THE Amorous Prince, OR, THE Curious Husband.  
A COMEDY, As it is Acted at his Royal Highness, the Duke of York's Theatre.  
Written by Mrs A. BEHN.  
LONDON, Printed by I. M. for Thomas Dring, at the White Lion, next Chancery-Lane-End, in Fleetstreet. 1671.   

PROLOGUE.  
WEll! you expect a Prologue to the Play,  
And you expect it too Petition-way;  
With Chapeau bas, beseeching you t'excuse,  
Adamned Intrigue of an unpractised Muse;  
Tell you its fortune waits upon your smiles,  
And when you frown, Lord how you kill the while!  
Or else to rally up the sins of th' Age,  
And bring each Fop in Town upon the Stage;  
And in one Prologue run more vices o'er,  
Then either Court or City knew before;  
And that's a wonder which will please you too,  
But my Commission's not to please you now.  
First then for you grave Dons who love no Play  
But what is regular, Great Johnson's way;  
Who hate the Monsieur with the Farce and Droll,  
But are for things well said with spirit and soul;  
'Tis you I mean whose judgements will admit,  
No Interludes of fooling with your Wit;  
You're here defeated, and anon will cry  
s' Death! would 'twere treason to write Comedy.  
So! there's a party lost; now for the rest,  
Who swear they'd rather hear a smutty jest,  
Spoken by noke's or Angel, than a Scene  
Of the admired and well-penned Catiline;  
Who love the Comic Hat, the jig and Dance,  
Things that are fitted to their Ignorance:  
You too are quite undone, for here's no Farce,  
Damn me! you'll cry, this Play will be mine A—  
Not serious, nor yet Comic, what is't then?  
Th' imperfect issue of a Lukewarm brain:  
'Twas born before its time, and such a whelp,  
As all the after-lickings could not help.  
Bait it then as ye please, we'll not descend it,  
But he that dis-approves it, let him mend it.   


Actor's Names.  
Frederick Son to the Duke.  
Curtius' His Friend.  
Lorenzo A rich extravagant Lord, a kind of Favourite to Frederick.  
Antonio A Nobleman of Florence.  
Alberto His dear Friend, a Noble man also.  
Pietro Man to Curtius.  
Galliard Servant to the Prince.  
Valet To Antonio.  
Clarina Wife to Antonio.  
Ismena Sister to Antonio, in love with Alberto.  
Laura Sister to Lorenzo, in love with Curtius.  
Cloris Sister to Curtius, disguised like a Country Maid, in love with Frederick.  
Isabel Woman to Clarina.  
Lucia Maid to Cloris.  
Guilliam. Man to Cloris, a Country-fellow.  
Pages and Music.   Scene the Court of Florence.  

THE Amorous Prince.  

ACT. I.  

SCENE. I.  The Chamber of Cloris. Enter Cloris dressed in her night Attire, with Frederick Dressing himself. Clo. 
AND will you leave me now to fears,  
Which love itself can hardly satisfy?  
But those, and that together sure will kill me,  
If you stay long away.  Fred. 
My Dear, 'tis almost day, and we must part;  
Should those rude eyes, 'mongst whom thou  
Dwellest, perceive us;  
'Twould prove unhappy both to thee and me.  Clor. 
And will you, Sir, be constant to your Vows?  Fred. 
Ah Cloris! do not question what I've sworn;  
If thou wouldst have it once again repeated,  
I'll do't. By all that's good, I'll marry thee;  
By that most Holy Altar, before which we kneeled,  
When first I saw the brightest Saint that e'er adored it;  
I'll marry none but thee, my dearest Cloris.  Clor. 
Sir, you have said enough to gain a credit  
With any Maid; though she had been deceived  
By some such flatteries, as these before.  
I never knew the pains of fear till now;  [Sighs. 
And you must needs forgive the faults you make;  
For had I still remained in Innocence,  
I should have still believed you.  Fred. 
Why dost thou not my Love?  Clor. 
Some doubts I have, but when I look on you,  
Though I must blush to do so, they all vanish;  
But I provide against your absence, Sir.  Fred. 
Make no provision Cloris, but of hope,  
Prepare thyself against a Wedding day,  
When thou shalt be a little Deity on Earth.  Clor. 
I know not what it is to dwell in Courts,  
But sure it must be fine, since you are there;  
Yet I could wish you were an humble Shepherd,  
And knew no other Palace than this Cottage;  
Where I would weave you Crowns, of Pinks and Daisies,  
And you should be a Monarch every May.  Fred. 
And Cloris, I could be content to sit  
With thee, upon some shady River's bank,  
To hear thee Sing, and tell a Tale of Love.  
For thee, Alas! I could do any thing;  
A Sheephook I could prize above a Sword;  
An Army I would quit to lead a Flock,  
And more esteem that Chaplet wreathed by thee,  
Then the Victorious Bays:  
All this I could, but Dear, I have a Father,  
Whom for thy sake, to make thee great and glorious,  
I would not lose my interest with.  
But Cloris see, the unkind day approaches,  
And we must kiss and part.  Clor. 
Unkind it is indeed, may it prove so,  
To all that wish its presence,  
And pass as soon away,  
That welcome night may reassume its place,  
And bring you quickly back.  Fred. 
With great impatience I'll expect that hour,  
That shall conduct me in its shades to thee;  
Farewell.  Clor. 
Farewell Sir, if you must be gone.  [Sighs. Fred. 
One Kiss, and then indeed I will be gone.  [Kisses her. 
A new blown Rose kissed by the morning dew,  
Has not more Natural sweetness.  
Ah Cloris! can you doubt that heart,  
To whom such blessings you impart?  
Unjustly you suspect that prize,  
Won by such touches, and such eyes.  
My Fairest, turn that Face away,  
Unless I could for ever stay;  
Turn but but a little while I go.  Clor. 
Sir, I must see the the last of you.  Fred. 
I dare not disobey; adieu till evening.  [Exit. Fred. Enter Lucia. Clor. 
How now Lucia; is my Father up?  Luc. 
No, not a Mouse stirs yet; I have kept a true  
Watch all this night, for I was cruelly afraid  
Lest we should have been surprised—  
Is the Prince gone? but why do I ask,  
That may read it in your sad looks.  Clor. 
Yes, he is gone, and with him too has taken.  [Sighs. Luc. 
What has he taken? I'll swear you frighten me.  Clor. 
My heart Lucia.  Luc. 
Your Heart, I am glad 'tis no worse.  Clor. 
Why, what dost think he should have taken?  Luc. 
A thing more hard to have been  
Recovered again.  Clor. 
What thing prithee?  Luc. 
Your Maidenhead.  Clor. 
What's that?  Luc. 
A thing young Gallants long extremely for,  
And when they have it too, they say  
They care not a Dazy for the giver.  Clor. 
How comest thou so wise Lucia?  Luc. 
Oh the fine Gentleman that comes a nights  
With the Prince, told me so much, and bid me  
Be sure never to part with it for fine words,  
For men would lie as often as they swore;  
And so he bade me tell you too.  Clor. 
Oh Lucia!  Luc. 
Why do you sigh?  Clo. 
To think if Princes were like common Men,  
How I should be undone.  
Since I have given him all I had to give;  
And who that looks on him can blame my faith.  Luc. 
Indeed he surpasses Damon far;  
But I'd forgot myself, you are the Prince's Wife;  
He said you should be kneeled too, and adored,  
And never looked on but on Holy days:  
That many Maids should wait upon your call,  
And strew fine flowers for you to tread upon;  
Music and Love should daily fill your ears,  
And all your other senses should be ravished  
With wonders of each kind, great as your beauty.  Clor. 
Lucia, methinks you have learned to speak fine things.  Luc. 
I have a thousand more I've heard him say;  
Oh, I could listen a whole night to hear him talk:  
But hark, I hear a noise, the house is up,  
And must not find us here.  Clor. 
Lock up this Box of Jewels for me.  Luc. 
Oh rare! what did these come to night?  Clor. 
Yes, yes, away.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE II. A Grove.  Enter Curtius and Pietro. Cur. 
I wonder the Prince stays so long;  
I do not like these night-works;  
Were I not confident of Cloris virtue,  
— Which shall no more be tempted.  
I hear some coming, and hope 'tis he—  
Pietro, are the Horses ready?  Piet. 
Yes my Lord.  [Exit. Pietro. Enter Frederick. Cur. 
Sir, you are welcome from Cloris Arms.  Fred. 
With much ado, I am got loose from those fair  
Fetters; but not from those of her beauty;  
By these she still inflames me,  
In spite of all my humours of inconstancy;  
So soft and young, so fair and innocent,  
So full of Air, and yet of janguishment;  
So much of Nature in her heart and eyes,  
So timorous and so kind without disguise:  
Such untaught sweets in every part do move,  
As 'gainst my reason does compel my love;  
Such artless smiles look so unordered too,  
Gains more than all the charms of Courts can do;  
From head to foot a spotless Statue seems,  
As Art, not Nature, had composed her limbs;  
So white, and so unblemished, oh Curtius!  
I'm ravished beyond sense when I but think on't;  
How much more must my surprise be,  
When I behold these wonders.  Cur. 
And have you seen her, Sir, in all this beauty?  
Oh Hell!  [Aside. Fred. 
Curtius, I will not hide my Soul from thee;  
I have seen all the marvels of that Maid.  Car. 
My Soul learn now the Art of being disguised:  [Aside. 
— 'Tis much my, Lord; that one  
Bred in such simple innocence,  
Should learn so soon so much of confidence:  
Pray, Sir, what Arts and cunning do you use?  Fred. 
Faith time and importunity refuse no body.  Curt. 
Is that the way? had you no other aids?  
Made you no promise to her, Sir, of Marriage?  Fred. 
Oh, yes in abundance, that's your only bait,  
And though they cannot hope we will perform it,  
Yet it secures their Honour and my Pleasure.  Cur. 
Then, Sir, you have enjoyed her?  Fred. 
Oh yes, and gathered sweets  
Would make an Anchoret neglect his vow,  
And think he had mistook his way to future bliss,  
Which only can be found in such embraces;  
'Twas hard to gain, but, Curtius, when once Victor,  
Oh how the joys of conquest did enslave me!  Cur. 
But, Sir, methinks 'tis much that she should yield,  
With only a bare promise that you'd marry her.  Fred. 
Yes, there was something more— but—  Cur. 
But, what Sir, you are not Married.  Fred. 
Faith yes, I've made a Vow,  
And that you know would go as far with any other man.  Cur. 
But she it seems forgot you were the Prince?  Fred. 
No, she urged that too,  
And left no arguments unused  
Might make me sensible of what I did;  
But I was fixed, and overcame them all,  
Repeating still my vows and passions for her,  
Till in the presence of her Maid and Heaven  
We solemnly contracted.  Cur. 
But, Sir, by your permission was it well?  Fred. 
What wouldst thou have him do  
That's all on fire, and dies for an enjoyment?  Cur. 
But having gained it, do you love her still?  Fred. 
Yes, yet extremely,  
And would be constant to the vows I've made,  
Were I a man, as thou art of thyself;  
But with the aids of Counsels I must choose,  
And what my Soul adores I must refuse.  Cur. 
This passion, Sir, possession will destroy,  
And you'll love less, the more you do enjoy.  Fred. 
That's all my hope of cure; I'll ply that game,  
And slacken by degrees th' unworthy flame.  Cur. 
Methinks, my Lord, it had more generous been  
t'o've checked that flame when first it did begin.  
ere you the slighted victory had won,  
And a poor harmless Virgin quite undone;  
And what is worse, you've made her love you too.  Fred. 
Faith that's the greater mischief of the two;  
I know to such nice Virtuous Souls as thine,  
My juster inclination is a crime;  
But I love pleasures which thou canst not prize,  
Beyond dull gazing on thy Mistress eyes,  
The lovely object which enslaves my heart,  
Must yet more certain Cures then smiles impart,  
— And you on Laura have the same design.  Cur. 
Yes, Sir, when justified by Laws Divine.  Fred. 
Divine, a pleasant warrant for your sin,  
Which being not made, we ne'er had guilty been;  
But now we speak of Laura,  
Prithee when is't that I shall see that Beauty?  Cur. 
Never I hope [Aside] I know not, Sir,  
Her Father still is Cruel, and denys me,  
What she and I have long made suit in vain for;  
But, Sir, your Interest might prevail with him,  
When he shall know I'm one whom you esteem,  
He will allow my flame, and my address,  
He whom you favour cannot doubt success.  Fred. 
This day I will begin to serve thee in it.  Cur. 
Sir, 'twill be difficult to get access to her,  
Her Father is an humorous old man,  
And has his fits of Pride and kindness too.  Fred. 
Well after dinner I will try my power,  
And will not quit his Lodgings till I've won him.  Cur. 
I humbly thank you Sir.  Fred. 
Come let us haste, the day comes on apace.  Cur. 
I'll wait upon you Sir;  
Oh, Cloris, thou'rt undone, false Amorous Girl;  [Ex. Fred. 
Was it for this I bred thee in obscurity,  
Without permitting thee to know what Courts meant,  
Lest their too powerful temptation  
Might have betrayed thy Soul;  
Not suffering thee to know thy Name or Parents,  
Thinking an humble life  
Might have secured thy Virtue:  
And yet I should not hate thee for this sin,  
Since thou art bred in so much innocence,  
Thou couldst not dream of falsity in men:  
Oh that it were permitted me to kill this Prince,  
This false perfidious Prince;  
And yet he knows not that he has abused me.  
When did I know a man of so much Virtue,  
That would refuse so sweet and soft a Maid;  
— No he is just and good, only too much misled  
By youth and flattery;  
And one to whom my Soul is tied by friendship;  
— Yet what's a Friend, a name above a Sister?  
Is not her Honour mine?  
And shall not I revenge the loss of it?  
It is but common Justice.  
But first I'll try all gentle means I may,  
And let him know that Cloris is my Sister;  
And if he then persevere in his crime,  
I'll lay my interest and my duty by,  
And punish him, or with my Honour die.  [Exit.  

SCENE III.  The Apartment of Antonio. Enter Lorenzo pulling in of Isabel. Lor. 
Nay, nay, Isabel, there's no avoiding me now,  
You and I must come to a parley.  
Pray what's the reason  
You took no notice of me,  
When I came with so civil an address too.  Isab. 
Can you ever think to thrive in an Amour,  
When you take notice of your Mistress,  
Or any that belongs to her, in public,  
And when she's a Married woman too.  Lor. 
Good Isabel, the loser may have leave to speak,  
I am sure it has been a plaguy dear Amour to me.  Isab. 
Let me hear you name that again,  
And you shall miss of my assistance.  Lor. 
Nay, do but hear me a little;  
I vow 'tis the strangest thing in the world,  
A man must part from so much money as I have done;  
And be consigned to Signs and Grimmasses only,  
To declare his mind in;  
If a man has a Tongue, let him exercise it, I say,  
As long as he pays for speaking.  Isab. 
Again with your paying fort; I see you are not  
To be reclaimed; farewell—  Lor. 
Stay good Isabel, stay,  
And thou shalt here not one word of that more,  
Though I am soundly urged to 't.  Isab. 
Yes, yes, pray count them, do;  
I know you long to be at it,  
And I am sure you will find you are in Arrears to us.  Lor. 
Say you so, I am not of that opinion, but well,  
— Let me see— here 'tis, here 'tis—  
— My Bill of charge for Courting Clarina.  [Draws out his Table Book and reads. Isab. 
And here's mine for the returns that have been  
Made you; begin, begin.  [Pulls out her Book. Lor. 
Item, 200 Crowns to Isabel for undertaking.  Isab. 
Item, I have promised Lorenzo to serve him  
In his Amour with all fidelity.  Lor. 
Well, I own that debt paid, if you keep  
Your word— out with it then—  [He crosses that out. 
Item, 2000 Crowns in a Bracelet for Clarina;  
What say you to that now Isabel?  Isab. 
Item, The day after they were presented,  
She saluted you with a smile at the Chapel.  Lor. 
And dost thou think it was not dearly bought?  Isab. 
No man in Florence should have had it  
A Souse cheaper.  Lor. 
Say you so Isabel; out with it then.  [Crosses it out. 
Item, 100 more to thee for presenting them.  Isab. 
Which I did with six lies in your commendation,  
Worth ten Pistols a piece for the exactness of a Lie;  
Write there indebted to me—  Tor. 
Nay then thou dost deserve it:  
Rest due to Isabel.  [Writes. 
Item, Innumerable Serenades, night-walks, affronts  
And fears; and lastly, to the Poets for Songs, and the like.  Isab. 
All which was recompensed in the excessive  
Laughing on you that day you praunced under our  
Window on Horseback, when you made such a  
Deal of Capriol and Curvet.  Lor. 
Yes, where I ventured my neck to show my  
Activity, and therefore may be well accounted  
Amongst my losses.  Isab. 
Then she received your Presents,  
Suffered your Serenades, without sending her footmen  
To break your Pate with the Fiddles.  Lor. 
Indeed that was one of the best signs,  
For I have been a great sufferer in that kind  
Upon the like occasions; but dost thou think  
In conscience that this should satisfy?  Isab. 
Yes, any reasonable man in the world for the  
First month at least; and yet you are still up  
With your expenses, as if a Lady of her quality  
Were to be gained without them—  
Let me hear of your expenses more, and I'll—  Lor. 
Oh sweet Isabel! upon my knees,  
I beg thou wilt take no fatal resolution;  
For I protest, as I am a man of Honour,  
And adore thy Sex, thou shalt only see,  
Not hear of my expenses more;  
And for a small testimony of it, here, take this;  
There's twenty Pistols upon reputation.  [Gives her Money. Isab. 
Fie, Fie, 'tis not brave, nor generous to name  
The sum; you should have slid it into my coat,  
Without saying what you had done.  Lor. 
What signifies that must, as long as 'tis currant,  
And you have it sure.  Isab. 
Well, leave the management of your Affairs to me,  
— What shall we do? here's Alberto.  Enter Alberto. Lor. 
Well, who can help it; I cannot walk invisible.  Alb. 
Lorenzo, what making Love to Isabel?  Lor. 
She'll serve, my Lord, for want of a better.  Isab. 
That's but a course Compliment.  Lor. 
'T will serve to disguise a truth however.  [Aside to her. 
Faith I'll tell you, Sir, 'twas such another Damsel  [Ex. Isab. 
As this, that saved me 500 pound once upon a time;  
And I have loved the whole Tribe of Waiting-women  
The better ever since.  Alb. 
You have reason, how was it?  Lor. 
Why look you Sir?  
I had made love a long time to a Lady,  
But she shall be nameless,  
Since she was of a quality not to be gained under  
The aforesaid sum; well, I brought it,  
Came powdered and perfumed, and high in expectation.  Alb. 
Well Sir.  Lor. 
And she had a very pretty wench, who was to  
Conduct me, and in the dark too;  
And on my conscience, I e'en fell aboard of her,  
And was as well accommodated for my five,  
As five hundred pounds, and so returned.  Alb. 
A great defeat to the Lady the while a my word.  Lor. 
ay, she smelled the Plot, and made a vow to follow  
The Italian mode for the future;  
And be served in affairs of that kind, by none,  
But an old Woman.  Alb. 
'Twas wittily resolved.  Lor. 
Are you for the presence this morning?  Alb. 
No, I have business here with Antonio.  Lor. 
Your Servant my Lord—  Exit. Lorenzo. Alb. 
I do not like this fellows being here,  
The most notorious Pimp, and Rascal in Italy;  
'Tis a vile shame that such as he should live,  
Who have the form and sense of man about them,  
And in their action Beast,  
And that he thrives by too:  Enter Isabel. 
— Isabel, is Antonio stirring?  Isab. 
He is, please your Lordship to walk in.  Alb. 
You may tell him I wait here—  
— For I would avoid all opportunity of seeing Clarina.  [Aside. Isab. 
My Lord, you need not stand upon Ceremonies.  [Ex. Alberto. Enter Clarina and Ismena, dressed like one another in every thing, Laughing and beholding one another. 
— Dressed already! now on my conscience.  
I know not which is which;  
Pray God Antonio be not mistaken at night,  
For I'll be sworn I am by daylight.  Ism. 
Dost think I may pass thus for Clarina?  Isab. 
Madam, you are the same to a hair,  
Wood I might never stir,  
If I can do any thing but wonder.  Clar. 
But hark Isabel, if thou shouldst have  
Heard amiss, and that thy information should not be good,  
Thou hast defeated us of a design,  
Wherein we promise ourselves no little pleasure.  Ism. 
Yes I vow, all the Jest is lost if it be so.  Isab. 
I doubt 'twill be a true Jest on your side.  [Aside. 
— I warrant you, Madam, my Intelligence is good;  
And to assure you of what I have said,  
I dare undertake you shall hear the same over again;  
For just now Alberto is come to visit my Lord,  
Who I am sure will entertain him with no other stories,  
But those of his jealousy,  
And to persuade him to Court you.  Clar. 
'Tis strange, since he set him that task so long ago,  
He would not begin before.  Ism. 
Nay, pray God he begin now;  
Sister, he has hitherto took me for thee,  
And sometimes his eyes give me hope of a secret  
Fire within, but 't will not out;  
And I am so impatient till he declares himself,  
That if he do not do it soon,  
I shall e'en tell him who I am;  
For perhaps, the Wife takes off the appetite  
Which would sharpen upon knowledge of the Virgin.  Clar. 
What then, you'll have all the sport to yourself;  
— But, Ismena, remember my little revenge on Antonio  
Must accompany your love to Alberto.  [Aside. Isab. 
But why this resemblance?  
For, Madam, since he never saw you,  
And takes Ismena to be you;  
Might you not still pass so, without this likeness?  Clar. 
Didst thou not say, Antonio left the Court  
And City, on purpose to give Alberto the more freedom  
To Court me:  
— Whilst he was away, I needed but retire,  
And Ismena appear, and 'twould sufficee;  
But now he is returned,  
He may chance to see them together, en passant, or so,  
And this dress will abuse him as well as Alberto,  
For without that, this Plot of ours signifies little.  Ism. 
Ay truly for my part, I have no other design  
Then doing my Sister a service.  Isab. 
The Plot is very likely to thrive I see,  
Since you are so good at dissembling.  Ism. 
Fie Isabel, what an ill opinion you have of me?  
— But Sister, 'tis much Alberto being so intimate  
With Antonio, should never see you all this whole  
Six months of your being Married.  Clar. 
Had you been bred any where,  
But in a Monastery, you would have known,  
'Tis not the custom here for men to expose their  
Wives to the view of any.  Isab. 
I hear them coming, let's away,  
And pray listen to the truths I have already told you.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE. IV.  Enter Antonio and Alberto. [Clarina and Ismena listen▪ Alb. 
Once more Antonio, welcome back to Court▪  Ant. 
Oh my dear friend, I longed for thy embraces▪  
— How goes the Game I left with thee to play?  
What says my Wife, my beautiful Clarina?  Alb. 
Clarina—  Ant. 
Yes Clarina, have you not seen her yet?  
I left the Court on purpose, for 'twas not handsome  
For me to introduce you;  
Lest she had looked upon't as some design.  Alb. 
Seen her— yes—  Ant. 
And I conjured her too, to give you freedoms  
Even equal to Antonio;  
As far as I durst press with modesty,  
And with pretence of Friendship;  
And have you not attempted her?  Alb. 
Yes— but 'tis in vain.  Ant. 
Oh Villanious dissembler.  [Aside. Alb. 
She's cruel, strangely cruel,  
And I' me resolved to give the Courtship o'er.  Ant. 
Sure friend, thou hast not used thy wonted power.  Alb. 
Yes, all that I know I' me master of, I used.  Ant. 
But didst thou urge it home? did she not see,  
Thy words and actions did not well agree?  
Canst thou dissemble well? didst cry and melt,  
As if the pain you but expressed, you felt?  
Didst kneel, and swear, and urge thy quality,  
Heightening it too with some disgrace on me?  
And didst thou too assail her feeble side?  
For the best bait to woman is her Pride;  
Which some miscall her Guard:  
Didst thou present her with the set of Jewels?  
For Women naturally are more inclined  
To Avarice, than Men:  
Pray tell me Friend,  
— Vile woman did she take them—  Alb. 
I never asked her that.  Clar. 
Poor Antonio how I pity him.  [Aside. Ant. 
No!  Alb. 
No, I've done enough to satisfy thy jealousy;  
Here take your set of Jewels back again;  [Gives a Box. 
Upon my life Clarina is all chastity.  Ant. 
I were the happiest man on Earth, were this but true;  
But what are single Courtships— give her these  
Which will assist thy tongue to win her heart;  
And that once got, the other soon will follow;  
There's far more women won by Gold then industry:  
Try that my dear Alberto,  
And save thy eyes the trouble of dissembling.  Alb. 
Content thee here, and do not tempt thy fate,  
I have regard unto thy Honour Friend,  
And should she yield, as women are no gods,  
Where were thy future Joys;  
What is't could make thee happy, or restore  
That true contentment which thou hadst before?  
Alas thou temptest me too, for I am frail,  
And love above my friendship may prevail.  Ant. 
This will not do;  
No, as thou art my Friend, and lov'st my Honour,  
Pursue Clarina further;  
Rally a fresh, and charge her with this Present,  
Disturb her every night with Serenades;  
Make Lovesongs to her, and then Sing them too;  
Thou hast a voice enough alone to conquer.  Alb. 
Fool Antonio.  [Aside. Ant. 
Come wilt thou undertake it once again?  Alb. 
I would not.  Ant. 
I am resolved to get this trial made,  
And if thou dost refuse thy Amity,  
I'll try a Friend more willing, though less faithful,  
With thee my Wife and Honour too are safe;  
For should she yield, and I by that were lost,  
'Twere yet some ease,  
That none but thou were't witness to 't.  Alb. 
Well, if it must be done, I' the rather do 't,  
Than you should be exposed to th' scorn of others.  Ant. 
Spoke like my noble Friend;  
Come dine with her to day, for I must leave you,  
And give you all the opportunity  
A real Lover wishes with a Mistress:  [Isam. 
So we have heard enough.]  Ex. Clar. and Ism. Ant. 
Oh were Clarina chaste, as on my Soul  
I cannot doubt, more than that I believe  
All woman kind may be seduced from Virtue;  
I were the man of all the world most blessed,  
In such a Wife, and such a Friend as thou.  Alb. 
But what if I prevail Antonio?  Ant. 
Then I'll renounce my faith in woman kind,  
And place my satisfaction in thy Amity.  
— But see she comes, I'll leave you to your task.  Enter Ismena and Isabel. Ism. 
Antonio not yet gone—  
This must secure me.  Pulls down her Veil. Ant. 
Clarina, why thus clouded?  Isab. 
I see he has most happily mistaken.  Ism. 
I was going, Sir, to visit Laura—  Ant. 
You must not go, I've business to the Duke,  
And you must entertain my Friend till my return;  
It is a freedom not usual here amongst Ladies,  
But I will have it so;  
Whom I esteem I'll have you do so to.  Ism. 
Sir, I am all obedience.  [Exit Antonio, She pulls off her Veil; Albert. salutes her with seeming-lowness. Alb. 
Oh how my Soul's divided,  
Between my Adoration and my Amity!  [Aside 
Friendship, thou sacred band, hold fast thy interest,  
For yonder Beauty has a subtle power,  
And can undo that knot, which other Arts  
Could ne'er invent a way for.  Enter Antonio and listens at the door. Ant. 
I'll see a little how he behaves himself.  [Aside. Alb. 
But she's Antonio's wife; my friend Antonio,  [Aside. 
A youth that made an interest in my Soul,  
When I had language scarce to express my sense of it.  Ant. 
Death, he speaks not to her.  [Aside. Alb. 
So grew we up to man, and still more fixed;  [Aside. 
And shall a gaudy beauty,  
A thing, which t' other day, I never saw▪  
Deprive my heart of that kind heat▪  
And place a new and unknown fire within;  
Clarina, 'tis unjust.  Ism. 
Sir, did you speak to me.  Alb. 
I have betrayed myself—  
Madam, I was saying how unjust it was  
Antonio should leave me alone with a Lady,  
Being certainly the worst to entertain them in the world.  Ant. 
His face assures me he speaks of no love to her now.  Ism. 
Alas, he speaks not to me,  [Aside. 
Sure Isabel was mistaken,  
Who told me that he loved me;  
— Alberto, if thou art obliged to me,  [Aside. 
For what I have not yet observed in thee:  
Oh do not say my heart was easily won,  
But blame your eyes, whose forces none can shun.  Ant. 
Not a word, what can he mean by this?  Ism. 
Sir, will you please to sit a while?  Isab. 
Madam, the inner chamber is much better,  
For there he may repose upon the Cushions till my  
Lords return; I see he is not well—  
— And you are both sick of one disease.  [Aside. Alb. 
I thank you, here's more air,  
— And that I need, for I am all on fire,  [Aside. 
And every look adds fuel to my flame.  
— I must avoid those eyes, whose light misguides me:  
— Madam, I have some business calls me hence,  
And cannot wait my friends return.  Ism. 
Antonio, Sir, will think 'tis my neglect  
That drove you hence; pray stay a little longer.  Alb. 
You shall command me, if you can dispense  
With so dull company.  Isab. 
I can with any thing Antonio loves.  Alb. 
Madam, it is a Virtue that becomes you;  
For though your Husband should not merit this,  
Your goodness is not less to be admired;  
But he's a man so truly worth your kindness,  
That 'twere a sin to doubt,  
Your passion for him were not justly paid.  Ism. 
Sir, I believe you, and I hope he thinks  
That my opinion of him equal yours;  
'Tis plain he loves me not,  [Aside. 
Perhaps, his Virtue, thinking me Clarina,  
May hide the real passion of his Soul.  
Oh Love, what dangerous paths thou mak'st us tread!  Ant. 
Cold, cold as Devotion, oh inhuman friendship!  Alb. 
What shall I do next? I must either be rude,  
And say nothing, or speak of Love to her;  
And than my Friend thou'rt lost should I prevail,  
And I'm undone should she not hear my tale,  
Which for the world I would not have her hear;  
And yet I fear my eyes too much declare.  Ism. 
Since he's in so ill an humour, let's leave him,  
I'm satisfied now that thou were't mistaken.  [Ex. Ismena and Isabel unseen. Alb. 
But they shall gaze no more on hers,  
Nor stray beyond the limits of a just salute.  
— I will my Honour to my Love prefer,  
And my Antonio shall outrival her.  [Looks about and misses them. 
— Ah, am I left alone!— how frail is man;  
That which last moment I resolved upon,  
I find my heart already disapprove,  
And grieve her loss; can this be aught but love?  
My Soul's dissatisfied now she is gone,  
And yet but now I wished to be alone;  
— Inform me Love who shares the better part,  
Friendship, or thee, in my divided heart.  [Offers to go. Enter Antonio and stays him. Ant. 
Whether in such haste?  
Thou look'st e'en as sad as a Lover repulsed,  
I fear that fate's, not thine.  Alb. 
Now for a lie to satisfy him.  [Aside. 
Prithee discharge me of this toil of dissembling,  
Of which I grow as weary, as she's of hearing it.  Ant. 
Indeed.  Alb. 
Sure thou haste a design to make her hate me.  Ant. 
Do you think so in earnest, why was she angry?  Alb. 
Oh! hadst thou seen her pretty blushing scorn  
Which she would fain have hid,  
Thou wouldst have pitied what I made her suffer.  Ant. 
Is't possible!  
And didst present her with the Box of Jewels?  Alb. 
Yes.  Ant. 
And kneel, and cry, and swear, and—  Alb. 
All, all.  Ant. 
I hardly gave thee time for so much Courtship,  
— But you are sure she was displeased with it?  Alb. 
Extremely.  Ant. 
Enough Alberto; adieu to thee and friendship.  Alb. 
What mean you?  Ant. 
Ask your own guilt, it will inform thee best.  Alb. 
Thou canst not think Clarina has abused thee.  Ant. 
I do not think she has, nor have you tried her;  
In that you have not only disobliged me,  
But now you would impose upon my weakness;  
— Did I not see how unconcerned you were,  
And hardly paying her a due respect;  
And when she even invited thee to speak,  
Most rudely thou were't silent.  Alb. 
Be calm Antonio, I confess my error.  
And hate that virtue taught me to deceive thee;  
— Here take my hand,—  
I'll serve thee in good earnest.  Ant. 
And now I do believe thee,  
Go— thou shalt lose no time, I must away,  
My Soul's in torment, tell I am confirmed  
Of my Clarina's Virtue;  
I do believe thou hast a generous shame,  
For what thou'st said and done to me thy friend;  
For could I doubt thy love: oh how ridiculous  
This act of mine would seem!  
But 'tis to thee, as to my Soul I come,  
Disputing every petty crime and doubt.  Alb. 
Antonio, if there need an Oath between us.  Ant. 
No, I credit thee; go in,  
And prithee dress thy eyes in all their Charms,  
For this uncertainty disturbs me more,  
Then if I knew Clarina were a— Whore—  [Exeunt severally.   

ACT. II.  

SCENE. I.  The Apartment of Frederick. Enter Frederick with a Letter, and Galliard. Fred. 
NOt allow me to speak to her, say ye, 'tis strange;  
Didst say it was the Prince that sent thee?  Ser. 
My Lord, I did, but he says, he cares not for  
A thousand Princes.  Fred. 
I am resolved I will see this woman;  
— Harkey, go back again and say—  [Whispers, Enter Lorenzo Drunk. Lor. 
Ha the Prince— he must not see me  
In this pickle; for I would not lose my reputation  
Of Wenching, for this of Drinking;  
And I am sure I cannot be excellent at both,  
They are inconsistent.  Ser. 
I shall my Lord.  [Ex. Galliard. Lor. 
Your Highness humble servant.  Fred. 
Ha, ha, what Lorenzo in deboach.  Lor. 
Now my tongue will betray me;  
— Faith, my Lord, I have took six, but am come briskly off;  
By this hand, my Lord, I am cock over five,  
Stout Rogues too, I can tell you, at this sport.  Fred. 
I did not think thou hadst had that Virtue.  Lor. 
I'll tell you, Sir, 'tis necessary those of my  
Office and quality, should have more Virtues  
Than one to recommend them;  
But to tell you truth, for now I am most apt for that,  
I was drunk in meet malice to day.  Fred. 
Malice, against whom prithee.  Lor. 
Why, why, Sir, the humorous old fellow  
My Father, he will not hear reason from me when I am sober.  Fred. 
Why, what's the matter between you?  Lor. 
My Lord, you know Curtius is an honest fellow,  
And one of us too;  
My sister Laura is a good pretty Wench,  
He loves her, and she likes him;  
And because this testy old Blade has done himself,  
Do you think I can bring him to consider?  
No not for my life he won't consider Sir;  
And now am I got drunk to see how that will edify him.  Fred. 
How! is Laura the Mistress of Curtius your sister?  Lor. 
Yes marry is she Sir, at least by the Mother's side;  
And to tell you truth,  
We are too good natured to believe  
Salvator our Father.  Fred. 
Thy Sister and Daughter to Salvator?  Fred. 
So said my Mother, but she was handsome,  
And on my conscience lived, e'en in such another  
Debauched world as 'tis now; let them say  
What they will of their Primitive virtue.  Fred. 
May not I see this Sister of thine Lorenzo?  Lor. 
Yes by Venus shall your Sir,  
And she were my Mother.  Fred. 
But art sure thy Father will permit us?  Lor. 
My Father permit us!  
He may do what he will when I am sober,  
But being thus fortified with potent Wine,  
He must yield obedience to my will;  
Why my Lord, I' le tell you;  
I'll make him ask me blessing when I am in this  
Almighty power.  Fred. 
And is thy Sister so very fine?  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 natured 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 suits not with the  
Humour of an Italian.  Lor. 
No faith, my Lord, I believe my Mother played  
Foul play with some English man;  
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 Lorenz Ser. 
So, poor Lass, 'tis a hundred to one if she be not  
Laid 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 called gallantry in him,  
When in one of us, 'tis ill nature and inconstancy.   

SCENE II.  Enter Ismena and Isabel. Isab. 
Nay, Madam, 'tis in vain to deny it,  
Do you think I have lived to these years,  
And cannot interpret Cross Arms, imperfect replies,  
Your sudden weep, 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 hurts one 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 cured again.  Isab. 
I am not of your opinion, nor ever saw that  
Man that 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 deceived, 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 show his disrespect to tell his Love;  
But when he knows Ismena is the object,  
He'll tire you with the wished for story.  Ism. 
Ah, thou art a pleasing flatterer.  Enter Page. Page. 
Madam, Alberto is without.  Ism. 
Tell him I'm indisposed, 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.  Ex. Page. Enter Alberto. Ism. 
Antonio, Sir, is not returned.  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 shown,  
And now beg leave my bashful tongue may own  
The knowledge, Madam, will not much surprise,  
Which you have gained 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 suffered, 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 increased the more I looked 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?  [Smiles. 
The Plots betrayed, and can no further go;  
The Stratagem's discovered 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 begged I would make love to you;  
But, Madam, whilst my heart was unconfined,  
A thousand ways the treachery I declined;  
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 suppressed  
The flame your eyes have kindled in my breast;  
But his suspicion raised my passion more,  
And his injustice taught me adore;  
But 'tis a passion which you may allow,  
Since its effects shall never injure you.  Ism. 
You have obliged 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,  [Aside. 
Or that he knew to whom he made this Courtship—  Alb. 
Oh do not turn away as if displeased.  Ism. 
No more, you've discomposed my thoughts;  
begone and never let me see thy face again.  Alb. 
Madam, I go, and will no more offend you,  
— But I will look my last— farewell.  [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.  Ism. 
Love you, and what would be the end of that?  Alb. 
I cannot tell, but wish you were inclined  
To make a trial, Madam;  
I have no thought or wish beyond that blessing,  
And that once gained sure, I should ask no more.  Ism. 
Were I inclined to this, have you considered  
The fatal consequences which attend  
The breach of Vows and Friendship.  Alb. 
Madam, Antonio first was false to you,  
And not to punish that, were such a Virtue  
As he would never thank you for;  
By all that's good, till he proved so to you,  
He had my Soul in keeping;  
But this act, makes me resolve  
To recompense his folly.  Ism. 
You've found the easiest passage to my heart,  
You've took it on the weakest side;  
— But I must beg you will pretend no further.  Alb. 
Divine Clarina, let me pay my thanks  
In this submissive posture, and never rise,  [Kneels. 
Till I can gain so much upon your credit,  
As to believe my passion tends no farther  
Than to adore you thus— and thus possess you,  [Kisses her hand and Bows. Ism. 
Have not I dissembled finely Isabel.  [Aside. Isab. 
Yes, if you could make me believe 'tis so.  [Aside. Ism. 
Rise, Sir, and leave me, that I may blush alone  
For what I've parted with so easily;  
Pray do not visit me again too soon,  
— But use your own discretion, and be secret.  Alb. 
Madam, The blessed secret here is lodged,  
Which time shall ne'er reveal to humane knowledge.  [Ex. Alb. Ism. 
I'm glad he's gone before Antonio returned;  Enter Laura Weeping. 
— What Laura all in Tears, the reason pray!  Lau. 
Madam, the Prince conducted by my brother,  
About an hour since made me a visit;  
The Man of all the world I would have shunned,  
Knowing his Amorous and inconstant temper;  
— At his approach he blushed and started back,  
And I with great amazement did the like.  
With fear I lost all power of going from him,  
As he had done of making his address;  
He gazed, and wondered, and I gazed on him,  
And from his silence I became amazed.  
— My brother stood confounded at our postures,  
And only by the motion of his head▪  
(Which now he turned to me, then on the Prince)  
We knew that he had life.  Ism. 
Well, how recovered ye?  Lau. 
The Prince then kneeled, but could approach no nearer,  
And then as if he'd taken me for some Deity;  
He made a long disordered Amorous speech,  
Which brought me back to sense again;  
But Lorenzo told him that I was a mortal,  
And brought him nearer to me,  
Where he began to make such vows of Love—  Ism. 
What then?  Lau. 
Then I am ruined—  
To all I said he found a contradiction,  
And my denials did but more inflame him;  
I told him of the vows I'd made to Curtius,  
But he replied that Curtius was a Subject;  
But sure at last I'd won upon his goodness,  
Had not my Father entered,  
To whom the Prince addressed himself;  
And with his moving tale so won upon him,  
Or rather by his quality,  
That he has gained his leave to visit me,  
And quite forbids me e'er to speak to Curtius.  Ism. 
Alas the day, is this all?  Lau. 
All? can there be more to make me miserable?  Ism. 
I see no reason thou hast to complain;  
Come, wipe your eyes, and take a good heart,  
For I'll tell thee a story of my own,  
That will let thee see I have much more cause to weep;  
And yet I have a thousand little stratagems  
In my head, which give me as many hopes:  
This unlucky restraint upon our Sex,  
Makes us all cunning, and that shall assist thee now  
With my help, I warrant thee;  
Come in with me and know the rest.  [Exeunt. Isab. 
So, so, disguise it how you will,  
I know you are a real Lover;  
And that secret shall advance my Love-design;  
Yes Madam, now I will be served by you,  
Or you shall fail to find a friend of me.  [Ex. Isab.  

SCENE III.  Enter Lorenzo Drunk, with a Page, and Music as in the dark. Lor. 
Here's the door, begin and play your best,  
But let them be soft low Notes, do you hear?  [They Play. Enter Antonio. Ant. 
Music at my Lodgings, it is Alberto;  
Oh how I love him for't— if Clarina stand his  
Courtship, I am made;  
I languish between hope and fear.  Lor. 
Stay Friend, I hear some body.  [Music ceases. Page. 
'Tis no body Sir.  Enter Isabel. Isab. 
'Tis Lorenzo, and my Plots ripe;  [Aside. Lorenzo being retired the while a little further▪ 
'Twill not sure be hard to get him, under pretence  
Of seeing Clarina, into my Chamber,  
And then I'll order him at my pleasure:  
Ismena is on my side, for I know all her secrets,  
And she must wink at mine therefore.  [She retires. Lor. 
Thou art in the right Boy,  
I think indeed 'twas nothing.  [Plays again. Enter Alberto. Alb. 
She yields, bad woman!  
Why so easily won?  
By me too, who am thy Husband's friend▪  
Oh dangerous boldness! uncconsidering woman,  
I loved thee, whilst I thought thou couldst not yield;  
But now that easiness has undone thy interest in my heart▪  
I'll back and tell thee that it was to try thee.  Lor. 
No, no, 'twas my fears, away with the Song,  
I'll take it on your word that 'tis fit for my purpose.  Fid. 
I'll warrant you my Lord.  

SONG.  

IN vain I have laboured the Victor to prove,  
Of a heart that can ne'er give attendance to Love;  
So hard to be done,  
That nothing so young  
Could e'er have resisted a passion so long.   

Yet nothing I left unattempted or said,  
That might soften the heart of this pitiless Maid;  
But still she was shy,  
And would blushing deny,  
Whilst her willinger eyes gave her Language the lie.   

Since Phillis, my passion you vow to despise,  
Withdraw the false hopes from your flattering eyes,  
For whilst they inspire  
A resistless vain fire.  
We shall grow to abhor, what we now do admire.    [Ex. Music. Alb. 
What's this, and at Clarina's lodgings too?  
Sure 'tis Antonio impatient of delay,  
Gives her a Serenade for me.  Enter Isabel. Isab. 
'Tis the fool himself—  
My Lord, where are you?  Alb. 
How, a woman's voice! 'tis dark, I'll advance.  Lor. 
Thou Simpleton, I told thee there was somebody.  Pag. 
Lord, Sir, 'tis only Isabel that calls you.  Lor. 
Away Sirrah, I find by my fears 'tis no woman,  [Goes out with the Page. Isab. 
Why don't you come, here's no body.  Alb. 
Here I am.  Isab. 
Where?  Alb. 
Here.  [Gives her his Hand. Isab. 
My Lord, you may venture, Clarina will be  
Alone within this hour, where you shall entertain  
Her at your freedom; but you must stay a while in my  
Chamber till my Lords a bed,  
For none but I must know of the favour she designs you.  Alb. 
Oh gods! what language do I here—  
False and perfidious woman, I might have thought,  
Since thou were't gained so easily by me,  
Thou wouldst with equal haste yield to another.  Isab. 
It is not Lorenzo, what shall I do?  [She steals in. Enter Lorenzo and Page. Lor. 
A Pox of all Damned Cowardly fear,  
Now did I think I had drunk Nature up to resolution;  
I have heard of those that could have dared in their drink,  
But I find, drunk or sober, 'tis all one in me.  Alb. 
The traitor's here,  
Whom I will kill who e'er he be.  Lor. 
Boy, go see for Isabel.  Boy. 
I see a man should not be a Coward and a Lover  
At once — Isabel, Isabel, she's gone Sir.  [Calls. Alb. 
Yes villain, she's gone, and in her room  
Is one that will chastise thy boldness.  Lor. 
That's a proud word though, who e'er thou be,  
But how I shall avoid it, is past my understanding.  Alb. 
Where art thou slave?  [Alberto gropes for him, he avoids him. Pag. 
Take heart Sir, here's company which I will  
Get to assist you—  [Enter Antonio! 
Sir, as you are a Gentleman, assist a stranger set upon by Thiefs.  [They fight, Antonio with Alberto, Alberto falls, is wounded. [Lor. runs away the while. Alb. 
Who e'er thou be'st that takes the Traitor's part,  
Commend me to the wronged Antonio.  Ant. 
Alberto! dear Alberto, is it thee?  Alb. 
Antonio  Ant. 
I am ashamed to say I am Antonio;  
Oh gods, why would you suffer this mistake?  Alb. 
I am not wounded much,  
My greatest pain is my concern for thee;  
Friend thou art wronged, falsely and basely wronged;  
Clarina whom you loved and feared,  
Has now betrayed thy Honour with her own.  Ant. 
Without that sad addition to my grief,  
I should not long have born the weight of life,  
Having destroyed thine by a dire mistake.  Alb. 
Thou art deceived.  Ant. 
Alas, why was it not permitted me  
To lose my Friend, or Wife, had one survived,  
I might have died in silence for the other;  
Oh my Alberto! oh Clarina too—  [Weeps. Alb. 
Come, do not grieve for me, I shall be well,  
I yet find strength enough to get a way;  
And then I'll let thee know my fate and thine.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE. IV.  Enter Clarina, Ismena, and Isabel weeping. Isab. 
For Heaven's sake, Madam, pardon me.  Clar. 
Be dumb for ever false and treacherous woman,  
Was there no way but this to mask your Cheat?  
A Lie which has undone us all.  Isab. 
Alas, 'twas in the dark, how could I know him?  
Pray forgive it me, and try my future service.  Clar. 
I never will forgive thee naughty Girl;  
Alberto now incensed, will tell Antonio all.  Isab. 
What need you care Madam?  
You are secure enough.  Clar. 
Thou salv'st an error with a greater still;  
Dost thou not know Antonio's Jealousy,  
Which yet is moderate, raised to a higher pitch,  
May ruin me, Ismena, and thyself?  Ism. 
Sister, there cannot be much harm in this,  
'Tis an ill chance, 'tis true, for by it we have lost  
The pleasure of an innocent revenge  
Upon Antonio; but if understood,  
We have but missed that end.  Clar. 
Oh Ismena!  
This Jealousy is an unapprehensive madness,  
A nonsense which does still abandon reason.  Isab. 
Madam, early in the morning  
I'll to Alberto's Lodgings, and tell him the mistake.  Clar. 
'Twill be too late,  Ism. 
Sister, what think you if I go myself?  Clar. 
You should not be so daring;  
Besides, I blush to think what strange opinion  
He ' le entertain of me the while.  Ism. 
Do not let that afflict you,  
Fetch my veil, and if Antonio chance to ask for me,  
Tell him I'm gone to Laura.  [Ex. Isab. 
Believe me, I will set all straight again.  Enter Isabel with the Veil. Clar. 
Thou hast more courage, Girl, then I.  Ism. 
What need is there of much of that,  
To encounter a gay young Lover,  
Where I am sure there cannot be much danger?  Clar. 
Well take your chance, I wish you luck Sir,  
For I am e'en as much bent upon revenge,  
As thou art upon Marriage.  Ism. 
Come, my Veil, this and the night  
Will enough secure me—  [Puts on the Veil and goes out. Ex. Clar▪ and Isab.  

SCENE V.  Discovers Alberto and Antonio. Alb. 
Nay, thou shalt see't before thou dost revenge it,  
In such a case, thyself should be the witness,  
She knows not what has passed to night between us,  
Nor should she, if thou couldst contain thy rage;  
And that Antonio you shall promise me;  
To morrow place thyself behind the Arras,  
And from thy eyes thy own misfortunes know.  
— What will not disobliged passion do?  [Aside. Ant. 
I'll hide my anger in a seeming calm,  
And what I have to do, consult the while,  
And mask my vengeance underneath a smile.  [Ex. Antonio. Page. 
My Lord, there is without a Lady  
Desires to speak with you.  Alb. 
Who is't?  Page. 
I know not, Sir, she's veiled.  Enter Ismena weeping. Alb. 
Conduct her in.  Ism. 
Oh Alberto, Isabel has undone us all!  Alb. 
She weeps, and looks as innocent!  
— What mean you false dissembling Clarina?  
What, have you borrowed from deceit new Charms?  
And think'st to fool me to a new belief.  Ism. 
How Sir, can you too be unkind?  
Nay then 'tis time to die;  
Alas, there wanted but your credit  
To this mistake, to make me truly miserable.  Alb. 
What credit? what mistake? oh undeceive me,  
For I have done thee injuries past forgiveness,  
If thou be'st truly innocent.  Ism. 
Isabel, under pretence of courting me  
For Lorenzo, on whom she has designs to  
Make a Husband;  
Has given him freedoms will undo my honour,  
If not prevented soon.  Alb. 
May I credit this? and that it was not by thy  
Command she did it.  Ism. 
Be witness Heaven, my innocence in this,  
Which if you will believe, I'm safe again.  Alb. 
I do believe thee, but thou art not safe.  
Here, take this Poniard, and revenge thy wrongs,  
Wrongs which I dare not beg a pardon for.  [He gives her a Dagger. Ism. 
Why, Sir, what have you done? have you  
Deceived me, and do you not indeed Love me?  Alb. 
Oh Clarina! do not ask that question,  
Too much of that has made me ruin thee;  
It made me jealous, drunk with jealousy,  
And then I did unravel all my secrets.  Ism. 
What secrets, Sir? you have then seen Antonio.  Alb. 
Yes.  Ism. 
Ha— Now Wit if ere thou didst possess  [Aside. 
A Woman; assist her at her need.  
— Well Sir, rise and tell me, all;  Alb. 
I will not rise till you have pardoned me,  
Or punished my misfortune.  Ism. 
Be what it will I do forgive it thee.  Alb. 
Antonio Madam knows my happiness,  
For in my rage I told him that you loved me;  
— What shall I do?  Ism. 
I cannot blame you though it were unkind.  Alb. 
This I could help, but I have promised him,  
That he shall be a witness of this truth;  
What say you Madam do I not merit death?  
Oh speak and let me know my doom what ere it be?  Ism. 
Make good your word.  Alb. 
What mean you?  Ism. 
What you have promised him, perform as you intended.  Alb. 
What then?  Ism. 
Then come as you designed to visit me.  Alb. 
But let me know what 'tis you mean to do,  
That I may Act accordingly.  Ism. 
No. Answer me to every question asked,  
And I perhaps may set all straight again;  
'Tis now late, and I must not be missing,  
But if you love me, be no more Jealous of me.  
— Farewell.  Alb. 
Must I be Ignorant then of your design?  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'd 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 to,  
— I will resign it then, since 'tis less blame,  
To perish by my pain, then live with shame.  [Exit.   

ACT. III.  

SCENE. I.  Enter Frederick and Laura. Fred. 
L Aura, 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. 
Fie, fie, Laura, a Lady bred at Court, and  
Yet want Complaisance enough to entertain  
A Gallant in private: this coy Humour  
Is not Ala 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 straight 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 your 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 concealed.  [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 raised in me.  Lau. 
I'll offer up a 1000 prayers and tears.  Fred. 
That will not do.  
Since thou'st denied my just pretensions to thee,  
No less than what I told you off 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 possessed,  
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! armed against Lanra too!  [Draws. Fred. 
Traitor, dost draw upon thy Prince?  Cur. 
Your Pardon Sir, I meant it on a Ravisher.  [Bows. 
A foul misguided Villain.  
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 exposed.  Fred. 
Slave dar'st thou disobey?  [Offers to fight. Cur. 
Hold Sir, and do not make me guilty of a sin,  
Greater than that of yours.  [Enter Salvator. Salu. 
Gods pity me; here's fine doings.— Why how  
Came this ristring Youngster into my House? Sir,  
Who sent for you, Ha?  Cur. 
Love.  Salu. 
Love, with a witness to whom? my Daughter?  
— No Sir, she's otherwise disposed of I can assure  
You. Begone and leave my House and that quickly  
Too. And thank me that I do not secure  
Thee for a Traitor.  Cur. 
Will you not here me speak?  Salu. 
Not a word Sir, go begone; unless your  
Highness will have him apprehended.  [Too Fred. Fred. 
No Sir, it shall not need. — Curtius look  
To hear from me.—  [Comes up to him and tells him so in a menacing tone, and go out severally. Salu. 
Go Mrs. Minks, get you in.  [Ex. Salu. and Laur.  

SCENE II.  Enter Frederick passing in anger over the Stage, meets Lorenzo. Lor. 
O Sir, I'm glad I've found you; for  
I have the rarest news for you.  Fred. 
What news?  Lor. 
Oh the Devil, he's angry;— Why Sir the  
Prettyest young—  Fred. 
There's for your intelligence.  [Strikes him and goes out. Lor. 
So very well; How Mortal is the favour of  
Princes: these be turns of State now; what the  
Devil ails he trow; sure he could not be  
Offended with the news I have brought him; if he be he's  
Strangely out of Tune;  
And sure he has too much Wit to grow Virtuous at these  
Years: No, no, he has had some repulse from a  
Lady; and that's a wonder; for he has a Tongue and a  
Purse that seldom fails; if youth and vigour would  
Stretch as far, he were the wonder of the Age.  [Enter Curt. Curt. 
Lorenzo, didst thou see the Prince?  Lor. 
Marry did I, and feel him too.  Curt. 
Why, did he strike you?  Lor. 
I'm no true subject if he did not; and that  
Only for doing that service which once was most acceptable  
To him.— Prithee what's the matter with him, hah?  Cur. 
I know not, leave me.  Lor. 
Leave thee, what art thou out of humour too?  
Let me but know who 'tis has disobliged thee, and I'll—  Cur. 
What wilt thou?  Lor. 
Never see his face more if a Man.  Cur. 
And what if a Woman?  Lor. 
Then she's an Idle peevish Slut I'll warrant her.  Cur. 
Conclude it so and leave me.  Lor. 
Nay now thou hast said the only thing that could,  
Keep me with thee, thou mayst be desperate; I'll  
Tell you Curtius these Female mischiefs make men  
Take dangerous resolutions sometimes.  [Enter Alber. Alb. 
Curtius, I've something to deliver to your Ear.  [Whispers. Curt. 
Any thing from Alberto is welcome.  Lor. 
Well I will be hanged if there be not some  
Mischief in Agitation; it cannot be wenching;  
They look all too dull and sober for that; and besides  
Then I should have been a party concerned.  Cur. 
The place and time.  Alb. 
An hour hence i'th' Grove by the River side.  Cur. 
Alone thou sayst?  Alb. 
Alone, the Prince will have it so.  Cur. 
I will not fail a moment.  [Ex. Alb. 
— So this has eased my heart of half its load.  Lor. 
I'll sneak away, for this is some fighting  
Business, and I may perhaps be invited a second,  
A Compliment I care not for.  [Offers to go. Cur. 
Lorenzo, a word with you.  Lor. 
'Tis so, what shall I do now?  [Aside. Cur. 
Stay.  Lor. 
I am a little in haste my Lord.  Cur. 
I shall soon dispatch you.  Lor. 
I believe so, for I am half dead already  [Aside. 
With fear; Sir, I have promised to make a visit  
To a Lady, and—  Cur. 
What I've to say shall not detain you long.  Lor. 
What a Dog was I, I went not,  
When he first desired me to go?  
Oh impertinency, thou art justly rewarded!  Cur. 
Lorenzo, may I believe you love me?  Lor. 
Now what shall I say, I or no?  [Aside. 
The Devil take me if I know.  Cur. 
Will you do me a favour?  Lor. 
There 'tis again.  [Aside. Cur. 
I know I may trust thee with a secret.  Lor. 
Truly, Curtius, I cannot tell,  
In some cases I am not very retentive.  Cur. 
I am going about a business, that perhaps  
May take up all the time I have to live,  
And I may never see thy Sister more;  
Will you oblige me in a message to her?  Lor. 
You know you may command me;  
— I'm glad 'tis no worse.  [Aside. Cur. 
Come go with me into my Cabinet,  
And there I'll write to Laura;  
And prithee if thou hear'st that I am dead,  
Tell her I fell a Sacrifice to her,  
And that's enough, she understands the rest:  Lor. 
But harkee Curtius, by your favour, this is but a  
Scurvy tale to carry to your Mistress;  
I hope you are not in earnest?  Cur. 
Yes.  Lor. 
Yes? why, what a foolish idle humour's this in you?  
I vow 'twill go near to break the poor Girls heart;  
— Come be advised man.  Cur. 
Perhaps I may consider on't for that reason.  Lor. 
There are few that go about such businesses,  
But have one thing or other to consider in favour of life,  
I find that even in the most magnanimous:  
— Prithee who is't with?  Cur. 
That's counsel; and pray let this too which I have  
Told you be a secret, for 'twill concern your life.  Lor. 
Good Curtius take it back again then,  
For a hundred to one but my over care of keeping it,  
Will betray it.  Cur. 
Thou lovest thyself better.  [Exeunt. Lor. 
Well that's a comfort yet.   

SCENE III. A Wood  Enter Cloris dressed like a Country Boy, followed by Guilliam a Clown; Cloris comes reading a Letter. Clo. 
reads. Cloris beware of men; for though I myself be one,  
Yet I have the frailties of my Sex, and can dissemble too;  
Trust none of us, for if thou dost, thou art undone;  
We make vows to all alike we see.  
And even the best of men, the Prince,  
Is not to be credited in an affair of Love.  
— Oh Curtius, thy advice was very kind,  
Had it arrived before I'd been undone!  
— Can Frederick too be false?  
A Prince, and be unjust to her that loves him too?  
— Surely it is impossible—  
Perhaps thou lov'st me too, and this may be  [Pointing to the Letter. 
Some Plot of thine to try my constancy:  
— How e'er it be, since he could fail last night  
Of seeing me, I have at least a cause to justify  
This shameful change; and sure in this disguise,  [Looks on herself. 
I shall not soon be known, dost think I shall?  Guil. 
Why sorsooth, what do you intent to pass for,  
A Maid or a Boy?  Clor. 
Why, what I seem to be, will it not do?  Guil. 
Yes, yes, it may do, but I know not what;  
I would Love would Transmogriphy me to a Maid now,  
— We should be the prettiest couple;  
Don't you remember when you dressed me up the last  
Carnival, was not I the woundiest handsome lass  
A body could see in a Summer's day?  
There was Claud the Shepherd as frekish after me  
I'll warrant you, and simpered and tripped it like any thing.  Clor. 
ay, but they say 'tis dangerous for young  
Maids to live at Court.  Guil. 
Nay, than I should be loath to give temptation.  
— Pray forsooth, what's that you read so often there?  Clor. 
An advice to young Maids that are in Love.  Guil. 
ay, I, that same Love is a very vengeance thing,  
Would I were in Love too; I see it makes a body Valiant;  
One neither feels hunger nor cold that is possessed with it.  Clor. 
Thou art i'th' right, it can do miracles.  Guil. 
So it seems, for without a miracle you and I could never  
Have rambled about these Woods all night without either  
Bottle or Wallet: I could e'en cry for hunger now.  Clor. 
What a dull Soul this fellow hath?  
Sure it can never feel the generous pains  
Of Love, as mine does now; Oh how I glory  
To find my heart above the common rate;  
Were not my Prince inconstant!  
I would not envy what the blessed do above:  
But he is false good Heaven!—  weeps. [Guil. howls. 
— What dost thou feel that thou shouldst weep with me?  Guil. 
Nothing but hunger, sharp hunger forsooth.  Clor. 
Leave calling me forsooth it will betray us.  Guil. 
What shall I call you then?  Clor. 
Call me Philibert, or any thing,  
And be familiar with me: put on thy Hat lest any come and see us.  Guil. 
'Tis a hard name but I'll learn it by heart.  
— Well Philibert— what shall we do when we come to Court  [Puts on his Hat. 
Besides eating and drinking, which I shall do in abundance.  Clor. 
We must get each of us a service.  
— But thou art such a Clown.  Guil. 
Nay say not so honest Phillibert: for look ye,  
I am much the properer fellow of the two.  [Walks. Clor. 
Well try thy fortune; but be sure you never discover  
Me, what ever questions may chance to be asked thee.  Guil. 
I warrant the honest Lad, I am true and trusty;  
But I must be very familiar with you you say.  Clor. 
Yes before Company.  Guil. 
Pray let me begin and Practise a little now  
an'nt please you, for fear I should not be saucy enough,  
When we arrive at Court.  Clor. 
I'll warrant you you'll soon learn there.  Guil. 
— Oh Lord Phillibert! Phillibert! I see a Man a coming  
Most deadly fine, le's run away.  Clor. 
Thus thou hast served me all this night,  
There's not a bush we come at but thou startst thus.  Guil. 
'Tis true you are a lover and may stay the danger on't,  
But I'll make sure for one.  Clor. 
It is the Prince, Oh Gods what makes he here!  
With looks disordered too; this place is fit for Death and sad  
Despair; the melancholy Spring a sleepy murmur makes,  
A proper Consort for departing Souls,  
When mixed with dying Groans, and the thick boughs  
Compose a dismal roof;  
Dark as the gloomy shades of Death or Graves:  
— He comes this way I'll hide myself a while.  [Goes behind a Bush. Enter Frederick. Fred. 
But yet not this nor my despite to Laura,  
Shall make me out of Love with life,  
Whilst I have youthful fires about my heart:  
— Yet I must fight with Curtius,  
And so chastife the Pride of that fond Maid,  
Whose saucy Virtue durst control my flame;  
— And yet I love her not as I do Cloris;  
But fain I would have overcome that Chastity  
Of which the foolish Beauty boasts so.  Clor. 
Curtius I thank thee, now I do believe thee.  [The Prince walks. 
Guilliam. if thou seest any fighting anon,  
Be sure you run out and call some body.  Guil. 
You need not bid me run away when I once  
See them go to that.  Enter Curtius. Curt. 
Sir I am come as you commanded me.  Fred. 
When you consider what you've lately done,  
You will not wonder why I sent for you;  
And when I mean to fight, I do not use to parley;  
Come draw.  Curt. 
Show me my Enemy, and then if I am slow—  Fred. 
I am he, needst thou one more powerful?  Curt. 
You Sir, what have I done to make you so?  Fred. 
If yet thou wantest a further proof of it,  
Know I'll dispute my Claim to Laura.  Curt. 
That must not be with me Sir,  
God forbid that I should raise my Arm against my Prince:  
— If Laura have so little Faith and Virtue,  
To render up that right belongs to me,  
With all my heart I yield her  
To any but to you;  
And Sir for your own sake you must not have her.  Fred. 
Your Reason?  Curt. 
Sir you're already married.  Fred. 
Thou liest, and seek'st excuses for thy Cowardice.  Curt. 
I wish you would recall that hasty injury,  
Yet this I'll bear from you, who know 'tis false.  Fred. 
Will nothing move thee?  Curt. 
You would believe so Sir if I should tell you  
That besides all this, I have a juster cause.  Fred. 
Juster then that of Laura? call it up then,  
And let it save thee from a further shame.  Curt. 
Yes so I will 'tis that of Cloris,  
Who needs my aids much more;  
Do you remember such a Virgin Sir?  
For so she was till she knew Frederick;  
The sweetest innocent that ever Nature made.  Fred. 
Not thy own Honour, nor thy Love to Laura  
Would make the draw, and now at Cloris name,  
Thou art incensed, thy eyes all red with rage:  
— Oh thou hast roused my Soul;  
Nor would I justify my wrongs to her,  
Unless it were to satisfy my jealousy,  
Which thou hast raised in me by this concern.  
— Draw or I'll kill thee.  Curt. 
Stay Sir, and hear me out.  Fred. 
I will not stay, now I reflect on all thy  
Former kindness to her—  Curt. 
I will not fight, but I'll defend myself.  [They fight. Fred. 
We are betrayed,  Curt. 
Yes Sir, and you are wounded.  [Guil. runs bawling out, they are both wounded. Clor. 
Oh Heaven defend the Prince.  [She peeps. Fred. 
I hear some coming, go be gone,  
And save thyself by flight.  [Fred. stands leaning on his Sword. Curt. 
Sir give me leave to stay, my flight will look like guilt.  Fred. 
By no means Curtius, thou wilt be taken here,  
And thou shalt never charge me with that Crime of betraying  
Thee: when we meet next we'll end it.  Curt. 
I must obey you then.  [Exit Curt. Enter Cloris. Clor. 
Sir, has the Villain hurt you?  [She supports him. 
— Pray Heaven my sorrows do not betray me now,  
For since he's false, I fain would die concealed.  [Aside. 
— Show me your wound and I will tie it up.  
Alas you bleed extremely—  Fred. 
Kind youth thy succours are in vain though welcome,  
For though I bleed I am not wounded much.  Clor. 
No? Why did you let him pass unpunished then,  
Who would have hurt you more?  Enter Guillam with a Galliard. Seru. 
Where was't?  Guil. 
Look ye Sir there, don't you see them.  Seru. 
How does your Highness? this fellow told me  
Of a quarrel here, which made me haste.  Fred. 
Be silent, and carry me to my own apartment.  Seru. 
Alas Sir, is it you that fought?  Fred. 
No more questions.—  
Kind Boy pray leave me not till I have found  
A way to recompense thy pretty care of me.  Clor. 
I will wait on you Sir.  [Exeunt all but Guillam. Enter Lorenzo. [Peeps first. Lor. 
What's the matter here? the Prince is wounded too.  
Oh what a Dog was I to know of some such thing,  
And not secure them all?  Lorenzo stands gazing at Gill. Guil. stands tabering his Hat and serving his face. 
— What's here? Ha, hah, hah, this is the pleasantest  
Fellow that ere I saw in my life.  
Prithee Friend what's thy Name?  Guil. 
My Name, an't shall like ye,  
My Name is, is Guillam.  Lor. 
From whence comest thou?  Guil. 
From a Village a great huge way off.  Lor. 
And what's thy business here, hah?  Guil. 
Truly Sir, not to tell a lie,  
I come to get a service here at Court.  Lor. 
A service at Court; hah, hah, that's a pleasant  
Humour i'faith. Why fellow what canst thou do?  Guil. 
Do Sir, I can do any thing.  Lor. 
Why what canst thou do? canst thou dress well?  
— Set a Peruke to advantage, ty a Crevatt,  
And Cuffs, put on a Belt with dexterity, hah?  
These be the parts that must recommend you.  Guil. 
I know not what you mean,  
But I am sure I can do them all.  Lor. 
Thou art confident it seems, and I can tell  
You Sirrah, that's a great step to preferment;  
— But well go on then, canst ride the great Horse?  Guil. 
The bigest in all our Town  
I have rid a thousand times.  Lor. 
That's well; canst Fence?  Guil. 
Fence Sir, what's that?  Lor. 
A term we use for the Art and skill of handling a Weapon.  Guil. 
I can thrash Sir.  Lor. 
What's that Man?  Guil. 
Why Sir it is— it is— thrashing.  Lor. 
An Artist I vow; canst play on any Music?  Guil. 
Oh most rogically Sir, I have a Bagpipe that  
Every breath sets the whole Village a Dancing.  Lor. 
Better still; and thou canst Dance I'll warrant?  Guil. 
Dance, he, he, he, I vow you've light on  
My Master piece y'fegs.  Lor. 
And I'll try thee; Boy go fetch some of the  [To the Page. 
Music hither which I keep in pay?  [Exit Boy. 
— But hark you Friend, though I love Dancing very well,  
And that may recommend thee in a great degree;  
Yet 'tis wholly necessary that you should be valiant too;  
We graet ones aught to be served by men of valour,  
For we are very liable to be affronted by many here  
To our faces, which we would gladly have beaten behind  
Our backs;— But Pox on't thou hast not the Huff,  
And Grimass of a Man of Prowess.  Guil. 
As for fighting though I do not care for it,  
Yet I can do't if any body angers me or so.  Lor. 
But I must have you learn to do't when  
Any body angers me too.  Guil. 
Sir, they told me I should have no need on't  
Here; but I shall learn.  Lor. 
Why you Fool that's not a thing to be learned,  
— That's a brave inclination born with Man,  
A brave undaunted something, a thing that,  
That, comes from, from; I know not what,  
For I was born without it.  Enter Page and Music. 
Oh are you come? le's see Sirrah your Activity,  
For I must tell you that's another step to preferment.  [He dances a jig en Peasant. 
'Tis well performed; well hadst thou but wit,  
Valour, Bon Mien, good garb, a peruke,  
Conduct and secrecy in Love Affairs, and half  
A dozen more good qualities, thou wert  
Fit for something; but I will try thee.  
Boy, let him have better clothes, as for his Documents  
I'll give him those myself.  Guil. 
Ha, I don't like that word, it sounds terribly.  [Aside. [Exit. Page and Guil. Lor. 
This fellow may be of use to me; being  
Doubtless very honest because he is so very simple;  
For to say truth we men of parts are sometimes  
Over-wise, witness my last night's retreat  
From but a supposed danger, and returning to fall  
Into a real one. Well I'll now to Isabel,  
And know her final resolution; if Clarina will  
Be kind, so; if not, there be those that will.  
— And though I cannot any Conquest boast,  
For all the time and money I have lost,  
At least on Isabel I'll be revenged,  
And have the flattering baggage soundly swinged;  
And rather than she shall escape my Anger,  
Myself will be the Hero that shall bang her.  [Exit.   

ACT. IU.  

SCENE. I.  Enter Ismena and Isabel. Isa. 
MAdam turn your back to that side,  
For there Antonio is hid; he must not see your  
Face: now raise your voice that he may hear what 'tis you say.  Ism. 
I'll warrant you. Isabel,  
was ever wretched Woman's fate like mine,  
Forced to obey the rigid Laws of Parents,  
And marry with a Man I did not Love?  Ant. 
Oh there's my cause of fear.  [Ant. peeps. Ism. 
Though since I had him thou know'st I have endeavoured  
To make his will my Law;  
Till by degrees and Custom, which makes things natural,  
I found this heart, which ne'er had been engaged  
To any other, grow more soft to him;  
And still the more he loved, the more I was obliged,  
And made returns still kinder; till I became  
Not only to allow, but to repay his tenderness.  Isa. 
She Counterfeits rarely.  [Aside. 
Madam indeed I have observed this truth.  Ism. 
See who 'tis knocks.  [One knocks. Ant. 
What will this come to?  [Aside. Isa. 
Madam 'tis Alberto.  Enter Alberto. [Bows. Ism. 
My Lord, you've often told me that you Loved me,  
Which I with womens' usual Pride believed;  
And now encouraged by my hopeful promises,  
You look for some returns; Sir, is it so?  Alb. 
What means she?  
Pray Heaven I answer right;  Aside. 
— Madam, if I have erred in that belief,  
To know I do so, is sufficient punishment.  
— Lovers, Madam, though they have no returns▪  
Like sinking men, still catch at all they meet with;  
And whilst they live, though in the midst of storms,  
Because they wish, they also hope for calms.  Ism. 
And did you Sir, consider who I was?  Alb. 
Yes, Madam, Wife unto my Friend Antonio,  
The only man that has an interest here:  
— But, Madam, that must still submit to Love.  Ism. 
Canst thou at once be true to him and me?  Alb. 
Madam, I know not that,  
But since I must lose one,  
My Friendship I can better lay aside.  Ism. 
Hast thou forgot how dear thou art to him?  Alb. 
No, I do believe I am, and that his life  
Were but a worthless trifle, if I needed it;  
Yet, Madam, you are dearer to him still,  
Then his Alberto; and 'tis so with me:  
— Him I esteem, but you I do adore;  
And he whose Soul's insensible of love,  
Can never grateful to his Friendship prove.  Ism. 
By your example, Sir, I'll still retain  
My love for him; and what I had for you,  
Which was but Friendship, I'll abandon too.  Ant. 
Happy Antonio.—  [Aside. Ism. 
Pray what have you Antonio cannot own?  
Has he not equal beauty, if not, exceeding thine?  
Has he not equal vigour, wit, and valour?  
And all that even raises Men to Gods,  
Were't not for poor Mortality?  
— Vain man, couldst thou believe  
That I would quit my duty to this Husband,  
And sacrifice his right to thee?  
— Couldst thou believe me yesterday?  
When from thy importunity and impudence,  
To send thee from me;  
I promised thee to love thee;  
— Nay rather, Treacherous man,  
Couldst thou believe I did not hate thee then,  
Who basely would betray thy friend and me?  Alb. 
Sure this is earnest.  [Aside. Ant. 
Oh brave Clarina!  [Aside. Ism. 
Speak Traitor to my Fame and Honour;  
Was there no woman, but Antonio's Wife,  
With whom thou couldst commit so foul a crime?  
And none but he, too bring to public shame?  
A man who trusted thee, and loved thee too?  
— Speak— and if yet thou hast a sense of Virtue,  
Call to the Saints for pardon, or thou diest.  [She draws a Poniard, and runs at him, he steps back to avoid it. Alb. 
Hold Clarina!— I am amazed.  Ism. 
But stay,  
Thou sayst my Beauty forced thee to this wickedness,  
And that's the cause you have abused Antonio;  
— Nor is it all the power I have with him,  
Can make him credit what I tell him of thee;  
And should I live, I still must be pursued by thee,  
And unbelieved by him:  
— Alberto, thou shalt ne'er be guilty more,  
Whilst this— and this may meet.  [Offering to wound herself, is stayed by Alb. and Isab. they set Ism. in a Chair, Alb. kneels weeping. Alb. 
Hold my Divine Clarina.—  Ant. 
Shall I discover myself, or steal away?  [Aside. 
And all ashamed of life after this Action;  
Go where the Sun or day may ever find me:  
Oh what Virtue I've abused—  
Curse on my little Faith;  
And all the Curses madness can invent,  
Light on my groundless jealousy.  Ex. Antonio. Alb. 
Clarina, why so cruel to my heart?  
'Tis true, I love you, but with as chaste an ardour,  
As Souls departing pay the Deities;  
When with incessant sighs they haste a way,  
And leave humanity behind; oh! so did I  
Abandon all the lesser joy of life,  
For that of being permitted but t'adore ye;  
Alas, if 'twere displeasing to you,  
Why did yourself encourage it?  
I might have languished as I did before,  
And hid those crimes which make you hate me now:  
— Oh I am lost! Antonio, thou'st undone me;  [He rises in rage. 
— Here me ungrate; I swear by all that's good,  
I'll wash away my mischief with thy blood.  Isab. 
Antonio hears you not Sir, for he's departed.  Ism. 
Is Antonio gone?  [She looks partly up, who before lay half dead. Alb. 
How's this, has she but feigned?  Ism. 
No, it was but feigned; I hope this proof  
Of what I've promised you▪ does not displease you.  Alb. 
Am I thus fortunate, thus strangely happy?  Ism. 
Time will confirm it to you— go, do not  
Now thank me for't, but seek Antonio out;  
Perhaps, he may have too great a sense of the  
Mischiefs his jealousies had like to have caused;  
But conjure him to take no notice of what's passed to me;  
This easy slight of mine secures our fears,  
And serves to make Antonio confident:  
Who now will unbelieve his eyes and ears?  
And since before, when I was innocent,  
He could suspect my love and duty too;  
I'll try what my dissembling it will do:  
— Go haste.  Alb. 
Madam, I go surprised with love and wonder.  [Ex. Alb. Ism. 
You'll be more surprised, when you know  [Aside. 
That you are cheated too as well as Antonio.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE II.  Enter Curtius disguised in a Black Perruque and Beard, with Pietro disguised also. Curt. 
Well, what hast thou learned?  Piet. 
News enough Sir, but none good;  
That the Prince's wounds are small,  
So that he intends to take the Air this evening;  
That he solicits Laura hard;  
And, Sir, that you are proclaimed Traitor.  Curt. 
So, what says the Messenger you sent to Cloris?  Piet. 
Sir, he brings sad tidings back.  Curt. 
What tidings? is she dead  
That would revive my Soul,  
And fortify my easy nature with some wicked notions,  
As deep as those this flattering Prince made use of,  
When he betrayed my Sister; Pretty Cloris:  
— Come, speak it boldly, for nothing else  
Will make me do her justice.  Piet. 
No Sir, she is not dead,  
But fled, and none knows whether;  
Only Guilliam attends her.  Curt. 
Worse and worse; but what of Laura?  Piet. 
She, Sir, is kept a Prisoner by her Father.  
And speaks with none but those that come from Frederick.  Curt. 
Laura confined too; 'tis time to hasten then,  
With my, till now, almost disarmed revenge:  
— Thus I may pass unknown the streets of Florence,  
And find an opportunity to reach this Prince's heart▪.  
— Oh vengeance! luxurious vengeance,  
Thy Pleasures turn a Rival to my love,  
And make the mightier Conquest o'er my heart.  
— Cloris— I will revenge thy tears and sufferings;  
And to secure the doom of him that wronged thee,  
I'll call on injured Laura too.  
— Here take these Pictures— and where thou seest  [Gives him Boxes. 
A knot of Gallants, open one or two, as if by stealth,  
To gaze upon the Beauties, and then straight close them—  
But stay, here comes the only man  
I could have wished for, he'll proclaim my business  
Better than a Picture or a Trumpet.  They stand by. [Curtius takes back the Pictures. Enter Lorenzo and Guilliam dressed in fineish clothes, but the same high-crowned Hat. Lor. 
Did, ha, ha, ha, did ha, ha,; did ever any  
Mortal man behold such a Figure as thou art now?  
Well, I see 'tis a damnable thing not to  
Be born a Gentleman; the Devil himself  
Can never make thee truly jantee now:  
— Come, come, come forward; these clothes become  
Thee, as a Saddle does a Sow; why com'st thou not?  
— Why— ha, ha, I hope thou hast not  [He advances sourly looking. 
Hanselled thy new Breeches,  
Thou look'st so filthily on't.  Gill. 
No, Sir, I hope, I have more manners than so;  
But if I should, 'tis not my fault;  
For the necessary houses are hard  
To be met withal here at Court.  Lor. 
Very well Sirrah; you begin already to be  
Witty with the Court; but I can tell you, it has as  
Many necessary places in't, as any Court in Christendom—  
But what a Hat thou hast?  Gill. 
Why Sir, though I say't, this is accounted of  
In our Village; but I had another but now,  
Which blew off in a high wind; and I never missed it,  
Till I had an occasion to pluck it off to a young  
Squire, they call a Lacque; and Fegs  
I had none at all; and because I would not lose  
My Leg for want of a Hat, I fetched this;  
And I can tell you, Sir, it has a fashionable brim.  Lor. 
A fools head of your own, has it not;  
The boys will hoot at us as we pass— hah,  
Who be these, who be these—  [Goes towards Curt. and Piet. Curt. 
Here— this to Don Alonso— this to the  
English Count; and this you may show to the  
Young German Prince— and this—  [Gives Piet. Pictures. 
I will reserve for higher Prices.  Piet. 
Will you show none to the Courtiers, Sir?  Curt. 
Away you fool, I deal in no such trash.  Lor. 
How Sir, how was that? pray how came we to  
Gain your disfavour?  Curt. 
I cry you mercy Sir, pray what are you?  Lor. 
A Courtier, Sir, I can assure you,  
And one of the best rank too;  
I have the Prince's ear, Sir—  
— What have you there— hah— Pictures, let me see—  
What, are they to be bought?  Curt. 
Sir, they are Copies of most fair Originals,  
Not to be bought, but hired.  Lor. 
Say you so Friend; the price, the price.  Curt. 
Five thousand Crowns a month, Sir.  Lor. 
The price is somewhat faucy.  Curt. 
Sir, they be curious Pieces, were never blown upon,  
Have never been in Courts, nor hardly Cities.  Lor. 
Upon my word that's considerable;  
Friend, pray where do you live?  Curt. 
In the Piazzo, near the Palace.  Lor. 
Well, put up your ware, show not a face of them  
Till I return; for I will bring you  
The best Chapman in all Florence,  
Except the Duke himself.  Curt. 
You must be speedy then,  
For I to morrow shall be going towards Rome.  Lor. 
A subtle Rascal this, thou think'st, I warrant,  
To make a better Market amongst the Cardinals;  
— But take my word, ne'er a Cardinal of them all  
Comes near this man, I mean, to bring you in  
Matters of Beauty— so, this will infalliably make  [Aside. 
My peace again; look ye friend—  
Be ready, for 'tis the Prince, the noble generous Frederick,  
That I design your Merchant.  [Goes out. Curt. 
Your Servant Sir— that is Guilliam,  
I cannot be mistaken in him, go call him back,  [Pietro fetches him back, who puts on a surly Face. 
— Friend what art thou?  Guil. 
What am I, why what am I; dost thou not see  
What I am; a Courtier Friend.  Curt. 
But what's thy name?  Guil. 
My name, I have not yet considered.  Curt. 
What was thy name?  Guil. 
What was my name?  Curt. 
Yes friend, thou hadst one.  Guil. 
Yes friend thou hadst one.  Curt. 
Dog, dost echo me? dost thou repeat;  [Shakes him. 
I say again, what is thy name?  Guil. 
Oh horrible— why, Sir, it was Guilliam  
When I was a silly Swain.  Curt. 
Guilliam— the same;  
Didst thou not know a Maid whose name was Cloris?  Guil. 
Yes, there was such a Maid,  
But now she's none.  Curt. 
Was such a Maid; but now she's none:  
— The slave upbraids my griefs.  [Aside. Guil. 
Yes, Sir, so I said.  Cur. 
So you said.  Guil. 
Why, yes Sir, what do you repeat?  Curt. 
What mean you Sirrah? have you a mind to  
Have your Throat cut? tell me where she is.  Guil. 
I dare as well be hanged;  
Now must I devise a lie, or never look Cloris:  [Aside. 
In the face more.  Curt. 
Here's Gold for thee; I will be secret too.  Guil. 
Oh, Sir, the poor Maid you speak of is dead!  Curt. 
Dead! where died she? and how?  Guil. 
Now am I put to my wits; this 'tis to begin  [Aside. 
In sin, as our Curate said; I must go on:  
— Why Sir, she came into the Wood,— and hard by a  
River side— she sighed, and she wept full sore;  
And cried two or three times out upon Curtius,  
— And— then—  [Howls. Curt. 
Poor Cloris, thy fate was too severe.  Guil. 
And then as I was saying, Sir,  
She leapt into the River, and swam up the Stream.  [Curt. weeps. Piet. 
And why up the Stream friend?  Guil. 
Because she was a Woman— and that's all.  Curt. 
Farewell, and thank thee.  [Ex. Guil. 
— Poor Cloris dead, and banished too from Laura;  
Was ever wretched Lovers fate like mine!  
— And he who injures me, has power to do so;  
— But why, where lies this power about this man?  
Is it this charms of Beauty, or of Wit?  
Or that great name he has acquired in War?  
Is it the Majesty, that Holy something,  
That guards the person of this Demigod?  
This awes not me, there must be something more,  
For ever when I call upon my wrongs;  
Something within me pleads so kindly for him,  
As would persuade me that he could not err.  
— Ah, what is this? where lies this power divine,  
That can so easily make a slave of mine?  [Exeunt.  

SCENE. III.  Enter Frederick and Cloris finely dressed. Fred. 
'Tis much methinks, a Boy of so dejected,  
Humble birth, should have so much of sense,  
And soul about him.  Clor. 
I know not that; but if I have a thought  
Above that humble Birth or Education,  
It was inspired by Love.  Fred. 
Still you raise my wonder greater;  
— Thou a Lover?  Clor. 
Yes, my Lord, though I am young,  
I've felt the power of Beauty;  
And should you look upon the object, Sir,  
Your wonders soon would cease,  
Each look does even Animate Insensibles,  
And strikes a reverend awe upon the Soul;  
Nothing is found so lovely.  Fred. 
Thou speak'st prettily, I think love  
Indeed has inspired thee.  Clor. 
These were the flatteries, Sir, she used to me,  
Of her it was I learned to speak, and sigh,  
And look, as oft you say, I do on you.  Fred. 
Why then, it seems she made returns?  Clor. 
Ah! Sir, 'twas I that first was blessed,  
I first the happy object was beloved,  
For 'twas a person, Sir, so much above me;  
It had been sin t'o've raised my eyes to her;  
Or by a glance, or sigh, betray my pain:  
But oh! when with a thousand soft expressions,  
She did encourage me to speak of Love!  
— My god, how soon extravagant I grew,  
And told so oft the story of my passion;  
That she grew weary of the repeated tale,  
And punished my presumption with a strange neglect.  [Weeps. Fred. 
How my good Phillibert?  Clor. 
Would suffer me to see her face no more.  Fred. 
That was pity; without a fault?  Clor. 
Alas, Sir, I was guilty of no crime,  
But that of having told her how I loved her;  
For all I had I sacrificed to her;  
— Poor worthless treasures, to any but a Lover;  
And such you know accept the meanest things:  
Love and a true Devotion, do present;  
When she was present, I found a thousand ways  
To let her know how much I was her slave;  
And absent still invented new ones,  
And quite neglected all my little business;  
Counting the tedious moments of the day  
By sighs and tears; thought it an age to night,  
Whose darkness might secure our happy meeting:  
But we shall meet no more on these kind terms.  [Sighs. Fred. 
Come, do not weep, sweet youth, thou art too young  
To have thy blooming cheeks blasted with sorrow;  
Thou wilt outgrow this childish inclination,  
And shalt see beauties here, whose every glance  
Kindles new fires, and quite expel the old.  Clor. 
Oh never Sir.  Fred. 
When I was first in Love, I thought so too,  
But now with equal ardour,  
I dote upon each new and beauteous object.  Clor. 
And quite forget the old?  Fred. 
Not so, but when I see them o'er again,  
I find I love them as I did before.  Clor. 
Oh God forbid, I should be so inconsistent;  
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.  Clor. 
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 Phillibert, and will accept  
Thy bounty; perhaps it may allay thy griefs a while too.  Clor. 
I'll call the Music, Sir.  [She goes out. Fred. 
This Boy has strange agreements in him.  Enter Cloris with Music, She bids them Play, and Dances a jig. 
This was wondrous kind my pretty Phillibert.  Enter Page. Page. 
Lorenzo, my Lord, begs admittance.  Fred. 
He may come in:  Enter Lorenzo. 
— Well Lorenzo, what's the news with thee?  
— How goes the price of Beauty, hah?  Lor. 
My Lord, that question is a propo to  
What I have to say; this paper will answer your  
Question Sir—  [Gives him a Paper, he reads. 
— Ha, I vow to gad a lovely youth;  Lor. gazes on Phill. 
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 some where 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 Phillibert thou shalt along with me;  
I'll have thy judgement too.  Clor. 
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 gilting huswife Isabel,  [Aside. 
For my finger's itch to be at her.  [Ex. Lorenzo. Clor. 
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 a 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 prove a fruitless remedy,  
The next, I need not study, how to die.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE IU.  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's he'll meet you here.  Lor. 
That's well, thou may'st come to be a Statesman  
In time, thou art a fellow of so quick dispatch:  
But harkee, Sirrah, there are a few lessons I must learn you,  
Concerning offices of this nature;  
But another time for that: but—  [Whispers. Enter Isabel and Vallet. 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 lie 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?  Isab. 
Are you in earnest?  Lor. 
Yes that I am, and that Clarina shall find  
If I once come to her.  Isab. 
Come, leave your frippery jests and come in.  Lor. 
Guilliam, be sure you attend me here,  
And who ever you see, say nothing; the best on 'tis,  
Thou art not much known.  [Isab. and Lor. go. in. Guil. 
Well, I see there is nothing but soutering  
I'th' this Town; would our Lucia were here too for me,  
For all the Maids I meet with are so giglish  
And scornful, that a man, as I am,  
Gets nothing but flouts and flings from them:  
Oh for the little kind Lass that lives  
Under the Hill, of whom the Song was made;  
Which because I have nothing else to do,  
I will sing over now; hum, hum,  [To some Tune like him. 

The Song for Guilliam.  
In a Cottage by the Mountain,  
Lives a very pretty Maid,  
Who lay sleeping by a Fountain,  
Underneath a Myrtle shade;  
Her Petticoat of wanton Sarsenet,  
The Amorous wind about did move,  
And quite unveiled,  
And quite unveiled the Throne of Love,  
And quite unveiled the Throne of Love.   
'Tis something cold, I'll go take a Niperkin of Wine.  [Goes out. Enter Isab. and Lor. above, as frighted into the Balcone. Lor. 
This was some trick of thine, I will be hanged else.  Isab. 
Oh, I'll be sworn you wrong me;  
Alas, I'm undone by't.  [Ant. at the door knocks. Ant. 
Open the door thou naughty woman.  Lor. 
Oh oh, what shall I do? what shall I do?  Ant. 
Open the door I say.  Lor. 
Oh 'tis a damnable leap out at this Balcone.  Isab. 
And yet you are a dead man if you see him.  Ant. 
Impudence, will you open the door?  Isab. 
I will, Sir, immediately.  Lor. 
Devise some way to let me down,  
Or I will throw thee out; no lader of Ropes, no device?  
— If a man would not forswear whoring for the future,  
That is in my condition, I am not true Gentleman.  Ant. 
Open, or I will break the door.  Isab. 
Hold the door, and swear lustily that you  
Are my Husband, and I will in the mean time  
Provide for your safety,  [He holds the door. 
Though I can think of none but the sheets from the bed.  Lor. 
Any thing to save my life;  
— Sir you may believe me upon my honour,  
I am lawful husband to Isabel;  
And have no designs upon your house or honour.  Isab. this while fastens the sheets, which are to be supposed from the bed, to the Balcone. Ant. 
Thou art some Villain.  Lor. 
No, Sir, I am an honest man, and married lawfully.  Ant. 
Who art thou?  Lor. 
Hast thou done?  Isab. 
Yes, but you must venture hard.  Isab. 
'Tis Lorenzo, Sir.  Lor. 
A Pox on her, now am I ashamed to all eternity.  Isab. 
Sir, let me beg you'll take his word and oath to night,  
And to morrow I will satisfy you.  [Lor. gets down by the sheets. Ant. 
Look you make this good,  
Or you shall both dearly pay for't.  Lor. 
I am alive, yes, yes, all's whole and sound,  
Which is a mercy, I can tell you;  
This is whoring now: may I turn Franciscan,  
If I could not find in my heart to do penance  
In Camphire Posset, this month for this:  
— Well, I must to this Merchant of Love,  
And I would gladly be therebefore the Prince:  
For since I have missed here,  
I shall be Amorous enough,  
And then I'll provide for Frederick;  
For 'tis but just, although he be my Master,  
That I in these Ragousts should be his taster.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE V.  Enter Ismena with a veil. Ism. 
Alberto is not come yet; sure he loves me;  
But 'tis not tears, and knees, that can confirm me;  
No, I must be convinced by better argument,  
— Deceit, if ever thou a guide were't made  
To Amorous hearts, assist a Love-sick Maid.  Enter Alberto. Alb. 
Your pleasure, Madam?  
— Oh that she would be brief,  
And send me quickly from her,  [Aside. 
For her eyes will overthrow my purpose.  Ism. 
Alberto, do you love me?  Alb. 
No.  Ism. 
No, have you deceived me then?  Alb. 
Neither Clarina; when I told you so,  
By Heaven 'twas perfect truth.  Ism. 
And what have I done since should  
Merit your disesteem?  Alb. 
Nothing but what has raised it.  Ism. 
To raise your esteem, than it seems, is  
To lessen your love; or as most gallants are;  
You're but pleased with what you have not;  
And love a Mistress with great passion, till you find  
Yourself beloved again, and then you hate her.  Alb. 
You wrong my Soul extremely,  
'Tis not of that ungrateful nature;  
To love me, is to me a greater charm  
Then that of Wit or Beauty.  Ism. 
I'm glad on't Sir, than I have pleasant news for you,  
I know a Lady, and a Virgin too,  
That loves you with such passion,  
As has obliged me to become her Advocate.  Alb. 
I am very much obliged to her,  
If there be any such.  Ism. 
Upon my life there is; I am in earnest,  
The Lady is my Sister too.  Alb. 
How, Clarina, this from you?  Ism. 
Nay, I have promised her, that you shall love her too,  
Since both her birth and beauty merits you.  Alb. 
Away false woman: I love your Sister!  
No, I will hate ye both.  Ism. 
Why so angry?  
Alas, it is against my will I do it.  Alb. 
Did you betray my faith, when 'twas so easy  
To give a credit to your tale of Love?  
— Oh woman, faithless woman!  Ism. 
Alberto, with a world of shame I own  
That I then loved you, and must do so still;  
But since that Love must be accounted criminal,  
And that a world of danger does attend it;  
I am resolved, though I can never quit it,  
To change it into kind esteem for you;  
And would Ally you, Sir, as near to me,  
As our unkind Stars will permit me.  Alb. 
I thank you, Madam, oh what a shame it is  
To be outdone in Virtue, as in Love!  Ism. 
Another favour I must beg of you,  
That you will tell Antonio what is past.  Alb. 
How mean you Madam?  Ism. 
Why, that I Love you Sir,  
And how I have deceived him into confidence.  Alb. 
This is strange; you cannot mean it sure.  Ism. 
When I intent to be extremely good,  
I would not have a secret sin within,  
Though old, and yet repented too; no Sir,  
Confession always goes with Penitence.  Alb. 
Do you repent you that you loved me then?  Ism. 
Not so; but that I did abuse Antonio.  Alb. 
And can you think that this will cure his jealousy▪  Ism. 
Doubtless it will, when he knows how needless 'tis▪  
For when they're most secure, they're most betrayed;  
Besides, I did but act the part he made,  
And ills he forces sure, he'll not upbraid. Go seek out Antonio.  Alb. 
You have o'ercome me, Madam, every way.  
And this your last command I can obey;  
Your Sister too I'll see, and will esteem,  
But you've my heart, which I can ne'er redeem.  [Ex. severally.   

ACT. V.  

SCENE. I.  Enter Laura and Cloris like a Boy as before. Laur. 
FOrward dear Cloris.  Clor. 
And, Madam, 'twas upon a Holiday,  
It chanced Prince Frederick came unto our Village,  
On some reports were made him of my beauty,  
Attended only by the noble Curtius:  
They found me in the Church at my Devotion,  
Whom Frederick soon distinguished from the rest;  
He kneeled down by me, and instead of Prayer,  
He fell to Praise; but 'twas my beauty only;  
— That I could tell you, of my strange surprise!  
My zeal was all disordered, and my eyes,  
Fed on the false, not real sacrifice;  
— I wanted Art my sentiments to hide,  
Which from my eyes and blushes soon he spied.  Lau. 
And did you know him then?  Clor. 
Not till he left me;  
— But to be short, Madam, we parted there,  
But e'er he went, he whispered in my ear,  
And sighed, ah Cloris! e'er you do depart,  
Tell me, where 'tis you will dispose my heart?  
— Pray give me leave to visit it again,  
Your eyes that gave, can only ease my pain:  
I, only blushing gave him my consent;  
He paid his thanks in sighs, and from me went.  
That night, alas, I took but little rest;  
The new and strange disorder in my breast,  
Can, Madam, only by yourself be guest.  Lau. 
I'll not deny that, I'm a Lover too,  
And can imagine what was felt by you.  Clor. 
No sooner did the welcome day appear,  
But Lucia brought me word the Prince was there;  
His very name disordered me much more,  
Then did his sight or touch the day before;  
So soon my rising Love grew up to power;  
So soon he did become my Conqueror:  
— How pale and trembling, when he did appear  
I grew, he too had marks of love and fear;  
— But I'll omit the many visits paid,  
The unvalued Presents, and the Oaths he made,  
My kind disputes on all his letters writ,  
How all my doubts were answered by his wit;  
How oft he vowed to marry me, whilst I,  
Durst not believe the pleasing perjury;  
— And only tell you, that one night he came,  
Led by designs of an impatient flame;  
When all the house was silently asleep,  
Except myself, who loves sad watch did keep;  
Armed with his Poniard, and his breast all bare;  
His face all pale with restless love and fear;  
So many wild and frantic things he said,  
And so much grief and passion too betrayed,  
So often vowed he'd finish there his life,  
If I refused him to become his Wife;  
That I half dying, said it should be so;  
Which though I feared, oh how I wished it too!  
Both prostrate on the ground i'th' face of Heaven,  
His vows to me, and mine to him were given;  
— And then, oh then, what did I not resign!  
With the assurance that the Prince was mine.  [Weeps. Lau. 
Poor Cloris, how I pity thee!  
Since fate has treated me with equal rigour;  
— Curtius banished, Frederick still pursues me,  
And by a cruel Father I'm confined,  
And cannot go to serve myself or thee.  [One knocks. Lor. 
Without.] Sister Laura, Sister.  Lau. 
itis my brother, would he would be kind  
And set us free; he shall not see thee,  
And I'll persuade him.  [As she puts Cloris into her Closet, Enter Lor. with a Letter. Clor. 
Ha, locking her Closet! now were I a right  
Italian, should I grow jealous, and enraged at  
I know not what: hah Sister!  
What are you doing here?  
Open your Cabinet and let me see't.  Lau. 
Sir, 'tis in disorder, and not worth your seeing now.  Lor. 
'Tis so, I care not for that, I'll see't.  Lau. 
Pray do not brother.  Lor. 
Your denial makes me the more inquisitive.  Lau. 
'Tis but my saying, he came from the Prince,  [Aside. 
And he dares not take it ill— here Sir.  [Gives him the Key. Lor. 
And here's for you too: a Letter from Curtius,  
And therefore I would not open it; I took it up  
At the Posthouse.  [She reads, and seems pleased. 
Now if this should prove some surly Gallant of hers,  
And give me a slash o'er the face for peeping,  
I were but rightly served;  
And why the Devil should I expect my Sister should  
Have more virtue than myself;  
She's the same flesh and blood; or why, because  
She's the weaker Vessel;  
Should all the unreasonable burden of the honour  
Of our house, as they call it,  
Be laid on her shoulders, whilst we may commit  
A thousand villainies; but 'tis so—  
Here open the door,  
I'll put her before me however.  [She opens the door and brings out Cloris. Lau. 
Sir, 'tis Phillibert from the Prince.  Lor. 
Why how now youngster, I see you intent  
To thrive by your many trades;  
So soon, so soon, i'faith; but sirrah,  
This is my Sister and your Prince's Mistress,  
Take notice of that.  Clor. 
I know not what you mean.  Lor. 
Sir, you cannot deceive me so;  
And you were right served, you would be made fit  
For nothing but the great Turk's Seraglio.  Clor. 
You mistake my business Sir.  Lor. 
Your blushes give you the lie Sirrah;  
But for the Prince's sake, and another reason I have,  
I will pardon you for once.  Lau. 
He has not done a fault, and needs it not.  Lor. 
Was he not alone with thee?  
And is not that enough: well I see I am no Italian  
In Punctilios of honourable revenge;  
There is but one experiment left to prove myself so;  
And if that fail, I'll even renounce my Country.  
— Boy, harkey— there is a certain kindness  
You may do me, and get your pardon for being found here▪  Clor. 
You shall command me any thing.  Lor. 
Prithee how long hast thou been set up for thyself,  
Ha?  Clor. 
As how Sir?  Lor. 
Poh, thou understand'st me.  Clor. 
Indeed I do not Sir, what is't you mean?  Lor. 
A smooth faced Boy, and ask such a question,  
Fie, fie, this ignorance was ill counterfeited  
To me that understand the world.  Clor. 
Explain yourself Sir.  Lor. 
Look, ten or twenty Pistols will do you  
No hurt, will it?  Clor. 
Not any Sir.  Lor. 
Why so; 'tis well any thing will make thee  
Apprehend.  Clor. 
I shall be glad to serve you, Sir, without that fee.  Lor. 
That's kindly said—  
I see a man must not be too easy of belief: had I been so,  
This Boy would have been at what do ye mean Sir;  
And Lord I understand you not:  
Well Phillebert, here's earnest to bind the bargain;  
I am now in haste, when I see thee next,  [Loren. Whispers to Laura. 
I'll tell thee more.  Clo. 
This 'tis to be a Favourite now;  
I warrant you I must do him some good office to the Prince,  
Which I'll be sure to do.  Lor. 
Nay it must be done, for she has used me basely,  
Oh 'tis a baggage.  Lau. 
Let me alone to revenge you on Isabel,  
Get me but from this Imprisonment.  Lor. 
I will; whilst I hold the old man in a dispute,  
Do you two get away; but be sure thou payest her home.  Lau. 
I warrant you, Sir, this was happy;  
Now shall I see Curtius.  Lor. 
Phillibert, I advise you to have a care of  
Wenching: 'twill spoil a good face,  
And mar your better market of the two.  [Ex. Lor. Lau. 
Come let us haste, and by the way, I'll tell thee  
Of a means that may make us all happy.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE II.  Enter Alberto Melancholy. Alb. 
Antonio said he would be here,  
I'm impatient till he come.—  Enter Antonio. Ant. 
Alberto, I have such a project for thee!  Alb. 
Ha—  [Gazes. Ant. 
What ails thee, art thou well?  Alb. 
No.  Ant. 
Where art thou Sick?  Alb. 
At heart Antonio; poisoned by thy jealousy;  
— Oh thou hast ruined me, undone my quiet,  
And from a man of reasonable virtue,  
Has brought me to a wild distracted Lover.  Ant. 
Explain yourself.  Alb. 
Thou'st taught me, friend, to love Clarina;  
Not as I promised thee to feign, but so,  
That I, unless I do possess that object,  
I think must die; at best be miserable.  Ant. 
How Sir, have I done this?  Alb. 
Yes Antonio, thou hast done this.  Ant. 
My dear Alberto; said you that you loved her?  Alb. 
Yes, Antonio, against my will I do;  
As much against my will, as when I told her so;  
Urged by thy needless stratagem.  Ant. 
Name it no more, it was an idle fault,  
Which I do so repent me,  
That if you find I should relapse again,  
Kill me, and let me perish with my weakness:  
And were that true you tell me of your passion,  
Sure I should wish to die, to make you happy.  Alb. 
That's kindly said, and I submit to you,  
And am content to be outdone in Amity.  Ant. 
Yes, I'll resign my claims▪ and leave the world;  
Alberto, 'tis unkind to think I would be happy  
By ways must ruin you;  
But sure you tell me this but only to afflict me.  Alb. 
'Tis truth Antonio, I do love Clarina;  
And what is yet far worse for thy repose,  
Believe myself so blessed to be beloved.  Ant. 
How, to be beloved by her!  
— Oh dire effects of jealousy!  Alb. 
All that you saw to day was only feigned,  
To let you see, that even your eyes and ears  
Might be imposed upon.  Ant. 
Can it be possible!  Alb. 
And now she thinks she is enough revenged;  
And lets you know in her feigned scorn to me,  
That all your sleights and cunnings are but vain;  
She has deceived them all, and by that Art,  
Gives you a confidence, and me a heart.  Ant. 
I must confess it is but just in her  
To punish thus the errors of my fear;  
I do forgive her, from my Soul I do.  
— But, Sir, what satisfaction's this to you?  Alb. 
Clarina happy, I'll from Court retire,  
And by that absence quench my hopeless fire;  
War, I will make my Mistress; who may be,  
Perhaps more kind than she has been to me;  
Where though I cannot conquer, 'twill allow  
That I may die; that's more than this will do.  Ant. 
— Why did you, Sir, betray my weakness to her?  
Though 'twas but what I did deserve from you.  Alb. 
By all that's good she knew the plot before,  
From Isabel, who it seems o'er heard us,  
When you once pressed me to't:  
And had we wanted virtue, thou'dst been lost.  Ant. 
I own the Crime;  
And first I beg thy Pardon,  
And after that, will get it from Clarina;  
Which done, I'll wait upon thee to the Camp,  
And suffer one years' Penance for this sin,  
Unless I could divert this resolution,  
By a proposal Clarina bid me make you.  Alb. 
What was it Sir?  Ant. 
I have a Sister, Friend, a handsome Virgin,  
Rich, witty, and I think she's virtuous too;  
Returned last week from St. Teretias' Monastery.  Alb. 
Sure any thing that is to thee Allied,  
Must find a more than bare respect from me;  
But it is certain I ne'er shall Love again,  
And have resolved never to Marry any,  
Where Interest, and not Love must join our hands.  Ant. 
You cannot tell what power there lies in beauty;  
Come you shall see her, and if after that,  
You find you cannot love her,  
We'll both to Candia, where we both will prove  
Rivals in Honour, as we're now in Love:  
— But I'd forgot to tell thee what I came for;  
I must this evening beg your company,  
Nay, and perhaps your Sword; come along with me,  
And by the way I'll tell you the adventure.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE. III.  The Lodgings of Curtius. Enter Curtius and Pietro disguised as before. Curt. 
I wonder we hear no news yet of the Prince,  
I hope he'll come; Pietro be the Bravoes ready,  
And the Courtesans?  Piet. 
My Lord, they'll be here immediately, all well dressed too  Curt. 
They be those Bravoes that did belong to me?  Piet. 
Yes, Sir, the same;  
But Antonio is their Patron.  Curt. 
They be stout and secret; 'tis well,  
Is the Music and all things ready?  
For I'll not be seen till my part is to be played;  Piet. 
What Arms have they?  
Pistols Sir, would you have other?  Curt. 
No, I have not yet considered how to kill him▪  
Nor scarce resolved to do so any way;  
What makes this strange irresolution in me?  
— Sure 'tis the force of sacred Amity,  
Which but too strictly was observed by me:  
— My Prince, and Friend, my Wife and Sister too;  
Shall not those last, the powerful first outdo:  
My Honour and my Love are there engaged,  
And here, by ties of duty, I'm obliged:  
I satisfy but these, if he must bleed;  
But ruin the whole Dukedom in the deed,  
The hopeful Heir of all their noble spoils,  
And joy and recompense of all their toils.  
— Why so was Cloris, Laura too, to me,  
Which both were ravished from me, Prince, by thee.  [Knock within. Piet. 
Sir, they be the Bravoes and Courtesans.  [Piet. Goes out. Curt. 
'Tis well, I need not talk with them,  
They understand their work.  Piet. 
They do my Lord, and shall be ready at your stamp;  
They are all Neopolitans you know Sir,  Curt. 
Are they the better for that?  Piet. 
Much Sir, a Venetian will turn to your enemy,  
If he will give him but a sauce more than you have done;  
And your Milanese are fit for nothing but to  
Rob the Post or Carrier; a Genoveses too,  
Will sooner kill by Usury, than Sword or Pistol;  
A Roman fit for nothing but a spy.  Curt. 
Well, Sir, you are pleasant with my Countrymen.  Piet. 
I'll be so with my own too Sir; and tell you,  
That a Maltan, who pretends to so much honour  
And gravity, are fit only to rob their neighbours  
With pretence of Piety.  
— And a Cicilian so taken up with Plots,  
How to kill his Viceroy, that it keeps them  
From being Rogues to a less degree;  
But I have done, Sir, and beg your pardon.  Curt. 
Didst leave the Letter, I commanded thee,  
For Laura?  Piet. 
I did my Lord.  Enter Lorenzo. Lor. 
Well, here's the Prince just coming.  Curt. 
Pray Sir conduct him in,  
I'm ready for him.  Ex. Curt. and Piet. Enter the Prince, conducted by two Women in Masquerade, with Lights, he endeavouring to take off their Masks. Ex. two Women. He walks about while this Song is Singing. 
What is the recompense of War,  
But soft as wanton Peace?  
What the best Balsam to our scars?  
But that which Venus gave to Mars,  
When he was circled in a kind embrace.  
Behold a Prince who never yet,  
Was vanquished in the Field;  
A while his Glories must forget,  
And lay his Laurels at the feet  
Of some fair Female power, to whom he'll yield.  Fred. 
What's this the preparation?  Lor. 
Yes, so it should seem; but had you met  
With so many defeats as I have done to night,  
You would willingly excuse this Ceremony.  Music for the Dance. Enter Antonio with Ismena, Alberto with Clarina, Laura and Cloris with two men more, and all dressed in Masquerade with visards; they Dance. The Prince sets down, the Dance being done▪ they retire to one side; and Alberto comes and presents him Clarina; and bows and retires; who puts off her Mask; and puts it on again and retires. Fred. 
She's wondrous fair;  
Sure in his whole Cabal he cannot show a fairer—  Lor. 
She resembles Clarina; I wish your Highness  
Would see further; and then perhaps, this would  
Fall to my lot, for I love her for likeness sake.  [Antonio presents Ismena, and retires as the other. Fred. 
This I confess outdoes the others,  
An Innocency dwells upon her face,  
That's strangely taking, is it not Lorenzo?  Lor. 
To say truth, she is very fine indeed.  [They present Laura. Fred. 
Ha! I am amazed; see Lorenzo,  
Dost thou not know that face?  Lor. 
A my conscience and soul 'tis my own Sister Laura;  
Why how now Mistress,  
Do things go thus with you i'faith?  [She shakes her hand as not understanding him. Ant. 
Sir, she understands you not.  Lor. 
Is it not Laura then?  Ant. 
No Sir, it is a stranger.  Fred. 
Let her be what she will, I'll have her.  [Fred. seems to talk when she answers in Grimasses. Lor. 
There have been examples in the world  
Of the good offices done by a Brother to a Sister;  
But they are very rare here,  
And therefore will surely be the more acceptable;  
Well Sir, have you fixed, that I may choose?  Fred. 
I have, and had he thousands more,  [Lor. goes to Clar. 
I would refuse them all for this fair Creature.  Enter Pietro. Piet. 
Sir, all things are ready as you desire,  
But my Master must first speak with you alone.  Fred. 
About the price I'll warrant you;  
Let him come in;  [All go out but Fred. to him Curt. 
— Are you the Master of the Ceremony?  Curt. 
I am.  Fred. 
Be speedy then, and by my impatiency  
To be with that agreeable stranger, guess at my  
Approbation of the Ladies, and which I choose.  Curt. 
Your mighty heat, Sir, will be soon allayed.  Fred. 
Shall it?  Curt. 
Yes Sir, it shall, for you must die.  Fred. 
Sure thou art mad to tell me so, who e'er thou be'st,  
Whilst I have this about me.  [Draws. Curt. 
That, Sir, you draw in vain; stand off—  [Offers a Pistol. Fred. 
What new conceited preparation's this?  Curt. 
Sir, when you know this face, it will inform you.  [Pulls off his false Beard. Fred. 
Curtius'! I am betrayed, oh villain!  [Offers to fight. Curt. 
Ho within there—  [He calls, and all the Masked men come out, and offer the Pistols at Frederick. Fred. 
Hold, I am the Prince of Florence.  Curt. 
These, Sir, are Rogues, and have no sense of aught,  
But mischief in their Souls;  
Gold is their Prince and God,— go, begone—  [They withdraw. 
— See, Sir, I can command them.  Fred. 
Curtius, why dost thou deal thus treacherously with me?  
Did I not offer thee to fight thee fairly?  Curt. 
'Tis like the injuries, Sir, that you have done me;  
Pardon me if my griefs make me too rude,  
And in course terms lay all your sins before you.  
— First, Sir, you have debauched my Lovely Sister,  
The only one I had;  
The hope and care of all our Noble Family;  
Thou Prince didst ravish all her virtue from her,  
And left her nothing but a desperate sense of shame,  
Which only served to do herself that justice,  
Which I had executed, had she not prevented me.  Fred. 
In this, upon my Soul, you do me wrong.  Curt. 
Next, (oh how unlike a brave and generous Man,)  
Without a cause, you cast me from your bosom;  
Withdrew the Honour of your promised friendship,  
And made me partner in my Sister's fate;  
Only with this difference, that she  
You left to act a Murder on herself;  
And mine you would have been so kind t'o've done  
With your own hand, but my respect prevented it.  
— Next, Sir, you ravished Laura from me,  
And under a pretence of sacred friendship,  
You proved yourself the worst of Enemies;  
And that's a crime you dare not say was Ignorance,  
As you perhaps will plead, your sin to Cloris was.  Fred. 
Cloris, why what hast thou to do with Cloris?  Curt. 
She was my Sister, Frederick▪  Fred. 
Thy Sister.  Curt. 
Yes, think of it well,  
A Lady of as pure and noble blood,  
As that of the great Duke thy Father,  
Till you, bad man, infected it;  
— Say should I Murder you for this base action;  
Would you not call it a true Sacrifice?  
And would not Heaven and Earth forgive it too?  Fred. 
No, had I known that she had been thy Sister,  
I had received her as a gift from Heaven,  
And so I would do still.  Curt. 
She must be sent indeed from Heaven,  
If you receive her now.  Fred. 
Is Cloris dead? oh how I was to blame!  [Weeps. 
— Here thou may'st finish now the life thou threatn'st.  Curt. 
Now Sir, you know my justice and my power;  
Yet since my Prince can shed a tear for Cloris,  
I can forgive him,— here Sir,— send me to Cloris;  [Kneels and offers his Sword. 
That mercy possibly will redeem the rest,  
Of all the wrongs you've done me;  
And you shall find nothing but sorrow here,  
And a poor broken heart that did adore you.  Fred. 
Rise Curtius, and divide my Dukedom with me;  
Do any thing that may preserve thy life,  
And gain my Pardon; alas thy Honour's safe.  
Since yet none knows that Cloris was thy Sister,  
Or if they do, I must proclaim this truth;  
She died thy Prince's Wife.  Curt. 
This tidings would be welcome to my Sister,  
And I the fitting'st man to bear that news.  [Offers to stab himself, is held by Fred. Laur. and Clor. who come in with Isab. dressed like Phillibert, and the rest. Lau. 
Stay Curtius, and take me with thee in the way.  Curt. 
Laura, my dearest Laura! how came you hither?  Lau. 
Commanded by your Letter; have you forgot it?  Fred. 
Curtius, look here, is not this Cloris face?  Curt. 
The same; oh my sweet Sister, is it thee?  [Curt. goes to embrace her, she goes back. Fred. 
Do not be shy my soul, it is thy Brother.  Curt. 
Yes, a brother who despised his life,  
When he believed yours lost or shamed;  
But now the Prince will take a care of it.  Clor. 
May I believe my soul so truly blessed?  Fred. 
Yes Cloris, and thus low I beg thy pardon,  [Kneels. 
For all the fears that I have made thee suffer.  Enter all the rest, first Ant. and Alb. without their Visors. Clor. 
Rise, Sir, it is my duty and my glory.  Alb. 
Sir we have pardons too to beg of you.  Fred. 
Antonio and Alberto, what turned Bravoes?  Curt. 
I am amazed.  Ant. 
You'll cease your wonder Sir, when you shall know,  
— Those Braves which formerly belonged to you,  
Are now maintained by me; which Pietro hired  
For this night's service; and from them we learned  
What was to be done, (though not on whom)  
But that we guest, and thought it but our duty  
To put this cheat on Curtius;  
Which had we seen had been resolved to kill you;  
Had been by us prevented;  
The Ladies too would needs be Courtesans  
To serve your Highness.  Fred. 
I'm much obliged to them, as you;  
— Cloris, a while I'll leave thee with thy Brother,  
Till I have reconciled thee to my Father;  
To Marry me, is what he long has wished for,  
And will, I know, receive this news with joy.  [Ex. Prince. Lor. 
Here's fine doings; what am I like to come to if he  
Turn honest now? this is the worst piece of inconstancy  
He ever was guilty of; to change one's humour, or so,  
Sometimes is nothing; but to change nature,  
To turn good on a sudden, and never give a man  
Civil warning, is a defeat not to be endured;  
I'll see the end on't though.  [Goes out. Alb. 
Here Antonio— imagine how I love thee,  
Who make thee such a Present.  [Gives him Clarina, who is dressed just as Ismena was, and Ismena in Masking habit. Ant. 
Clarina, can you pardon my offence,  
And bless me with that Love,  
You have but justly taken from me.  Clar. 
You wrong me, Sir, I ne'er withdrew my heart;  
Though you, but too unkindly, did your confidence.  Ant. 
Do not upbraid me, that I was so to blame,  
Is shame enough; pray pardon, and forget it.  Clar. 
I do.  Ant. 
Alberto, to show my gratitude in what I may,  
I beg you would receive Ismena from me.  Alb. 
whose's this?  Ant. 
Ismena, whom I promised thee.  Alb. 
It is Clarina; do you mock my pain?  [Shows Ism. Ant. 
By Heaven not I; this is Clarina, Sir.  Alb. 
That thy wife Clarina!  
A beauty which till now I never saw.  Ant. 
Sure thou art mad, didst thou not give her me but now?  
And hast not entertained her all this night.  Alb. 
Her habit and her vizard did deceive me;  
I took her for this Lady,— oh blessed mistake!  Ism. 
I see you're in the dark, but I'll unfold the riddle;  
— Sir, in the passage from the Monastery,  
Attended only by my Confessor,  
A Gentleman, a Passenger, in the same Boat,  
Addressed himself to me;  
And made a many little Courtships to me:  
I being veiled, he knew not who received them,  
Nor what confusion they begot in me;  
At the first sight, I grew to great esteems of him,  
But when I heard him speak—  
I'm not ashamed to say he was my Conqueror;  Alb. 
Oh Madam was it you?  
Who by your conversation in that Voyage,  
Gave me disquiets,  
Which nothing but your eyes could reconcile again.  Ism. 
'Twas I whom you deceived with some such language;  
— After my coming home, I grew more melancholy,  
And by my silence did increase my pain;  
And soon Clarina found I was a Lover,  
Which I confessed at last, and named the object;  
She told me of your friendship with Antonio,  
And gave me hopes that I again should see you:  
— But Isabel overheard the Plot,  
Which, Sir, Antonio did contrive with you,  
To make a feigned Courtship to Clarina,  
And told us all the story.  Alb. 
Oh how I'm ravished with my happiness!  Ism. 
Clarina, Sir, at first was much enraged,  
And vowed she would revenge her on Antonio;  
But I besought her to be pleased again,  
And said I would contrive a Counterplot,  
Should satisfy her honour and revenge;  
Thus, Sir, I got a garment like to hers,  
And to be Courted, though but in jest, by you,  
I run all hazards of my Brother's anger,  
And your opinion of my lightness too.  Clar. 
'Twas a temptation, Sir, I would not venture on,  
Lest from the reasons of a just revenge,  
And so much beauty as Alberto owned  
My virtue should not well secure your interest.  Ant. 
But why Ismena was that killing Plot,  
When I was hid behind the Arras, for now I confess all.  Ism. 
To make Alberto confident of my Love,  
And try his Friendship to the utmost point;  
— Antonio too I found had some reserves,  
Which I believed his Amity to you.  Alb. 
Yes, Madam, whilst I took you for his Wife,  
I thought it crime enough but to adore you;  
But now I may with honour own my passion;  
I will, Ismena, confidently assure you,  
That I will die, unless you pity me.  Ism. 
She that durst tell you, Sir, how much she loved,  
When you believed it was a sin to do so;  
Will now make good that promise with Antonio's, leave.  Ant. 
With perfect joy, Ismena, I resign thee.  [Antonio gives him Ismena. Alb. 
By double ties you now unite our Souls:  [To Ant. 
Though I can hardly credit what I see,  
The happiness so newly is arrived.  Enter Prince, Lor. and Guil. who comes up scraping to Cloris. Fred. 
My Father is the kindest man on earth,  
And Cloris shall be welcome to his bosom;  
who'll make him happy in my reformation:  
— Here Curtius, take Laura, who I find▪  
Had rather be my Sister then my Mistress;  
The Duke commands it so.  Curt. 
Till you have pardoned me my late offences,  
I must deny myself so great a happiness.  [Curt. Kneels. Fred. 
Rise, you have it.  Enter Salvator. Salu. 
Is here not a Runagado belongs to me?  Lau. 
No, Sir, my faith's entire,  
And Curtius has the keeping of it.  Salu. 
Who made him Master of it, have?  Lau. 
Heaven, my Inclinations, and the Prince.  Lalv. 
Three powerful opposers;  
Take her, since it must be so;  
And may'st thou be happy with her.  Fred. 
Alberto, would this Court afforded  
A Lady worthy thee.  Alb. 
Sir, I'm already sped, I humbly thank you.  Lor. 
Sped, quoth ye, Heaven defend  
Me from such fortune.  Fred. 
Lorenzo, I had forgot thee; thou shalt e'en marry too.  Lor. 
You may command me any thing but Marrying.  Isab. 
What think you then of a smooth-faced Boy?  Lor. 
A Pox on him, sure he will not tell now, will he?  Isab. 
My Lord, I beg your leave to challenge Lorenzo.  Fred. 
What to a Duel Phillibert?  Lor. 
Phill. Phill. hold, do not ruin the reputation  
Of a man that has acquired fame amongst the Female sex;  
I protest I did but jest.  Isab. 
But, Sir, I'm in earnest with you.  Fred. 
This is not Phillibert.  Isab. 
No, Sir, but Isabel— that was Phillibert.  [Pointing to Clor. Clor. 
Yes, Sir, I was the happy boy to be beloved,  
When Cloris was forgotten.  Fred. 
Oh how you raise my love and shame;  
But why did Isabel change her habit?  Clo. 
Only to take my place, lest you should miss me,  
Who being with Laura, at the lodgings of Clarina;  
And comparing the words of her Letter,  
With what the Bravoes had confessed to Antonio,  
We found the Plot which was laid for you,  
And joined all to prevent it.  Fred. 
'Twas sure the work of Heaven.  Isab. 
And now, Sir, I come to claim a husband here.  Fred. 
Name him▪ and take him.  Isab. 
Lorenz, Sir.  Lor. 
Of all cheats, commend me to a waiting-Gentlewoman;  
I her Husband!  Ant. 
I am a witness to that truth.  Fred. 
'Tis plain against you, come you must be honest.  Lor. 
Will you compel me to't against my will?  
Oh tyranny, consider I am a man of quality and fortune.  Isab. 
As for my qualities, you know I have sufficient,  
And fortune, thanks to your bounty, considerable too.  Fred. 
No matter, he has enough for both.  Lor. 
Nay, Sir, an you be against me,  
'Tis time to reform in my own defence;  
But 'tis a thing I never considered, or thought on.  Fred. 
Marry first, and consider afterwards.  Lor. 
That's the usual way I confess;  
Come Isabel, since the Prince commands it;  
I do not love thee, but yet I'll not forswear it;  
Since a greater miracle than that is wrought;  
And that's my Marrying thee:  
Well, 'tis well thou art none of the most beautiful,  
I should swear the Prince had some designs on thee else.  Clor. 
Yes Guilliam, since thou hast been so faithful,  [Clor. speaks 
I dare assure thee Lucia shall be thine.  [Guil. Bows.] [aside to Guil. Fred. 
Come my fair Cloris, and invest thyself  
In all the Clories, which I lately promised:  
— And Ladies, you'll attend her to the Court,  
And share the welcomes which the Duke provides her;  
Where all the sallies of my flattering youth,  
Shall be no more remembered, but as past;  
Since 'tis a race that must by Man be run,  
I'm happy in my youth it was begun;  
It serves my future Manhood to improve,  
Which shall be sacrificed to War and Love.  Curtain Falls.    

Epilogue spoken by Cloris.  
LAdies the Prince was kind at last,  
But all the danger is not passed;  
I cannot happy be till you approve,  
My hasty condescension to his Love.  
'Twas want of Art, not Virtue was my Crime,  
And that's, I vow, the Author's fault, not mine:  
She might have made the Women pitiless,  
But that had harder been to me than this:  
She might have made our Lovers constant too,  
A work which Heaven itself can scarcely do;  
But simple Nature never taught the way,  
To hide those passions which she must obey.  
Humble Cottages and Cells,  
Where Innocence and Virtue dwells;  
Then Courts no more secure can be,  
From Love and dangerous flattery.  
Love in rural triumph reigns,  
As much a God amongst the Swains,  
As if the Sacrifices paid,  
Were wounded hearts by Monarchs made;  
And this might well excuse my offence,  
If it be so to Love a Prince.  
But Ladies, 'tis your hands alone,  
And not his power can raise me to a Throne;  
Without that aid I cannot reign,  
But will return back to my flocks again.  
Guilliam advances.  Guill. 
How go from Court! nay zay not so,  
Hear me but speak before you go:  
Whoy zay the Leadies should refuse ye,  
The Bleads I'm sure would better use ye—  
So long as ye are kind and young,  
I know they'll clap ye right or wrong.  
FINIS.