_Isab._ Madam, the inner Chamber is much better, For there he may repose upon the Cushions Till my Lord’s return; I see he is not well-- --And you are both sick of one Disease. [Aside. _Alb._ I thank you, here’s more Air, --And that I need, for I am all on fire, [Aside. And every Look adds fuel to my flame. --I must avoid those Eyes, whose Light misguides me: --Madam, I have some business calls me hence, And cannot wait my Friend’s return. _Ism._ _Antonio_, Sir, will think ‘tis my neglect That drove you hence; pray stay a little longer. _Alb._ You shall command me, if you can dispense With so dull Company. _Ism._ I can with any thing _Antonio_ loves. _Alb_. Madam, it is a Virtue that becomes you; For though your Husband should not merit this, Your Goodness is not less to be admir’d; But he’s a Man so truly worth your Kindness, That ‘twere a Sin to doubt Your Passion for him were not justly paid. _Ism._ Sir, I believe you, and I hope he thinks That my opinion of him equals yours; ‘Tis plain he loves me not; [Aside. Perhaps his Virtue, thinking me _Clarina_, May hide the real Passion of his Soul. Oh Love, what dangerous Paths thou mak’st us tread! _Ant._ Cold, cold as Devotion, oh inhuman Friendship! [Aside. _Alb._ What shall I do next? I must either be rude, And say nothing, or speak of Love to her; And then, my Friend, thou’rt lost should I prevail, And I’m undone should she not hear my Tale, Which for the World I would not have her hear; And yet I fear my Eyes too much declare. _Ism._ Since he’s in so ill an Humour, let’s leave him, I’m satisfy’d now that thou’rt mistaken. [Ex. _Ismena_ and _Isabella_ unseen. _Alb._ But they shall gaze no more on hers, Nor stray beyond the limits of a just Salute. --I will my Honour to my Love prefer, And my _Antonio_ shall out-rival her. [Looks about, and misses them. --Ah, am I left alone! how frail is Man! That which last Moment I resolv’d upon, I find my Heart already disapprove, And grieve her loss; can this be ought but Love? My Soul’s dissatisfy’d now she is gone, And yet but now I wish’d to be alone. --Inform me, Love, who shares the better part, Friendship, or thee, in my divided Heart. [Offers to go. Enter _Antonio_, and stays him. _Ant._ Whither in such haste? Thou look’st e’en as sad as a Lover repuls’d, I fear that Fate’s not thine. _Alb._ Now for a lye to satisfy him. [Aside. Prithee discharge me of this toil of dissembling, Of which I grow as weary as she’s of hearing it. _Ant._ Indeed! _Alb._ Sure thou hast a design to make her hate me. _Ant._ Do you think so in earnest, why, was she angry? _Alb._ Oh! hadst thou seen her pretty blushing Scorn, Which she would fain have hid, Thou wouldst have pitied what I made her suffer. _Ant._ Is’t possible! And didst present her with the Box of Jewels? _Alb._ Yes.