_Lor._ The Girl is well, and if she were not my Sister, I would give you a more certain Proof of my Opinion of her; She has excellent good Hair, fine Teeth, And good Hands, and the best natur'd Fool-- Come, come, Sir, I'll bring you to her, And then I'll leave you; For I have a small Affair of Love to dispatch.
_Fred._ This is a freedom that sutes not with the Humour of an _Italian_.
_Lor._ No, faith, my Lord; I believe my Mother play'd Foul play with some _Englishman_; I am so willing to do you a good office to my Sister.
And if by her Humour you become of that opinion too, I shall hope to render myself more acceptable To you by that Franchise.
Enter _Galliard_, whispers.
_Fred._ Thou knowest my grateful Temper, --No matter; here, carry this Letter to _Cloris_, And make some excuse for my not coming this Evening.
[Gives him a Letter, and goes out with _Lorenzo_.
_Gal._ So, poor Lass, 'tis a hundred to one if she be not Lay'd by now, and _Laura_ must succeed her: Well, even _Frederick_, I see, is but a Man, But his Youth and Quality will excuse him; And 'twill be call'd Gallantry in him, When in one of us, 'tis Ill-nature and Inconstancy. [Exit.
SCENE II. _Antonio's_ House.
Enter _Ismena_ and _Isabella_.
_Isab._ Nay, Madam, 'tis in vain to deny it; Do you think I have liv'd to these years, And cannot interpret cross Arms, imperfect Replies, Your sudden Weepings, your often Sighing, Your melancholy Walks, and making Verses too?
And yet I must not say that this is Love.
_Ism._ Art thou so notable a Judge of it?
_Isab._ I should be, or I am a very dull Scholar, For I have lost the foolish Boy as many Darts, As any Woman of my age in _Florence_.
_Ism._ Thou hast paid dear for thy knowledge then.
_Isab._ No, the hurt ones did, the other still made good, with very little Pain on either side.
_Ism._ I must confess, I think it is not so hard to get Wounds, as 'tis to get them cur'd again.
_Isab._ I am not of your opinion, nor ever saw that Man who had not Faults to Cure, As well as Charms to kill.
_Ism._ Since thou'rt so good a Judge of Men, Prithee tell me how thou lik'st _Alberto_.
_Isab._ I knew 'twould come to this-- [Aside.
Why, well, Madam.
_Ism._ No more than so?
_Isab._ Yes, wondrous well, since I am sure he loves you, And that indeed raises a Man's Value.
_Ism._ Thou art deceiv'd, I do not think he loves me.
_Isab._ Madam, you cannot but see a thousand Marks on't.
_Ism._ Thou hast more Skill than I; But prithee why does he not tell me so himself?
_Isab._ Oh Madam, whilst he takes you for _Clarina_, 'Twould shew his disrespect to tell his Love?
But when he knows _Ismena_ is the Object, He'll tire you with the wish'd for story.
_Ism._ Ah, thou art a pleasing Flatterer.
Enter _Page_.
_Page._ Madam, _Alberto_ is without.
_Ism._ Tell him I'm indispos'd, and cannot see him now.
_Isab._ Nay, good Madam, see him now by all means, For I am sure my Lord _Antonio_ is absent on purpose.
--Bid him come in, Boy. [Exit _Page_.
Enter _Alberto_.
_Ism._ _Antonio_, Sir, is not return'd.
_Alb._ Madam, this Visit was not meant to him, But by a Cause more pressing I am brought, Such as my Passion, not My Friendship taught; A Passion which my Sighs have only shewn, And now beg leave my bashful Tongue may own.
The knowledge, Madam, will not much surprise, Which you have gain'd already from mine Eyes; My timorous Heart that way my Tongue would spare, And tells you of the Flames you've kindled there: 'Tis long I've suffered under this Constraint, Have always suffer'd, but ne'er made Complaint; And now against my will I must reveal What Love and my Respect would fain conceal.
_Ism._ What mean you, Sir? what have you seen in me, That should encourage this temerity?
_Alb._ A world of Beauties, and a world of Charms, And every Smile and Frown begets new harms; In vain I strove my Passion to subdue, Which still increas'd the more I look'd on you; Nor will my Heart permit me to retire, But makes my Eyes the convoys to my Fire, And not one Glance you send is cast away.
_Ism._ Enough, my Lord, have you nought else to say?
The Plot's betray'd, and can no further go; [Smiles.
The Stratagem's discover'd to the Foe; I find _Antonio_ has more Love than Wit, And I'll endeavour too to merit it.
_Alb._ What you have said, I do confess is true, _Antonio_ beg'd I would make love to you; But, Madam, whilst my heart was unconfin'd, A thousand ways the Treachery I declin'd-- But now, _Clarina_, by my Life I swear, It is my own concern that brings me here: Had he been just to you, I had suppress'd The Flames your Eyes have kindled in my Breast; But his Suspicion rais'd my Passion more, And his Injustice taught me to adore: But 'tis a Passion which you may allow, Since its effects shall never injure you.
_Ism._ You have oblig'd me, Sir, by your Confession, And I shall own it too at such a rate, As both becomes my Duty to _Antonio_, And my Respect to you; but I must beg You'll never name your Passion to me more, That guilty Language, Sir, I must not hear: --And yet your silence kills me. [Aside.
_Isab._ Very well dissembled. [Aside.
_Alb._ I can obey you, Madam, though I cannot live, Whilst you command me silence; For 'tis a Flame that dares not look abroad To seek for pity from another's Eyes.
_Ism._ How he moves me! if this were real now, Or that he knew to whom he made this Courtship-- [Aside.
_Alb._ Oh, do not turn away as if displeas'd.
_Ism._ No more, you've discompos'd my thoughts; Be gone, and never let me see thy Face again.
_Alb._ Madam, I go, and will no more offend you, --But I will look my last--farewel. [Offers to go.
_Isab._ Pray, Madam, call him back, he may be desperate.
--My Lord, return--
_Ism._ _Alberto_, tell me what you'd have me do.
_Alb._ Ah, Madam, do not put me to my choice, For Lovers are unreasonable; If I might name it, I would have you love me.