The Works of Aphra Behn Volume I Part 95

Man or Woman, thou'rt worth our Care-- She faints-- come, let us bear her hence.

[She faints, _Antonio_ kneels to her.

_Ant._ Oh stay, _Hippolyta_, and take me with thee, For I've no use of Life when thou art gone. [Weeps.

Here, kill me, brave _Marcel_-- and yet you need not; My own Remorse, and Grief will be sufficient.

_Mar._ I credit thee, and leave thee to their Mercy.

_Hip._ That Goodness, Sir, has call'd me back to Life, To pay my humble Thanks; could you have Mercy too, To pardon me-- you might redeem my Soul.

_Mar._ Some Pity I have yet, that may preserve thee too, Provided this Repentance be not feign'd.

_Ant._ My Life, Sir, is Security for both.

_Mar._ Doubt not, I'll take the Forfeit, Sir-- Come, _Hippolyta_.

Thy Father's House shall once again receive thee.

_Ant._ Lean on my Arm, my dearest.

_Mar._ Sir, by the way, I'll let you know her Story, And then perhaps you will not blame my Friendship.

_Alon._ And in return, I'll give you back _Clarinda_-- And beg your Pardon for the Wound I gave you.

[Exeunt, leading _Hippolyta_.

ACT V.

SCENE I. _A Garden._

Enter _Cleonte_, _Clarinda_ weeping, and _Dormida_ and _Francisca_.

_Cleo._ Fear not, I'll use my Interest both with your Mother and my Father, to set your Heart at rest, Whose Pain I feel by something in my own.

_Clar._ The G.o.ds reward your Bounty, fair _Cleonte_.

_Dor._ I, I, Madam, I beseech you make our Peace with my good Lady her Mother, whatsoever becomes of the rest, for she'll e'en die with Grief-- [Weeps.

She had but two fair Pledges of her Nuptial Bed.

And both by cruel Fate are ravisht from her.

_Manuel_ a Child was lost, And this; not holy Relicks were more strictly guarded, Till false _Marcel_ betray'd me to debauch her. [Weeps aloud.

_Cleo._ Alas, had you a Brother once? [To _Clarinda_.

_Clar._ Madam, I might have had: but he was lost e'er I was born.

_Cleo._ Ah! would my _Silvio_ had been so. [Aside.

By what strange Accident, _Clarinda_?

_Dor._ Madam, I can inform you best.

[Puts herself between.

_Cleo._ Do then, _Dormida_.

_Dor._ Madam, you must know, my Lady _Octavia_, for that's her name, was in her Youth the very Flower of Beauty and Vertue: Oh such a Face and Shape! had you but seen her-- And tho I say it, Madam, I thought my self too somebody then.

_Clar._ Thou art tedious: Madam, 'tis true my Mother had the Reputation of both those Attractions, which gain'd her many Lovers: amongst the rest, Don _Manuel_, and Don _Alonzo_, were most worthy her Esteem.

_Dor._ Ay, Madam, Don _Alonzo_, there was a Man for you, so obliging and so bountiful-- Well, I'll give you Argument of both to me: for you must know I was a Beauty then, and worth obliging.

[Puts herself between.

And he was the Man my Lady lov'd, tho Don _Manuel_ were the richer: but to my own Story--

_Cleo._ Forward, _Clarinda_.

_Clar._ But as it most times happens, We marry where our Parents like, not we; My Mother was dispos'd of to Don _Manuel_.

_Dor._ Ay, Madam; but had you seen Don _Alonzo's_ Rage, and how my Lady took this Disappointment-- But I who was very young, and very pretty, as I told you before--

_Clar._ Forbear, Madam; 'tis true, _Alonzo_ was so far transported, That oft he did attempt to kill my Father; But bravely tho, and still he was prevented: But when at the Intreaties of my Mother, The King confin'd my Father, _Alonzo_ then study'd a new Revenge; And thinking that my Father's Life depended Upon a Son he had, scarce a Year old, He did design to steal him; and one Evening, When with the Nurse and Maid he took the Air, This desperate Lover seiz'd the smiling Prize, Which never since was heard of.

_Cleo._ I guess the Grief the Parents must sustain.

_Dor._ It almost caus'd their Deaths; nor did kind Heaven Supply them with another till long after, Unhappy this was born: Which just her Father liv'd to see, and dy'd. [Weeps.

Then she was Daughter, Son and Husband too, To her afflicted Mother: But as I told you, Madam, I was then in my Prime--

_Clar._ Now, Madam, judge what her Despair must be, Who is depriv'd of all her Joys in me. [Weeps.

_Cleo._ _Francisca_, see who it is that knocks so hastily.

[One knocks.

_Franc._ Oh, Madam, 'tis Don _Marcel_ leading a wounded Man.

_Cleo._ Oh my Fears, 'tis _Silvio_!

_Franc._ 'Tis not Don _Silvio_.

Enter _Marcel_, leading _Hippolyta_ wounded, followed by _Alonzo_ and _Pedro_.

_Cleo._ Alas, what Youth is this you lead all bleeding?

_Mar._ One that deserves your Care; where's my Father?

_Cleo._ Not yet return'd.

_Mar._ 'Tis well; and you, Sir, I must confine till I know how to satisfy my Honour, and that of my wrong'd Sister.

[To _Antonio_.

_Ant._ The holy Man will soon decide our Difference: Pray send for one, and reconcile us all.