Volume Iv Part 43 (1/2)

_Lor._ The Girl is well, and if she were not my Sister, I would give you a more certain Proof of my Opinion of her; She has excellent good Hair, fine Teeth, And good Hands, and the best natur'd Fool-- Come, come, Sir, I'll bring you to her, And then I'll leave you; For I have a small Affair of Love to dispatch.

_Fred._ This is a freedom that sutes not with the Humour of an _Italian_.

_Lor._ No, faith, my Lord; I believe my Mother play'd Foul play with some _Englishman_; I am so willing to do you a good office to my Sister.

And if by her Humour you become of that opinion too, I shall hope to render myself more acceptable To you by that Franchise.

Enter _Galliard_, whispers.

_Fred._ Thou knowest my grateful Temper, --No matter; here, carry this Letter to _Cloris_, And make some excuse for my not coming this Evening.

[Gives him a Letter, and goes out with _Lorenzo_.

_Gal._ So, poor La.s.s, 'tis a hundred to one if she be not Lay'd by now, and _Laura_ must succeed her: Well, even _Frederick_, I see, is but a Man, But his Youth and Quality will excuse him; And 'twill be call'd Gallantry in him, When in one of us, 'tis Ill-nature and Inconstancy. [Exit.

SCENE II. _Antonio's_ House.

Enter _Ismena_ and _Isabella_.

_Isab._ Nay, Madam, 'tis in vain to deny it; Do you think I have liv'd to these years, And cannot interpret cross Arms, imperfect Replies, Your sudden Weepings, your often Sighing, Your melancholy Walks, and making Verses too?

And yet I must not say that this is Love.

_Ism._ Art thou so notable a Judge of it?

_Isab._ I should be, or I am a very dull Scholar, For I have lost the foolish Boy as many Darts, As any Woman of my age in _Florence_.

_Ism._ Thou hast paid dear for thy knowledge then.

_Isab._ No, the hurt ones did, the other still made good, with very little Pain on either side.

_Ism._ I must confess, I think it is not so hard to get Wounds, as 'tis to get them cur'd again.

_Isab._ I am not of your opinion, nor ever saw that Man who had not Faults to Cure, As well as Charms to kill.

_Ism._ Since thou'rt so good a Judge of Men, Prithee tell me how thou lik'st _Alberto_.

_Isab._ I knew 'twould come to this-- [Aside.

Why, well, Madam.

_Ism._ No more than so?

_Isab._ Yes, wondrous well, since I am sure he loves you, And that indeed raises a Man's Value.

_Ism._ Thou art deceiv'd, I do not think he loves me.

_Isab._ Madam, you cannot but see a thousand Marks on't.

_Ism._ Thou hast more Skill than I; But prithee why does he not tell me so himself?

_Isab._ Oh Madam, whilst he takes you for _Clarina_, 'Twould shew his disrespect to tell his Love?

But when he knows _Ismena_ is the Object, He'll tire you with the wish'd for story.