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_San._ For my Part I don't know what to say.
_Lar._ 'Zdeath she'll persuade him by and by to quit his Pretences to her----come, come, come Mistress no more of your Cant. [_Pulls her by the Arm._] It shall avail you nothing I'll promise you.
_Lav._ Good, Sir, hold a little, Don _Sancho_ seems disposed to hear Reason.
_San._ Why ay truly, for my Part methinks 'tis a Pity to vex the Lady so.
_Lav._ Besides, Sir, 'tis for his sake I do it, to make him easy, and to prevent his eternal Shame and Torture.
_San._ Poor Fool, how hard it is, ay, ay, I know 'tis for my Sake, pray, Sir, hear her--pray do for my Sake as she says.
_Lar._ Pooh Fool.
_San._ Shall she say more for my Sake, than you'll hear Father that is to be.
_Lar._ Well Huzzy, consider what you say, for if it be'nt to the Purpose, as I'm sure it won't----look to't!
_Lav._ Before your hasty Rashness betrays me to eternal Woe, revoke your harsh Commands.
_Lar._ Ay, I knew that would follow, and this is all you have to say, Mistress, ha? come, come Woe, I'll woe you.
_Lav._ Something I have to speak, but know not in what Words to dress my Thoughts fit for me to speak, or you to hear, oh spare the poor Remains of my already too much violated Modesty,--Heav'n can I do this, but there is no other Way. [_Aside._
_Lar._ How? how? how's that? Modesty! why what a Duce is the Matter with your Modesty, ha?
_Lav._ Oh! Sir, force me not to wrong a Man whose Father I have so often heard you say, you lov'd, think what sure Disgrace will follow, how will it reflect upon your Name and Family, when I shall be found no Virgin.
_Lar._ Ha! no Virgin? take Heed Minion that you stain not the Honour of my House, for if you do, I swear by the best Blood in _Sicily_, my Sword shall do me Justice.
_Lav._ Now help me Courage, and forgive me Heaven my Resolutions, Death or my _Francisco_. [_Aside._
I throw myself beneath your Feet, thus prostrate beg for Mercy, that I have deserved Death my guilty Blushes own, the mighty Secret hangs upon my Tongue, but Shame refuses Utterance to my Words.
_Lar._ I'm all of a cold Sweat, Heav'ns! how I dread the End of her Discourse.
_San._ Pray Father let her rise, or I shall weep too.
_Trist._ Nay, I'll say that for my Master, he's as tractable as a Monkey, and generally does what he sees other People do. [_Aside._
_Lav._ Oh! let it still remain unknown, and rather banish me, confine me to some horrid Desart, there to live on Roots and withered Gra.s.s, and with the falling Dew, still quench my Thirst, and lastly to some savage Monster be a Prey, e'er I divulge my Shame.
_San._ I can hold no longer. [_Cries aloud._
_Lar._ On, for I'll hear it all, tho' thou shalt live no longer than thou hast told thy Tale.
_Lav._ Sure ne'er before was Maid thus wretched, Oh _Francisco_! I give thee here the greatest Proof of Love that ever Woman gave----if it must out, then with it take my Life, but Oh! spare the innocent Babe.
_Lar._ Ha! the Babe?
_Lav._ Oh! I am with Child.
_Lar._ Then die both, and both be d.a.m.n'd.
[_Offers to stab her, but is prevented by_ Sancho _and_ Tristram.
_Sanc._ Oh, Lord, Sir, for Heavens Sake, Sir, are you mad, help _Tristram_.
_Lar._ 'Zdeath a Wh.o.r.e! Oh thou Scandal of my Blood.
_San._ Egad I'm resolv'd to own the Child, and bully this old Fellow a little now----a Wh.o.r.e, Sir! who dares call my Wife a Wh.o.r.e? the Child is mine, Sir, let me see who has any Thing to say to't.
_Lar._ Away, don't trifle with me, I shall not give you Credit.
_San._ What care I whether you do or no, I say again the Child is mine, Madam, dry your Eyes, I like you ne'er the worse, and the World will like me the better for't, it will bring me into Reputation.
_Lav._ Oh Heavens! what will come on me now, Oh! fly me, Sir, as you wou'd shun Contagion, cou'd you receive into your Arms a Wretch polluted by another.
_San._ Pish, shaw, pish, shaw, 'tis the least Thing in a thousand, thou said thou didst it for my Sake just now, and sure I shou'd return the Kindness, Ingrat.i.tude is worse than the Sin of Witchcraft.
_Lar._ Oh! the audacious Strumpet, give me Way, that I may punish the Offence as it deserves. [Francisco _within._
_Fran._ Slaves give me Way, he dies that bars my Entrance.
_Lav._ Ha! 'tis my _Francisco_'s Voice--Oh! blest Minute.
_Lar._ Ha! what Noise is that? [_Help, Murder cry'd within._
_San._ How Murder within and Murder without too, this is a barbarous House, I wish I was safe out on't. _Tristram_ stand by thy Master.
_Tristr._ Oh, Sir, I had rather run with you, for I hate Murder in cool Blood.
_Enter_ Francisco _with his Sword drawn_.
_Lar._ Help within there, murder, you won't murder me Sirrah, ha?
[_Enter three or four Servants._] run for the Corregidore, I shall be murder'd in my own House.
_Fran._ No, Sir, this Sword can never hurt the Father of _Lavinia_, nor will my Arm guide it to any Act unjust, nor is it drawn for aught but to defend my Wife.
_Lar._ Impudent Rascal, can'st thou look me in the Face, and know how thou hast injur'd me, thou hast dishonour'd my Daughter.
_San._ Sir, I say no man has dishonour'd her but myself, and I wonder you shou'd tax this honest Gentleman with it.
_Fran._ Ha, Villain! re-call what you have said, or by Heaven 'tis thy last, 'tis safer playing with a Lion, than with Lavinia's Fame.
[_Holding his Sword at his Teeth._
_San. Lavinia_'s Fame, what Fame, what makes you so choleric, I thought I shou'd do the Lady a Kindness in it.
_Trist._ Many a Man wou'd have been glad to have got rid of it so.
_Lav._ Humour my Father in what he says, for 'twas my last Stratagem to defer my Marriage. [_Aside to_ Francisco.