_Ism._ Yes, _Alberto_; And you shall see what Love will make a Woman do.
[He leads her out.
_Alb._ Now am I caught again, inconstant Nature.
--Would she had less of Beauty or of Wit, Or that _Antonio_ did but less deserve her; Or that she were not married, Or I'ad less Virtue, for 'tis that which awes me.
That tender sense of nothing, And makes the other Reasons seem as Bugbears.
--I love _Clarina_ more than he can do.
And yet this Virtue doth oppose that Love, Tells me there lurks a Treason there Against _Antonio's_ and _Clarina's_ Virtue.
--'Tis but too true indeed, and I'm not safe, Whilst I conceal the Criminal within: I must reveal it, for whilst I hide the Traitor, I seem to love the Treason too; I will resign it then, since 'tis less blame To perish by my Pain, than live with Shame. [Exit.
ACT III.
SCENE I. A Room in _Salvator's_ House.
Enter _Frederick_ and _Laura_.
_Fred._ _Laura_, consider well my Quality, And be not angry with your Father's Confidence, Who left us here alone.
_Lau._ He will repent that Freedom when he knows What use you've made on't, Sir.
_Fred._ Fy, fy, _Laura_, a Lady bred at Court, and Yet want complaisance enough to entertain A Gallant in private! this coy Humour Is not _a-la-mode_.--Be not so peevish with a Heart that dies for you.
_Lau._ Pray tell me, Sir, what is't in me that can Encourage this?
_Fred._ That which is in all lovely Women, _Laura_; A thousand Blushes play about your Cheeks, Which shows the briskness of the Blood that warms them.
--If I but tell you how I do adore you, You strait decline your Eyes; Which does declare you understand my meaning, And every Smile or Frown betrays your thoughts, And yet you cry, you do not give me cause.
Enter _Maid_.
_Maid._ _Curtius_, Madam, waits without.
_Fred._ I do not like his haste, --Tell him he cannot be admitted now.
_Lau._ Sir, he is one that merits better treatment from you; How can you injure thus the Man you love?
_Fred._ Oh Madam, ask your Eyes, those powerful Attracts.
And do not call their Forces so in question, As to believe they kindle feeble Fires, Such as a Friendship can surmount. No, _Laura_, They've done far greater Miracles.
_Lau._ Sir, 'tis in vain you tell me of their Power, Unless they could have made a nobler Conquest Than Hearts that yield to every petty Victor.
--Look on me well, Can nothing here inform you of my Soul, And how it scorns to treat on these Conditions?
[Looks on him, he gazes with a half Smile.
_Fred._ Faith, no, _Laura_.
I see nothing there but wondrous Beauty, And a deal of needless Pride and Scorn, And such as may be humbled.
_Lau._ Sir, you mistake, that never can abate.
But yet I know your Power may do me injuries; But I believe you're guilty of no Sin, Save your Inconstancy, which is sufficient; And, Sir, I beg I may not be the first [Kneels and weeps.
May find new Crimes about you.
_Fred._ Rise, _Laura_, thou hast but too many Beauties, Which pray be careful that you keep conceal'd. [Offers to go.
_Lau._ I humbly thank you, Sir.
_Fred._--But why should this interposing Virtue check me?
--Stay, _Laura_, tell me; must you marry _Curtius_?
_Lau._ Yes, Sir, I must.
_Fred._ _Laura_, you must not.
_Lau._ How, Sir!
_Fred._ I say you shall not marry him, Unless you offer up a Victim, That may appease the Anger you have rais'd in me.
_Lau._ I'll offer up a thousand Prayers and Tears.
_Fred._ That will not do.
Since thou'st deny'd my just Pretensions to thee, No less than what I told you of shall satisfy me.
_Lau._ Oh, where is all your Honour and your Virtue?
_Fred_. Just where it was, there's no such real thing.
I know that thou wert made to be possest, And he that does refuse it, loves thee least.
--There's danger in my Love, and your Delay, And you are most secure whilst you obey. [He pulls her gently.
_Lau._ Then this shall be my safety, hold off, [She draws a Dagger.
Or I'll forget you are my Prince. [He laughs.
_Fred._ Pretty _Virago_, how you raise my Love?
--I have a Dagger too; what will you do? [Shows her a Dagger.
Enter _Curtius_.
_Cur._ How! the Prince! arm'd against _Laura_ too! [Draws.
_Fred._ Traitor, dost draw upon thy Prince?
_Cur._ Your Pardon, Sir, I meant it on a Ravisher, A foul misguided Villain, [Bows.
One that scarce merits the brave name of Man; One that betrays his Friend, forsakes his Wife, And would commit a Rape upon my Mistress.
_Fred._ Her Presence is thy Safety, be gone and leave me.
_Cur._ By no means, Sir; the Villain may return, To which fair _Laura_, should not be expos'd.
_Fred._ Slave, dar'st thou disobey? [Offers to fight.