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 Ægyptian 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.