Enter Antonio, and Clara to Jacinta.

Jac.  Madam, the rarest sport—­Ha, ha, ha.

Ant.  You need not tell us, we have been witness to all.  But to our own Affairs, my dearest Clara, Let us not lose this blessed opportunity, Which Art nor Industry can give again if this be idly lost.

Cla.  Nay, hang me if it be my fault, Antonio:  Charge it to the number of your own Sins; it shall not lie at my door.

Ant.  ’Tis generously said, and take notice, my little dear Virago, Guzman has a Priest ready to tie you to your word.

Cla.  As fast as you please; hang her that fears the conjuring knot for me:  But what will our Fathers say—­mine who expects me to be the Governor’s Lady; and yours, who designs Isabella for a Daughter-in-Law?

Ant.  Mine will be glad of the Change; and, for yours, if he be not pleased, let him keep his Portion to himself—­that’s the greatest mischief he can do us:  and for my Friend, the Governor, he’s above their Anger.

Cla.  Why do we lose precious time?  I long to be at—­I Clara take thee Antonio,—­the very Ceremony will be tedious, so much I wish thee mine; and each delay gives me a fear something will snatch me from thee.

Ant.  No power of Man can do’t, thou art so guarded; but now the Priest is employed in clapping up the honourable Marriage between the False Count and Isabella.

Jac.  Lord, what a jest ’twill be to see ’em coupled, ha, ha.

Cla.  Unmerciful Antonio, to drive the Jest so far; ’tis too unconscionable!

Ant.  By Heaven, I’m so proud I cannot think my Revenge sufficient for Affronts, nor does her Birth, her Breeding and her Vanity—­deserve a better Fortune; besides,—­he has enough to set up for a modern Spark—­ the Fool has just Wit and good Manners to pass for a Fop of Fashion; and, where he is not known, will gain the Reputation of a fine accomplish’d Gentleman,—­yet I’m resolved she shall see him in his Geers, in his original Filthiness, that my Revenge may be home upon the foolish Jilt.

Cla.  Cruel Antonio, come, lets go give ’em Joy.

Ant.  And finish our Affair with Mr. Vicar.

    Enter Isabella, her Train borne by the great Page, Guiliom,
    with the other great Page, and Francisco bare.

—­Joy to my noble Lord, and you, fair Isabella!

Isa.  Thank thee, Fellow,—­but, surely, I deserved my Titles from thee.

Cla.  Your Honour I hope will pardon him.

Isa.  How now, Clara! [Nodding to her.

Jac.  I give your Honour joy.

Isa.  Thank thee, poor Creature.—­

Fran.  My Lord, this Honour you have done my Daughter is so signal, that whereas I designed her but five thousand Pound, I will this happy day settle on her ten.