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_Belv._ I own I fought to day in the defence of a Friend of mine, with whom you (if you're the same) and your Party were first engag'd.
Perhaps you think this Crime enough to kill me, But if you do, I cannot fear you'll do it basely.
_Ant._ No, Sir, I'll make you fit for a Defence with this.
[Gives him the Sword.
_Belv._ This Gallantry surprizes me-- nor know I how to use this Present, Sir, against a Man so brave.
_Ant._ You shall not need; For know, I come to s.n.a.t.c.h you from a Danger That is decreed against you; Perhaps your Life, or long Imprisonment: And 'twas with so much Courage you offended, I cannot see you punisht.
_Belv._ How shall I pay this Generosity?
_Ant._ It had been safer to have kill'd another, Than have attempted me: To shew your Danger, Sir, I'll let you know my Quality; And 'tis the Vice-Roy's Son whom you have wounded.
_Belv._ The Vice-Roy's Son!
Death and Confusion! was this Plague reserved To compleat all the rest?-- oblig'd by him!
The Man of all the World I would destroy. [Aside.
_Ant._ You seem disorder'd, Sir.
_Belv._ Yes, trust me, Sir, I am, and 'tis with pain That Man receives such Bounties, Who wants the pow'r to pay 'em back again.
_Ant._ To gallant Spirits 'tis indeed uneasy; --But you may quickly over-pay me, Sir.
_Belv._ Then I am well-- kind Heaven! but set us even, That I may fight with him, and keep my Honour safe. [Aside.
--Oh, I'm impatient, Sir, to be discounting The mighty Debt I owe you; command me quickly--
_Ant._ I have a Quarrel with a Rival, Sir, About the Maid we love.
_Belv._ Death,'tis _Florinda_ he means-- That Thought destroys my Reason, and I shall kill him-- [Aside.
_Ant._ My Rival, Sir.
Is one has all the Virtues Man can boast of.
_Belv._ Death! who shou'd this be? [Aside.
_Ant._ He challeng'd me to meet him on the _Molo_, As soon as Day appear'd; but last Night's quarrel Has made my Arm unfit to guide a Sword.
_Belv._ I apprehend you, Sir, you'd have me kill the Man That lays a claim to the Maid you speak of.
--I'll do't-- I'll fly to do it.
_Ant._ Sir, do you know her?
_Belv._ --No, Sir, but 'tis enough she is admired by you.
_Ant._ Sir, I shall rob you of the Glory on't, For you must fight under my Name and Dress.
_Belv._ That Opinion must be strangely obliging that makes You think I can personate the brave _Antonio_, Whom I can but strive to imitate.
_Ant._ You say too much to my Advantage.
Come, Sir, the Day appears that calls you forth.
Within, Sir, is the Habit. [Exit _Antonio_.
_Belv._ Fantastick Fortune, thou deceitful Light, That cheats the wearied Traveller by Night, Tho on a Precipice each step you tread, I am resolv'd to follow where you lead. [Exit.
SCENE II. _The Molo._
Enter _Florinda_ and _Callis_ in Masques, with _Stephano_.
_Flor._ I'm dying with my fears; _Belvile's_ not coming, As I expected, underneath my Window, Makes me believe that all those Fears are true. [Aside.
--Canst thou not tell with whom my Brother fights?
_Steph._ No, Madam, they were both in Masquerade, I was by when they challeng'd one another, and they had decided the Quarrel then, but were prevented by some Cavaliers; which made 'em put it off till now-- but I am sure 'tis about you they fight.
_Flor._ Nay then 'tis with _Belvile_, for what other Lover have I that dares fight for me, except _Antonio_? and he is too much in favour with my Brother-- If it be he, for whom shall I direct my Prayers to Heaven?
[Aside.
_Steph._ Madam, I must leave you; for if my Master see me, I shall be hang'd for being your Conductor.-- I escap'd narrowly for the Excuse I made for you last night i'th' Garden.
_Flor._ And I'll reward thee for't-- prithee no more. [Exit. Steph.
Enter Don _Pedro_ in his Masquing Habit.
_Pedro._ _Antonio's_ late to day, the place will fill, and we may be prevented.
[Walk about.
_Flor._ _Antonio_! sure I heard amiss. [Aside.
_Pedro._ But who would not excuse a happy Lover.
When soft fair Arms confine the yielding Neck; And the kind Whisper languishingly breathes, Must you be gone so soon?
Sure I had dwelt for ever on her Bosom.
--But stay, he's here.
Enter _Belvile_ drest in _Antonio's_ Clothes.
_Flor._ 'Tis not _Belvile_, half my Fears are vanisht.
_Pedro._ _Antonio!_--
_Belv._ This must be he. [Aside.] You're early, Sir,-- I do not use to be out-done this way.
_Pedro._ The wretched, Sir, are watchful, and 'tis enough You have the advantage of me in _Angelica_.
_Belv._ _Angelica!_ Or I've mistook my Man! Or else _Antonio_, Can he forget his Interest in _Florinda_, And fight for common Prize? [Aside.
_Pedro._ Come, Sir, you know our terms--
_Belv._ By Heaven, not I. [Aside.] --No talking, I am ready, Sir.