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

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Enter Bottolo.

Bot.

HOW that Fire-brand the Cook sputters! There's no coming near to have a cut for Breakfast. I am a Villain if the Butler too Be not grown as outragious a Beast as he. What coil's here!—O Mother,—how!—

Enter Taccola.

What, you in a pelt too! Do the Quinces prove rotten? Or is all the Bisket-slabber spilt?

Tacco.

Out upon thee, thou tak'st care for nothing; She has been my Charge these seventeen years, And I do not mean to quit my care yet a while.

Bot.

Yes faith, Mother, you must deliver up; She's going to have another Governour, And as luck will have it, as old as your grave self: We are like to plant our fair young Twig In hopeful soil; does it not trouble you, Mother?

Tacco.

What's that to thee, Sirrah? Thou art ever full Of roguish thoughts; the Man may do well enough; Age is not so contemptible.

Bot.

Nay, I dare swear, Mother, you believe You cou'd entertain the youngest of them all With wondrous prowess.

Tacco.

Come, leave your prating; the Bride-groom's

Near at hand, with such a gallant Troop; They are hard by: Nay, I'll tell thee what— Out upon't,—what do I here! The Jolly will be spoil'd.

Exit Taccola.

Bot.

O take care of that by all means; The old Gentleman will need it.

Enter Moreno.

Mor.

How now, Sirrah? what, loit'ring here? The Company's just coming to the Gate; Get you gone, and mind your business within. —Why Daughter, Daughter.

Emilia appears above.

Emil.

Your pleasure, Sir.

Mor.

Be ready there, Daughter; the Bride-groom Will salute you with Musick presently. I had almost forgot the chiefest News; This day the fair Samira, Castruccio's Niece, Must marry the great and rich Brancadoro's Heir. Be ready, Daughter, I cannot stay.—Hark,—they come.

Emil.

Governess. Taccola.

Taccola appears above.

Tac.

Here, Sweet Charge.

Emil.

Come, it must be your part to tell me the Names Of every one; have you inform'd your self?

Tac.

Yes, yes, I know them all.

Emil.

Peace then, and observe.

Enter first some bearing Bays and Rosemary, then Moreno and Ca∣struccio, then Brancadoro and Samira, then Miranzo and others; As these pass over the Stage they speak above.

What be these Men?

Tac.

They bear Love's Ensigns: You know the Gentleman that follows.

Emil.

Yes, yes; who's he that leads his fair Niece?

Tac.

The wealthy Brancadoro, who is to marry her this day▪ They say he's an Ass, though his Trappings be rich.

Emil.

A sudden Wedding! But what young Man Is that which follows next?

Tac.

I marry, that's his fine Nephew Miranzo, Newly return'd from Travel.

Emil.

Peace, they begin.

As soon as the Masque begins the Curtain draws, and Emilia ap∣pears; Miranzo keeps his eyes fix'd on her all the while the Masque is presented.

The Persons being all plac'd about the Stage,

Enter a Cupid, who waves an Arrow, and speaks. Cup. Hymen, O gentle Hymen, come away.

Enter Hymen.

Hym.

When Loves great God Commands, I never stay.

Cup.

Then light it thy Torch.

Hym.

For that I hither came, And see 'tis ready to receive a flame, Whenever by thy powerful Summons prest.

Cup.

Then light at that aged Lovers breast.

Hym.

Where Time has been destroying, can there be A warmth for him, much less a flame for me?

Cup.

Those grosser flames that ••eed on wanton hearts, Burn not in his; the sharpest of thy Darts Had found no way, where Nature frozen lies, But that 'twas thaw'd by fair Emilia's Eyes.

Hym.

Call hither all thy Votaries to gaze, That with such Fires thy Altars still may blaze; Not fed with loose Desires, but purest Hearts; So I my Torch may save, and thou thy Darts.

Enter Charon.

Cup.

But stay, what dismal Apparition's this, That mingles horror with approaching bliss?

Cha.

Charon I am, that o'r the Stygian Waves Waft only Fares that first have pass'd through Graves: From thence I came, where all the Destinies Do sit and smile at these unequalities: 'Tis vain to sing an Hymeneal note; Light not thy Torch, for I prepare my Boat.

Hym.

Why, Charon, why?

Char.

Know, I did lately view The Fatal Sisters, whilst his Thread they drew; The last remains were on the Distaff put, And one prepar'd the feeble twine to cut.

Hym.

Fond Fool, go back again, and thou shalt find So fair a Thread with his so firmly twin'd, No Destiny will venture to divide A Life that is with fair Emilia's ty'd. Gaze, and submit.

Char.

What's this appears more bright, Than Souls prepar'd for the Elysian Light? Appear, appear, you Fatal Sisters, come Before a Power that can reverse your doom.

Enter Destinies.

See, they obey; 'tis just that Love and Fate Shou'd on the fair Emilia's Nuptials wait.

Cup.

First I resign my Arrows and my Bow.

Hym.

The Fates submit their dreadful Ensigns too

Char.

Charon will leave his unfrequented Shore, And at Emilia's Feet lay down his Oar.

Hym.

Ascend, ascend, you happy Shades, and move In various measures with the God of Love.

Enter Spirits.

Cha.

They come, they come, hark, hark, our charmed Ears Are struck with Musick from the moving Spheres.

The Spirits first dance an Antick; Then the Destinies join in a grand Dance.

Mir.

How my Eyes are chain'd unto that glorious Object•• She acts like what she is, a Miracle; And I am lost in wonder!

Cast.

Good Morning to my fairest Mistress: May but my Joys this day, be yours for ever; I know not how to wish you more.

Bran.

Uncle, must I bid her good-morrow too? These Spirits have so amaz'd me, I can scarce fetch my breath.

Cast.

By all means.

Bra

Why then,—Good-morrow, Mistress; 'tis Signior Brancadoro Bids you good-morrow: I wish you as good luck as my self. As I suppose, you may have heard of me; For I am going the way of all Flesh too.

Mir.

If i cou'd speak, I find I cannot join In Wishes of this nature: How my Soul struggles in me!

Mor.

Come down Daughter, and meet us in the Hall, So to the Temple, where all Complements Are quickly ended. Come, Son, your Ceremony Defers your happiness.

Exeunt.

The Curtain draws. Manet Miranzo.

Mir.

The lovely Apparition's vanish'd; O for a spell To call it back again; but the black Spirits only Are subject unto charms, and not the brighter Angels: At what a distance she surpriz'd! Had the great God of Love ns'd other Eyes, He had at rovers vainly shot his Dart; Hers had the power alone to carry level to my heart. How hapless must my destiny needs prove, That in one instant both despair and love!

Exit:

SCENE II.

Enter Taccola and Bottolo.

Tac.

Good Bottolo, set these things upon the Shelf; I must stay here to give my Lady her Things, She's coming down this way; I had forgot Her Vail; nay, prethee do so much for me.

Bot.

Well, well; Pox on't, I take no joy in this Wedding.

Tac.

Nay, prethee no discourse now, honest Bottolo.

Bet.

O rare! honest Bottolo! before night You'l scold at this honest Bottolo.

Tac.

Thou deserv'st it twice, where I do it once, Sirrah.

Enter Emilia.

Emil.

What's the matter?

Bot.

Nothing, Mistress.—Ah, 'tis a thousand pities.

Exit Bottolo.

Emil.

Have you brought my Things, Governess?

Tac.

Yes, my sweet Charge.

Emil.

Where's the Company?

Tac.

They all stay for you in the Hall.

Emil.

I go, I go.

As she offers to go, enter Miranzo.

Mir.

Stay, stay, fairest Maid.

Emil.

What's your pleasure, Sir?

Mir.

I dare not tell her 'tis to gaze on her.

Aside.

Madam, the business I must acquaint you with Deserves a privacy; please you to command Your Woman for a minute to withdraw.

Emil.

Leave us a little, Governess.

Tac.

By my troth a comely Gentleman; had luck been, This might have made the better Husband. Pray, Sir, be not tedious, here's business to be done.

Mir.

Not by the old Gentleman.

Exit Taccola.

I am a stranger to you, Madam; My business will seem strange too.

Emil.

Pray quickly, Sir; I am staid for.

Mir.

That's part of it.

Emil.

Of what?

Mir.

Why, of my business, to desire you not to go.

Emil.

What mean you, Sir? why do you gaze so wildly? I hope your thoughts are not so much unsettl'd As your looks; why do you desire me not to go?

Mir.

Why, you go to be married, do you not?

Emil.

Yes; what do you mean? Pray leave me.

Mir.

I must not, nay, I cannot leave you.

Emil.

Not leave me! What is the business That thus unseasonably you stay me for?

Mir.

I know I have done ill to trouble you; But who can help it; Love and Whirlwinds Will have their giddy courses. The story's short, I saw and lov'd you. Wonder not; Lightning burns at a flash, When lesser Fires do by degrees consume.

Emil.

It is not well to give me this strange trouble. How did you come to meet me? Pray say no more; I must obey and marry.

Mir.

Do, and be happy.—'Tis true, I might have dy'd without afflicting you; For that I ask forgiveness.

Emil.

I forgive you freely.

Mir.

This then finishes my Wooing.

He draws a Poniard.

Emil.

Hold; you do not mean so madly!

Mir.

I mean thus, soberly.

Emil.

Where is your Reason and your Justice, Sir •• Think on't; wou'd you rob another of his right? Your near Relation too!

Mir.

Not by dying, do I?

Emil.

That offends Heaven, at whose disposal You ought to be.

Mir.

I am so; you are my Heaven here, And you dispose me to my Fate.

Emil.

Why d'you cruelly disturb me? I know You dare not be so injurious as to Destroy at once your self, and all my peace.

Mir.

You mistake; Alas! I have not courage enough to try Whether or no I can endure to live.

Emil.

Oh, you have ruin'd me! what shall I do!

Mir.

I am sorry I have troubled you, indeed I am; But you began to plague me first: I was at peace with Woman-kind; that is, I lov'd none till your eyes began the quarrel.

Emil.

What wou'd you have me do? how can I now A void this Marriage, ready for the Temple, Ingag'd by my Obedience, and my Promise!

Mir.

You may pretend a sudden sickness, Madam.

Emil.

I need not much pretend it; But what is your design in this?

Mir.

I dare not name a Pardon at the first; I only beg to be Repriev'd, that I may try If it be possible to love you less, And you may try to love me more: But if you think it too much mercy to Reprieve me, Pronounce my Sentence quickly, you shall find me Your faithful Executioner.

Emil.

You press me strangely; I dare not be the cause of any murther: Live—I will not marry; by all that's good I will not: But from this time see me no more, Cruel disturber of my Peace.

Mir.

I lost mine first by seeing you; And though I promis'd to obey one Sentence, Yet this is too hard, dying's easier: I cannot promise never to see you more and live.

Emil.

Be gone, and leave the most unhappy of all Women.

Mir.

I go, remember only this Vow I leave behind, Never to live to see you wretched or unkind.

Exit.

Emil.

Ah me!—I need not wholly counterfeit Sickness; I have an Ague in my thoughts, Which shakes my Soul; I shall grow faint indeed. Governess.

Enter Taccola.

Tac.

O, sweet Charge, there's old calling for you.

Emil.

I cannot go yet; lead me to my Chamber; I fear I shall grow ill.

Tac.

How, how!

Emil.

Prithee peace.

Tac.

Why, what, a God's name, hath this young Fellow done? What is he gone and left you?

Emil.

Nothing, nothing; prithee along, I faint.

Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter Bottolo.

Bot.

Hey day, what doings there's within! Signior Brancadoro has lost his Mistress; By this time they are hunting on a cold scent, Or else have quite given her over. I wonder my Mistress had not the wit To run away, and hide for good and all, From her old Caterpillar. Hark, there's a new Noise within,

Noise within.

And louder too than ever; I'm a Villain If I don't fansie I hear Taccola's shrieks A note above them all; what shou'd this mean?

Enter Brancadoro.

Bran.

O, Bottolo, did'st thou see my Mistress? As I live and breathe,

I never took more pains a Squirrel-hunting, Than I have done in seeking her; I would give any thing in reason to any That could but bring Tale or Tidings of her.

Bot.

That reasonable Reward would prove a Julio.

Bran.

Come, Bottolo, prithee come and help to look her.

Exit Brancadoro

Bot.

I had rather help to hide her from such A covetous vapouring Coxcomb. How now!

Enter Moreno hastily.

Mor.

O Bottolo, Bottolo! run, run, Bottolo.

Bot.

Whither, Sir?

Mor.

Any whither; run, run, fetch a Physician quickly. O, my Daughter, my Daughter! What, art thou here yet?

Bot.

Why, what ails my Mistress?

Mor.

Dying, dying; she fainted suddenly, And lies without a sign of life.

Bot.

A pretty Wedding towards; poor Soul, Who can blame her to be afraid to be clasp'd by an old Ivy, Whose embraces never suffer any thing to prosper?

Mor.

Art thou not gone yet? Run quickly, Sirrah, To Leonardo the Phycisian; make all the haste thou canst.

Bot.

I knew there wou'd no good come of this Wedding, First or last. I go, Sir, I go.

Exit Bottolo.

Enter Castruccio.

Cast.

O mischief! No hearing of my Niece!

Mor.

My Daughter, my Daughter's going.

Cast.

And my Niece is quite gone: Every corner has been search'd, but no finding her. Oh, oh, what a sad day is this!

Mor.

Never a hopeful Morning so o'recast!

Cast.

O my Mistress! O my Niece! Undone, undone.

Mor.

Let's in and advise together; I have sent Bottolo for a Physician.

Exeunt.

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.

SCENE V.

Enter Moreno.

Mor.

Worse and worse; my Daughter, my Daughter! Couzen'd, abus'd and cheated! Signior Castruccio, Brancadoro, where are you?

Enter Castruccio and Brancadoro.

Cast.

What's the matter?

Mor.

Oh, my Daughter! gone, fled, run away, With her old Beldame.

Cast.

How, fled and gone!

Mor.

Gone, gone.

Bran.

My Mistress shew'd her the way. Villerotto shall let him alone now, If I cou'd but find him. No Wedding, no Killing.

Aside.

Enter a Servant▪

Cast.

How now? any News yet? Where's my Nephew Miranzo?

Serv.

He's not in the House, Sir.

Mor.

We are all abus'd and cheated.

Bran.

I am couzen'd too of my Mistress▪ but as long As I can keep my Money, the care's the less.

Cast.

It is in vain longer to vex our selves; Let's in and consult; then, if we judge it 〈◊〉〈◊〉, We'l go together to the Nunnery, And there make our demands, You for your Daughter, I for my Niece.

Mor.

You advise well; come, let us not delay: Signior Brancadoro, you must along too.

Bran.

With all my heart; I long to see What the meaning of these tricks are: Every body's couzen'd, as well as I.

Exeunt omnes.

SCENE. VI.

Enter Montalto, and two Companions.

Mont.

We are marvellously kept on duty; not one Allarm yet?

1 Com.

Our Scout is watching for Intelligence; To say truth, the Gentleman takes a world of pains.

Mont.

Wou'd he wou'd take less; he pays well, And 'tis no matter how long 'tis doing.

2 Com.

What are you squeamish still, Captain?

Mont.

Pox on't, I can't conceal my villainous apprehensions From these Rascals; without doubt the Rogues Are as timorous as I am, though they hide it better.

Aside.

Enter Villerotto with another, and pulling in Samira.

How now? what's here to do?

Vill.

Nay, do not seem angry: This is strange rambling on your Wedding day.

Sam.

Impudent Rascal, unhand me: How dare you assumethe boldness to examine me?

Vill.

Spoil not your good face with frowns; 'Tis to no purpose; You must be my pris'ner.

Sam.

Your Prisoner, Slave!

Vill.

Yes mine, till I know In what condition you have left my Master; Your flight's suspicious; perhaps y'ave murther'd him.

Sam.

No, the Fool's alive to thank you For your officious rudeness.

Vill.

If he be not, your life shall satisfie.

Mon.

'Tis not in our bargain to deal with Women.

Aside.

Vill.

There's something more than ordinary; For guilty persons use such flights; Here, take her away.

Sam.

What, will you murder me? help, help.

Vill.

Stop your mouth, or I'll spoil the passage to't,

He sh••ws a Dagger.

And make an hole to let your Clam•••••••• •••••• By th' way, before they climb up to your Throat.

Enter Emilia and Taccola.

What have we here? more Quarry ••••••••••wing? How the Covie's scatter'd? Sure 'tis she; 'tis, 'tis Emilia. Here has been some mischief practis'd▪ I'll seize her too, else ••••other will want company. Stay, who are you?

Emil.

Ah me!

Vill.

Whither this way so ••••st? May be you cannot speak for want of A••••, I'll give you vent.—I thought so,—'tis she.

He unvails her.

Emil.

Oh, I am ruin'd.

Vill.

Troth, like enough; and possibly you have deserv'd it.

Emil.

Pray stop me not; but rather, if you have pity,

Conduct me to the Nunnery.

Vill.

O, do your mischiefs prompt you to a refuge? I'll find you out a place of safety. Two of you come along with me; Bring them along too.

Tac.

Rascal, what dost thou mean to do with us?

Vill.

Nothing with your Antiquity.

Sam.

Conduct us to an Officer of Justice; We dare appear, Sir.

Vill.

Stop her mouth; I'll consider what to do with you; Bring 〈…〉〈…〉long, I say. Do y〈…〉〈…〉it here till I return; A ••inu•••• brings me back.

Exeunt with the Women Villerotto, and the second Companion.

Mont.

Why, this is horrible Injustice; We must only it seems do the worst work. Why, methinks one might serve this unconscionable stomach: But it may be we, like Serving men, May be permitted to fall to after him. This plunder though ought to be divided Among us that did the duty.

1 Com.

'Tis but reasonable; perhaps he thinks That full temptation cannot live In our hunger-starv'd bodies.

Mon.

Before I saw these sprightly Wenches I thought so too; but I am not hungry now: A Man has never any stomach When he is over-heated.

Enter Villerotto hastily, with the second Companion.

Vill.

Whist, whist; this way, this way: Now bravely seize the prey, he's coming directly to you.

Mont.

Pox o' th' News: Now have I no mind To the Wenches neither; this fear can lay that Devil, That will obey nor hunger, nor poverty.

Vill.

Come, follow me; thrust home and sure.

Mont.

I, I, so we might.

Vill.

Doubt not your full reward.

Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

Enter Miranzo in a Friars Habit, with a Friar and Baptista.

Mir.

Thanks, holy Sir; and pray be confident That I have no design nor thought Which may abuse this habit.

Fri.

You are too noble.

Mir.

In that rest assured; now Sir retire, I need no farther your protection.

Fri.

Heavens direct and send you peace of mind.

Mir.

Thanks, holy Father. Baptista, wait at my Uncle's House till you hear from me; I shall need nothing now but an old Shooe cast after me.

Bap.

I will not fail, Sir. This is strange! He uses not to be so disturb'd.

Exeunt severally.

SCENE VIII.

Enter Cialto solus.

Cial.

Love's constant diet is not hope, I see; For mine wou'd then be starv'd; but it is still alive, And strangely on despair knows how to thrive. Yet think, Cialto, how preposterous 'tis To fear the loss of that which 'twere unworthy In thee now to wish. But though the Sun must at a distance shine, It would beget an horror in Mankind, Shou'd they but fear he wou'd for ever set. Though in this place she rises a degree Up towards Heaven, yet she sets to me.

Enter Villerotto, Montalto, and two Companions, with their hands on their Swords.

Ha! who are these, whose dismal looks Are seconded by their postures!— Which is your way, Gentlemen? You stare as if you had lost it.

Vill.

No, we know our way, 'tis to thy heart, And thus we force it.

Cial.

'Twill be hard to find.

As they fight, enter Miranzo in his Friars Habit; he snatches a Sword from one of them, and by his help the Assailants are beat off.

Mir.

What horrid Act is this! How, Cialto!

Vill.

Villains, make up; sure I have sped him.

Cial.

So bold, Sir?

Vill.

Bold as your self, Sir.—It is in vain; Hell take these Rascals.

Mir.

What caus'd this foul play, Sir?

Cial.

Holy Sir, you know as much as I.

Mir.

How do you feel your self?

Cial.

Hurt, Sir; but not to any danger, as I guess; Yet I bleed: Your timely aid Makes my life yours; I shou'd not have expected Such a relief from any in your Habit.

Mir.

How, Cialto, do you not know me?—not yet? Look again; sure if you lov'd me, There's no disguise cou'd hide Miranzo from you.

Cial.

How, Miranzo! O, my Friend, what means this Habit?

Mir.

You bleed; I dare not spend the time to tell you. All my story; I doubt here was foul play. One of these Villains I know to be Brancadoro's Servant: But whither were you going?

Cial.

To the Nunnery; but pret hee satisfie my longing, What's to be done in this disguise?

Mir.

A very pious work, I can assure you;—why,— I am going to confess my Mistress.

Cial.

Thy Mistress!

Mir.

You may remember my Uncle was in a fair way To Marriage.

Cial.

Why, is he not married?

Mir.

No.

Cial.

How so?

Mir.

I frighted his Mistress away, and in this Nunnery She has taken Sanctuary; her I am going to confess; I should be abominably out of Countenance—

Cial.

At what, Man?

Mir.

Why, if she shou'd confess, amongst her sins, That she lov'd me, for one.

Cial.

You wou'd absolve her, wou'd you not?

Mir.

Yes, and her Penance shou'd be to continue in her Sin; But we trifle here, forgetting thy condition.

Cial.

Pish, I scarce feel my hurts.

Mir.

Come, our Adventures lie together; lean on me; Nay, yet more; counterfeit enough, 'twill move the more Pity; thy Wounds and my Habit will without doubt Open these charitable Gates.

They knock.

A Nun appears.

Nun.

What is your business, Father?

Mir.

I am sent from Father Vincentio, unto the Lady Emilia.

Nun.

Here's no such person.

Mir.

How! 'tis not the Custom of holy places to deny truths.

Nun.

Nor is it now practis'd.

Mir.

Why her Father sent away Father Vincentio, Immediately to dispatch some holy Man, To reconcile her troubled Spirit, Which caus'd her to fly hither.

Nun.

She came not to this place.

Mir.

Nor Samira, Castruccio's Niece?

Nun.

By all that's holy, neither.

Mir.

I dare not but believe you, Pardon me for pressing you so far.

Nun.

All Peace dwell with you.

Exit Nun.

Cial.

How, not here! did you not mistake, Miranzo? And have forgot, and sent her to some other place?

Mir.

I am amaz'd!

Cial.

Do not wonder; you cannot lose your Sister, sure.

Mir.

Not lose her!

Cial.

I hope so; for 'tis probable she knows your mind.

Mir.

I scarce understand yours, nor do you know your own; If you do, 'twill be ingenuous to speak it plainer.

Cial.

If I shou'd be jealous, or dislike any thing, 'Twou'd seem ridiculous; such humours Are only fit for those that either hope, Or else are in possession.—Farewel.— I wish your Sister happy.

He offers to go out.

Mir.

Stay;—consider this is the second time That you have started into mean suspicions: You will repent.

Cial.

I do repent that I pursu'd your Sister With a Passion that hath out-liv'd all my prosperity, As if a Ghost shou'd love; for 'tis not I, But 'tis Cialto's shadow that you gaze on.

Mir.

'Tis indeed his shade, or something less, That bears no shape of him, nor of his mind.

Cial.

I know it but too well;—yet perhaps You may have so much Friendship left, at my request, To give it out that I am dead.

Mir.

What's your design in that report?

Cial.

You will not do it then.

Mir.

I wou'd know why.

Cial.

Nay then.

Mir.

Come, your humour shall have its course, I'll do't without a question: But why shou'd I report that you are dead?

Cial.

You said you wou'd not ask me; nor need You fear to give out an untruth; it may be shortly so: In the mean time I must disguise my self, As from henceforward I shall every day Resemble less and less what once I was. Things running to decay grow every moment More unlike themselves; and so do I. That at the last the name of Friend Will not fit you or me; for I shall be decay'd, Never to be repair'd again; and we must part Still more and more, till at the last our distance Will grow so great that none will guess We ever were united: So Lines Both from one Centre drawn, still more and more divide, Till for the World at last they grow too wide.

Exit.

Mir.

I forgive thee, poor Cialto; for I am sensible What a distraction governs thee, by the confusion That throws my thoughts into as much disorder; For I have rais'd a War where Peace still flourish'd, In the calm Empire of Emilia's Breast; And she is fled from me back to her peace. —Yet—

He studies.

What is the meaning that my Sister fails? I know not what to think; I stand like one has Lost his way, and no Man near him to enquire it of. Yet there's a Providence above that knows The roads which ill Men tread, and can direct Enquiring Justice: The Passengers that travel In the wide Ocean, where no paths are, Look up, and leave their Conduct to a Star.

Exit.