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Has gain’d you nothing but a deeper Hate.

Should I imagine, he can truly love me,

That, like a Villain, murthers my Desires?

Or should I drink that Wine, and think it Cordial,

When I see Poyson in’t?

Rod. Draw this way, Lady;

I am not perfect in your Story yet;

But see you’ve had some Wrongs, that want Redress.

Only you must have Patience to go with us

To yon small Lodge, which meets the Sight from hence,

Where your Distress shall find the due Respect:

’Till when, your Griefs shall govern me as much,

As Nearness and Affection to my Brother.

Call my Attendants yours; and use them freely;

For as I am a Gentleman, no Pow’r,

Above your own Will, shall come near your Person.

[As they are going out, Violante enters, and plucks Roderick by the Sleeve; the rest go out.]

Viol. Your Ear a Moment: Scorn not my tender Youth.

Roder. Look to the Lady there. — I follow strait.

What ails this Boy? Why dost thou single me?

Viol. The due Observance of your noble Virtue,

Vow’d to this mourning Virgin, makes me bold

To give it more Employment.

Rod. Art not Thou

The surly Shepherd’s Boy, that, when I call’d

To know the Way, ran crying by me?

Viol. Yes, Sir.

And I thank Heav’n and you for helping me.

Rod. How did I help thee, Boy?

Viol. I do but seem so, Sir; and am indeed

A Woman; one your Brother once has lov’d;

Or, Heav’n forgive him else, he ly’d extremely.

Rod. Weep not, good Maid; O this licentious Brother!

But how came you a Wand’rer on these Mountains?

Viol. That, as we pass, an’t please you, I’ll discover.

I will assure you, Sir, these barren Mountains

Hold many Wonders of your Brother’s making.

Here wanders hapless Julio, worthy Man!

Besides himself with Wrongs —

Rod. That once again —

Viol. Sir, I said, Julio. — Sleep weigh’d down his Eyelids,

Oppress’d with Watching, just as you approach’d us.

Rod. O Brother! We shall sound the Depths of Falsehood.

If this be true, no more but guide me to him:

I hope, a fair End will succeed all yet.

If it be He, by your Leave, gentle Brother,

I’ll see him serv’d first. — Maid, you have o’erjoy’d me.

Thou shalt have Right too: Make thy fair Appeal

To the good Duke, and doubt not but thy Tears

Shall be repaid with Interest from his Justice.

Lead me to Julio. [Exeunt.

Scene II. An Apartment in the Lodge.

Enter Duke, Don Bernard, and Camillo.

Cam. Ay, then your Grace had had a Son more; He, a Daughter; and I, an Heir: But let it be as ’tis, I cannot mend it; one way or other, I shall rub it over, with rubbing to my Grave, and there’s an End on’t.

Duke. Our Sorrows cannot help us, Gentlemen.

Cam. Hang me, Sir, if I shed one Tear more. By Jove, I’ve wept so long, I’m as blind as Justice. When I come to see my Hawks (which I held a Toy next to my Son;) if they be but House-high, I must stand aiming at them like a Gunner.

Duke. Why, he mourns like a Man. Don Bernard, you

Are still like April, full of Show’rs and Dews:

And yet I blame you not: for I myself

Feel the self-same Affections. — Let them go;

They’re disobedient Children.

D. Bern. Ay, my Lord;

Yet they may turn again.

Cam. Let them e’en have their Swing: they’re young and wanton; the next Storm we shall have them gallop homeward, whining as Pigs do in the Wind.

D. Bern. Would I had my Daughter any way.

Cam. Would’st thou have her with Bearn, Man, tell me that?

D. Bern. I care not, if an honest Father got it.

Cam. You might have had her so in this good Time, Had my Son had her: Now you may go seek Your Fool to stop a Gap with.

Duke. You say, that Rod’rick charg’d you here should wait him:

He has o’erslip’ed the Time, at which his Letters

Of Speed request that I should also meet him.

I fear, some bad Event is usher’d in

By this Delay: — How now?

Enters Gentleman.

Gent. So please your Grace,

Lord Rod’rick makes Approach.

Duke. I thank thee, Fellow,

For thy so timely News: Comes he alone?

Gent. No, Sir, attended well; and in his Train

Follows a Herse with all due Rites of Mourning.

[Exit Gent.

Duke. Heav’n send, Henriquez live!

Cam. ’Tis my poor Julio.—