_Lor._ A smooth-fac’d Boy, and ask such a Question? Fy, fy, this Ignorance was ill counterfeited To me that understand the World. _Clo._ Explain your self, Sir. _Lor._ Lookye, ten or twenty Pistoles will do you No hurt, will it? _Clo._ Not any, Sir. _Lor._ Why, so, ‘tis well any thing will make thee Apprehend. _Clo._ I shall be glad to serve you, Sir, without that fee. _Lor._ That’s kindly said-- I see a Man must not be too easy of belief: had I been so, This Boy would have been at, what d’ye mean, Sir? And, Lord, I understand you not. Well, _Philibert_, here’s earnest to bind the Bargain; I am now in haste; when I see thee next, I’ll tell thee more. [_Lorenzo_ whispers to _Laura_. _Clo._ This ‘tis to be a Favourite now; I warrant you I must do him some good office to the Prince, Which I’ll be sure to do. _Lor._ Nay, it must be done, for she has us’d me basely; Oh, ‘tis a Baggage. _Lau._ Let me alone to revenge you on _Isabella_, Get me but from this Imprisonment. _Lor._ I will: whilst I hold the old Man in a dispute, Do you two get away; but be sure thou pay’st her home. _Lau._ I warrant you, Sir, this was happy; Now shall I see _Curtius_. _Lor._ _Philibert_, I advise you to have a care of Wenching: ‘twill spoil a good Face, And mar your better market of the two. [Ex. _Lor._ _Lau._ Come, let us haste, and by the way, I’ll tell thee Of a means that may make us all happy. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Grove. Enter _Alberto_ melancholy. _Alb._ _Antonio_ said he would be here, I’m impatient till he come-- Enter _Antonio_. _Ant._ _Alberto_, I have such a Project for thee! _Alb._ Hah-- [Gazes. _Ant._ What ails thee, art thou well? _Alb._ No. _Ant._ Where art thou sick? _Alb._ At Heart, _Antonio_, poison’d by thy Jealousy; --Oh, thou hast ruin’d me, undone my Quiet, And from a Man of reasonable Virtue, Hast brought me to a wild distracted Lover. _Ant._ Explain your self. _Alb._ Thou’st taught me, Friend, to love _Clarina_; Not, as I promis’d thee, to feign, but so, That I, unless I do possess that Object, I think must die; at best be miserable. _Ant._ How, Sir, have I done this? _Alb._ Yes, Antonio, thou hast done this. _Ant._ My dear _Alberto_, said you that you lov’d her? _Alb._ Yes, _Antonio_, against my will I do; As much against my will, as when I told her so; Urg’d by thy needless Stratagem. _Ant._ Name it no more, it was an idle Fault, Which I do so repent me, That if you find I should relapse again, Kill me, and let me perish with my Weakness: And were that true you tell me of your Passion, Sure I should wish to die, to make you happy. _Alb._ That’s kindly said, and I submit to you, And am content to be out-done in Amity.