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Show j 2 The Rival-Ladies. Would'ft thou ferve A Mad-man, how can he take care of thee W h o m Fortune and his Reafon have abandon'd ? A M a n that faw, and lov'd and difoblig'd, Is Banifh'd, and is Mad, all in a moment. Hip. Yet you alone have title to m y fervice; You make m e Yours by vour preferving m e : And that's thc title Heav'n has to Mankind. Gonf. Prithee no m o Hp. I know vour Miftrefs too. Gonf. H a ! Doft thou know the Perfon I adore? Anfwer m e quickly; Speak, and I'll receive thee ; Haft thou no Tongue ? Hip. W h y , DidII fay I knew her ? :ihopefor, if I have m y wifh T o :h him, is but to be unhappy. [AfuU. Gonf. Thou falfe and lying Boy, to fay thouknewft her; Prethee lay fomething, though thou Cozen'ft m e. >. Since you will know, her name is Julia, Sir, And that Young Gentleman you few, her Brother, Don Manuel de Torres. Gonf. Say I fhould take thee, Boy, and f^uJtl employ thee T o that fair Lady, wouldft thpu^rye m e taidlfulty ? Hip. You ask m e an hard queftion; I can d ij For you, perhaps I cannot w o o fo well. Gonf. I knew thou wouldft not do't. Hip. I fwear I would: But, Sir, I grieve to be the Meffenger Of more unhappy N e w s ; fhe'muft.be Married This day to one D o n Rodorick de Sylva, Betwixt w h o m and her Brother there has been -A long, ('and it was thought a mortal) quarrel, But h ow it mi end in Peace : . For han'ning both to love each other's Sifters, They have concluded it in a crols^Marriage; Which, in the Palace of D o n Rodor; They went to Celebrate from their y-houfe, When, taken by the Thieves, yoi, .m. Gonf Methinks I a m grown pat ain .' And all m y Rage is gone: Like W h o fret and ftorm, and fwear at little I But, when they fee, all hope of fortune Submit and gain a temper by their Ruin. Hip. Would you could caft his Love, wliich troubles you Out of your mind. Gonf. I cannot B o y ; butfince Her Brother, with intent to Cozen me, Made m e the promife of his beft affiftance; I'll take fomecG^rfe to be reveng'd of him. tfsgoing out. But ftay, I charge thee, Boy, difcover not * fo any who I am ; Hip. Alas I cannot, Sir, I know you not. Gonf. Why, there's it; lam mad again; Oh Love i Hp. Oh Love ' rr , r L ' [Exeunt ombo. SCENE II. Enter two Serv ants of Don Rodorick's, plating Chairs, and talking as they place them. And W s f ir^u? r £ a ? y q u k S y t h e r e ' D o n M**«t\ W n £ - • r' thatmuftbe our Lady, Arc coming in. " 2. They cIhe Rival Ladies. 73 [Takes iti 2. They have been long expected; 'Tis Evening now, and theCanonick Hour: For Marriage are paft. i. The nearer Bed-time The better ftill ; m y Lord, will notdefo H e fwears the Clergy are no fit Judge OfourNeceffities. 2. Where is m y Lord r i. Gone out to meet his Bride. 2. I wonder that m y Lady Angehna Went not with him, She's to be Married too. i. I do not think fhe fancies much the M a n ; Only, to make the Reconcilement perfect Betwixt the Families, fhe's Paffive in it; The choice being but her Brothers, not her O w n . 2. Troth, wer't m y cafe, I care not w h o cliofe for m e : i. Nor I; 'twould fave the Procefs of a tedious Paffion, A IongLaw-fuitof Love, which quite confumes A n honeft Lover e'er he gets Poffeffion : I would come Plump, and frefh, and all m y felf, Serv'd up to m y Bride's-Bed like a fat Fowl, Before the Froft of Love had nipt m e through. I look on Wives as on good dull Companions, For Elder Brothers to fleep out their time with; All w e can hope for in the Marriage-Bed, Is but to take our Reft; and what care I W h o lays m y Pillow for me. Enter a Poet with Verfes. 2. N o w , what's your bufinefs Friend? Poet. A n Epithalamium to the Noble Bridegrooms. i. Let m e fee ; what's here? As I live Nothing but down-right Bawdry: Sirrah; Rafcal, Is this an Age for Ribaldry in Verfe ? W h e n every Gentleman in T o w n fpeaks it With fo much better grace, than thou canft write it; I'll beat thee with a ftaff of thy o w n Rhymes. Poet. Nay, good Sir? 2. Peace, They are here. Enter Don Rodorick, Don Manuel, Julia, and Company. i. M y Lord looks fullenly, and fain would hide it. 2. Howe'er he W e d s T>on Manuel's Sifter, yet I fear he's hardly reconcil'd to him. Jul. I tremble at it ftill. Rod. I muft confefs Your danger great: But, Madam, fince tis paft T o fpeak of it were to renew your Fears. M y Noble Brother, welcome to m y Breatt. Some call m y Sifter; fay, Don Manuel Her Bridegroom waits. Man. Tell her, in both the Houfes There n o w remains no Enemy but fhe. Rod. In the mean time lets Dance; Madam, I hope Leon. OSir, my Lady Angehna I Rod. W h y comes fhe not? Leon. Is fall'n extremely Sick. Both. H o w . . Leon. Nay, trouble not your felves too much, Thefe Fits are ufual with her ; and not dangerous. Rod. O rarely counterfeited. Man. M a y not I fee her ? u Leon. She does by me, deny her felf that ^\eaksfieals a Note into his hand. 1 ' Jr I fhall K 2 [Runs of,, and Exit. [Afide. |