 | The Spanish Curat |  |
Scena quarta.
Enter Octavio, Jacintha.Oct.
If that you lov'd Ascanio for himselfe,
And not your private ends, you rather should
Blesse the faire opportunitie, that restores him
To his Birth-right, and the Honours he was borne to,
Then grieve at his good Fortune.
Jac.
Grieve Octavio?
I would resigne my Essence, that he were
As happy as my love could fashion him,
Though every blessing that should fall on him,
Might prove a curse to me, my sorrow springs
Out of my feare, and doubt he is not safe.
I am acquainted with Don Henrique's nature,
And I have heard too much the fiery temper
Of Madam Violante: can you thinke
That she, that almost is at war with heaven
For being barren, will with equall eyes
Behold a Son of mine?
Oct.
His Fathers care,
That for the want of Issue, tooke him home,
(Though with the forfeiture of his owne fame)
Will looke unto his safetie.
Jac.
Step-mothers
Have many eyes, to find a way to mischiefe,
Though blind to goodnesse.
Enter Jamy and Ascanio.
Oct.
Here comes Don Jamy,
And with him our Ascanio.
Jamy.
Good youth leave me,
I know thou art forbid my company,
And onely to be seene with me, will call on
Thy Fathers anger.
Ars.
Sir, if that to serve you
Could loose me any thing (as indeed it cannot)
I still would follow you. Alas I was borne
To doe you hurt but not to help my selfe,
I was, for some particular end, tooke home,
But am cast off againe.
Jam.
Is't possible?
Asc.
The Lady, whom my Father calls his wife
Abhors my sight, is sick of me, and forc'd him
To turne me out of dores.
Iac.
By my best hopes
I thanke her crueltie, for it comes neere
A saving charitie.
Asc.
I am onely happy
That yet I can relieve you, 'pray you share:
My Father's wondrous kind, and promises
That I should be supplide: but sure the Lady
Is a malitious woman, and I feare
Meanes me no good.
Enter Servant.
Iamy.
I am turn'd a stone with wonder,
And know not what to thinke.
Ser.
From my Lady,
Your private eare, and this—
Iamy.
New Miracles?
Ser.
She sayes, if you dare make your selfe a Fortune,
She will propose the meanes; My Lord Don Henrique
Is now from home and she alone expects you,
If you dare trust her so, if not despaire of
A second offer,
Exit.
Jam.
Though there were an Ambush
Layd for my life, I'll on and sound this secret,
Retire thee (my Ascanio) with thy Mother:
But stir not forth, some great designe's on foot,
Fall what can fall, if e're the Sun be set,
I see you not, give me dead.
Asc.
We will expect you,
And those bless'd Angels, that love goodnesse, guard you.
Exeunt.
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