Five new plays ... as they were acted by His Majesty's servants at the Theatre-Royal / written by the Honourable Sir Robert Howard.

SCENE IV.

Enter Miranzo.

Mir.

There's yet some hopes; the subtle Politician, That cannot reach his ends in peace, throws all Into disorder. He snatches others first from their enjoyments, And that makes way for his designs. I find we are alike; for Peace must be More fatal than Love's Civil War to me. What a world of thoughts now offer Their troublesom service to me! Wou'd my Man Baptista were come: Heaven prevent mischance; I cannot doubt his truth: I trusted him to help my Sister's flight to the Nunnery; No way was left at last but that,

To cozen Brancadoro of her: The Fool had almost flown her to a Mark. O Cialto,—I have strange News to tell thee.

Enter Cialto.

Cial.

Your looks express as much. I thought sorrow and wildness Had hung upon no brow but mine. Where have you been? What is the Wedding finish'd? Why are you thus confus'd?—ha!—where's Samira?

Mir.

Not married to Brancadoro, nor ever shall.

Cial.

O, my best Friend, pardon my fears; How safe I am in thee! But where is she?

Mir.

You shall know presently; I appointed my man Baptista To wait my coming to this place; But an accident has brought me sooner than I thought.

Cial.

Bless me! What accident? In thine eyes appears A strange disorder.

Mir.

No, no, no great matter; we may be friends, Sir, Now at your own rate; I am turn'd Lover too.

Cial.

Why, 'tis impossible! Who Miranzo•• He that us'd to brag his heart was fortifi'd With scorn and chearfulness!

Mir.

O, Sir, I rejoyce you are in such perfect memory; But see, Baptista is return'd. Now,—what News?

Enter Baptista.

Bapt.

As you directed, Sir, I found an opportunity That favour'd the design your Sister had: The idle Persons, that had no business But to mind others Actions, I got Into the Cellar, whil'st she made her escape.

Mir.

To the Nunnery.

Bapt.

Thither she told me she would go.

Mir.

'Tis well.

Cial.

How! to the Nunnery! she may be willing to stay there, 'Tis probable; for nothing here below Is worth her Love: I find I cannot yet Submit; my Passion will resist, Though Heaven it self does prove my Rival.

Exit Cialto hastily.

Mir.

Cialto, friend Cialto; he's gone. Hey day, how Love tumble••••s about! Yet I admire not now at this distraction▪ For mad men wonder not at one another.

Bapt.

But, Sir, I have str〈…〉〈…〉ws to tell you; The fair Emilia, with her old Governess, Is fled to the Nunnery too.

Mir.

How! is't possible?

Bapt.

'Tis certain, Sir; and to that purpose She left a Note upon her Table: All the House is in an uproar, And fancy 'twas a Plot between the Ladies.

Mir.

Above my hopes she then has kept her word, Not to bestow her self; but what a Devil

Does she do at the Nunnery? That may be worse than th' other; if she shou'd Turn Nun now; like enough; when people are cross'd And vex'd, they grow Religious presently. I must do something.—How my thoughts work,

He studies.

Heaving like labouring Moles within the Earth! Ha, Baptista.

Bapt.

Sir.

Mir.

Hast thou not told me thou hast a Brother is a Friar?

Bapt.

I have, Sir, in the next Convent.

Mir.

Cou'dst thou not prevail with him to lend me A little of his holiness?

Bapt.

What mean you, Sir?

Mir.

Nay, I mean none of his Prayers nor Meditations; At this time I have no use for a good thought: 'Tis his Habit only for a few hours; I'le not abuse it, On my honour; Thou dar'st trust me, dar'st not?

Bapt.

You cannot doubt that, Sir; and I am sure My Brother's thoughts of you are as mine are: I'll try presently, if you please, Sir.

Mir.

Come, I'le go along with thee; For my design requires some haste: Thy care and love shall be requited.

Exeunt.