Volume Iii Part 50 (1/2)

[_Goes out with the_ Turk.

_Enter_ Antonio, _and_ Clara _to_ Jacinta.

_Jac_. Madam, the rarest sport--Ha, ha, ha.

_Ant_. You need not tell us, we have been witness to all. But to our own Affairs, my dearest _Clara_, Let us not lose this blessed opportunity, Which Art nor Industry can give again if this be idly lost.

_Cla_. Nay, hang me if it be my fault, _Antonio_: Charge it to the number of your own Sins; it shall not lie at my door.

_Ant_. 'Tis generously said, and take notice, my little dear Virago, _Guzman_ has a Priest ready to tie you to your word.

_Cla_. As fast as you please; hang her that fears the conjuring knot for me: But what will our Fathers say--mine who expects me to be the Governor's Lady; and yours, who designs _Isabella_ for a Daughter-in-Law?

_Ant_. Mine will be glad of the Change; and, for yours, if he be not pleased, let him keep his Portion to himself--that's the greatest mischief he can do us: and for my Friend, the Governor, he's above their Anger.

_Cla_. Why do we lose precious time? I long to be at--I _Clara_ take thee _Antonio_,--the very Ceremony will be tedious, so much I wish thee mine; and each delay gives me a fear something will s.n.a.t.c.h me from thee.

_Ant_. No power of Man can do't, thou art so guarded; but now the Priest is employed in clapping up the honourable Marriage between the False Count and Isabella.

_Jac_. Lord, what a jest 'twill be to see 'em coupled, ha, ha.

_Cla_. Unmerciful _Antonio_, to drive the Jest so far; 'tis too unconscionable!

_Ant_. By Heaven, I'm so proud I cannot think my Revenge sufficient for Affronts, nor does her Birth, her Breeding and her Vanity--deserve a better Fortune; besides,--he has enough to set up for a modern Spark-- the Fool has just Wit and good Manners to pa.s.s for a Fop of Fas.h.i.+on; and, where he is not known, will gain the Reputation of a fine accomplish'd Gentleman,--yet I'm resolved she shall see him in his Geers, in his original Filthiness, that my Revenge may be home upon the foolish Jilt.

_Cla_. Cruel _Antonio_, come, lets go give 'em Joy.

_Ant_. And finish our Affair with Mr. Vicar.

_Enter_ Isabella, _her Train borne by the great_ Page, Guiliom, _with the other great_ Page, _and_ Francisco _bare_.

--Joy to my n.o.ble Lord, and you, fair _Isabella_!

_Isa_. Thank thee, Fellow,--but, surely, I deserved my t.i.tles from thee.

_Cla_. Your Honour I hope will pardon him.

_Isa_. How now, _Clara_! [_Nodding to her_.

_Jac_. I give your Honour joy.

_Isa_. Thank thee, poor Creature.--

_Fran_. My Lord, this Honour you have done my Daughter is so signal, that whereas I designed her but five thousand Pound, I will this happy day settle on her ten.

_Guil_. d.a.m.n dirty trash, your Beauty is sufficient--hum --Signior Don _Antonio_, get the Writings ready. [_Aside_.

Money--hang Money.

_Fran_. How generous these Lords are; nay, my Lord, you must not refuse a Father's Love, if I may presume to call you Son--I shall find enough besides for my Ransom, if the Tyrant be so unmerciful to ask more than my Wife pays him.