that bus’ness,
Since it produc’d such dismal Accidents,
As my heart trembles but to think upon;
Yet for Don Lewis’s Innocence and mine,
In the contrivance of that Fatal Meeting;
I must for ever, during Life, be Champion.
And, as he with his dying breath protested,
He ne’re meant wrong to you; so am I ready
To dye a Martyr to my Innocence.

Anto. Come, come, these are but wyles to Palliate things,
Can you believe me stupid, or an Ass?
To think my Wife should meet a Man i’ th’ Night;
Nay, more; a Man that was my seeming Friend;
Yet taken in at Window privately!
Nay, which was most, stay with him two full hours,
And in a Room made proper by a Bed,
And yet not Cuckold me; the thing’s too plain,
I do not doubt the deed, which Iv’e Reveng’d
In part, by killing him: No, I am mad,
That you should think so meanly still of me,
As to hope time may alter my belief;
Which is by such unerring Reasons fixt:
Or else that you suspect my Truth, when I have sworn
By all things sacred; nay upon my Honour
(Which I am so Jealous of) that if you would
Relate the truth of your so close amours,
I from my memory would blot it all,
And look on you at worst, but as the Widdow
Of your dead Couzen Lewis.

Cæl.Good my Lord,
Forbear to use these killing Arguments,
Which every moment give me many Deaths,
Rather be like your self, that’s Gen’rous,
And kill me once for all; torment me not
By giving no belief, either to Vows
Or Actions that have spoke my Innocence:
Reflect (my Lord) on the unwearied pains
Iv’e took to gain your pardon for his Death.
Think with what patience I’ve suffer’d still
Your often starts of Passion, which sometimes
Have ne’re produc’d th’ effects of Cruelty.
And without boast, my Lord, you well do know
My Friends were much too strong for yours at Court,
Then had I but made known your severe Carriage,
Or suffer’d your surprizal—’tis too plain;
Yoor Life had been a forfeit to the Law.
And were I but the wanton Wife you think me,
What wou’d more welcome be then that Revenge—
Here on my knees I beg again, my Lord,
You would perswade your self, that what I told you
Was cause of that close meeting, was so truly,
And no invention; and as this Day
Began our Nuptial Joys, so let it end
Our Marriage Discords; then shall I have cause
To keep it Annually a Festival;
In thanks to Heav’n for two such mighty Blessings.

Anto. Cælia, stand up, I will perswade my self.
By this —— I will as much, as e’re I can,

That thou art Innocent, for if thou bee’st not,
What Woman in the World ought to be thought so?
But prethee be discreet, mannage thy Actions
With strictest Rules of Prudence, for if not,
Like to a Bow or’e-bent, I shall start back,
And break with passion on thee: wilt thou be careful?

Cæl. Oh! I am paid for all my sufferings,
This kindness does or’e-joy me, which, my Lord,
Let me for ever lose when any Act
Of mine, shall justly make a forfeit of it.

Flor. My Lord, here’s Don Gerardo come to see you.

Anto. Admit him in.

Cæl.I will retire, my Lord.

Anto. You need not, Cælia.

Welcome, Gerardo, this is like a Friend,
That name should know no Ceremonious Laws,
Let them make formal Visits that maintain,
As formal Friendships; ours is try’d and true.

Gerar. This, as I take it, was your Wedding-day,
At which (your pardon, Madam, for a truth.)
I was a Jealous waiter; your great worth
Made me to fear I then had lost a Friend,
And in that room should an acquaintance find.

Cæl. But now, my Lord, you see how you mistook,
I was a Rival to his Mistresses,
But to his Friends, one to increase their number.

Ger. I find the truth so great, I wish you may
Live long and happy to possess that place;
Yet I’le confess I did not lose my fears,
Till my dear Friend was pleas’d to use my Sword,
As Second, in the Quarrel with your Kinsman,
The Unfortunate Don Lewis; and I protest
Such Joy I met to be employ’d by him,
That I ne’re sought to know what caus’d the quarrel.

Cæl. My Lord, I beg your pardon,
I have some little bus’ness in my Closet
Which forces me retire.

Ger. Your Lady looks as if she were displeas’d.

Anto. That Kinsman whom I slew is never nam’d,
But if she hears it she avoids the place.

Ger. I’m troubled much to be th’ occasion now.

Anto. No matter, Friend, she only knows the cause,
Why from such Friendship we grew Enemies,
And there is reason why she should be griev’d.

Ger. That sudden and so secret Quarrel
Did much amaze all Naples;
And I (as Actor in it) often have been prest
To tell the cause, which yet I never could.

Anto. No, Friend, nor never must:
The Gen’rous Lewis; so I’le call him now,
Since he so bravely dy’d, was alwayes just
During that little time he breath’d this Air;
After his mortal Wound, for he Related
A Story of it fitted us for pardon:
Yet never told that Secret, only known
On Earth, to him, to Cælia and my self.

Ger. I’me not inquisitive, nor never was,
There may be secrets fit for no Mans hearing.
And ’tis an Act of Friendship full as great
To tell a Friend I hide a secret from him,
As to Relate it, since they both shew Candor—

Anto. Happy Antonio, in a Friend so just!

Ger. Happy Gerardo, rather, that can say
He’s sure he has a Friend, that dares employ him;
For confidence in Friends makes Friendship sure.

Anto. And dearest Friend, I’le not doubt yours so much,
To think you would not use this Life of mine,
As ’twere your own in any thing concerns you.

Ger. Ne’re doubt it, Friend, I soon shall find occasion
Boldly to use the power, and to speak truth;
My coming now was chiefly to that purpose;
Though I intended to spend this day too
In Recreation with you, and to see you Bedded,
Like a new Bride and Bride-groom,
Then wishing you long: long and lasting Joys,
Retire, and wish to Copy out your Life.

Anto. Has Don Gerardo Service for Antonio,
His own Antonio and yet defers to name it?
Speak your Commands, that I as swift may flye
To put ’em into Action as I did
At first to meet those pleasures Lovers long for.

Ger. My fears perswade me I shall speak too soon,
Yet dress your self, and come into the Garden,
I with impatience there will wait to tell you.

Anto. Go then, you shall not long be silent.

Who waits there?