_Franc._ Yes, Sir, nor knows of that vile Message which I brought you.
_Silv._ What Devil set thee on to tempt me then?
_Franc._ The worst of Devils, hopeless, raging Love; And you, my Lord, were the unhappy Object.
_Mar._ Oh sinful Woman, what was thy Design?
_Cleo._ What means all this? [Aside.
_Franc._ At least to have enjoy'd him once; which done, Thinking that it had been the fair _Cleonte_, It would have made him hate her.
_Silv._ Should all thy other Sins be unrepented, The Piety of this Confession saves thee.
Pardon, _Cleonte_, my rude Thoughts of thee, [Kneels, she takes him up.
I had design'd to have kill'd thee-- Had not this Knowledge of thy Innocence Arriv'd before I'd seen thee next.
And, Sir, your Pardon too I humbly beg, [To _Ambrosio_.
With license to depart; I cannot live Where I must only see my beauteous Sister; That Torment is too great to be supported, That still must last, and never hope a Cure.
_Amb._ Since you are so resolv'd, I will unfold A Secret to you, that perhaps may please you.
_Silv._ Low at your Feet I do implore it, Sir. [Kneels.
_Amb._ Your Quality forbids this Ceremony.
[Takes him up.
_Silv._ How, Sir!
_Amb._ Your Father was the mighty Favourite, the Count _d'Olivarez_; your Mother, _Spain's_ celebrated Beauty, _Donna Margarita Spiniola_, by whom your Father had two natural Sons, _Don Lovis de Harro_, and your self _Don Roderigo_. The Story of his Disgrace, you know, with all the World; 'twas then he being banisht from the Court, he left you to my Care then very young. I receiv'd you as my own, and as more than such educated you, and as your Father oblig'd me to do, brought you always up about their Majesties; for he hoped, if you had Beauty and Merits, you might inherit part of that Glory he lost.
_Mar._ This is wondrous.
_Amb._ This Truth you had not known so soon, had you not made as great an Interest at Court as any Man so young ever did, and if I had not acquitted my self in all Points as became the Friend of so great and brave a Man, as Count _d'Olivarez_: the Fortune he left you was two Millions of Crowns.
_Silv._ Let me embrace your feet for this blest News. Is not the fair _Cleonte_ then my Sister?
_Amb._ No, Sir, but one whom long since I design'd your Wife, if you are pleas'd to think her worthy of it.
[Offers her.
_Silv._ Without her, Sir, I do despise my Being; And do receive her as a Blessing sent From Heaven to make my whole Life happy.
_Amb._ What say you, _Cleonte_?
_Cleo._ Sir, I must own a Joy greater than is fit for a Virgin to express.
_Mar._ Generous Don _Roderigo_, receive me as your Friend, and pardon all the Fault you found in me as a Brother.
[Embraces him.
_Silv._ Be ever dear unto my Soul, _Marcel_.
_Mar._ Now is the time to present _Hippolyta_ and _Antonio_ to my Father, whilst his Humour is so good. And you, dear Brother, I must beg to join with us in so just a Cause.
_Silv._ You need not doubt my Power, and less my Will.
_Mar._ Do you prepare him then, whilst I bring them in: for by this I know my Confessor has made them one.
[Exit _Marcel_.
_Silv._ Sir, I've a Suit to you.
_Amb._ You cannot ask what I can deny.
_Silv._ _Hippolyta_, Sir, is married to _Antonio_, And humbly begs your Pardon for her past fault.
_Amb._ _Antonio_ and _Hippolyta_! oh, name them not.
Enter _Antonio_ and _Hippolyta_, a Fryar, and _Marcel_.
_Mar._ Pray, Sir, forgive them, your Honour being safe, Since Don _Antonio_ has by marrying her, Repair'd the Injury he did us all, Without which I had kill'd him.
_Amb._ Thou art by Nature more severe than I, And if thou think'st our Honour satisfy'd, I will endeavour to forget their Faults.
_Ant._ We humbly thank you, Sir, and beg your Blessing, At least bestow it on _Hippolyta_; For she was ever chaste, and innocent, And acted only what became her Duty; Since by a sacred Vow she was my Wife.
_Amb._ How cam'st thou then to treat her so inhumanly?
_Ant._ In pure revenge to Don _Marcel_ her Brother, Who forc'd my Nature to a stubbornness, Which whilst I did put on, I blush to own; And still between Thoughts so unjust, and Action, Her Virtue would rise up and check my Soul, Which still secur'd her Fame.
_Hip._ And I have seen in midst of all thy Anger, Thou'st turn'd away, and chang'd thy Words to Sighs; Dropt now and then a Tear, as if asham'd, Not of thy Injuries, but my little Merit.
_Amb._ How weak and easy Nature makes me-- Rise, I must forgive you both.
Come, Sir, I know you long to be secur'd Of what you say you love so much, _Cleonte_.
_Franc._ But, Madam, have you fully pardon'd me?
_Silv._ We will all join in your behalf, _Francisco_.
_Cleo._ I can forgive you, when you can repent. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. __Carlo's_ House._
Enter _Olinda_ and _Dorice_.
_Olin._ But is the Bride-Chamber drest up, and the Bed made as it ought to be?
_Dor._ As for the making, 'tis as it use to be, only the Velvet Furniture.
_Olin._ As it use to be? Oh ignorance! I see these young Wenches are not arriv'd yet to bare Imagination: Well, I must order it my self, I see that.
_Dor._ Why, _Olinda_, I hope they will not go just to Bed upon their marrying, without some signs of a Wedding, as Fiddles, and Dancing, and so forth.