_Clo._ Oh God forbid, I should be so inconstant!
No, Sir, though she be false, she has my Heart, And I can die, but not redeem the Victim.
_Fred._ Away, you little Fool, you make me sad By this resolve: but I'll instruct you better.
_Clo._ I would not make you sad for all the World.
Sir, I will sing, or dance, do any thing That may divert you.
_Fred._ I thank thee, _Philibert_, and will accept Thy Bounty; perhaps it may allay thy Griefs awhile too.
_Clo._ I'll call the Musick, Sir. [She goes out.
_Fred._ This Boy has strange agreements in him.
Enter _Cloris_ with Musick.
_She bids them play, and dances a Jig._
This was wondrous kind, my pretty _Philibert_.
[Exeunt Musick.
Enter _Page_.
_Page_. _Lorenzo_, my Lord, begs admittance.
_Fred._ He may come in. [Exit _Page_.
Enter _Lorenzo_.
--Well, _Lorenzo_, what's the News with thee?
--How goes the price of Beauty, hah?
_Lor._ My Lord, that question is _a propos_ to What I have to say; this Paper will answer your Question, Sir-- [Gives him a Paper, he reads.
--Hah, I vow to gad a lovely Youth; [_Lor._ gazes on _Phil._ But what makes he here with _Frederick_?
This Stripling may chance to mar my market of Women now-- 'Tis a fine Lad, how plump and white he is; [Aside.
Would I could meet him somewhere i'th' dark, I'd have a fling at him, and try whether I Were right _Florentine_.
_Fred._ Well, Sir, where be these Beauties?
_Lor._ I'll conduct you to them.
_Fred._ What's the Fellow that brings them?
_Lor._ A _Grecian_, I think, or something.
_Fred._ Beauties from _Greece_, Man!
_Lor._ Why, let them be from the Devil, So they be new and fine, what need we care?
--But you must go to night.
_Fred._ I am not in a very good condition To make Visits of that kind.
_Lor._ However, see them, and if you like them, You may oblige the Fellow to a longer stay, For I know they are handsome.
_Fred._ That's the only thing thou art judge of; --Well, go you and prepare them; And _Philibert_, thou shalt along with me; I'll have thy Judgment too.
_Clo._ Good Heaven, how false he is! [Aside.
_Lor._ What time will your Highness come?
_Fred._ Two Hours hence. [Ex. _Fred._
_Lor._ So then I shall have time to have a bout With this jilting Huswife _Isabella_, For my Fingers itch to be at her. [Aside. [Ex. _Lorenzo_.
_Clo._ Not know me yet? cannot this Face inform him?
My Sighs, nor Eyes, my Accent, nor my Tale?
Had he one thought of me, he must have found me out.
--Yes, yes, 'tis certain I am miserable; He's going now to see some fresher Beauties, And I, he says, must be a witness of it; This gives me Wounds, painful as those of Love: Some Women now would find a thousand Plots From so much Grief as I have, but I'm dull; Yet I'll to _Laura_, and advise with her, Where I will tell her such a heavy Tale, As shall oblige her to a kind concern: --This may do; I'll tell her of this Thought, This is the first of Art I ever thought on; And if this proves a fruitless Remedy, The next, I need not study, how to die.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. A Street.
Enter _Lorenzo_, meets _Guilliam_, who passes by him, and takes no notice of him.
_Lor._ How now, Manners a few?
_Guil._ I cry you heartily, Sir, I did not see you.
_Lor._ Well, Sirrah, the News.
_Guil._ Sir, the Gentlewoman whom you sent me to says That she'll meet you here.
_Lor._ That's well, thou mayst come to be a States-man In time, thou art a fellow of so quick dispatch: But hark ye, Sirrah, there are a few Lessons I must learn you, Concerning Offices of this nature; But another time for that: but-- [Whispers.
Enter _Isabella_, and _Antonio's Valet_.
_Isab._ Here he is; and prithee, when thou seest him in My Chamber, go and tell my Lord, Under pretence of the care you have of the Honour of his House.
_Val._ I warrant you, let me alone for a Tale, And a Lye at the end on't; which shall not over-much Incense him, nor yet make him neglect coming.
[Ex. _Val._
_Lor._ Oh, are you there, Mistress? what have you now To say for your last Night's Roguery? Are not you a Baggage? confess.
_Isab._ You have a mind to lose your opportunity again, As you did last Night, have ye not? Pray God your own Shadow scare you not, As it did then; and you will possibly believe No body meant you harm then, nor now.
_Lor._ Art thou in earnest?