Enter Alonzo and Lovis in travelling Habits, attended by Pedro and Gload.
Lo. Dear Alonzo! I shall love a Church the better this Month for giving me a sight of thee, whom I so little expected in this part of the World, and less in so sanctifi’d a Place. What Affair could be powerful enough to draw thee from the kind obliging Ladies of Brabant?
Alon. First the sudden Orders of my Prince Don John, and next a fair Lady.
Lo. A Lady! Can any of this Country relish with a Man that has been us’d to the Freedom of those of Bruxels, from whence I suppose you are now arriv’d?
Alon. This morning I landed, from such a Storm, as set us all to making Vows of Conversion, (upon good Conditions) and that indeed brought me to Church.
Lo. In that very Storm I landed too, but with less Sense of Danger than you, being diverted with a pleasant Fellow that came along with me, and who is design’d to marry a Sister of mine against my Will—And now I think of him, Gload, where hast thou left this Master of thine?
Glo. At the Inn, Sir, in as lamentable a Pickle, as if he were still in the Storm; recruiting his emptyed Stomach with Brandy, and railing against all Women-kind for your Sister’s sake, who has made him undertake this Voyage.
Lo. Well, I’ll come to him, go home before. [Ex. Gload.
Alon. Prithee what thing is this?
Lo. Why, ’tis the Cashier to this Squire I spoke of, a Man of Business, and as wise as his Master, but the graver Coxcomb of the two. But this Lady, Alonzo, who is this Lady thou speak’st of? shall not I know her? We were wont to divide the Spoils of Beauty, as well as those of War between us.
Alon. O but this is no such Prize, thou wouldst hardly share this with the Danger, there’s Matrimony in the Case.
Lo. Nay, then keep her to thy self, only let me know who ’tis that can debauch thee to that scandalous way of Life; is she fair? will she recompense the Folly?
Alon. Faith, I know not, I never saw her yet, but ’tis the Sister of Marcel, whom we both knew last Summer in Flanders, and where he and I contracted such a Friendship, that without other Consideration he promis’d me Hippolyta, for that’s his Sister’s Name.
Lo. But wo’t thou really marry her?
Alon. I consider my Advantage in being allied to so considerable a Man as Ambrosio, her Father; I being now so unhappy as not to know my Birth or Parents.
Lo. I have often heard of some such thing, but durst not ask the Truth of it.
Alon. ’Tis so, all that I know of my self is, that a Spanish Souldier, who brought me up in the Army, dying, confest I was not his Son, (which till then I believ’d) and at the Age of twelve left me to shift for my self: the Fortune he inrich’d me with, was his Horse and Arms, with a few Documents how to use them, as I had seen him do with good success: This Servant, [Points to Pedro] and a Crucifix of Value. And from one Degree to another, I arriv’d to what you knew me, Colonel of the Prince’s Regiment, and the Glory of his Favour.
Lo. Honour is the Child of Virtue, and finds an Owner every where.
Alon. Oh, Sir, you are a Courtier, and have much the odds of a Souldier in Parleys of this nature: but hither I am come—
Lo. To be undone—Faith, thou look’st ill upon’t.
Alon. I confess I am not altogether so brisk as I should have been upon another Occasion; you know, Lovis, I have been us’d to Christian Liberty, and hate this formal Courtship. Pox on’t, wou’d ’twere over.
Lo. Where all Parties are agreed, there’s little need of that; and the Ladies of Spain, whatever Gravity they assume, are as ready as any you ever met withal.
Alon. But there’s a damn’d Custom that does not at all agree with Men so frank and gay as thou and I; there’s a deal of Danger in the Atchievement, which some say heightens the Pleasure, but I am of another Opinion.
Ped. Sir, there is a Female in a Veil has follow’d us ever since we came from Church.
Alon. Some amorous Adventure: See [Enter Olinda.] she advances: Prithee retire, there may be danger in it. [Puts Lovis back.
Lo. Oh then, I must by no means leave you. [Lovis advances.
Olin. Which of these two shall I chuse? [She looks on both.
Sir, you appear a Stranger. [To Lovis.
Alon. We are both so, Lady.
Olin. I shall spoil all, and bring [She looks again on both.] the wrong. Sir, you should be a Cavalier, that—
Alon. Would gladly obey your Orders.
Lo. Nay, I find ’tis all one to you which you chuse, so you have one of us: but would not both do better?
Olin. No, Sir, my Commission’s but to one.
Alon. Fix and proceed then, let me be the Man.
Olin. What shall I do? they are both well: [Aside.
but I’ll e’en chuse, as ’twere, for my self; and hang me if I know which that shall be, [looks on both.] Sir, there is a Lady of Quality and Beauty, who guessing you to be Men of Honour, has sent me to one of you.
Alon. Me, I am sure.
Lo. Me, me, he’s engag’d already.
Alon. That’s foul Play, Lovis.
Alon. Well, I must have but one, and therefore I’ll wink and chuse.
Lo. I’ll not trust blind Fortune.
Alon. Prithee, Lovis, let thee and I agree upon the matter, and I find the Lady will be reasonable; cross or pile who shall go.
Lo. Go, Sir, whither?
Alon. To the Lady that—
Lo. Sent for neither of us that I can hear of yet.
Alon. You will not hear me out, but I’ll end the Difference by chusing you, Sir; and if you’ll follow me [To Alonzo.] at a Distance, I will conduct you where this Lady is.
Alon. Fair Guide, march on, I’ll follow thee. [Offers to go.
Lo. You are not mad, Sir, ’tis some abuse, and dangerous. [Pulls him back.
Alon. Be not envious of my Happiness: Forbear a Wench, for fear of Danger!
Lo. Have a care, ’tis some Plot. [Holds him.] Where did this Lady see us? we are both Strangers in the City.
Alon. No matter where.
Olin. At Church, Sir, just now.
Alon. Ay, ay, at Church, at Church, enough.
Lo. What’s her Name?
Alon. Away, thou art fuller of Questions than a Fortune-teller: Come, let’s be gone.
Lo. Sure you do not mean to keep your Word, Sir?
Alon. Not keep my Word, Lovis? What wicked Life hast thou known me lead, should make thee suspect I should not? When I have made an Interest in her, and find her worth communicating, I will be just upon Honour—Go, go.
Lo. Well, go your ways; if Marriage do not tame you, you are past all Hopes: but pray, Sir, let me see you at my Lodgings, the Golden Fleece here at the Gate.
Alon. I’ll attend thee here, and tell thee my Adventure: Farewel. [Exit Lovis.] Pedro, go you and inquire for the House of Don Ambrosio, and tell him I will wait on him in the Evening, by that time I shall get my self in Order.
[Ex. Alonzo and Olinda; Pedro the other way.
Enter Silvio, melancholy.
Silv. I must remove Marcel, for his nice Honour
Will ne’er permit that I should court my Sister;
My Passion will admit of no Restraint,
’Tis grown so violent; and fair Cleonte’s Charms
Each Day increase to such a killing Number,
That I must speak or die.
Enter Francisca.
Franc. What, still with folded Arms and down-cast looks?
Silv. Oh Francisca!
My Brother’s Presence now afflicts me more
Than all my Fears of Cruelty from Cleonte;
She is the best, the sweetest, kindest Sister—
Franc. Ay, Sir, but she will never make the kindest Mistress.
Silv. At least she should permit me to adore her,
Were but Marcel away.
Hast thou no Stratagem to get him absent?
For I can think of nothing but my Sister. [Sighs.
Franc. I know of one, nor other Remedy for you than loving less.
Silv. Oh, ’tis impossible:
Thou know’st I’ve tried all ways, made my Addresses
To all the fairest Virgins in Madrid;
Nay, and at last fell to the worst Debauchery,
That of frequenting every common House:
But Souls that feed so high on Love as mine,
Must nauseate coarser Diet.
No, I must still love on, and tell her so,
Or I must live no longer.
Franc. That methinks you might do even in the Presence of Marcel. A Brother is allow’d to love a Sister.
Silv. But I shall do’t in such a way, Francisca,
Be so transported, and so passionate,
I shall betray what he will ne’er indure.
And since our other Sister, loose Hippolyta, was lost,
He does so guard and watch the fair Cleonte—
Franc. Why, quarrel with him, Sir: you know you are so much dearer to my Lord your Father than he is, that should he perceive a Difference between ye, he would soon dismiss him the House; and ’twere but Reason, Sir, for I am sure Don Marcel loves you not.
Silv. That I excuse, since he the lawful Heir to all my Father’s Fortunes, sees it every Day ready to be sacrific’d to me, who can pretend no Title to’t, but the unaccountable Love my Father bears me.
Franc. Can you dissemble, Sir?
Silv. The worst of any Man, but would endeavour it, If it could any ways advance my Love.
Franc. Which I must find some way to ruin. [Aside.
Then court his Mistress.
Silv. The rich Flavia?
Franc. That would not incense him, for her he is to marry; But ’tis the fair Clarinda has his Heart.
Silv. To act a feigned Love, and hide a real one,
Is what I have already try’d in vain.
Even fair Clarinda I have courted too,
In hope that way to banish from my Soul
The hopeless Flame Cleonte kindled there;
But ’twas a Shame to see how ill I did dissemble.
Franc. Stay, Sir, here comes Marcel. I’ll leave you.
[Exit Francisca.
Enter Marcel, with a Letter open in his Hand, which he kisses.
Mar. Kind Messenger of Love! Thus, thus a thousand times
I bid thee welcome from my fair Clarinda.
Thus joyful Bridegrooms, after long Despairs,
Possess the yielding Treasure in their Arms:
Only thus much the happier Lover I,
Who gather all the Sweets of this fair Maid
Without the ceremonious Tie of Marriage;
That tie that does but nauseate the Delight,
Be far from happy Lovers; we’ll embrace
And unconfin’d and free as whispering Air,
That mingles wantonly with spreading Flowers.
Silv. What’s all this?
Mar. Silvio, the Victory’s won.
The Heart that nicely stood it out so long,
Now yields upon Conditions.
Silv. What Victory? or what Heart?
Mar. I am all Rapture, cannot speak it out;
My Senses have carous’d too much of Joy;
And like young Drunkards, proud of their new try’d Strength,
Have made my Pleasure less by the excess.
Silv. This is wondrous.
Impart some of your over-charge to me,
The Burden lightned will be more supportable.
Mar. Read here, and change thy Wonder, when thou knowst
How happy Man can be. [Gives him a Letter.
[Silvio reads.
Marcel,
Dormida will have me tell you what Effects your Vows have made, and how easily they have drawn from me a Consent to see you, as you desir’d, this Night in my Chamber: you have sworn to marry me, and Love will have me credit you, and then methinks I ought not to deny you any thing, nor question your Virtue. Dormida will wait to throw you down the Key, when all are in Bed, that will conduct you to Your Clarinda.
Silv. Damn her for a Dissembler!
Is this the chaste, the excellent Clarinda,
Who whilst I courted, was as cold and nice,
As a young Nun the day she is invested?
Mar. How now, Brother! what, displeased with it? [Takes the Letter.
Silv. A little, Sir, to see another’s Happiness,
Whilst I, where e’er I pay my Vows and Sighs,
Get nothing but Disdain; and yet this Shape
And Face I never thought unhandsom.
Mar. These be the least approaches to a Heart;
’Tis not dull looking well will do the feat,
There is a Knack in Love, a critical Minute:
And Women must be watcht as Witches are,
E’er they confess, and then they yield apace.
Enter a Boy.
Boy. Sir, there’s without a Servant of Don Alonzo’s, who says his Master will be here to Night. [Marcel is surprized.
Mar. Alonzo! now I begin to wake
From Love, like one from some delightful Dream,
To reassume my wonted Cares and Shame.
—I will not speak with him. [Exit Boy.
Oh Hippolyta! thou poor lost thing, Hippolyta!
How art thou fallen from Honour, and from Virtue,
And liv’st in Whoredom with an impious Villain,
Who in revenge to me has thus betray’d thee.
Keep thy self closer than thou’st done thy Sin;
For if I find thee out, by all that’s good,
Thou hadst more Mercy on thy slaughter’d Honour,
Than I will have for thee.
And thou, Antonio, that hast betray’d her,
Who till profan’d by thee, was chaste as Shrines,
And pure as are the Vows are offer’d there,
That Rape which thou’st committed on her Innocence,
I will revenge as shall become her Brother. [Offers to go out in rage.
Silv. Stay, Marcel,
I can inform you where these Lovers are.
Mar. Oh tell me quickly then,
That I may take them in their foul Embraces,
And send their Souls to Hell.
Silv. Last Night I made a youthful Sally to
One of those Houses where Love and Pleasure
Are sold at dearest Rates.
Mar. A Bordello; forwards pray.
Silv. Yes, at the Corner of St. Jerom’s; where after seeing many Faces which pleas’d me not, I would have took my leave; but the Matron of the House, a kind obliging Lady, seeing me so nice, and of Quality, (tho disguis’d) told me she had a Beauty, such an one as had Count d’ Olivarez in his height of Power seen, he would have purchas’d at any rate. I grew impatient to see this fine thing, and promis’d largely: then leading me into a Room as gay, and as perfum’d as an Altar upon a Holy-day, I saw seated upon a Couch of State—
Mar. Hippolyta!
Silv. Hippolyta our Sister, drest like a Venice Curtezan,
With all the Charms of a loose Wanton,
Singing and playing to her ravisht Lover,
Who I perceiv’d assisted to expose her.
Mar. Well, Sir, what follow’d?
Silv. Surpriz’d at sight of this, I did withdraw,
And left them laughing at my little Confidence.
Mar. How! left them? and left them living too?
Silv. If a young Wench will be gadding,
Who can help it?
Mar. ’Sdeath you should, were you that half her Brother, Which my Father too doatingly believes you. [Inrag’d.
Silv. How! do you question his Belief, Marcel?
Mar. I ne’er consider’d it; be gone and leave me.
Silv. Am I a Dog that thus you bid me vanish?
What mean you by this Language? [Comes up to him.
And how dare you upbraid me with my Birth,
Which know, Marcel, is more illustrious far
Than thine, being got when Love was in his reign,
With all his Youth and Heat about him?
I, like the Birds of bravest kind, was hatcht
In the hot Sun-shine of Delight; whilst
Thou, Marcel, wer’t poorly brooded
In the cold Nest of Wedlock.
Mar. Thy Mother was some base notorious Strumpet,
And by her Witchcraft reduc’d my Father’s Soul,
And in return she paid him with a Bastard,
Which was thou.
Silv. Marcel, thou ly’st. [Strikes him.
Mar. Tho ’twere no point of Valour, but of Rashness
To fight thee, yet I’ll do’t.
Silv. By Heaven, I will not put this Injury up.
[They fight, Silvio is wounded.
[Fight again. Enter Ambrosio, and Cleonte between; Silvio falls into the Arms of Cleonte.
Amb. Hold! I command you hold;
Ah, Traitor to my Blood, what hast thou done?
[To Marcel, who kneels and lays his Sword at his Feet.
Silv. In fair Cleonte’s Arms!
O I could kiss the Hand that gives me Death,
So I might thus expire.
Mar. Pray hear me, Sir, before you do condemn me.
Amb. I will hear nothing but thy Death pronounc’d,
Since thou hast wounded him, if it be mortal.
Have I not charg’d thee on thy Life, Marcel,
Thou shouldst not hold Discourse with him of any kind?
Mar. I did foresee my Fate, but could not shun it.
[Takes his Sword and goes out.
Amb. What ho! Biscay, a Surgeon; on your Lives a Surgeon; where be the Rascals? [Goes out.
Silv. I would not have a Surgeon search my Wound
With rude and heavy Hands:
Yours, fair Cleonte, can apply the Balsam
Far more successfully,
For they are soft and white as Down of Swans,
And every Touch is sovereign.
Cleo. But I shall die with looking on your Wounds.
Silv. And I shall die unless you cure them, Sister.
Cleo. With the expence of mine to save your Life,
Is both my Wish and Duty.
Silv. I thank you, pretty Innocence. [Leads him in.
Discovers Euphemia veil’d, walking alone.
Euph. Olinda stays long; I hope she has overtook the Cavalier. Lord, how I am concern’d; if this should be Love now, I were in fine condition, at least if he be married, or a Lover: Oh that I fear: hang me, if it has not disorder’d me all over. But see, where she comes with him too.
Enter Olinda and Alonzo.
Olin. Here he is, Madam, I hope ’tis the right Man.
Alon. Madam, you see what haste I make to obey your kind Commands.
Euph. ’Twas as kindly done, Sir; but I fear when you know to what end ’tis, you’ll repent your Haste.
Alon. ’Tis very likely; but if I do, you are not the first of your Sex that has put me to Repentance: But lift up your Veil, and if your Face be good— [Offers to lift up her Veil.
Euph. Stay, you’re too hasty.
Alon. Nay, let’s have fair Play on both sides, I’ll hide nothing from you. [Offers again.
Euph. I have a Question or two to ask you first.
Alon. I can promise nothing till I see my Reward. I am a base Barterer, here’s one for t’other; you saw your Man and lik’d him, and if I like you when I see you— [Offers again.
Euph. But if you do not, must all my liking be castaway?
Alon. As for that, trust to my good Nature; a frank Wench has hitherto taken me as much as Beauty. And one Proof you have already given of that, in this kind Invitation: come, come, do not lose my little new-gotten good Opinion of thee, by being coy and peevish. [Offers again.
Euph. You’re strangely impatient, Sir.
Alon. O you should like me the better for that, ’tis a sign of Youth and Fire.
Euph. But, Sir, before I let you see my Face—
Alon. I hope I must not promise you to like it.
Euph. No, that were too unreasonable, but I must know whether you are a Lover.
Alon. What an idle Question’s that to a brisk young Fellow? A Lover! yes, and that as often as I see a new Face.
Euph. That I’ll allow.
Alon. That’s kindly said; and now do I find I shall be in love with thine as soon as I see’t, for I am half so with thy Humour already.
Euph. Are you not married, Sir?
Alon. Married!
Euph. Now I dread his Answer. [Aside.] Yes, married.
Alon. Why, I hope you make no Scruple of Conscience, to be kind to a married Man.
Euph. Now do I find, you hope I am a Curtezan that come to bargain for a Night or two; but if I possess you, it must be for ever.
Alon. For ever let it be then. Come, let’s begin on any Terms.
Euph. I cannot blame you, Sir, for this mistake, since what I’ve rashly done, has given you cause to think I am not virtuous.
Alon. Faith, Madam, Man is a strange ungovern’d thing; yet I in the whole course of my Life have taken the best care I could, to make as few Mistakes as possible: and treating all Women-kind alike, we seldom err; for where we find one as you profess to be, we happily light on a hundred of the sociable and reasonable sort.
Euph. But sure you are so much a Gentleman, that you may be convinc’d?
Alon. Faith, if I be mistaken, I cannot devise what other use you can make of me.
Euph. In short this; I must leave you instantly; and will only tell you I am the sole Daughter of a rich Parent, young, and as I am told not unhandsom; I am contracted to a Man I never saw, nor I am sure shall not like when I do see, he having more Vice and Folly than his Fortune will excuse, tho a great one; and I had rather die than marry him.
Alon. I understand you, and you would have me dispatch this Man.
Euph. I am not yet so wicked. The Church is the only place I am allowed to go to, and till now could never see the Man that was perfectly agreeable to me: Thus veil’d, I’ll venture to tell you so.
Alon. What the Devil will this come to? her Mien and Shape are strangely graceful, and her Discourse is free and natural. What a damn’d Defeat is this, that she should be honest now! [Aside.
Euph. Well, Sir, what Answer? I see he is uneasy.[Aside.
Alon. Why, as I was saying, Madam, I am a Stranger.
Euph. I like you the better for that.
Alon. But, Madam, I am a Man unknown, unown’d in the World; and much unworthy the Honour you do me—Would I were well rid of her, and yet I find a damnable Inclination to stay too. [Aside.
Will nothing but Matrimony serve your turn, Madam? Pray use a young Lover as kindly as you can.
Euph. Nothing but that will do, and that must be done.
Alon. Must! ’slife this is the first of her Sex that ever was before-hand with me, and yet that I should be forc’d to deny her too. [Aside.
Euph. I fear his Answer, Olinda. [Aside.
Olin. At least ’tis but making a Discovery of your Beauty, and then you have him sure.
Alon. Madam, ’tis a matter of Moment, and requires Deliberation; besides I have made a kind of Promise—
Euph. Never to marry?
Alon. No, faith, ’tis not so well: But since now I find we are both in haste, I am to be marry’d.
Euph. This I am sure is an Excuse; but I’ll fit him for’t. [Aside.
To be marry’d said you?
That Word has kill’d me, Oh I feel it drill
Through the deep Wound his Eyes have lately made:
’Twas much unkind to make me hope so long.
[She leans on Olinda, as if she swooned, who pulls off her Veil: he stands gazing at a Distance.
Olin. Sure she does but counterfeit, and now I’ll play my Part. Madam, Madam!
Alon. What wondrous thing is that! I should not look upon’t, it changes Nature in me.
Olin. Have you no pity, Sir? Come nearer pray.
Alon. Sure there’s Witchcraft in that Face, it never could have seiz’d me thus else, I have lov’d a thousand times, yet never felt such joyful Pains before.
Olin. She does it rarely. What mean you, Sir?
Alon. I never was a Captive to this Hour.
If in her Death such certain Wounds she give,
What Mischiefs she would do, if she should live!
Yet she must live, and live that I may prove
Whether this strange Disorder here be Love. [To his heart.
Divine, divinest Maid. [Kneels.
Olin. Come nearer, Sir, you’ll do a Lady no good at that Distance. Speak to her, Sir. [He rises and comes to her, gazing still.
Alon. I know not what to say,
I am unus’d to this soft kind of Language:
But if there be a Charm in Words, and such
As may conjure her to return again;
Prithee instruct me in them, I’ll say any thing,
Do any thing, and suffer all the Wounds
Her Eyes can give.
Euph. Sure he is real. [Aside.
Alas! I am discover’d; how came my Veil off? [She pretends to recover, and wonder that her Veil is off.
Alon. That you have let me see that lovely Face,
May move your Pity, not your Anger, Madam;
Pity the Wounds ’t has made, pity the Slave,
Who till this Moment boasted of his Freedom.
Euph. May I believe all this? for that we easily do in things we wish.
Alon. Command me things impossible to all
Sense but a Lover’s, I will do’t: to shew
The Truth of this, I could even give you
The last Proof of it, and take you at your Word,
To marry you.
Euph. O wondrous Reformation! marry me! [Laughs.
Alon. How, do you mock my Grief?
Euph. What a strange dissembling thing is Man! To put me off too, you were to be married.
Alon. Hah, I had forgotten Hippolyta. [He starts.
Euph. See, Olinda, the Miracle increases, he can be serious too. How do you, Sir?
Alon. ’Tis you have robb’d me of my native Humour,
I ne’er could think till now.
Euph. And to what purpose was it now?
Alon. Why, Love and Honour were at odds within me,
And I was making Peace between them.
Euph. How fell that out, Sir?
Alon. About a Pair of Beauties; Women,
That set the whole World at odds.
She that is Honour’s Choice I never saw,
And love has taught me new Obedience here.
Euph. What means he? I fear he is in earnest. [Aside.
Olin. ’Tis nothing but his Aversion to Marriage, which most young Men dread now-a-days.
Euph. I must have this Stranger, or I must die; for whatever Face I put upon’t, I am far gone in Love, but I must hide it. [Aside.
Well, since I have mist my Aim, you shall never boast my Death; I’ll cast my self away upon the next handsom young Fellow I meet, tho I die for’t; and so farewel to you, loving Sir. [Offers to go.
Alon. Stay, do not marry, as you esteem the Life of him that shall possess you.
Euph. Sure you will not kill him.
Alon. By Heaven, I will.
Euph. O I’ll trust you, Sir: Farewel, farewel.
Alon. You shall not go in triumph thus,
Unless you take me with you.
Euph. Well, since you are so resolv’d (and so in love) I’ll give you leave to see me once more at a House at the Corner of St. Jerom’s, where this Maid shall give you Entrance.
Alon. Why, that’s generously said.
Euph. As soon ’tis dark you may venture.
Alon. Till then will be an Age, farewel, fair Saint,
To thee and all my quiet till we meet. [Exeunt.
Enter Marcel in a Cloak alone.
Mar. The Night comes on, and offers me two Pleasures,
The least of which would make another blest,
Love and Revenge: but I, whilst I dispute
Which Happiness to chuse, neglect them both.
The greatest Bliss that Mankind can possess,
Persuades me this way, to my fair Clarinda:
But tyrannick Honour
Presents the Credit of my House before me,
And bids me first redeem its fading Glory,
By sacrificing that false Woman’s Heart
That has undone its Fame.
But stay, Oh Conscience, when I look within,
And lay my Anger by, I find that Sin
Which I would punish in Antonio’s Soul,
Lie nourish’d up in mine without Controul.
To fair Clarinda such a Siege I lay,
As did that Traitor to Hippolyta;
Only Hippolyta a Brother has,
Clarinda, none to punish her Disgrace:
And ’tis more Glory the defenc’d to win,
Than ’tis to take unguarded Virtue in.
I either must my shameful Love resign,
Or my more brave and just Revenge decline.
[Enter Alonzo drest, with Lovis. Marcel stays.
Alon. But to be thus in love, is’t not a Wonder, Lovis?
Lov. No, Sir, it had been much a greater, if you had stay’d a Night in Town without being so; and I shall see this Wonder as often as you see a new Face of a pretty Woman.
Alon. I do not say that I shall lose all Passion for the fair Sex hereafter; but on my Conscience, this amiable Stranger has given me a deeper Wound than ever I received from any before.
Lov. Well, you remember the Bargain.
Alon. What Bargain?
Lov. To communicate; you understand.
Alon. There’s the Devil on’t, she is not such a Prize: Oh, were she not honest, Friend! [Hugs him.
Lov. Is it so to do? What, you pretend to be a Lover, and she honest, now only to deprive me of my Part: remember this, Alonzo.
Mar. Did not I hear Alonzo nam’d? [Aside.