_Ant._ And kneel, and cry and swear, and-- _Alb._ All, all. _Ant._ I hardly gave thee time for so much Courtship, --But you are sure she was displeased with it? _Alb._ Extremely. _Ant._ Enough, _Alberto_; adieu to thee and Friendship. _Alb._ What mean you? _Ant._ Ask your own Guilt, it will inform thee best. _Alb._ Thou canst not think _Clarina_ has abus’d thee. _Ant._ I do not think she has, nor have you try’d her; In that you have not only disoblig’d me, But now you would impose upon my Weakness --Did I not see how unconcern’d you were, And hardly paying her a due respect; And when she even invited thee to speak, Most rudely thou wert silent? _Alb._ Be calm, _Antonio_, I confess my error, And hate that Virtue taught me to deceive thee; --Here, take my Hand,-- I’ll serve you in good earnest. _Ant._ And now I do believe thee, Go--thou shalt lose no time, I must away, My Soul’s in torment, till I am confirm’d Of my _Clarina’s_ Virtue; I do believe thou hast a generous Shame, For what thou’st said and done to me thy Friend. For could I doubt thy Love, oh, how ridiculous This act of mine would seem! But ‘tis to thee, as to my Soul I come, Disputing every petty Crime and Doubt. _Alb._ _Antonio_, if there need an Oath between us-- _Ant._ No, I credit thee; go in, And prithee dress thy Eyes in all their Charms; For this uncertainty disturbs me more, Than if I knew _Clarina_ were a--Whore. [Exeunt severally. ACT II. SCENE I. The Apartment of _Frederick_. Enter _Frederick_ with a Letter, and _Galliard_. _Fred._ Not allow me to speak to her, say ye, ‘tis strange; Didst say it was the Prince that sent thee? _Gal._ My Lord, I did, but he says, he cares not for A thousand Princes. _Fred._ I am resolv’d I will see this Woman; --Harkye, go back again and say-- [Whispers. Enter _Lorenzo_ drunk. _Lor._ Hah, the Prince--he must not see me In this pickle; for I would not lose my Reputation Of Wenching for this of Drinking; And I am sure I cannot be excellent at both, They are inconsistent. _Gal._ I shall, my Lord. [Exit. _Lor._ Your Highness’s humble Servant. _Fred._ Ha, ha, what, _Lorenzo_ in debauch? _Lor._ Now my Tongue will betray me:-- Faith, my Lord, I have took six, but am come briskly off; By this hand, my Lord, I am Cock over five Stout Rogues too, I can tell you, at this sport. _Fred._ I did not think thou hadst had that Virtue. _Lor._ I’ll tell you, Sir, ‘tis necessary those of my Office and Quality should have more Virtues Than one to recommend them; But to tell you truth, for now I am most apt for that, I was drunk in mere Malice to day. _Fred._ Malice, against whom, prithee?