No, there’s a Letter will inform you more;
      Yet I can tell you what I think will grieve you,
      The Old Man is in want and angry still,
      And poverty is the Bellows to the Coal
      More than distaste from you as I imagine.

Antinous: 

      What’s here? how’s this?  It cannot be! now sure
      My griefs delude my senses.

Erota: 

      In his looks
      I read a world of Changes; Decius, mark
      With what a sad amazement he surveys
      The News; canst thou guess what ’tis?

Decius: 

      None good, I fear.

Erota: 

      I fear so too; and then—­

Antinous: 

      It is her hand.

Erota: 

      Are you not well?

Antinous: 

      Too well:  if I were ought
      But Rock, this Letter would conclude my miseries,
      Peruse it (Lady) and resolve me then,
      In what a case I stand.

Decius: 

      Sir, the worst is,
      Your Fathers lowness and distaste.

Antinous: 

No, Decius, My Sister writes Fernando has made suit For love to her; and to express sincerely His constant truth, hath like a noble Gentleman, Discovered plots of treachery; contriv’d By false Gonzalo, not intending more The utter ruine of our house, than generally Candies Confusion.

Decius: 

      ’Tis a generous part
      Of young Fernando.

Antinous: 

      ’Tis, and I could wish
      All thrift to his affections, Decius. 
      You find the sum on’t, Madam.

Erota: 

      Yes, I do.

Antinous: 

      And can you now yet think a heart opprest
      With such a throng of cares, can entertain
279] An amorous thought?  Love frees all toils but one,
      Calamity and it can ill agree.

Erota: 

      Wil’t please you speak my doom?

Antinous: 

      Alas, great Lady,
      Why will you flatter thus a desperate Man
      That is quite cast away?  O had you not
      Procur’d the Senates Warrant to enforce
      My stay, I had not heard of these sad News. 
      What would ye have me do?

Erota: 

      Love me, or kill me,
      One word shall sentence either; for as Truth
      Is just, if you refuse me, I am resolute
      Not to out-live my thraldome.

Antinous: 

      Gentle Lady.

Erota: 

      Say, must I live, or dye?

Decius: 

      My Lord, how can you
      Be so inexorable? here’s Occasion
      Of succouring your Father in his wants
      Securely profer’d, pray Sir, entertain it.

Erota: 

      What is my sentence?