_Lau._ Poor _Cloris_, how I pity thee! Since Fate has treated me with equal rigor; --_Curtius_ is banish’d, _Frederick_ still pursues me, And by a cruel Father I’m confin’d, And cannot go to serve my self or thee. [One knocks. _Lor._ [Without.] Sister _Laura_, Sister. _Lau._ It is my Brother, would he would be kind, And set us free; he shall not see thee, And I’ll persuade him. [As she puts _Cloris_ into her Closet, enter _Lorenzo_ with a Letter. _Lor._ Hah, locking her Closet! now, were I a right _Italian_, should I grow jealous, and enrag’d at I know not what: hah, Sister! What are you doing here? Open your Cabinet, and let me see’t. _Lau._ Sir, ‘tis in disorder, and not worth your seeing now. _Lor._ ‘Tis so, I care not for that, I’ll see’t. _Lau._ Pray do not, Brother. _Lor._ Your denial makes me the more inquisitive. _Lau._ ‘Tis but my saying, he came from the Prince, And he dares not take it ill. [Aside. --Here, Sir, [Gives him the Key. _Lor._ And here’s for you too; a Letter from _Curtius_, And therefore I would not open it: I took it up At the Post-house. [She reads, and seems pleas’d. Now if this should prove some surly Gallant of hers, And give me a slash o’er the Face for peeping I were but rightly serv’d; And why the Devil should I expect my Sister should Have more Virtue than my self? She’s the same flesh and blood: or why, because She’s the weaker Vessel, Should all the unreasonable burden of the Honour Of our House, as they call it, Be laid on her Shoulders, whilst we may commit A thousand Villanies? but ‘tis so-- Here, open the Door; I’ll put her before me, however. [She opens the Door, and brings out _Cloris_. _Lau._ Sir, ‘tis _Philibert_ from the Prince. _Lor._ Why, how now, Youngster, I see you intend To thrive by your many Trades; So soon, so soon, i’faith? but, Sirrah, This is my Sister, and your Prince’s Mistress; Take notice of that. _Clo._ I know not what you mean. _Lor._ Sir, you cannot deceive me so; And you were right serv’d, you would be made fit For nothing but the great _Turk’s Seraglio_. _Clo._ You mistake my business, Sir. _Lor._ Your Blushes give you the lye, Sirrah; But for the Prince’s sake, and another reason I have, I will pardon you for once. _Lau._ He has not done a fault, and needs it not. _Lor._ Was he not alone with thee? And is not that enough? Well, I see I am no _Italian_ In Punctillio’s of honourable Revenge. There is but one experiment left to prove my self so; And if that fail, I’ll e’en renounce my Country. --Boy, harkye,--there is a certain kindness You may do me, and get your pardon for being found here. _Clo._ You shall command me any thing. _Lor._ Prithee how long hast thou been set up for thy self, Hah? _Clo._ As how, Sir? _Lor._ Poh, thou understand’st me. _Clo._ Indeed I do not, Sir; what is’t you mean?