friend.

_Cur._ But what’s thy Name?

_Guil._ My Name, I have not yet considered.

_Cur._ What was thy Name?

_Guil._ What was my Name?

_Cur._ Yes, Friend, thou hadst one.

_Guil._ Yes, Friend, thou hadst one.

_Cur._ Dog, do’st eccho me? do’st thou repeat?
I say again, what is thy Name? [Shakes him.

_Guil._ Oh horrible!--why, Sir, it was _Guilliam_
When I was a silly Swain.

_Cur._ _Guilliam_--the same;
Didst thou not know a Maid whose name was _Cloris_?

_Guil._ Yes, there was such a Maid,
But now she’s none!

_Cur._ Was such a Maid, but now she’s none!
--The Slave upbraids my Griefs. [Aside.

_Guil._ Yes, Sir, so I said.

_Cur._ So you said!

_Guil._ Why, yes, Sir, what, do you repeat?

_Cur._ What mean you, Sirrah? have you a mind to
Have your Throat cut? tell me where she is.

_Guil._ I dare as well be hang’d.
Now must I devise a lye, or never look _Cloris_
In the Face more. [Aside.

_Cur._ Here’s Gold for thee; I will be secret too.

_Guil._ Oh, Sir, the poor Maid you speak of is dead.

_Cur._ Dead! where dy’d she? and how?

_Guil._ Now am I put to my wits; this ‘tis to begin
In Sin, as our Curate said: I must go on: [Aside.
--Why, Sir, she came into the Wood--and hard by a
River-side--she sigh’d, and she wept full sore;
And cry’d two or three times out upon _Curtius_,
--And--then-- [Howls.

_Cur._ Poor _Cloris_, thy Fate was too severe.

_Guil._ And then as I was saying, Sir,
She leapt into the River, and swam up the Stream. [_Cur._ weeps.

_Piet._ And why up the Stream, Friend?

_Guil._ Because she was a Woman--and that’s all. [Ex. _Guil._

_Cur._ Farewel, and thank thee.
--Poor _Cloris_ dead, and banish’d too from _Laura_!
Was ever wretched Lover’s Fate like mine!
--And he who injures me, has power to do so;
--But why, where lies this Power about this Man?
Is it his Charms of Beauty, or of Wit?
Or that great Name he has acquir’d in War?
Is it the Majesty, that holy something,
That guards the Person of this Demi-god?
This awes not me, there must be something more.
For ever, when I call upon my Wrongs,
Something within me pleads so kindly for him,
As would persuade me that he could not err.
--Ah, what is this? where lies this Power divine,
That can so easily make a Slave of mine?

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. _Frederick’s_ Chamber.

Enter _Frederick_, and _Cloris_ finely dress’d.

_Fred._ ‘Tis much methinks, a Boy of so dejected,
Humble Birth, should have so much of Sense
And Soul about him.

_Clo._ I know not that; but if I have a thought
Above that humble Birth or Education,
It was inspir’d by Love.

_Fred._ Still you raise my Wonder greater;
--Thou a Lover?

_Clo._ Yes, my Lord, though I am young,
I’ve felt the power of Beauty;
And should you look upon the Object, Sir,
Your Wonders soon would cease;
Each Look does even animate Insensibles,
And strikes a reverend Awe upon the Soul:
Nothing is found so lovely.

_Fred._ Thou speak’st prettily, I think Love
Indeed has inspir’d thee.

_Clo._ These were the Flatteries, Sir, she us’d to me;
Of her it was I learn’d to speak, and sigh,
And look, as oft you say, I do on you.

_Fred._ Why then, it seems she made returns?

_Clo._ Ah! Sir, ‘twas I that first was blest,
I first the happy Object was belov’d;
For, ‘twas a Person, Sir, so much above me,--
It had been Sin to’ve rais’d my Eyes to her;
Or by a glance, or sigh, betray my Pain.
But Oh! when with a thousand soft Expressions,
She did encourage me to speak of Love!
--My God! how soon extravagant I grew,
And told so oft the story of my Passion,
That she grew weary of the repeated Tale,
And punish’d my presumption with a strange neglect. [Weeps.

_Fred._ How, my good _Philibert_?

_Clo._ Would suffer me to see her Face no more.

_Fred._ That was pity; without a Fault?

_Clo._ Alas, Sir, I was guilty of no Crime,
But that of having told her how I lov’d her;
For all I had I sacrific’d to her;
--Poor worthless Treasures to any but a Lover;
And such you know accept the meanest things,
Which Love and a true Devotion do present.
When she was present, I found a thousand ways
To let her know how much I was her Slave;
And absent, still invented new ones,
And quite neglected all my little Business;
Counting the tedious Moments of the Day
By Sighs and Tears; thought it an Age to night,
Whose Darkness might secure our happy meeting:
But we shall meet no more on these kind Terms. [Sighs.

_Fred._ Come, do not weep, sweet Youth, thou art too young,
To have thy blooming Cheeks blasted with sorrow;
Thou wilt out-grow this childish Inclination,
And shalt see Beauties here, whose every glance
Kindle new Fires, and quite expel the old.

_Clo._ Oh, never, Sir.

_Fred._ When I was first in love, I thought so too,
But now with equal ardour
I doat upon each new and beauteous Object.

_Clo._ And quite forget the old?

_Fred._ Not so; but when I see them o’er again,
I find I love them as I did before.

_Clo._ Oh God forbid, I should be so inconstant!
No, Sir, though she be false, she has my Heart,
And I can die, but not redeem the Victim.

_Fred._ Away, you little Fool, you make me sad
By this resolve: but I’ll instruct you better.

_Clo._ I would not make you sad for all the World.
Sir, I will sing, or dance, do any thing
That may divert you.

_Fred._ I thank thee, _Philibert_, and will accept
Thy Bounty; perhaps it may allay thy Griefs awhile too.

_Clo._ I’ll call the Musick, Sir. [She goes out.

_Fred._ This Boy has strange agreements in him.

Enter _Cloris_ with Musick.

_She bids them play, and dances a Jig._

This was wondrous kind, my pretty _Philibert_.

[Exeunt Musick.

Enter _Page_.

_Page_. _Lorenzo_, my Lord, begs admittance.

_Fred._ He may come in. [Exit _Page_.

Enter _Lorenzo_.

--Well, _Lorenzo_, what’s the News with thee?
--How goes the price of Beauty, hah?

_Lor._ My Lord, that question is _a propos_ to
What I have to say; this Paper will answer your
Question, Sir-- [Gives him a Paper, he reads.
--Hah, I vow to gad a lovely Youth; [_Lor._ gazes on _Phil._
But what makes he here with _Frederick_?
This Stripling may chance to mar my market of Women now--
‘Tis a fine Lad, how plump and white he is; [Aside.
Would I could meet him somewhere i’th’ dark,
I’d have a fling at him, and try whether I
Were right _Florentine_.

_Fred._ Well, Sir, where be these Beauties?

_Lor._ I’ll conduct you to them.

_Fred._ What’s the Fellow that brings them?

_Lor._ A _Grecian_, I think, or something.

_Fred._ Beauties from _Greece_, Man!

_Lor._ Why, let them be from the Devil,
So they be new and fine, what need we care?
--But you must go to night.

_Fred._ I am not in a very good condition
To make Visits of that kind.

_Lor._ However, see them, and if you like them,
You may oblige the Fellow to a longer stay,
For I know they are handsome.

_Fred._ That’s the only thing thou art judge of;
--Well, go you and prepare them;
And _Philibert_, thou shalt along with me;
I’ll have thy Judgment too.

_Clo._ Good Heaven, how false he is! [Aside.

_Lor._ What time will your Highness come?

_Fred._ Two Hours hence. [Ex. _Fred._

_Lor._ So then I shall have time to have a bout
With this jilting Huswife _Isabella_,
For my Fingers itch to be at her. [Aside. [Ex. _Lorenzo_.

_Clo._ Not know me yet? cannot this Face inform him?
My Sighs, nor Eyes, my Accent, nor my Tale?
Had he one thought of me, he must have found me out.
--Yes, yes, ‘tis certain I am miserable;
He’s going now to see some fresher Beauties,
And I, he says, must be a witness of it;
This gives me Wounds, painful as those of Love:
Some Women now would find a thousand Plots
From so much Grief as I have, but I’m dull;
Yet I’ll to _Laura_, and advise with her,
Where I will tell her such a heavy Tale,
As shall oblige her to a kind concern:
--This may do; I’ll tell her of this Thought,
This is the first of Art I ever thought on;
And if this proves a fruitless Remedy,
The next, I need not study, how to die.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Street.

Enter _Lorenzo_, meets _Guilliam_, who passes by him, and takes
no notice of him.

_Lor._ How now, Manners a few?

_Guil._ I cry you heartily, Sir, I did not see you.

_Lor._ Well, Sirrah, the News.

_Guil._ Sir, the Gentlewoman whom you sent me to says That she’ll meet you here.

_Lor._ That’s well, thou mayst come to be a States-man In time, thou art a fellow of so quick dispatch: But hark ye, Sirrah, there are a few Lessons I must learn you, Concerning Offices of this nature; But another time for that: but-- [Whispers.

Enter _Isabella_, and _Antonio’s Valet_.

_Isab._ Here he is; and prithee, when thou seest him in My Chamber, go and tell my Lord, Under pretence of the care you have of the Honour of his House.

_Val._ I warrant you, let me alone for a Tale, And a Lye at the end on’t; which shall not over-much Incense him, nor yet make him neglect coming. [Ex. _Val._

_Lor._ Oh, are you there, Mistress? what have you now To say for your last Night’s Roguery? Are not you a Baggage? confess.

_Isab._ You have a mind to lose your opportunity again, As you did last Night, have ye not? Pray God your own Shadow scare you not, As it did then; and you will possibly believe No body meant you harm then, nor now.

_Lor._ Art thou in earnest?

_Isab._ Are you in earnest?

_Lor._ Yes, that I am, and that _Clarina_ shall find, If I once come to her.

_Isab._ Come, leave your frippery Jests, and come in.

_Lor._ _Guilliam_, be sure you attend me here, And whoever you see, say nothing; the best on’t is, Thou art not much known. [_Isab._ and _Lor._ go in.

_Guil._ Well, I see there is nothing but foutering In this Town; wou’d our _Lucia_ were here too for me, For all the Maids I meet with are so giglish And scornful, that a Man, as I am, Gets nothing but flouts and flings from them. Oh, for the little kind Lass that lives Under the Hill, of whom the Song was made; Which because I have nothing else to do, I will sing over now; hum, hum.

The Song for _Guilliam_. [To some Tune like him.

_In a Cottage by the Mountain
Lives a very pretty Maid,
Who lay sleeping by a Fountain,
Underneath a Myrtle shade;
Her Petticoat of wanton Sarcenet,
The amorous Wind about did move,
And quite unveil’d,
And quite unveil’d the Throne of Love,
And quite unveil’d the Throne of Love._

’.is something cold, I’ll go take a Niperkin of Wine,
[Goes out.

Enter _Isab._ and _Lor._ above, as frighted into the Balcony.

_Lor._ This was some trick of thine, I will be hang’d else.

_Isab._ Oh, I’ll be sworn you wrong me;
Alas, I’m undone by’t. [_Ant._ at the Door knocks.

_Ant._ Open the Door, thou naughty Woman.

_Lor._ Oh, oh, what shall I do? what shall I do?

_Ant._ Open the Door, I say.

_Lor._ Oh, ‘tis a damnable leap out at this Balcony.

_Isab._ And yet you are a dead Man, if you see him.

_Ant._ Impudence, will you open the Door?

_Isab._ I will, Sir, immediately.

_Lor._ Devise some way to let me down,
Or I will throw thee out; no Ladder of Ropes, no Device?
--If a Man would not forswear Whoring for the future
That is in my condition, I am no true Gentleman.

_Ant._ Open, or I will break the Door.

_Isab._ Hold the Door, and swear lustily that you
Are my Husband, and I will in the mean time
Provide for your safety,
Though I can think of none but the Sheets from the Bed.
[He holds the Door.

_Lor._ Any thing to save my Life;
--Sir, you may believe me upon my Honour,
I am lawful Husband to _Isabella_,
And have no designs upon your House or Honour.
[_Isab._ this while fastens the Sheets, which are to be suppos’d
from the Bed, to the Balcony.

_Ant._ Thou art some Villain.

_Lor._ No, Sir, I am an honest Man, and married lawfully.

_Ant._ Who art thou?

_Lor._ Hast thou done?

_Isab._ Yes, but you must venture hard.

_Isab._ ‘Tis _Lorenzo_, Sir.

_Lor._ A Pox on her, now am I asham’d to all eternity.

_Isab._ Sir, let me beg you’l take his Word and Oath to night,
And to morrow I will satisfy you. [_Lor._ gets down by the Sheets.

_Ant._ Look you make this good,
Or you shall both dearly pay for’t.

_Lor._ I am alive, yes, yes, all’s whole and sound,
Which is a mercy, I can tell you;
This is whoring now: may I turn _Franciscan_,
If I could not find in my heart to do penance
In Camphire Posset, this Month, for this.
--Well, I must to this Merchant of Love,
And I would gladly be there before the Prince:
For since I have mist here,
I shall be amorous enough,
And then I’ll provide for _Frederick_;
For ‘tis but just, although he be my Master,
That I in these Ragousts should be his Taster.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. Antonio’s House.

Enter _Ismena_ with a Veil.

_Ism._ _Alberto_ is not come yet, sure he loves me;
But ‘tis not Tears, and Knees, that can confirm me;
No, I must be convinc’d by better Argument.
--Deceit, if ever thou a Guide wert made
To amorous Hearts, assist a Love-sick Maid.

Enter _Alberto_.

_Alb._ Your pleasure, Madam?
--Oh that she would be brief,
And send me quickly from her,
For her Eyes will overthrow my purpose. [Aside.

_Ism._ _Alberto_, do you love me?

_Alb._ No.

_Ism._ No! have you deceiv’d me then?

_Alb._ Neither, _Clarina_; when I told you so,
By Heaven, ‘twas perfect Truth.

_Ism._ And what have I done since should
Merit your Dis-esteem?

_Alb._ Nothing but what has rais’d it.

_Ism._ To raise your Esteem, then it seems, is
To lessen your Love; or, as most Gallants are,
You’re but pleas’d with what you have not;
And love a Mistress with great Passion, till you find
Your self belov’d again, and then you hate her.

_Alb._ You wrong my Soul extremely,
‘Tis not of that ungrateful nature;
To love me is to me a greater Charm
Than that of Wit or Beauty.

_Ism._ I’m glad on’t, Sir; then I have pleasant News for you,
I know a Lady, and a Virgin too,
That loves you with such Passion,
As has oblig’d me to become her Advocate.

_Alb._ I am very much oblig’d to her,
If there be any such.

_Ism._ Upon my Life, there is; I am in earnest,
The Lady is my Sister too.

_Alb._ How, _Clarina_, this from you?

_Ism._ Nay, I have promis’d her, that you shall love her too,
Since both her Birth and Beauty merits you.

_Alb._ Away, false Woman: I love your Sister!
No, I will hate ye both.

_Ism._ Why so Angry?
Alas, it is against my Will I do it.

_Alb._ Did you betray my Faith, when ‘twas so easy
To give a credit to your tale of Love?
--Oh Woman, faithless Woman!

_Ism._ _Alberto_, with a world of shame I own
That I then lov’d you, and must do so still:
But since that Love must be accounted criminal,
And that a world of danger does attend it;
I am resolv’d, though I can never quit it,
To change it into kind Esteem for you;
And would ally you, Sir, as near to me,
As our unkind Stars will permit me.

_Alb._ I thank you, Madam: Oh, what a shame it is,
To be out-done in Virtue, as in Love!

_Ism._ Another favour I must beg of you,
That you will tell _Antonio_ what is past.

_Alb._ How mean you, Madam?

_Ism._ Why, that I love you, Sir,
And how I have deceiv’d him into confidence.

_Alb._ This is strange; you cannot mean it sure.

_Ism._ When I intend to be extremely good,
I would not have a secret Sin within,
Though old, and yet repented too: no, Sir,
Confession always goes with Penitence.

_Alb._ Do you repent you that you lov’d me then?

_Ism._ Not so; but that I did abuse _Antonio_.

_Alb._ And can you think that this will cure his Jealousy?

_Ism._ Doubtless it will, when he knows how needless ‘tis;
For when they’re most secure, they’re most betray’d:
Besides, I did but act the part he made;
And Ills he forces, sure he’ll not upbraid.
Go seek out _Antonio_.

_Alb._ You have o’ercome me, Madam, every way,
And this your last Command I can obey;
Your Sister too I’ll see, and will esteem,
But you’ve my Heart, which I can ne’er redeem.

[Exeunt severally.