Volume I Part 71 (1/2)

_Silv._ Yes, at the Corner of St. _Jerom's_; where after seeing many Faces which pleas'd me not, I would have took my leave; but the Matron of the House, a kind obliging Lady, seeing me so nice, and of Quality, (tho disguis'd) told me she had a Beauty, such an one as had Count _d'

Olivarez_ in his height of Power seen, he would have purchas'd at any rate. I grew impatient to see this fine thing, and promis'd largely: then leading me into a Room as gay, and as perfum'd as an Altar upon a Holy-day, I saw seated upon a Couch of State--

_Mar._ _Hippolyta_!

_Silv._ _Hippolyta_ our Sister, drest like a _Venice_ Curtezan, With all the Charms of a loose Wanton, Singing and playing to her ravisht Lover, Who I perceiv'd a.s.sisted to expose her.

_Mar._ Well, Sir, what follow'd?

_Silv._ Surpriz'd at sight of this, I did withdraw, And left them laughing at my little Confidence.

_Mar._ How! left them? and left them living too?

_Silv._ If a young Wench will be gadding, Who can help it?

_Mar._ 'Sdeath you should, were you that half her Brother, Which my Father too doatingly believes you.

[Inrag'd.

_Silv._ How! do you question his Belief, _Marcel_?

_Mar._ I ne'er consider'd it; be gone and leave me.

_Silv._ Am I a Dog that thus you bid me vanish?

What mean you by this Language? [Comes up to him.

And how dare you upbraid me with my Birth, Which know, _Marcel_, is more ill.u.s.trious far Than thine, being got when Love was in his reign, With all his Youth and Heat about him?

I, like the Birds of bravest kind, was hatcht In the hot Sun-s.h.i.+ne of Delight; whilst Thou, _Marcel_, wer't poorly brooded In the cold Nest of Wedlock.

_Mar._ Thy Mother was some base notorious Strumpet, And by her Witchcraft reduc'd my Father's Soul, And in return she paid him with a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Which was thou.

_Silv._ _Marcel_, thou ly'st. [Strikes him.

_Mar._ Tho 'twere no point of Valour, but of Rashness To fight thee, yet I'll do't.

_Silv._ By Heaven, I will not put this Injury up.

[They fight, _Silvio_ is wounded.

[Fight again. Enter _Ambrosio_, and _Cleonte_ between; _Silvio_ falls into the Arms of _Cleonte_.

_Amb._ Hold! I command you hold; Ah, Traitor to my Blood, what hast thou done?

[To _Marcel_, who kneels and lays his Sword at his Feet.

_Silv._ In fair _Cleonte's_ Arms!

O I could kiss the Hand that gives me Death, So I might thus expire.

_Mar._ Pray hear me, Sir, before you do condemn me.

_Amb._ I will hear nothing but thy Death p.r.o.nounc'd, Since thou hast wounded him, if it be mortal.