_Aur._ Her hour is not come yet; she has not met with a man to love; when that happens, (as I am resolved to push my fortune) you shall see that, as her love warms, her virtue will melt down, and dissolve in it; for there's no such bawd to a woman, as her own wit is. _Cam._ I look upon the assignation as certain; will you promise me to go? You and Benito shall walk in the garden, while I search the nymph within the shade. One thing I had forgot to tell you, that our general of the church, the Duke of Mantua, and the prince his son, are just approaching the gates of Rome. Will you go see the ceremony of their entrance? _Aur._ With all my heart. They say he has behaved himself gallantly against the French, at their return from Naples. Besides, I have a particular knowledge of young prince Frederick, ever since he was last at our Venetian carnivals. _Cam._ Away, then, quickly; lest we miss the solemnity. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA, _striving about a letter, which_ LAURA _holds._ _Vio._ Let it go, I say. _Lau._ I say, let you go. _Vio._ Nay, sweet sister Laura. _Lau._ Nay, dear Violetta, it is in vain to contend; I am resolved I'll see it. [_Plucks the paper from_ VIOLETTA. _Vio._ But I am resolved you shall not read it. I know not what authority this is which you assume, or what privilege a year or two can give you, to use this sovereignty over me. _Lau._ Do you rebel, young gentlewoman? I'll make you know I have a double right over you. One, as I have more years, and the other, as I have more wit. _Vio._ Though I am not all air and fire, as you are, yet that little wit I have will serve to conduct my affairs without a governess. _Lau._ No, gentlewoman, but it shall not. Are you fit, at fifteen, to be trusted with a maidenhead? It is as much as your betters can manage at full twenty. _For 'tis of a nature so subtile, That, if it's not luted with care, The spirit will work through the bottle, And vanish away into air. To keep it, there nothing so hard is, 'Twill go betwixt waking and sleeping; The simple too weak for a guard is, And no wit would be plagued with the keeping._ _Vio._ For aught I see, you are as little to be trusted with your madness, as I with my simplicity; and, therefore, pray restore my letter. _Lau._ [_Reading it._] What's here? An humble petition for a private meeting? Are you twittering at that sport already, mistress novice? _Vio._ How! I a novice at ripe fifteen? I would have you to know, that I have killed my man before I was fourteen, and now am ready for another execution.