_Mor_. Your Sisters, Sir, your Sisters are both gone.-- [_Weeps_. _Jul_. How gone, Sir? _Mor_. Run away, Sir, flown, Sir. _Jul_. Heavens! which way? _Mor_. Nay, who can tell the ways of fickle Women--in short, Sir, your Sister _Marcella_ was to have been married to this noble Gentleman,--nay, was contracted to him, fairly contracted in my own Chappel; but no sooner was his back turn’d, but in a pernicious Moon-light Night she shews me a fair pair of heels, with the young Baggage, your other Sister _Cornelia_, who was just come from the Monastery where I bred her, to see her Sister married. _Jul_. A curse upon the Sex! why must Man’s Honour Depend upon their Frailty? --Come--give me but any light which way they went, And I will trace ‘em with that careful Vengeance-- _Oct_. Spoke like a Man, that understands his Honour; And I can guess how we may find the Fugitives. _Jul_. Oh, name it quickly, Sir! _Oct_. There was a young Cavalier--some time at _Viterbo_, Who I confess had Charms, Heaven has denied to me, That Trifle, Beauty, which was made to please Vain foolish Woman, which the brave and wise Want leisure to design.-- _Jul_. And what of him? _Oct_. This fine gay thing came in your Sister’s way, And made that Conquest Nature meant such Fools for: And, Sir, she’s fled with him. _Jul_. Oh, show me the Man, the daring hardy Villain, Bring me but in the view of my Revenge,--and if I fail to take it, Brand me with everlasting Infamy. _Oct_. That we must leave to Fortune, and our Industry. --Come, Sir, let’s walk and think best what to do,-- [_Going down the Scene, Enter_ Fil. _and_ Gal. _Fil_. Is not that _Julio_? Boy, run and call him back. [_Ex. Boy, re-enters with_ Jul. _Jul_. Oh, _Fillamour_, I have heard such killing news Since last I left thee-- _Fil_. What, prithee? _Jul_. I had a Sister, Friend--dear as my Life, And bred with all the Virtues of her Sex; No Vestals at the Holy Fire employ’d themselves In innocenter business than this Virgin; Till Love, the fatal Fever of her Heart, Betray’d her harmless Hours; And just upon the point of being married, The Thief stole in, and rob’d us of this Treasure: She’as left her Husband, Parents, and her Honour, And’s fled with the base Ruiner of her Virtue. _Fil_. And lives the Villain durst affront ye thus? _Jul_. He does. _Gal_. Where, in what distant World? _Jul_. I know not. _Fil_. What is he call’d? _Jul_. I know not neither,--some God direct me to the Ravisher! And if he scape my Rage, May Cowards point me out for one of their tame Herd. _Fil_. In all your Quarrels I must join my Sword. _Gal_. And if you want,--here’s another, Sir, that, though it be not often drawn in anger, nor cares to be, shall not be idle in good company.