Fortune
I freely will resign into his hands.
Then truly speak your thoughts.

_Eugen._ Surely, my Lord,
You'd scarcely think I should be worth your care,
If I should choose before you nam'd one to me.

_Anto._ Sister, I see your Kindreds Jealousies
Partly infects you too; but to remove them,
What think you of _Gerardo_, for a Husband?
My wishes meet with yours, if he's their Object;
You know I'm no Dissembler.

_Eugen._ Nor shall you find me so; for I confess
In this you prove your Kindness, Care, and Justice;
And I must meet it with my greatest thanks.

_Anto._ I'm joyful for it; to morrow is the day,
A private Wedding will prevent all Rumour,
You'd best withdraw then to provide your self.
[Ex. _Eugen_.
What Paper's this I got out of her Pocket?
Pray Heaven it be the right; it is the same,
The very same ---- what makes me tremble!
Is't horror or desire, or both assault me?
Be it what it will, 'tis Hell to live in doubt;
But stay, my Conscience sayes 'tis Sacriledge--
What's that? A word by cunning Priests invented
To keep the Cheats they live by from our knowledge;
As the _AEgyptian_ did with _Hieroglyfficks_;
But be it what it will, a Name, or thing,
I'le read it, for't may Cure my Jealousie,
And surely that exceeds Hells misery.
But to my Closet, where no Eye can see,
All are call'd Pious, who live scandal free.
[Exit.

_Enter _Eugenia_ and Nurse._

_Eugen._ Since he has promis'd but to take his leave,
And neither then, nor never urge more Sin,
I am content to give him this last meeting.

_Nurse._ He'l be a glad man, I'm sure--but what shall poor
_Jasper_ do?

_Eugen._ If he will marry you, I'le keep you both.

_Nurse._ Thank you, Madam, I'le tell him your good will.
[Exit.

_Eugen._ What by this cursed Sin am I reduc'd to?
To be a Slave to Slaves; nay, worse, a Bawd,
A Name so base, profest ones do detest it,
And yet I'm one, this cursed Hellish Hagg has made me so.
The first did sell, and then betray'd my Honour,
Yet thinks she has oblig'd me by the Action.
Nay, I am forc't to say so now to please her;
Some heavenly Angel make me Chaste again,
Or make me nothing, I am resolv'd to try,
Before I'de still live Whore, I'de choose to dye.

_Enter _Jasper_._

_Jasp._ I'm come to thank your Lady-ship for the great care,
Nurse sayes, you have of me; but faith, Madam, I
Was ne're made to be Steel to a Tinder-Box; she's
Meer Touch-wood; no, I'm not for Marrying great
Grannums: