m, your wrong a poor Lover, who has languish'd in
search of it all this live-long day.

_Cleo._ Brother, I beseech you, receive the innocent _Clarinda_, who,
I fear, will have the greatest Cause of Complaint against you.
[To _Marcel._ Gives him to _Clarinda_.

_Alon._ But pray, fair one, let you and I talk a little about that same
Heart you put me in mind of just now.
[To _Cleonte_, with whom he seems to talk.

_Ped._ Surely that's my old Mistress, _Dormida_; twenty years has not
made so great an Alteration in that ill-favour'd Face of hers, but I can
find a Lover there.
[Goes to her, they seem to talk earnestly, and sometimes pleasantly,
pointing to _Clarinda_.

_Mar._ Enough, _Clarinda_: I'm too well convinc'd,
Would thou hadst still remain'd a Criminal.
Now how can I reward thy Faith and Love?

_Clar._ I know, _Marcel_, it is not in thy Power,
Thy faithless Story I'm acquainted with.

_Mar._ Do not reproach me with my Shame, _Clarinda_.
'Tis true, to gain thee to consent to my Desires,
I made an honourable Pretence of loving.
Pardon a Lover all the ways he takes
To gain a Mistress so belov'd and fair.
But I have since repented of that Sin,
And came last Night for thy Forgiveness too.

_Ped._ This is News indeed; 'tis fit I keep this Secret no longer from
my Master. Don _Manuel_ being dead, my Vow's expir'd. [Aside.]
[_Pedro_ goes to _Alonzo_.

_Clar._ And do you mean no more to love me then?

_Mar._ In spite of me, above my Sense or Being.

_Clar._ And yet you'll marry _Flavia_.

_Mar._ Against my Will I must, or lose a Father.

_Clar._ Then I must die, _Marcel_.

_Mar._ Do not unman my Soul, it is too weak To bear the Weight of fair
_Clarinda's_ Tears.
[Weeps.

_Alon._ Why was this Secret kept from me so long?

_Ped._ I was oblig'd by Vow, Sir, to Don _Alonzo_, my dead Master, not
to restore you till Don _Manuel's_ Death; believing it a Happiness too
great for his Rival, for so he was upon your Mother's score.

_Alon._ Have I a Mother living?

_Ped._ Here in Madrid, Sir, and that fair Maid's your Sister.
[Pointing to _Clarinda_.

_Alon._ I scarce can credit thee, but that I know thee honest.

_Ped._ To confirm that belief, Sir, here are the Writings of twelve
thousand Crowns a Year, left you by your Foster-Father the brave
_Alonzo_, whose Name he gave you too.
[Gives him Papers, he reads.

_Alon._ I am convinc'd-- How now, _Marcel_, wh