Volume Ii Part 96 (2/2)

_Mar_. Which way shall I direct him to be safer?--how is it, Sir? I hope you are not hurt.

_Fil_. Not that I feel, what art thou ask'st so kindly?

_Mar_. A Servant to the Roman Curtezan, who sent me forth to wait your coming, Sir; but finding you in danger, shar'd it with you.--Come, let me lead you into safety, Sir--

_Fil_. Thou'st been too kind to give me cause to doubt thee.

_Mar_. Follow me, Sir, this Key will give us entrance through the Garden.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ Octavio _with his Sword in his hand_.

_Oct_. Oh! what d.a.m.n'd luck had I so poorly to be vanquisht! When all is hush'd, I know he will return,--therefore I'll fix me here, till I become a furious Statue--but I'll reach his heart.

Sir _Sig_. Oh _lamentivolo fato_--what b.l.o.o.d.y Villains these Popish _Italians_ are!

_Enter_ Julio.

_Oct_. Hah--I hear one coming this way--hah--the door opens too, and he makes toward it--pray Heaven he be the right, for this I'm sure's the House.--Now, Luck, an't be thy will-- [_Follows_ Julio _towards the door softly_.

_Jul_. The Rogues are fled, but how secure I know not;-- And I'll pursue my first design of Love, And if this _Silvianetta_ will be kind--

_Enter_ Laura _from the House in a Night-gown_.

_Lau_. Whist--who is't names _Silvianetta_?

_Jul_. A Lover, and her Slave-- [_She takes him by the hand_.

_Lau_. Oh, is it you,--are you escap'd unhurt?

Come to my Bosom--and be safe for ever--

_Jul_. 'Tis Love that calls, and now Revenge must stay, --This hour is thine, fond Boy; the next that is my own I'll give to Anger.--

_Oct_. Oh, ye pernicious Pair,--I'll quickly change the Scene of Love into a rougher and more unexpected Entertainment.

[_She leads_ Julio _in_.--Oct. _follows close, they shut the door upon 'em. Sir_ Sig. _thrusts out his head to hearken, hears no body, and advances.

Sir _Sig_. Sure the Devil reigns to night; wou'd I were shelter'd, and let him rain Fire and Brimstone: for pa.s.s the streets I dare not--this shou'd be the House--or hereabouts I'm sure 'tis.--Hah--what's this--a String--of a Bell I hope--I'll try to enter; and if I am mistaken, 'tis but crying Con licentia.

[_Rings, enter_ Philippa. _Phil_. Who's there?

Sir _Sig_. 'Tis I, 'tis I, let me in quickly.--

_Phil_. Who--the _English_ Cavalier?

Sir _Sig_. The same--I am right--I see I was expected.

_Phil_. I'm glad you're come--give me your hand.--

Sir _Sig_. I am fortunate at last,--and therefore will say with the famous Poet.

_No Happiness like that atchicv'd with Danger, --Which once overcome--I lie at Rack and Manger_.

[_Exeunt_.

ACT IV.

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