The Works of Aphra Behn Volume I Part 97

_Mar._ I protest I could wish--

_Alon._ Ay, so could I, Sir, that you had made a better Judgment of my Humour: All must out, I have no other way to avoid this Compliment else.

Why look ye, _Marcel_-- Your Sister is-- Pox, I am ill at Dissimulation, and therefore in plain Terms, I am to be married this very Evening to another.

_Mar._ This was happy, and has sav'd me an Excuse.

[Aside.

But are you in earnest, How is it possible, being so lately come into _Madrid_?

_Alon._ Destiny, Destiny, _Marcel_, which there was no avoiding, tho I mist of _Hippolyta_.

_Mar._ Who is it, prithee?

_Alon._ A Woman I hope, of which indeed I would have been better a.s.sur'd; but she was wilful. She's call'd _Euphemia._

_Mar._ Our next Neighbour, the Daughter of old _Carlo_.

_Alon._ The same.

_Mar._ Thou art happy to make so good a Progress in so short a time, but I am--

_Alon._ Not so miserable as you believe. Come, come, you shall marry _Clarinda_.

_Mar._ 'Tis impossible.

_Alon._ Where's the hindrance?

_Mar._ Her want of Fortune; that's enough, Friend.

_Alon._ Stand by and expect the best-- [Goes to _Ambrosio_.

Sir, I have an humble Suit to you.

_Amb._ I shall be infinitely pleas'd you could ask me any thing in my Power; but, Sir, this Daughter I had dispos'd of, before I knew you would have mist of _Hippolyta_.

_Alon._ Luckier than I expected. [Aside.

Sir, that was an Honour I could not merit, and am contented with my Fate: But my Request is, that you would receive into your Family a Sister of mine, whom I would bestow on Don _Marcel_.

_Mar._ Hah, what mean you, Sir? a Sister of yours?

_Alon._ Yes, she will not be unwelcome-- This is she.

_Amb._ This is the Daughter to _Octavia_-- Her Mother was a Lady whom once I did adore, and 'twas her fault she was not more happy with me, than with Don _Manuel_. Nor have I so wholly forgot that Flame, but I might be inclin'd to your Proposal: But, Sir, she wants a Fortune.

_Alon._ That I'll supply.

_Mar._ You supply, Sir? On what kind Score, I pray?

_Alon._ That which you'll suffer without being jealous, When you shall know she is indeed my Sister.

_Clar._ How! this brave Man my Brother?

_Alon._ So they tell me, and that my Name is _Manuel_. Had you not such a Brother?

_Dor._ Oh ye G.o.ds, is this the little _Manuel_?

_Ped._ Yes, _Dormida_, and for a farther Proof see this.

[Opens his Master's Bosom and shews a Crucifix.

_Dor._ This I remember well, it is Don _Manuel_: Pray let me look upon you: Just like my Lord-- Now may the Soul of Don _Alonzo_ rest in Peace, For making so hopeful a Man of you.

_Alon._ Amen. But, Sir, if you approve of my Sister, I'll make her as worthy of _Marcel_, as _Flavia_.

_Amb._ I've lost the Hopes of her-- She's not to be reconcil'd.

[Aside.

_Clarinda_ needs no more than to belong to you, To make her valuable-- and I consent with Joy.

[Gives her to _Marcel._

_Mar._ And I with Joys unutterable take her.

_Alon._ _Pedro_, there rests no more than that you wait on my Mother, and let her know all that has happen'd to my self and Sister, and that I'll pay my Duty to her e'er I sleep.

_Dor._ The very Joy to find her Son again, will get my Pardon too: and then perhaps _Pedro_ and I may renew our old Amours.

_Alon._ Sir, I have another Request to make.

_Amb._ You must command, Sir.

_Alon._ That is, that you will permit this fair Company to honour me this Evening at my Father-in-law's, Don _Carlo_.

_Amb._ How, has Don _Carlo_ married the Lady Octavia?

_Alon._ No, Sir, but a worse matter than that, I am to marry his Daughter.

_Amb._ Oh, Sir, _Euphemia_ has too much Beauty and Virtue to make you doubt your Happiness.

_Alon._ Well, Sir, I must venture that. But your Company I'll expect, the Ladies may clap on their Vizards, and make a masquerading Night on't: tho such Freedoms are not very usual in _Spain_, we that have seen the World, may absolve one another.

_Amb._ My Garden joins to that of Don _Carlo_, and that way we will wait on you, as soon as I have dispatcht a small Affair.

_Alon._ Your humble servant, Sir.

[Goes out; _Ambrosio_ the other way.

_Mar._ Sister, go you and prepare my Father to receive _Hippolyta_, whilst I go see them married.

[Exeunt _Cleonte_ and _Clarinda_.

[_Marcel_ pa.s.sing over the Garden, sees _Silvio_ enter in Pa.s.sion, followed by _Francisca_.

_Silv._ Do not, _Francisca_-- do not blow my Flame, The Cure thou bring'st is much the greater h.e.l.l.