A Grove.
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. Hah —
[Gazes.
Ant. What ails thee, art thou well?
Alb. No.
Ant. Where art thou sick?
Alb. At Heart, Antonio, poison’d by thy Jealousy;
— Oh, thou hast ruin’d me, undone my Quiet,
And from a Man of reasonable Virtue,
Hast brought me to a wild distracted Lover.
Ant. Explain your self.
Alb. Thou’st taught me, Friend, to love Clarina;
Not, as I promis’d 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 lov’d her?
Alb. Yes, Antonio, against my will I do;
As much against my will, as when I told her so;
Urg’d 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 out-done 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 my self so bless’d to be belov’d.
Ant. How, to be belov’d by her!
— Oh dire effects of Jealousy!
Alb. All that you saw to day was only feign’d,
To let you see, that even your Eyes and Ears
Might be impos’d upon.
Ant. Can it be possible!
Alb. And now she thinks she is enough reveng’d;
And lets you know, in her feign’d Scorn to me,
That all your Sleights and Cunnings are but vain:
She has deceiv’d 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 Isabella, who it seems o’erheard us,
When you once press’d me to’t:
And had we wanted Virtue, thoud’st 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 year’s 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;
Return’d last Week from St. Teresia’s Monastery.
Alb. Sure any thing that is to thee ally’d,
Must find a more than bare Respect from me;
But certain ’tis I ne’er shall love again,
And have resolv’d 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’ad 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.