_Fil_. I, I fled with _Marcella!_ had I been blest with so much Love from her, I wou’d have boasted on’t i’th’ face of Heaven. _Mor_. La ye, Sir. [_To_ Octavio. _Fil_. The lovely Maid I own I have a Passion for; But by the Powers above, the Flame was sacred, And wou’d no more have past the Bounds of Honour Or Hospitality, than I wou’d basely murder; and were she free, I wou’d from all the World make her for ever mine. _Mor_. Look ye, Sir, a plain case this. _Gal_. He tells ye simple truth, Sir. _Oct_. Was it not you this scarce past night I fought with here, in the House by dark, just when you had exchanged yours Vows with her? _Lau_. Heavens! was it he? [_Aside_. _Fil_. This Minute was the first I ever enter’d here. _Jul_. ‘Twas I, Sir, was that interrupted Lover,--and this the Lady. _Lau_. And must I yield at last? [_Aside_. _Oct_. Wonders and Riddles! _Gal_. And was this the _Silvianetta_, Sir, you told the Story of? [_Slily_. _Jul_. The same whom Inclination, Friends, and Destiny, conspire to make me blest with. _Gal_. So many Disappointments in one night wou’d make a Man turn honest in spite of Nature. [_Sir Sig. peeps from behind_. Sir _Sig_. Some Comfort yet, that I am not the only Fool defeated. Ha! _Galllard_! _Oct_. I’m satisfy’d (_To_ Fil.)--but what cou’d move you, Sir--[_to_ Gal.] to injure me, one of my Birth and Quality? _Gal_. Faith, Sir, I never stand upon Ceremony when there’s a Woman in the case,--nor knew I ‘twas your Sister: Or if I had, I shou’d ha’ lik’d her ne’er the worse for that, had she been kind. _Jul_. It is my Business to account with him, And I am satisfy’d he has not injur’d me, he is my Friend. _Gal_. That’s frankly said; and uncompell’d, I swear she’s innocent. _Oct_. If you’re convinc’d, I too am satisfy’d, And give her to you whilst that Faith continues. [_Gives him her_. _Lau_. And must I, must I force my Heart to yield? And yet his generous Confidence obliges me. [_Aside_. _Oct_. And here I vow by all the sacred Powers, [_kneels_] That punish Perjury, never to set my Heart On faithless Woman;--never to love nor marry; [_Rises_] Travel shall be my business--thou my Heir. [_To Julio_. Sir _Sig_. So, poor soul, I’ll warrant he has been defeated too. _Mar_. _Marcella_, Sir, will take ye at your Word. _Fil_. _Marcella_! _Mar_. Who owns with Blushes Truths shou’d be conceal’d, but to prevent more Mischief,--That I was yours, Sir, was against my Will, [_to_ Oct.] my Soul was _Fillamour’s_ e’er you claim’d a right in me; though I never saw or held discourse with him, but at an awful distance,--nor knew he of my Flight.