Hip. So now the Work’s half done, that will redeem All the lost Credit of our Family. To kill, or to be kill’d, I care not which, [Weeps. So one or both expire; be strong, my Soul, And let no feeble Woman dwell about thee. Hence Fears and Pity, such poor things as these Cannot the Storms of my Revenge appease: Those Showers must from his treacherous Heart proceed, If I can live and see _Antonio_ bleed. [Sighs, and Exit. Scene III. A deep Grove. Enter _Marcel_ alone. Mar. The hour is almost come which I appointed, And yet no _Silvio_ appears, the time seems long to me; But he that’s circled in his Mistress’ Arms, Forgets the hasty hours, And passes them as unregarded by, As Men do Beggars who demand a Charity. Enter _Hippolyta_. Young Man, hast thou encounter’d none within this Grove? Hip. Not any, Sir,—_Marcel!_ my injur’d Brother! Mar. Why dost thou turn away, and hide thy Face? Hip. ’Tis not my Face I hide, but Sorrow there. [Weeps. Mar. Trust me, thou weepest; would I could do so too, That I might be less angry; And Silence best expresses Grief: But thine’s a saucy Sorrow dares approach A Face so fair and young. Hip. If the Ingrate for whom I grieve had thought so, I might have spar’d my Tears. Farewel, Sir. Mar. Stay, hast thou been a Lover? Hip. A very, very passionate one. Mar. And wert thou not belov’d? 300 Hip. At first, to draw me in, the cunning Artist Made me believe I was. Mar. Oh! I could kiss thee now, for the alliance Between thy Grief and mine. Hadst thou a loose and wanton Sister too, Then thou wert perfect wretched, as I am. [Weeps. But prithee leave me, now I think of it: For shouldst thou stay, thou’dst rob me of my Anger; For since a Youth like thee can be unhappy, With such a Shape, and so divine a Face, Methinks I should not quarrel with my Star, But bow to all my faithless Mistress’ Scorns. [Hollowing within.] So ho, ho, so ho, ho— Mar. So ho, so ho, ho, ho—’Tis my false Rival. Now leave me, Sir, to reassume my Anger. Hip. I will obey—farewel— My own Despair makes me neglect his Life. [Goes out. Enter _Silvio_. Mar. ’Tis _Silvio_. Silv. You see I have obey’d you, Sir. Mar. Come, Sir, your Sword. Silv. You are my Brother, and ’twere an impious Action, To fight you unprovok’d: give me a cause, Nay, and a just one too, or I shall find it hard —To wound _Cleonte’s_ Brother. [Aside sighing. Mar. Thou cam’st prepar’d to talk, and not to fight. I cannot blame thee for’t, for were I _Silvio_, Thus I would do to save a Life belov’d: [Offers to fight, _Silvio_ steps back. But ’twill not serve you now. Silv. Your Reason, Sir, and I’m ready, if it be just. Mar. Oh do not urge me to repeat my Wrongs, For if thou dost, I hardly shall have Man enough remain To fight thee fairly. [Offers still. Silv. Surely he knows my Passion for _Cleonte_— [Aside. I urge the Reason still. 301 Mar. Hast thou forgot thy last Night’s Treachery? How like a Thief thou stol’st into her Lodgings?