The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iv Part 58

_Lor._ And here's for you too; a Letter from _Curtius_, And therefore I would not open it: I took it up At the Post-house. [She reads, and seems pleas'd.

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 serv'd; And why the Devil should I expect my Sister should Have more Virtue than my self?

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 Villanies? 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 _Philibert_ from the Prince.

_Lor._ Why, how now, Youngster, I see you intend 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.

_Clo._ I know not what you mean.

_Lor._ Sir, you cannot deceive me so; And you were right serv'd, you would be made fit For nothing but the great _Turk's Seraglio_.

_Clo._ You mistake my business, Sir.

_Lor._ Your Blushes give you the lye, 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 Punctillio's of honourable Revenge.

There is but one experiment left to prove my self so; And if that fail, I'll e'en renounce my Country.

--Boy, harkye,--there is a certain kindness You may do me, and get your pardon for being found here.

_Clo._ You shall command me any thing.

_Lor._ Prithee how long hast thou been set up for thy self, Hah?

_Clo._ As how, Sir?

_Lor._ Poh, thou understand'st me.

_Clo._ Indeed I do not, Sir; what is't you mean?

_Lor._ A smooth-fac'd Boy, and ask such a Question?

Fy, fy, this Ignorance was ill counterfeited To me that understand the World.

_Clo._ Explain your self, Sir.

_Lor._ Lookye, ten or twenty Pistoles will do you No hurt, will it?

_Clo._ Not any, Sir.

_Lor._ Why, so, 'tis well any thing will make thee Apprehend.

_Clo._ 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 d'ye mean, Sir?

And, Lord, I understand you not.

Well, _Philibert_, here's earnest to bind the Bargain; I am now in haste; when I see thee next, I'll tell thee more. [_Lorenzo_ whispers to _Laura_.

_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 us'd me basely; Oh, 'tis a Baggage.

_Lau._ Let me alone to revenge you on _Isabella_, 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 pay'st her home.

_Lau._ I warrant you, Sir, this was happy; Now shall I see _Curtius_.

_Lor._ _Philibert_, 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. 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.