l I discover my self, or steal away? [Aside.
And all asham'd of Life after this Action,
Go where the Sun or Day may never find me?
Oh! what Virtue I've abus'd--
Curse on my little Faith;
And all the Curses Madness can invent,
Light on my groundless Jealousy. [Ex. _Antonio_.

_Alb._ _Clarina_, why so cruel to my Heart?
'Tis true, I love you, but with as chaste an Ardour,
As Souls departing pay the Deities,
When with incessant Sighs they haste away,
And leave Humanity behind. Oh! so did I
Abandon all the lesser Joys of Life,
For that of being permitted but t'adore ye.
Alas, if 'twere displeasing to you,
Why did your self encourage it?
I might have languish'd, as I did before,
And hid those Crimes which make you hate me now.
--Oh, I am lost? _Antonio_, thou'st undone me; [He rises in Rage.
--Hear me, Ungrate; I swear by all that's good,
I'll wash away my Mischief with thy Blood.

_Isab._ _Antonio_ hears you not, Sir, for he's departed.

_Ism._ Is _Antonio_ gone?
[She looks pertly up, who before lay half dead.

_Alb._ How's this, has she but feign'd?

_Ism._ Know it was but feign'd; I hope this proof
Of what I've promis'd you, does not displease you.

_Alb._ Am I thus fortunate, thus strangely happy?

_Ism._ Time will confirm it to you--go, do not
Now thank me for't, but seek _Antonio_ out;
Perhaps he may have too great a Sense of the
Mischiefs his Jealousies had like to have caus'd:
But conjure him to take no notice of what's past to me;
This easy slight of mine secures our Fears,
And serves to make _Antonio_ confident,
Who now will unbelieve his Eyes and Ears;
And since before, when I was innocent,
He could suspect my Love and Duty too,
I'll try what my dissembling it will do.
--Go haste.--

_Alb._ Madam, I go, surpriz'd with Love and Wonder. [Ex. _Alb._

_Ism._ You'll be more surpriz'd, when you know [Aside.
That you are cheated too as well as _Antonio_.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Street.

Enter _Curtius_ disguis'd in a black Peruke and Beard, with
_Pietro_ disguised also.

_Cur._ Well, what hast thou learn'd?

_Piet._ News enough, Sir, but none good;
That the Prince's Wounds are small,
So that he intends to take the Air this Evening;
That he sollicits _Laura_ hard;
And, Sir, that you are proclaim'd Traitor.

_Cur._ So, what says the Messenger you sent to _Cloris_?