Guil.  Damn dirty trash, your Beauty is sufficient—­hum —­Signior Don Antonio, get the Writings ready. [Aside.  Money—­hang Money.

Fran.  How generous these Lords are; nay, my Lord, you must not refuse a Father’s Love, if I may presume to call you Son—­I shall find enough besides for my Ransom, if the Tyrant be so unmerciful to ask more than my Wife pays him.

Guil.  Nay, if you will force it upon me.

Isa.  Ay, take it, the trifling sum will serve to buy our Honour Pins.

Ant.  Well, Sir, since you will force it on him, my Cashier shall draw the Writings.

Guil.  And have ’em signed by a publick Notary. [Aside.

Fran.  With all my Soul, Sir, I’ll go to give him order, and subscribe.
          
                                             [Ex.  Francisco.

Guil.  Let him make ’em strong and sure—­you shall go halves. [Aside.

Ant.  No, you will deserve it dearly, who have the plague of such a Wife with it;—­but harkye, Count—­these goods of Fortune are not to be afforded you, without Conditions.

Guil.  Shaw, Conditions, any Conditions, noble Antonio.

Ant.  You must disrobe anon, and do’n your native Habiliments—­and in the Equipage give that fair Viscountess to understand the true quality of her Husband.

Guil.  Hum—­I’m afraid, ’tis a harder task to leap from a Lord to a Rogue, than ’tis from a Rogue to a Lord.

Ant.  Not at all, we have examples of both daily.

Guil.  Well, Sir, I’ll show you my agility—­but, Sir, I desire I may consummate, d’ye see,—­consummate—­a little like a Lord, to make the Marriage sure.

Ant.  You have the Freedom to do so—­the Writings I’ll provide.

Guil.  I’ll about it then, the Priest waits within for you, and Guzman for you, Jacinta,—­haste, for he is to arrive anon Ambassador from Cadiz.

Jac.  I know not, this noise of Weddings has set me agog, and I’ll e’en in, and try what ’tis.

[Ex.  Antonio, Clara, and Jacinta.

Guil.  Come, Madam, your Honour and I have something else to do, before I have fully dub’d you a Viscountess.

Isa.  Ah, Heav’ns, what’s that?

Guil.  Why a certain Ceremony, which must be performed between a pair of Sheets,—­but we’ll let it alone till Night.

Isa.  Till Night, no; whate’er it be, I wou’d not be without an Inch of that Ceremony, that may compleat my Honour for the World; no, for Heaven’s sake, let’s retire, and dub me presently.

Guil.  Time enough, time enough.

Isa.  You love me not, that can deny me this.

Guil.  Love—­no, we are married now, and People of our Quality never Love after Marriage; ’tis not great.