_Alb._ Yes, Madam, Wife unto my Friend _Antonio_,
The only Man that has an Interest here:
--But, Madam, that must still submit to Love.
_Ism._ Canst thou at once be true to him and me?
_Alb._ Madam, I know not that;
But since I must lose one,
My Friendship I can better lay aside.
_Ism._ Hast thou forgot how dear thou art to him?
_Alb._ No, I do believe I am, and that his Life
Were but a worthless trifle, if I needed it.
Yet, Madam, you are dearer to him still
Than his _Alberto_; and ‘tis so with me:
--Him I esteem, but you I do adore;
And he whose Soul’s insensible of Love,
Can never grateful to his Friendship prove.
_Ism._ By your example, Sir, I’ll still retain
My Love for him; and what I had for you,
Which was but Friendship, I’ll abandon too.
_Ant._ Happy _Antonio_.-- [Aside.
_Ism._ Pray what have you _Antonio_ cannot own?
Has he not equal Beauty, if not exceeding thine?
Has he not equal Vigour, Wit, and Valour?
And all that even raises Men to Gods,
Wert not for poor Mortality?
--Vain Man, couldst thou believe
That I would quit my Duty to this Husband,
And sacrifice his Right to thee?
--Couldst thou believe me yesterday?
When from thy Importunity and Impudence,
To send thee from me,
I promised thee to love thee.
--Nay, rather, treacherous Man,
Couldst thou believe I did not hate thee then,
Who basely would betray thy Friend and me?
_Alb._ Sure this is earnest. [Aside.
_Ant._ Oh brave _Clarina_! [Aside.
_Ism._ Speak, Traitor to my Fame and Honour;
Was there no Woman, but _Antonio’s_ Wife,
With whom thou couldst commit so foul a Crime?
And none but he to bring to publick Shame?
A Man who trusted thee, and lov’d thee too?
--Speak--and if yet thou hast a sense of Virtue,
Call to the Saints for pardon, or thou dy’st.
[She draws a Poniard, and runs at him; he steps back to avoid it.
_Alb._ Hold, _Clarina_!--I am amaz’d.
_Ism._ But stay.
Thou say’st my Beauty forc’d thee to this Wickedness,
And that’s the cause you have abus’d _Antonio_.
--Nor is it all the Power I have with him,
Can make him credit what I tell him of thee;
And should I live, I still must be pursu’d by thee,
And unbeliev’d by him:
--_Alberto_, thou shalt ne’er be guilty more,
Whilst this--and this may meet.
[Offering to wound her self, is stay’d by _Alb._ and _Isab._ They
set _Ism._ in a Chair; _Alb._ kneels weeping.
_Alb._ Hold, my divine _Clarina_.--
_Ant._ Shall I discover my self, or steal away? [Aside.
And all asham’d of Life after this Action,
Go where the Sun or Day may never find me?
Oh! what Virtue I’ve abus’d--
Curse on my little Faith;
And all the Curses Madness can invent,
Light on my groundless Jealousy. [Ex. _Antonio_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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