Volume I Part 99 (1/2)

_Franc._ Yes, Sir, nor knows of that vile Message which I brought you.

_Silv._ What Devil set thee on to tempt me then?

_Franc._ The worst of Devils, hopeless, raging Love; And you, my Lord, were the unhappy Object.

_Mar._ Oh sinful Woman, what was thy Design?

_Cleo._ What means all this? [Aside.

_Franc._ At least to have enjoy'd him once; which done, Thinking that it had been the fair _Cleonte_, It would have made him hate her.

_Silv._ Should all thy other Sins be unrepented, The Piety of this Confession saves thee.

Pardon, _Cleonte_, my rude Thoughts of thee, [Kneels, she takes him up.

I had design'd to have kill'd thee-- Had not this Knowledge of thy Innocence Arriv'd before I'd seen thee next.

And, Sir, your Pardon too I humbly beg, [To _Ambrosio_.

With license to depart; I cannot live Where I must only see my beauteous Sister; That Torment is too great to be supported, That still must last, and never hope a Cure.

_Amb._ Since you are so resolv'd, I will unfold A Secret to you, that perhaps may please you.

_Silv._ Low at your Feet I do implore it, Sir. [Kneels.

_Amb._ Your Quality forbids this Ceremony.

[Takes him up.

_Silv._ How, Sir!

_Amb._ Your Father was the mighty Favourite, the Count _d'Olivarez_; your Mother, _Spain's_ celebrated Beauty, _Donna Margarita Spiniola_, by whom your Father had two natural Sons, _Don Lovis de Harro_, and your self _Don Roderigo_. The Story of his Disgrace, you know, with all the World; 'twas then he being banisht from the Court, he left you to my Care then very young. I receiv'd you as my own, and as more than such educated you, and as your Father oblig'd me to do, brought you always up about their Majesties; for he hoped, if you had Beauty and Merits, you might inherit part of that Glory he lost.

_Mar._ This is wondrous.

_Amb._ This Truth you had not known so soon, had you not made as great an Interest at Court as any Man so young ever did, and if I had not acquitted my self in all Points as became the Friend of so great and brave a Man, as Count _d'Olivarez_: the Fortune he left you was two Millions of Crowns.

_Silv._ Let me embrace your feet for this blest News. Is not the fair _Cleonte_ then my Sister?

_Amb._ No, Sir, but one whom long since I design'd your Wife, if you are pleas'd to think her worthy of it.

[Offers her.

_Silv._ Without her, Sir, I do despise my Being; And do receive her as a Blessing sent From Heaven to make my whole Life happy.

_Amb._ What say you, _Cleonte_?

_Cleo._ Sir, I must own a Joy greater than is fit for a Virgin to express.

_Mar._ Generous Don _Roderigo_, receive me as your Friend, and pardon all the Fault you found in me as a Brother.

[Embraces him.

_Silv._ Be ever dear unto my Soul, _Marcel_.