Rod.  What would you have me do?

Jul.  Since I must tell thee,
Lead me to some near monastery; there
(Till heaven find out some way to make us happy)
I shall be kept in safety from my brother.

Rod.  But more from me; what hopes can Rodorick have, That she, who leaves him freely, and unforced, Should ever of her own accord return?

Jul.  Thou hast too great assurance of my faith,
That, in despite of my own self, I love thee. 
Be friends with Manuel, I am thine; ’till when
My honour’s.  Lead me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.—­The representation of a Street discovered
by twilight.

Enter Don MANUEL, solus.

Man.  This is the time and place, where I expect
My fugitive mistress; if I meet with her,
I may forget the wrongs, her brother did me;
If otherwise, his blood shall expiate them. 
I hope her woman keeps her ignorant
How all things passed, according to her promise.

A door opens,—­Enter ANGELINA in boy’s clothes.  LEONORA behind at the door.

Leon.  I had forgot to tell him of this habit She has put on; but sure he’ll know her in it.

[Aside.

Man.  Who goes there?

Ang.  ’Tis Don Manuel’s voice; I must run back:  The door shut on me?—­Leonora! where?—­Does she not follow me?  I am betrayed.

Man.  What are you?

Ang.  A poor boy.

Man.  Do you belong to Rodorick?

Ang.  Yes, I do.

Man.  Here’s money for you; tell me where’s his sister?

Ang.  Just now I met her coming down the stairs, Which lead into the garden.

Man.  ’Tis well; leave me In silence.

Ang.  With all my heart; was ever such a ’scape? [Exit running.

Man.  She cannot now be long; sure by the moons shine I shall discover her: 

Enter RODORICK and JULIA.

This must be she; I’ll seize her.

Jul.  Help me, Roderick.

Rod.  Unhand the lady, villain.

Man.  Roderick! 
I’m glad we meet alone; now is the time
To end our difference.

Rod.  I cannot stay.

Man.  You must.

Rod.  I will not.

Man.  ’Tis base to injure any man; but yet Tis far more base, once done, not to defend it.

Rod.  Is this an hour, for valiant men to fight? 
They love the sun should witness what they do;
Cowards have courage, when they see not death;
And fearful hares, that sculk in forms all day,
Yet fight their feeble quarrels by the moonlight.

Man.  No; light and darkness are but poor distinctions Of such, whose courage comes by fits and starts.