Jul.  I say you’re an old jealous Fool; have I seen Don Carlos, or heard from Don Carlos, or sent to Don Carlos? here’s a-do indeed.

Fran.  What made you at the door against my positive commands,—­the very Street-door,—­in the night,—­alone,—­and undrest,—­this is a matter of Fact, Gentlewoman; you hastened me away,—­a plain case,—­and presently, after Don Carlos comes to the door,—­positive proof,—­sees me and falls right down upon my Jealousy,—­clear conviction,—­’twas pity but I had follow’d his counsel, yes, when the Devil turns student in Divinity;—­but no matter, I’ll see your back fairly turn’d upon this Town to morrow; I’ll marry my Daughter in the morning to Antonio, and a fair wind or not, we’ll home; the Gally lies ready in the Harbour—­ therefore prepare, pack up your tools, for you are no woman of this world.

Ant.  How! marry me to morrow to his daughter;—­and carry his Wife from my Friend; this misfortune must be prevented. [Aside peeping.

Fran.  And so, Mistress, come your ways to your Chamber.

Jul.  And study how to prevent this cruel separation.
                               [Aside, goes out with him and Jacinta.

Cla.  Ah, Antonio, I find by that sad look of yours, you have over-heard our hasty Doom.

Ant.  I have, and am a little surpriz’d at the suddenness of it; and I my self am the unlucky occasion of it,—­to break it off, I told my Father how scurvily Isabella treated me,—­he thereupon sends for old Francisco, tells him of my complaint, and instead of disengaging my self, I find my self more undone.

Cla.  What shall we do?  I’m sure thou wilt not marry her, thou canst not do’t and hope to go to Heaven.

Ant.  No, I have one prevention left, and if that fail, I’ll utterly refuse to marry her, a thing so vainly proud; no Laws of Nature or Religion, sure, can bind me to say yes; and for my Fortune, ’tis my own, no Father can command it.

Cla.  I know thou wilt be true, and I’ll not doubt it.

    Enter Jacinta.

Jac.  Ah!  Madam, the saddest news—­

Cla.  Hah! what?

Jac.  Poor Gentleman, I pity you of all things in the World,—­you must be forc’d—­how can I utter it,—­to the most lamentable torment that ever Lover endur’d—­to remain all night in your Mistress’s Chamber.

Ant.  Alas, how shall I endure so great an Affliction?

Cla.  And I.

Jac.  Ha, ha, ha, how I am griev’d to think on it; ha, ha, ha, that you shou’d both be so hardly put to it; ha, ha, ha, for the old Gentleman has lock’d all the doors, and took the keys to bed to him,—­go, get you in,—­ha, ha, ha.—­

Ant.  Oh, my dear Clara, this is a blessing I could not hope.