stranger set upon by Thieves.
[They fight, _Antonio_ with _Alberto_, _Alberto_ falls, is
wounded. _Lor._ and _Page_ run away the while.

_Alb._ Whoe'er thou be'st that takes the Traitor's part,
Commend me to the wrong'd _Antonio_.

_Ant._ _Alberto_! dear _Alberto_, is it thee?

_Alb._ _Antonio!_

_Ant._ I am asham'd to say I am _Antonio_;
Oh Gods, why would you suffer this mistake?

_Alb._ I am not wounded much,
My greatest pain is my concern for thee;
Friend, thou art wrong'd, falsely and basely wrong'd;
_Clarina_, whom you lov'd and fear'd,
Has now betray'd thy Honour with her own.

_Ant._ Without that sad addition to my Grief,
I should not long have born the weight of Life,
Having destroy'd thine by a dire mistake.

_Alb._ Thou art deceiv'd.

_Ant._ Alas, why was it not permitted me
To lose my Friend, or Wife? had one surviv'd,
I might have dy'd in silence for the other;
Oh my _Alberto_! oh _Clarina_ too!-- [Weeps.

_Alb._ Come, do not grieve for me, I shall be well,
I yet find strength enough to get away;
And then I'll let thee know my Fate and thine.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. _Antonio's_ House.

Enter _Clarina_, _Ismena_, and _Isabella_ weeping.

_Isab._ For Heaven sake, Madam, pardon me.

_Clar._ Be dumb for ever, false and treacherous Woman,
Was there no way but this to mask your Cheat?
A Lye which has undone us all.

_Isab._ Alas, 'twas in the dark, how could I know him?
Pray forgive it me, and try my future Service.

_Clar._ I never will forgive thee, naughty Girl;
_Alberto_ now incens'd will tell _Antonio_ all.

_Isab._ What need you care, Madam?
You are secure enough.

_Clar._ Thou salv'st an Error with a greater still;
Dost thou not know _Antonio's_ Jealousy,
Which yet is moderate, rais'd to a higher pitch,
May ruin me, _Ismena_, and thy self?

_Ism._ Sister, there cannot be much harm in this;
'Tis an ill chance, 'tis true, for by it we have lost
The pleasure of an innocent Revenge
Upon _Antonio_; but if understood,
We have but miss'd that end.

_Clar._ Oh _Ismena!_
This Jealousy is an unapprehensive madness,
A non-sense which does still abandon Reason.

_Isab._ Madam, early in the Morning
I'll to _Alberto's_ Lodgings, and tell him the mistake.

_Clar._ 'Twill be too late.

_Ism._ Sister, what think you if I go myself?

_Clar._ You should not be so daring