her sickness!

_Rod_. Those are wishes:
What's to be done?

_Man_. We must defer our marriages.

_Rod_. Leonora, now! [_Aside to her_

_Leon_. My lady, sir, has absolutely charged,
Her brother's should go forward.

_Rod_. Absolutely!

_Leon_. Expressly, sir; because, she says, there are
So many honourable persons here,
Whom to defraud of their intended mirth,
And of each others company, were rude:
So, hoping your excuse--[_Exit_ LEONORA.

_Rod_. That privilege of power, which brothers have
In Spain, I never used, therefore submit
My will to hers; but with much sorrow, sir,
My happiness should go before, not wait
On yours: Lead on.

_Man_. Stay, sir; though your fair sister, in respect
To this assembly, seems to be content
Your marriage should proceed, we must not want
So much good manners as to suffer it.

_Rod_. So much good manners, brother?

_Man_.--I have said it.
Should we, to show our sorrow for her sickness,
Provoke our easy souls to careless mirth,
As if our drunken revels were designed
For joy of what she suffers?

_Rod_. 'Twill be over
In a few days.

_Man_. Your stay will be the less.

_Rod_. All things are now in readiness, and must not
Be put off, for a peevish humour thus.

_Man_. They must; or I shall think you mean not fairly.

_Rod_. Explain yourself.

_Man_. That you would marry first,
And afterwards refuse me Angelina.

_Rod_.--Think so.

_Man_. You are--

_Rod_. Speak softly.

_Man_. A foul villain.

_Rod_. Then--

_Man_. Speak softly.

_Rod_. I'll find a time to tell you, you are one.

_Man_. 'Tis well.
Ladies, you wonder at our private whispers,
[_To the company_.
But more will wonder when you know the cause;
The beauteous Angelina is fallen ill;
And, since she cannot with her presence grace
This day's solemnity, the noble Roderick
Thinks fit it be deferred, 'till she recover;
Then, we both hope to have your companies.

_Lad_. Wishing her health, we take our leaves.
[_Exeunt company_.
_Rod_. Your sister yet will marry me.

_Man_. She will not: Come hither, Julia.

_Jul_. What strange afflicting news is this you tell us?

_Man_. 'Twas all this false man's plot, that when he had
Possest you, he might cheat me of his sister.

_Jul_. Is this true, Roderick?--Alas, his silence
Does but too much confess it: How I blush
To own that love, I cannot yet take from thee!
Yet for my sake be friends.

_Man_. 'Tis now too late:
I am by honour hindered.