Man or Woman, thou'rt worth our Care-- She faints-- come, let us bear her hence.
[She faints, _Antonio_ kneels to her.
_Ant._ Oh stay, _Hippolyta_, and take me with thee, For I've no use of Life when thou art gone. [Weeps.
Here, kill me, brave _Marcel_-- and yet you need not; My own Remorse, and Grief will be sufficient.
_Mar._ I credit thee, and leave thee to their Mercy.
_Hip._ That Goodness, Sir, has call'd me back to Life, To pay my humble Thanks; could you have Mercy too, To pardon me-- you might redeem my Soul.
_Mar._ Some Pity I have yet, that may preserve thee too, Provided this Repentance be not feign'd.
_Ant._ My Life, Sir, is Security for both.
_Mar._ Doubt not, I'll take the Forfeit, Sir-- Come, _Hippolyta_.
Thy Father's House shall once again receive thee.
_Ant._ Lean on my Arm, my dearest.
_Mar._ Sir, by the way, I'll let you know her Story, And then perhaps you will not blame my Friendship.
_Alon._ And in return, I'll give you back _Clarinda_-- And beg your Pardon for the Wound I gave you.
[Exeunt, leading _Hippolyta_.
ACT V.
SCENE I. _A Garden._
Enter _Cleonte_, _Clarinda_ weeping, and _Dormida_ and _Francisca_.
_Cleo._ Fear not, I'll use my Interest both with your Mother and my Father, to set your Heart at rest, Whose Pain I feel by something in my own.
_Clar._ The Gods reward your Bounty, fair _Cleonte_.
_Dor._ I, I, Madam, I beseech you make our Peace with my good Lady her Mother, whatsoever becomes of the rest, for she'll e'en die with Grief-- [Weeps.
She had but two fair Pledges of her Nuptial Bed.
And both by cruel Fate are ravisht from her.
_Manuel_ a Child was lost, And this; not holy Relicks were more strictly guarded, Till false _Marcel_ betray'd me to debauch her. [Weeps aloud.
_Cleo._ Alas, had you a Brother once? [To _Clarinda_.
_Clar._ Madam, I might have had: but he was lost e'er I was born.
_Cleo._ Ah! would my _Silvio_ had been so. [Aside.
By what strange Accident, _Clarinda_?
_Dor._ Madam, I can inform you best.
[Puts herself between.
_Cleo._ Do then, _Dormida_.
_Dor._ Madam, you must know, my Lady _Octavia_, for that's her name, was in her Youth the very Flower of Beauty and Vertue: Oh such a Face and Shape! had you but seen her-- And tho I say it, Madam, I thought my self too somebody then.
_Clar._ Thou art tedious: Madam, 'tis true my Mother had the Reputation of both those Attractions, which gain'd her many Lovers: amongst the rest, Don _Manuel_, and Don _Alonzo_, were most worthy her Esteem.
_Dor._ Ay, Madam, Don _Alonzo_, there was a Man for you, so obliging and so bountiful-- Well, I'll give you Argument of both to me: for you must know I was a Beauty then, and worth obliging.
[Puts herself between.
And he was the Man my Lady lov'd, tho Don _Manuel_ were the richer: but to my own Story--
_Cleo._ Forward, _Clarinda_.
_Clar._ But as it most times happens, We marry where our Parents like, not we; My Mother was dispos'd of to Don _Manuel_.
_Dor._ Ay, Madam; but had you seen Don _Alonzo's_ Rage, and how my Lady took this Disappointment-- But I who was very young, and very pretty, as I told you before--
_Clar._ Forbear, Madam; 'tis true, _Alonzo_ was so far transported, That oft he did attempt to kill my Father; But bravely tho, and still he was prevented: But when at the Intreaties of my Mother, The King confin'd my Father, _Alonzo_ then study'd a new Revenge; And thinking that my Father's Life depended Upon a Son he had, scarce a Year old, He did design to steal him; and one Evening, When with the Nurse and Maid he took the Air, This desperate Lover seiz'd the smiling Prize, Which never since was heard of.
_Cleo._ I guess the Grief the Parents must sustain.
_Dor._ It almost caus'd their Deaths; nor did kind Heaven Supply them with another till long after, Unhappy this was born: Which just her Father liv'd to see, and dy'd. [Weeps.
Then she was Daughter, Son and Husband too, To her afflicted Mother: But as I told you, Madam, I was then in my Prime--
_Clar._ Now, Madam, judge what her Despair must be, Who is depriv'd of all her Joys in me. [Weeps.
_Cleo._ _Francisca_, see who it is that knocks so hastily.
[One knocks.
_Franc._ Oh, Madam, 'tis Don _Marcel_ leading a wounded Man.
_Cleo._ Oh my Fears, 'tis _Silvio_!
_Franc._ 'Tis not Don _Silvio_.
Enter _Marcel_, leading _Hippolyta_ wounded, followed by _Alonzo_ and _Pedro_.
_Cleo._ Alas, what Youth is this you lead all bleeding?
_Mar._ One that deserves your Care; where's my Father?
_Cleo._ Not yet return'd.
_Mar._ 'Tis well; and you, Sir, I must confine till I know how to satisfy my Honour, and that of my wrong'd Sister.
[To _Antonio_.
_Ant._ The holy Man will soon decide our Difference: Pray send for one, and reconcile us all.