Guil.  Nay, you shall sit.

[They dance.

Enter Antonio.

Ant.  Good day, Sir, I hope you will not chide my tardiness, I have a little overslept my self, and am ashamed to see my lovely Bride, and all this worthy Company attend.  —­But you, fair Creature—­ [To Isabella.

Isa.  No marrying to day, Sir.

Fran.  No, Sir, no marrying to day.

Ant.  How, do I dream, or hear this from Francisco?

Guil.  How now, Fellow, what art thou?

Ant.  The Husband of that proud disdainful Woman.

Guil.  Another word like that—­and thou art—­

Ant.  What, Sir?

Fran.  Oh, hold, hold, my Lord! Antonio, I must tell you, you’re uncivil.

Guil.  Dost know, dull Mortal, that I am a Lord, And Isabella my adopted Lady.

Ant.  I beg your pardon, Sir, if it be so, poor Mortals can but grieve in silence.

Guil.  Alas, poor Mortal!

Ant.  But, for you, Francisco.

Fran.  Ah, dear Antonio, I vow and swear I cannot chuse but weep to lose thee; but my Daughter was born for a Lady, and none can help their destiny.

Ant.  And is it possible thou canst use me thus? [To Isa.

Isa.  Take away that little Fellow; in pity of your life, I deign to bid you withdraw and be safe.

Guil.  D’ye hear, hah?—­this Lady has beg’d your life.

Ant.  Beg’d my Life!

Guil.  Vile Wretch, dar’st thou retort?
                               [Draws, the Women hold him.

Fran.  Oh, hold, hold, my noble Son-in-law, he shall do any thing;—­ dear Antonio, consider, I was never Father to a Lord all days of my Life before:—­my Lord, be pacified, my Daughter shall be a Lady.

Isa.  For my sake spare him, and be Friends with him, as far as you may deign to be with a little Citizen.

Guil.  Fellow, I forgive thee,—­here’s my hand to kiss in sign and token I am appeased.
[Gives him his hand to kiss, ’tis all black.

Ant.  A Pox of his honourable hand, ’t had like to have spoiled all, —­well, since it must be so, I am content.

Guil.  So, now Peace is concluded on, on all sides, what shall we do to day besides eating and drinking in abundance; for to morrow I shall get my self in order for my Marriage.

Cla.  What thinks your Honour of taking the Air upon the Sea, in a Galley, a League or two?

Guil.  With Fiddles, Drums and Trumpets, Westphalia hams and Pidgeons, and the like:  Hey, Rogues, Scoundrels, Dogs.

Isa.  Ah, how fine is every Action of a great Man!

Guil.  Command a Galley to attend us presently.  —­You shall along, old Boy. [To Fran.