[GONSALVO seems to beg MANUEL not to be harsh.

Man.  Nay, good Gonsalvo, trouble not yourself, There is no other way; when ’tis once done, She’ll thank me for’t.

Jul.  I ne’er expected other usage from you;
A kind brother you have been to me,
And to my sister:  You have sent, they say,
To Barcelona, that my aunt should force her
To marry the old Don you brought her.

Hip.  Who could, that once had seen Gonsalvo’s. face?  Alas, she little thinks I am so near! [Aside.

Man.  Mind not what she says.  A word with you—­[To GONSALVO.

Amid.  Don Manuel eyes me strangely; the best is, he never saw me yet but at a distance:  My brother’s jealousy (who ne’er intended I should be his) restrained our nearer converse. [Aside.

Jul.  My pretty youth, I am enforced to trust thee [To AMIDEO.  With my most near concerns; friends I have none, If thou deny’st to help me.

Amid.  Any thing To break your marriage with my master.

Jul.  Go to Roderick, and tell him my condition:  But tell it him as from thyself, not me.

Amid.  That you are forced to marry?

Jul.  But do not ask him To succour me; if of himself he will not, I scorn a love that must be taught its duty.

Man.  What youth is that?  I mean the little one.

Gons.  I took him up last night.

Man.  A sweet-faced boy, I like him strangely:  Would you part with him?

Amid.  Alas, sir, I am good for nobody, But for my master.

Hip.  Sir, I’ll do your errand Another time, for letting Julia go. [To AMIDEO.

Man.  Come, sir.

Gons.  I beg your pardon for a moment, I’ll but dispatch some business in my ship, And wait you presently: 

Man.  We’ll go before; I’ll make sure Roderick shall never have her; And ’tis at least some pleasure to destroy His happiness, who mined first my joy.

[Exeunt all but GONSALVO; who, before he goes, whispers HIPPOLITO.

Gons.  Against her will fair Julia to possess,
Is not to enjoy, but ravish happiness: 
Yet women pardon force, because they find
The violence of love is still most kind: 
Just like the plots of well built comedies,
Which then please most, when most they do surprise: 
But yet constraint love’s noblest end destroys,
Whose highest joy is in another’s joys: 
Where passion rules, how weak does reason prove! 
I yield my cause, but cannot yield my love. [Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE I.—­A great room in DON MANUEL’S house.

HIPPOLITO solus.

My master bid me speak for him to Julia: 
Hard fate, that I am made a confident
Against myself! 
Yet, though unwillingly I took the office,
I would perform it well:  But how can I
Prove lucky to his love, who to my own
Am so unfortunate? he trusts his passion
Like him, that ventures all his stock at once
On an unlucky hand.