_Jac_. Well said, use him scurvily that Mrs. _Clara_ may have him.
[_Aside_.
_Ant_. The best of those you think I should not name, dare hardly tell me this.
_Isa_. Good Lord, you think your self a very fine Fellow now, and finical your self up to be thought so; but there's as much difference between a Citizen and a true bred Cavalier--
_Ant_. As between you and a true bred Woman of Honour.
_Isa_. Oh, Sir, you rail, and you may long enough, before you rail me out of my Opinion, whilst there are Dons with Coaches and fine Lackeys, and I have Youth and Beauty, with a Fortune able to merit one, so farewel, Cit.
[_Ex_.
_Ant_. Farewel, proud Fool.
_Jac_. Sir, be this Evening at the Door, Donna _Clara_ has something to say to you.
_Ant_. Bless thee for this Tidings, dear _Jacinta_.
[_Ex_. Jacinta.
--I find let Man be brave, or good, or wise, His Virtue gains no Smiles from Woman's Eyes; 'Tis the gay Fool alone that takes the Heart, Foppery and Finery still guide the Dart.
[_Ex_.
ACT II.
SCENE I. _A Chamber_.
_Enter_ Jacinta _with a Light, and_ Julia.
_Jac_. Well, Madam, have you writ to Don _Carlos_?
_Jul_. No, nor is it possible I shou'd, this Devil haunts me so from room to room, like my evil Genius to prevent that Good; oh, for an opportunity of one kind Minute to return Acknowledgments for this kind Letter he has sent me.
_Jac_. I'm glad you find me a Sybil: Madam, I ever prophesy'd a happier end of that Amour than your ill Fortune has hitherto promised,--but what said the lovely Cavalier?
_Jul_. All that a Man inspir'd with Love cou'd say, all that was soft and charming.
_Jac_. Nay, I believe his Art.
_Jul_. Judge then what my Heart feels, which like a Fire but lightly cover'd o'er with the cold Ashes of Despair, with the least blast breaks out into a Flame; I burn, I burn, _Jacinta_, and only charming _Carlos_ can allay my Pain--but how? Ay, there's the question.
_Jac_. Some way I will contrive to speak with him, for he has lost his old wont if he traverse not the Street where you live: but see Donna _Clara_.--
_Enter_ Clara.
_Jul_. Hah, my Sister, whom yet my jealous heart can scarce be reconciled to; so deeply was my fear of Rivalship fixt there, --so sad, my Sister, and so near the happy day with _Carlos_?
_Cla_. 'Tis pity she that thinks it so shou'd want him; the Blessing's thrown away on me, but we are both unhappy to be match'd to those we cannot love. _Carlos_, though young, gay, handsom, witty, rich, I hate as much as you the old _Francisco_; for since I cannot marry my _Antonio_, both Youth and Beauty are but lost on me, and Age decrepid would be equal torment.
_Jul_. Wou'd _Carlos_ knew your heart, sure he'd decline; for he has too much Honor to compel a Maid to yield that loves him not.
_Cla_. 'Tis true, he is above me every way, and the Honor my Father thinks to do our Family by this Match, makes him resolve upon't; but I have given my Vows to young _Antonio_.
_Jul_. And young _Antonio_ you are like to have, for any thing that _Carlos_ cares; for know, to thy eternal joy, my _Clara_, he has but feigned to thee, as much as thy _Antonio_ to _Isabella_.
_Cla_. But are you sure of this?
_Jul_. Most certain; this Night if you can let _Antonio_ see you, he'll tell you all the Cheat, and beg your Pardon.
_Cla_. Which he will soon obtain, and in return, what Service I can render him in your behalf he shall not want.
_Jul_. _Antonio_ will engage you they are Friends.
_Cla_. You amaze me.
_Jac_. I have appointed him this night to wait, and, if possible, I would get him a Minute's time with you.
_Cla_. Dear _Jacinta_, thou art the kindest Maid.--
_Jac_. Hang't, why should we young Women pine and languish for what our own natural Invention may procure us; let us three lay our Heads together, and if _Machiavel_ with all his Politicks can out-wit us, 'tis pity but we all lead Apes in Hell, and die without the _Jewish_ Blessing of Consolation.
_Jul_. No more, here comes the Dragon.
_Enter_ Francisco.
_Fran_. So, together consulting and contriving.
_Jac_. What, are you jealous of the Petticoat?
_Fran_. Petticoat! Come, come, Mistress _Pert_, I have known as much danger hid under a Petticoat, as a pair of Breeches. I have heard of two Women that married each other--oh abominable, as if there were so prodigious a scarcity of Christian Mans Flesh.
_Jac_. No, the Market's well enough stored, thanks be praised, might every Woman be afforded a reasonable Allowance.
_Fran_. Peace, I say, thou Imp of Lucifer; wou'd thou hadst thy Bellyful, that I might be fairly rid of thee--go get you up to your Chamber, and, d'ye hear, stir not from thence, on pain of our severe displeasure, for I am sent for in all haste, to Signior Don _Sebastian's_, 'tis but hard by, I shall soon return;--what, are you here?
_Enter_ Isabella.
I have a high commendation of your fine Behaviour, Gentlewoman, to _Antonio_; his Father has sent for me, and I shall know all anon, this shall but hasten your Wedding, Huswise, I tell you that, and so farewel to you-- [_Ex_. Isabella _crying_.
_Cla_. Say you so, then 'tis time for me to look about me.
_Jul_. But will you go out so late, Love? indeed some hurt will come to thee.
_Fran_. No, look ye, I go arm'd. [_Shews his Girdle round with Pistols_.
Go, get you to your Chambers.