A fortune not contemptible; returning
From thence with all my wealth in the plate fleet,
A furious storm almost within the port
Of Seville took us, scattered all the navy. 
My ship, by the unruly tempest borne
Quite through the Streights, as far as Barcelona,
There first cast anchor; there I stept ashore: 
Three days I staid, in which small time I made
A little love, which vanished as it came.

Man.  But were you not engaged to her you courted?

Gons.  Upon my honour, no; what might have been
I cannot tell:  But ere I could repair
My beaten ship, or take fresh water in,
One night, when there by chance I lay aboard,
A wind tore up my anchor from the bottom,
And with that violence it brought me thither,
Has thrown me in this port.

Mon.  But yet our meeting in the wood was strange.

Gons.  For that I’ll satisfy you as we walk.

Enter HIPPOLITO.

Hip.  O sir, how glad am I to find you!—­

 [Whispers.

Man.  That boy I have seen somewhere, or one like him, But where, I cannot call to mind.

Hip.  I found it out, and got before them—­ And here they are—­

Enter AMIDEO and JULIA.

Man.  My sister! as I could have wished it.

Amid.  O! we are caught!

Jul.  I did expect as much:  Fortune has not forgot that I am Julia.

Man.  Sister, I’m glad you’re happily returned;
’Twas kindly done of you thus to prevent
The trouble of my search.

Jul.  I would not have you
Mistake my love to Roderick so much,
To think I meant to fall into your hands. 
My purpose is for the next nunnery;
There I’ll pray for you:  So farewell.

Man.  Stay, Julia, you must go with me.

Jul.  Lead, lead; You think I am your prisoner now.

Gons.  If you will needs to a religious house, Leave that fair face behind; a worse will serve To spoil with watching, and with fasting there.

Man.  Pr’ythee, no more of this; the only way
To make her happy is to force it on her. 
Julia, prepare yourself strait to be married.

Jul.  To whom?

Man.  You see your bridegroom:  And you know
My father’s will, who, with his dying breath
Commanded, you should pay as strict obedience
To me, as formerly to him:  If not,
Your dowry is at my dispose.

Jul.  O, would
The loss of that dispense with duty in me,
How gladly would I suffer it! and yet,
If I durst question it, methinks ’tis hard! 
What right have parents over children, more
Than birds have o’er their young? yet they impose
No rich-plumed mistress on their feathered sons;
But leave their love, more open yet and free
Than all the fields of air, their spacious birthright.