h I do not know your person,
Your actions are too fair, too noble, sir,
To merit that foul name.

_Gons_. Pr'ythee, do not flatter me; I am a villain;
That admirable lady said I was.

_Hip_. I fear, you love her, sir.

_Gons_. No, no, not love her:
Love is the name of some more gentle passion;
Mine is a fury, grown up in a moment
To an extremity, and lasting in it;
An heap of powder set on fire, and burning
As long as any ordinary fuel.

_Hip_. How could he love so soon? and yet, alas!
What cause have I to ask that question,
Who loved him the first minute that I saw him?
I cannot leave him thus, though I perceive
His heart engaged another way. [_Aside_.

Sir, can you have such pity on my youth, [To Him.
On my forsaken and my helpless youth,
To take me to your service?

_Gons_. Would'st thou serve
A madman? how can he take care of thee,
Whom fortune and his reason have abandoned?
A man, that saw, and loved, and disobliged,
Is banished, and is mad, all in a moment.

_Hip_. Yet you alone have title to my service;
You make me yours by your preserving me:
And that's the title heaven has to mankind.

_Gons_. Pr'ythee, no more.

_Hip_. I know your mistress too.

_Gons_. Ha! dost thou know the person I adore?
Answer me quickly; speak, and I'll receive thee:
Hast thou no tongue?

_Hip_. Why did I say I knew her?
All I can hope for, if I have my wish
To live with him, is but to be unhappy. [Aside.

_Gons_. Thou false and lying boy, to say thou knew'st
her;
Pr'ythee, say something, though thou cozen'st me.

_Hip_. Since you will know, her name is Julia, sir,
And that young gentleman you saw, her brother,
Don Manuel de Torres.

_Gons_. Say I should take thee, boy, and should
employ thee
To that fair lady, would'st thou serve me faithfully?

_Hip_. You ask me an hard question: I can die
For you; perhaps I cannot woo so well.

_Gons_. I knew thou would'st not do't.

_Hip_. I swear I would:
But, sir, I grieve to be the messenger
Of more unhappy news; she must be married
This day to one Don Roderick de Sylva,
Betwixt whom and her brother there has been.
A long (and it was thought a mortal) quarrel,
But now it must for ever end in peace:
For, happening both to love each others sisters,
They have concluded it in a cross marriage;
Which, in the palace of Don Rodorick,
They went to celebrate from their countryhouse,
When, taken by the thieves, you rescued them.

_Gons_. Methinks I am grown patient o