_Jul_. Judge then what my Heart feels, which like a Fire but lightly cover’d o’er with the cold Ashes of Despair, with the least blast breaks out into a Flame; I burn, I burn, _Jacinta_, and only charming _Carlos_ can allay my Pain--but how? Ay, there’s the question. _Jac_. Some way I will contrive to speak with him, for he has lost his old wont if he traverse not the Street where you live: but see Donna _Clara_.-- _Enter_ Clara. _Jul_. Hah, my Sister, whom yet my jealous heart can scarce be reconciled to; so deeply was my fear of Rivalship fixt there, --so sad, my Sister, and so near the happy day with _Carlos_? _Cla_. ‘Tis pity she that thinks it so shou’d want him; the Blessing’s thrown away on me, but we are both unhappy to be match’d to those we cannot love. _Carlos_, though young, gay, handsom, witty, rich, I hate as much as you the old _Francisco_; for since I cannot marry my _Antonio_, both Youth and Beauty are but lost on me, and Age decrepid would be equal torment. _Jul_. Wou’d _Carlos_ knew your heart, sure he’d decline; for he has too much Honor to compel a Maid to yield that loves him not. _Cla_. ‘Tis true, he is above me every way, and the Honor my Father thinks to do our Family by this Match, makes him resolve upon’t; but I have given my Vows to young _Antonio_. _Jul_. And young _Antonio_ you are like to have, for any thing that _Carlos_ cares; for know, to thy eternal joy, my _Clara_, he has but feigned to thee, as much as thy _Antonio_ to _Isabella_. _Cla_. But are you sure of this? _Jul_. Most certain; this Night if you can let _Antonio_ see you, he’ll tell you all the Cheat, and beg your Pardon. _Cla_. Which he will soon obtain, and in return, what Service I can render him in your behalf he shall not want. _Jul_. _Antonio_ will engage you they are Friends. _Cla_. You amaze me. _Jac_. I have appointed him this night to wait, and, if possible, I would get him a Minute’s time with you. _Cla_. Dear _Jacinta_, thou art the kindest Maid.-- _Jac_. Hang’t, why should we young Women pine and languish for what our own natural Invention may procure us; let us three lay our Heads together, and if _Machiavel_ with all his Politicks can out-wit us, ‘tis pity but we all lead Apes in Hell, and die without the _Jewish_ Blessing of Consolation. _Jul_. No more, here comes the Dragon. _Enter_ Francisco. _Fran_. So, together consulting and contriving. _Jac_. What, are you jealous of the Petticoat? _Fran_. Petticoat! Come, come, Mistress _Pert_, I have known as much danger hid under a Petticoat, as a pair of Breeches. I have heard of two Women that married each other--oh abominable, as if there were so prodigious a scarcity of Christian Mans Flesh. _Jac_. No, the Market’s well enough stored, thanks be praised, might every Woman be afforded a reasonable Allowance.