Gons.  In those few minutes which I have to live,
To be called yours, is all I can enjoy. 
Roderick receives no prejudice by that;
I would but make some small acquaintance here,
For fear I never should enquire you out
In that new world, which we are going to.

Amid.  Then, I can hold no longer;—­You desire, In death, to be called hers; and all I wish, Is, dying, to be yours.

Hip.  You’ll not discover? [Aside.

Amid.  See here the most unfortunate of women,
That Angelina, whom you all thought lost;
And lost she was indeed, when she beheld
Gonsalvo first.

All.  How?—­Angelina!

Rod.  Ha!  My sister!

Amid.  I thought to have fled love in flying Manuel,
But love pursued me in Gonsalvo’s shape: 
For him, I ventured all that maids hold dear;
The opinion of my modesty, and virtue,
My loss of fortune, and my brother’s love. 
For him, I have exposed myself to dangers,
Which, great themselves, yet greater would appear,
If you could see them through a woman’s fear. 
But why do I my right by dangers prove? 
The greatest argument for love is love: 
That passion, Julia, while he lives, denies,
He should refuse to give her when he dies: 
Yet grant he did his life to her bequeath,
May I not claim my share of him in death? 
I only beg, when all the glory’s gone,
The heatless beams of a departing sun.

Gons.  Never was passion, hid so modestly, So generously revealed.

Man.  We’re now a chain of lovers linked in death;
Julia goes first, Gonsalvo hangs on her,
And Angelina holds upon Gonsalvo,
As I on Angelina.

Hip.  Nay, here’s Honoria too:—­You look on me with wonder in your eyes, To see me here, and in this strange disguise.

Jul.  What new miracle is this?  Honoria!

Man.  I left you with my aunt at Barcelona, And thought, ere this, you had been married to The rich old man, Don Estevan de Gama.

Hip.  I ever had a strange aversion for him: 
But when Gonsalvo landed there, and made
A kind of courtship, (though, it seems, in jest,)
It served to conquer me; which Estevan
Perceiving, pressed my aunt to haste the marriage. 
What should I do?  My aunt importuned me
For the next day:  Gonsalvo, though I loved him,
Knew not my love; nor was I sure his courtship
Was not the effect of a bare gallantry.

Gons.  Alas! how grieved I am, that slight address Should make so deep impression on your mind, In three days time!

Hip.  That accident, in which
You saved my life, when first you saw me, caused it,
Though now the story be too long to tell. 
Howe’er it was, hearing that night, you lay
Aboard your ship, thus, as you see, disguised,
In clothes belonging to my youngest nephew,
I rose ere day, resolved to find you out,
And, if I could, procure to wait on you
Without discovery of myself:  but fortune
Crossed all my hopes.