 | The Disappointment : or the Mother in Fashion |  |
46
ACT. IV.
Scene. I.
Enter Alphonso disguis'd, with Rogero.Rog.
Sir, I must leave you awhile.
Alph.
With all my heart.
Rog.
How Sir, with all your heart? why then perhaps
You don't care for my Company:
Alph.
O most infinitely Sir, as naturally as a Woman loves a Fiddle
And a Fool: I shan't dance till you return agen.
Rog.
Why Sir, you don't take me for a Fool or a Fidler?
Alph.
Still you're in the wrong:
But that's the common infirmity of long Beards,
Heaven and a Barber may mend all.
Rog.
A delicate witty fellow this: I love him dearly, dearly well by Jupiter:
But 'tis an ill-natur'd Toad: A Pox of his ill nature: But your great Wits must
have a relish that way. But as I was saying, I must leave you.
Alph.
Your pleasure Sir.
Rog.
My pleasure Sir, no Sir, 'Tis not my pleasure, Why what a plaguy,
testy, troublesome, quarrelsome Puppy 'tis.—
Perhaps 'twould please me better to stay here!
Alph.
O business must be obeyed.
Rog.
Sayst thou so?
Alph.
By all means.
Rog.
I gad, and thou'rt i'th' right on't agen:
But I shall suddenly return.
Alph.
The sooner the better.
Rog.
By Jupiter, it goes against my Conscience to part with thee:
I am sorry for't: but I must leave thee.
Alph.
Art thou my old Lad?
Rog.
Heartily sorry.
Alph.
An Onion will express it at your Eyes.
For me, tho' I shall be a loser by your absence,
The thought on't moves not much.
Rog.
Not move you! Why Sir, are you not sorry for my absence?
Alph.
Not at all.
Rog.
You are not sorry then?
Alph.
Not I. There's a Philosophical Cataplasm in my Grandmothers
Dispensatory, exceeds a Plantane Leaf for a broken-shin.
Rog.
Ay, may be so. But what of that?
Alpb.
Why that serves me well enough upon these Occasions.
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Every man has his liking.—But I prefer Patience to a Post-horse.
Rog.
Patience is a virtue indeed.
Alph.
O ever in a mad Dog!
Rog.
Why in a mad Dog pray?
Alph.
Hypocrisie, that over-rules the world,
Will have it so, things are not what they seem!
Go to the Pulpits, there you'l hear of patience;
But if you think to find it in the Church,
You'l lose your labour: Mark the Clergies looks,
And you would swear that every Priest ingross't
That virtue to himself, when to speak truth,
'Tis not their Fasting, Watching, or their Prayers,
But envy at the next fat Benefice,
That pines 'em into Ghosts: Nay Fools themselves
Are not contented with their Lot: For I
My self would be a Knave, if I knew how
To set the Mill a going.—
Rog.
An admirable Fellow this! Gad I love and honour him, for preaching
against the Priests: I warrant him a man of Parts, and of my own Religion: But
you'l pardon me, I must away—But Sir, as I was saying, you may be very private
here; nothing will disturb your meditations, till I see you agen.
Alph.
I thank your care!
Rog.
Your Servant.
Alph.
Your Servant Sir.—
[Exit.]
This must be that Rogero, whom my friend
So oft has spoke of: Well, he knows me not,
Nor my design: But thinks my few, poor Brains
Lie under the Dominion of the Moon,
And this Disguise appears the Livery
My folly wears, as she grows to the full.
I must not stir abroad before my hour,
'Tis yet too early for the Duke; at Nine,
Thin follow'd in the Belvidere, he takes
His morning walk: The pleasure of the shade
May tempt him from his followers to the Grove,
And there I'le meet him, and make vengeance sure.
I hear some coming this way: It may be this old mans Daughter,
I've heard much of her, and would know her.
[retires.]
Enter Juliana and Angelline.
Ang.
You come most luckily: But I must blush
That, what the obedience of a Child should hide,
I must reveal, a Parents sin and shame.
Jul.
Is she still obstinate!
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Inflexible,
Not to be mov'd by Virtue or by Love.
Jul.
When comes Alberto here?
Ang.
Too well I know my Mothers diligence
Will take th'advantage of my Fathers absence,
And give him this occasion.
Jul.
And I know
There's an intemperate Devil in his Blood,
That never slips an opportunity
Where Virtue may be bought, or Woman ruin'd.
Ang.
Is there no way to 'scape him?
Jul.
Yes, a fair one,
What I have satisfi'd you in before;
Becoming well our Sexes Charity,
To a weak Womans wrongs; 'tis what you may
Without a stain of honour undertake,
To free your self, and give me an occasion
To oblige the man I love, perhaps reclaim him.
Mother
within.
Angelline! Why Child?
Ang.
My Mother calls,
I have not time to hear your story out,
But I am half instructed; pray withdraw
And prompt upon occasion.
[Juliana withdraws.]
Enter Mother.
Moth.
O! Have I found thee?
Thou seest Child, a Mothers Love attends upon thee always.
Ang.
I thank you for your Care.
Moth.
Ay, Angelline! I am a careful Mother, up early, and down late,
Contriving for thy good, how to make thee a Woman, Child?
Ang.
A few years Forsooth will bring that about,
Without breaking your rest for't.
Moth.
'Tis a forward age indeed: I my self was not very backward in my
youth, no Novice at thy Years: Fifteen was an age of Information with me,
that when my heart panted, and my eye was pleased, could tell me what I
wanted without an Interpreter: But Angelline!
Ang.
Forsooth.
Moth.
I would make a happy Woman of thee Child!
And to that purpose I have sent to my Lord Alberto!
Ang.
How mother? He has no business here.
Jul.
But I shall find him an imployment if he comes.
[Aside.]
Moth.
No business here! away! I see your ignorance; and 'twill
Become you to be instructed by me,
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For I have run thro the experience of many years: I have made shrew'd observations
in my time, Mankind has been my study, and I warrant you 'twould do
your heart good to hear me read a Lecture on every part about 'em; I'm Critical
in every Point, a nice Distinguisher of the several Ages, Statures, and Dispositions
of men, nay the Colour of their Eyes, and Hair cannot escape me...
And for the true performing Complexion—I will live and dye in the perswasion
of dark brown.
Jul.
Nothing in commendation of a long Nose?
[Aside.]
Ang.
You are very knowing Mother.
Moth.
And thou shalt learn: I have provided thee a Master that will instruct
thee, and in that easie Method, thou wilt wish still to be task't with Lessons of
his Love.
Ang.
Indeed I fain would learn, but yet I fear.
Moth.
Fear nothing Angelline: Fear nothing: What! let the worst come
to the worst a man's but a man, and a Fiddle for favour. I think I hear him
within.
Ang.
But Mother I shall so blush! I cannot think of shewing him my face—
I must be veil'd.
Moth.
Well, Well. The Business of your Face is over.
There's something else can entertain a Lover.
[Exit.]
Ang.
You may appear Juliana. I have urg'd this Business
To a quarrel, and you must bear the brunt on't.
Jul.
I am preparing for the incounter—
This Veil transforms me to Angelline: But yet—
Ang.
Why do you sigh?
Jul.
'Tis pity to deceive him.
Ang.
What if I took this Business on my self?
Jul.
Not for the world Angelline.—
But if I were a Maid agen.
Ang.
You would not venture.
Jul.
Indeed I ought not, but I feel I should—
Ang.
You wou'd be wiser.
Jul.
Only while he pleas'd.
Ang.
I hear 'em coming. To your posture.
Jul.
Farewel.
Ang.
Adieu.
Angelline retires. And Juliana stands veil'd in Angellines place.
Enter Alberto and Mother.
Alb.
At last the tedious date of hopes, and fears
Is at an end, and she is all my own.
O let my arms thus press thee to my heart,
That labours with the longings of my love,
Struggles, and heaves, and fain would out to meet thee.
But why this Veil? why dost thou hide thy face?
50
Moth.
Alass! poor Child! I warrant you her thoughts run all another
way. Speak to him Angelline.
Alb.
She turns away.
Moth.
No, no, my Lord! She's only confounded with her Passion.
Child, one word to save thy Mothers life.—
[To Ang.
She says, She's so mightily confounded,
[To Alber.
She knows not what to say.
Alass! you know Maids must have their fits of modesty,
Besides at present you may better spare her tongue,
You will have talking time enough hereafter.
Alb.
O you instruct me Mother.
Moth.
This way, this way, my Lord!
Now Child, but shew thy self thy Mothers Daughter.
You will be gentle to her at the first:
Bate but a little of your Lordships vigour: She's young
And tender, and cannot bear, alass! what we can bear!
Alb.
She points me to the Door.
Moth.
And chides your stay. Away my Lord, away.
Ex. Alberto with Juliana, the Mother following.
Angelline comes forth.
Ang.
Thus far I'm safe: But how to secure my self for the future, from his
Importunities, and my Mothers Unnatural Office—I am yet to learn. If I
should tell my Father, he is rash, and may do some violence to my Mother.
And tho she has put off a Parents Love, I cannot the Obedience of a Child. I
must not be seen; here's a Door open. I'le in, and hide my self till the business
be over.
[Goes in to Alphonso.
Enter Rogero.
Rog.
God forgive me—I've staid too long from the Gentleman. But his
understanding is none of the wisest—And hee'l excuse me without a Complement.—I
think I hear him.—Well, he's a Companion for an Emperour.
Alberto returns with Juliana.
Alb.
O Angelline! It is impossible to say how much I love thee.
Rog.
Mercy upon me! my Angelline with Alberto!
[Aside.
Alb.
The Exstasie still triumphs in my heart,
My very thought's so full of love, and thee,
That words want meaning to express my joy.
Rog.
That Extasie! what does he mean now?
But I'le be with him, and his Extasie.
Alb.
Give me thy blushes. Throw away that Veil,
That darkens sight, and feast my longing Eyes:
Come! shew me, ha!
[See's Rog.
Rog.
Yes! She can shew my Lord.
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Rogero here!
Rog.
And it seems you have seen the Show: But before you and I part, you
shall pay for your peeping.
Alb.
Now Impudence, assist me!
Rogero, Thou see'st I make bold in thy absence.
Rog.
For which in your presence, and in the presence of all the world, I
will make bold to cut your Throat.
Alb.
What dost thou mean man?
Rog.
Nay, If you are thereabouts: What do you mean by your Extasies?
Is my Daughter an Interpreter for your hard words?
But, If you be for your Extasies,
I'le Extasie you, with a Pox at the end on't.
Alb.
Your Daughter! your Daughter may in time.—
Rog.
Here's a Dog. Here's a Rogue for you.—But draw Sir, draw.
Jul.
If I stay, I shall be discovered,
I'le 'een sneak off with what I have got, and be thankful.
Rog.
You Gentlewoman! Whither away so fast?
If you dance you must pay the Fidler.
Alb.
Would I were fairly rid of this old Fellow,
I have no stomach to murder the Father, when the Daughter has made me so
handsome an entertainment already! Rogero, I won't fight with thee, prithee
put up thy Sword.
Rog.
Then will I Cage thee, and raise an Estate at six pence a piece by
shewing thee thro all Italy for a Mahumetan Whoremaster as thou art.
Alb.
Come, come you trine time.—I must go by.
Rog.
This is your way.
Alb.
Nay then!
[Draws.
Rog.
With all my heart. But first, Thou most intemperate Placket-Monger!
I here declare for the service you have done me in my Daughter there.—
I will lye with your whole Family, from your great Grandam, do you see,
down to her fourth Generation in Leading-strings.—I'le do't Sir, I'le do't.
But come Sir. Have at you Sir.
Alb.
Think but a little.
Rog.
'Tis to no more purpose. I won't Sir, I won't.
Alb.
I would not kill thee.
Rog. presses Alberto, Lorenz. enters between 'em.
Enter Lorenzo.
Lor.
So! Now I can fairly make my retreat. Farewel, Sir.
Rog.
Lorenzo! My Lord. Why don't you see there, my Daughter there?
Why she has been—
Lor.
What art thou mad?
Rog.
And shall he carry it off thus?
Alb.
Ay, ay, ay. 'Tis so. He's perfectly distracted. He foams already at
the mouth.
Exit.
Lor.
What of thy Daughter man?
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O nothing, nothing at all my Lord.
But I shall never have such an opportunity agen.
But come hither Mistriss, 'o mine: Thou most abominable Angelline!
Come and confess—Nay, nay, off with your Veil, and appear
In the true likeness of a Strumpet, and.—
[Pulls off her Veil.
Lor.
Why this is not Angelline.
Rog.
Not my Daughter!
Lor.
No.
Rog.
By Jupiter, I am glad on't with all my heart.
Jul.
Alass! I am a poor unhappy Creature!
Rog.
Ay, ay. Any thing with all my soul Madam.
Jul.
Betray'd by th'injustice of my Fate,
And a believing Womans easiness,
To the sure ruin of Alberto's Love.
Rog.
Love Madam, What should a young Lady do but Love?
Jul.
How I came here, and by what accident
He call'd me Angelline, your Daughter can inform you.
Rog.
No body doubts it Madam.
Jul.
Pray be not angry.
Rog.
I was never better pleas'd in my life,
Never since I was born, Madam.
Jul.
I hope Sir you'l the easier pardon me.
Rog.
Pardon! Why, I'le come upon my knees to you. But I'le never forgive
my self, never Madam: For coming in like an old Fumbling-Coxcomb, so
unseasonably to spoil sport: If you had said but the least word to me, I would
have held the Door in a civil way, and been thankful for the Office.
Lor.
What turn Pimp Rogero?
Rog.
In the humour I am in, I could Pimp, Lie, Hold the Door, or do any
thing for any body—
But my Lord; I am glad y'are come. The finest Gentleman—
Lor.
Where?
Rog.
Here in the next room. He's somewhat Philosophically given, and
hates Company, especially-Womens Company; for which Reason I am the
easier inclin'd to entertain him in my Family.
[Enter Alphonso and Angelline.
He's a great Scholar, and a very wise man.
Lor.
Is not that Angelline with him?
Rog.
Ay. Tis so indeed—'Tis Angelline.
Lor.
If his wisdom hath found the Philosophers Stone in your House: You
are certainly a made Man.
Rog.
If my Daughter has: I am sure she's made a Woman.
Alph.
What I have heard, and you confirm me in, shall turn to your advantage,
do not doubt me.
Rog.
Sir.
Goes to Alph.
Alph.
I am glad you are return'd
Lor.
Sure I should know that voice.
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I have discovered here.—
Rog.
Ay, So have I, a Rascal.
Alph.
Ha! Lorenzo there!
Then to my best disguise!
[Aside.
Rog.
You're for the Philosophers Stone as I take it;
Is my Daughter turn'd Chymist?
Does she club with you in the Experiment?
Lor.
Or are you a Tutor to instruct her in the Liberal Arts?
Rog.
Of whoring I believe, and I will as liberally
Reward him for his pains.
Jul.
Oh hold! for Heaven's sake hold, and hear me;
I may redeem you from this Error.
Rog.
'Tis to no more purpose.
Lor.
'Tis some mistake, and you must hear her.
Rog.
Nay, if I must, and it be but a mistake,
I care not if I do.
Alph.
If he discover me in this disguise
How shall I stand it! or how answer him
To all those Questions, that his Doubts will raise?
If he suspect my Purpose: Why, what then?
Tho' his Suspitions fed upon his Truth,
And his clear Eye in spreading Characters
Read here upon my Forehead my Designs,
He knows I wou'd go on.
[Aside.
Lor.
This has indeed the face of Likelihood.
Rog.
Of Truth it self: 'Tis impossible it should be otherwise.
Lor.
Rogero! I would be private.
Rog.
Not with my Daughter?
Lor.
No, no: With this Gentleman.
Rog.
With all my Heart. I'le examine this business within.
Tho' I believe the Philosopher is no better than he should be.
Lor.
I'le pass my word for him.
[Exit. with Ang. and Jul.
Alph.
I thank you Sir, and take my leave.
[Going to the Door, starts and turns.
Lor.
Alphonso!
Alph.
Ha! I am discovered! Well, Alphonso then.
Lor.
You start and seem disordered.
Alph.
Not at all.
Lor.
I am glad on't.
Alph.
Glad of what, Lorenzo!
Lor.
Glad to find thee firm and constant to thy self,
To find thee still the man I ever lov'd;
Just, Valiant, Honest, Loyal, and my Friend!
Alph.
O I am nothing, when not thine, thy Friend.
Lor.
I know thou art my Friend: And therefore I
Am glad to find thee and thy mind at peace;
Thy thoughts are all clear, as Chrystal Current Streams,
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From the fair Fountain of an honest soul.
Alph.
I never thought him troublesome till now.
[Aside
Lor.
'Tis so: But I will cast beyond him yet.
Alph.
Wou'd I were rid of him.
Lor.
Alphonso!
Alph.
Ha!
Lor.
All is not well within Friend!
Alph.
Never better.
Lor.
Come, come in vain you stifle a Concern
That most appears, when you hide it most.
Alph.
Concern! Prithee no more. I know of none.
Lor.
This seeming may acquit you so the world,
But not to me: Be satisfi'd, I know you.
Alph.
Why then you know me, and be satisfi'd.
Lor.
Tho' I have grounds sufficient for my doubts,
I would not rashly entertain a thought
That thou wouldst use false dealing with thy Friend!
Alph.
This is unkindly urg'd!
Lor.
Then answer me,
Why this disguise? and I not know the Cause,
Alph.
O Friend! no more of that: There is a Cause,
And I would have thee think, when I conceal
my self from thee, that then (if possible)
I would for ever hide me from my self,
And all the World.
Lor.
May I not know that Cause?
Alph.
I'm ill at ease
At present, most unhappy in my thoughts;
Unfit for many words: When next we meet—
Lor.
When next we meet! Alphonso have a care.
Alph.
Of what Lorenzo?
Lor.
Come! 'Tis poorly done
To trifle with your Friend. And let me tell you—
Alph.
Nay if you grow warm: Farewel.
Lor.
You go not hence.
Alph.
How!
Lor.
Till I am better known to your Designs.
Alph.
Away, no more of this.
Lor.
Then be advis'd.
Alph.
Last night, you may remember, I was left
Under the hard oppression of my doubts;
And left by you in my extreamest need,
When only you cou'd satisfie my thoughts,
And yet I question'd not.
Lor.
My Business then
55
Alph.
So mine is now!
Lor.
I'le give you Reasons why I then conceal'd it.
Alph.
My Reasons you shall have hereafter,
Why mine is now conceal'd.
[Going.
Lor.
Nay, then 'tis plain;
And mark me what I say, you sha'not go.
Alph.
How! sha'not go?
Lor.
By Heav'n you sha'not go.
Alph.
Who shall oppose my way?
Lor.
Sir; You may buy
The knowledg dear, to bring it to the proof.
Alph.
Prithee forbear: This may be dangerous.
Lor.
False Friendship's always so.
Alph.
Yet that Friendship,
False as it is; instructs me how to bear!
Lor.
Yes, you can bear, now you can calmly bear;
But 'tis with the same Cunning, that the Wolf
Puts tameness on, to abuse the Shepherds care:
But I shall watch you for the Duke—
Alph.
The Duke?
What of the Duke?
Lor.
No more of him: Alphonso
Take but a Minutes patience, and I will
Discover to your Ear—
Alph.
Am I not wrong'd?
Lor.
You are.
Alph.
No matter then for more Discoveries.
Lor.
And you would be reveng'd?
Alph.
Reveng'd! I will
By Heaven, I will be to the full.
Lor.
And may,
You may, with safety, wou'd you hear me out:
Alph.
Words are the Crutches, which tame Cowards use,
To halt upon, in any brave Design:
I am resolv'd; and may the Husbands Curse
Light here upon my Forehead, for the Boys
To find me out by, as I pass along,
The common scorn, and jest of laughing Pools:
When I desist from my resolv'd revenge.
Lor.
Desist! No Friend, I come not now to preach,
A sufferance to thee; but to be imploy'd,
To share thy Fortune, and assist thy Cause!
Alph.
Dost thou joyn with me? Then I draw my Sword,
Secure, and confident of my revenge:
Tho' he were great as the first Cæsar was,
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With Nations waiting round him for his Guard,
He went to nothing. All his glories here
Should meet their Fate, and fall before my fury.
Lor.
Be temperate.
Alph.
Now let the Tyrant boast;
Pride his vain thoughts, and triumph in his ills;
Grow riotous, and wanton in the spoils
Of the fair Fame of Noble Families;
And let his Bawds, that are abroad for prey,
Fatten his lust with fresh variety, and wrack him on the fury of desire,
That I may take him in the hour of Hell,
And seal Damnation to him in his Blood.
Lor.
Alphonso, This is all a Mad-man's rage.
Will you yet hear me?
Alph.
There's such an Inspiration of revenge,
Rages within my Breast,
That I could stand an idle Looker-on,
Tamely behold his Bawdy Ministers
Dish up my Wife agen to his hot youth,
And then my Sister, for his second Course;
Rather than miss my Time. But this is talk:
Now for the Duke.
Lor.
Nay then, I can no more.
Alph.
Why dost thou draw thy Sword?
Lor.
To kill thee.
Alph.
How! Is this thy Friendship!
Lor.
Yes. The highest proof!
If thou art fond of Death, fall Nobly here;
Not like a Villain, by the Hangman's hands.
Stir not a step this way, for by the life
Of my eternal Soul, I mean my Words.
Alph.
You dare not mean 'em.
Lor.
Do not prove my Daring,
For if you do.
Alph.
Nay then—
[Just engaging.
Yet I am calm. Is this a friend, Lorenzo?
Lor.
Yes! A just one,
A Friend to Thee, thy Honour, and thy Name.
A Friend, that does deserve a Nobler usage.
Alph.
I know thou dost deserve what man can merit:
Bear with my weakness; I have been too blame:
But pardon me, and use me like a Friend.
Lor.
As I have always done, and ever will.
Alph.
Then tell me which way I must steer my Course?
Thou would'st not have me spend a sordid life
57
Lor.
Nor would I have our generous Duke
Fall violently under thy revenge,
When Justice calls it on Alberto's life.
Alph.
Alberto!
Lor.
Yes. I speak on certainty,
On my own Sence: And therefore came to find you;
Had you been temperate, you had sooner known it.
Alph.
Thou hast redeem'd my Soul from such a Sin,
As only, an abandon'd Conscience, leagu'd
With Hell, could have found out to damn me. Oh!
My Souls Preserver: How shall I repay thee?
What shall I say? Oh there is yet behind
The Quiet, or the Torment of my life;
I dare not ask thee, But if she be false—
Lor.
Thy Wife! Thy too much wrong'd Wife is innocent;
I've prov'd and found her innocence.
Alph.
No more.
Lor.
Yes. I have promis'd you shall see her.
Alph.
See her, My Friend! Why is she innocent?
O let the Tongues of Angels tune that word,
When they speak comfort to despairing Souls:
For there are Charms in every Letter there:
The very Winds in silent Reverence,
Must listen to the Music of that Sound,
And bear about the Accents of my joy.
Lor.
Come! You delay.
Alph.
I had forgot my self.
I thought I only dream't of Happiness:
And fear'd to wake to wretchedness agen.
But lead me to her: O I do confess
I am too blame: Now, when my sparing Fate
Hardly allows me a few happy Hours,
To trifle out my Minutes idly here;
When Love invites me with his softest Charms,
To improve my Joys in my Erminia's Arms.
Enter Erminia.
Erm.
Who calls upon Erminia!
Lor.
See, your Wife
Impatient of her longings, comes her self
To meet your steps, and bless you on your way.
Alph.
My Wife Lorenzo!
Erm.
O 'tis Heaven to hear
On any Terms, that dear lov'd voice agen:
58
Of any Comfort from those Lips; Yet speak
Or if you will be gentler to my Prayers.
[Kneels.
Speak Kindly to me. Speak as you were wont;
With those undoing Charms upon your Tongue;
That have so often trembled to my Soul,
In the soft Rapture of protesting Joys!
Lor.
Can you hear this, yet see her on her knees?
Alph.
Alass! I am unworthy, do thou raise her;
And tell her Friend, the guilty memory,
How I have wrong'd her innocence, turns my Brain,
And fixes me a sensless Statue here.
Erm.
Then I will rush upon you with my Charms,
Break thro' the Bars of Modesty and Form,
To your Assistance: Thus to fold you in,
And with my Passion warm you into Life!
My Love! My Soul!
Alph.
My being! all that Heav'n,
From the deep Councils of Eternity,
Could have sent down his Blessings on Mankind
To sweeten life, and beautifie the world.
Lor.
Why this is as it should be!
Alph.
O my Friend!
How is my peace indebted to thy Care?
And how Erminia, how shall I reward
Thy Virtue? How intreat thee to forget
Thy wrongs?
Erm.
I know of none.
Alph.
Their memory!
Erm.
I have no thought, but of my instant joy,
Of Love, and Thee.
Alph.
Thou art too good for man—
But thy Example shall instruct my Love,
And make me worthy of Thee.
Erm.
O for this!
May the recorded Perjuries of men,
Ne're meet a Faith in our believing Sex!
To injure the swift progress of their joys:
Men are all Truth, all Constancy, all Love:
And they who do traduce their Virtues, wrong
Their Consciences: But yet it does belong
To th'envious Old, so to instruct the Young.
Alph.
And for thy sake, may listning Virgins find
Their Lovers just, as thy Alphonso's kind.
Erm.
And you, who hear the Story of our Lives,
May you have all such Husbands—
Alph.
And such Wives.—
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