The hopeless Flame Cleonte kindled there;
But ’twas a Shame to see how ill I did dissemble.
Franc. Stay, Sir, here comes Marcel. I’ll leave you.
[Exit Francisca.
Enter Marcel, with a Letter open in his Hand, which he kisses.
Mar. Kind Messenger of Love! Thus, thus a thousand times
I bid thee welcome from my fair Clarinda.
Thus joyful Bridegrooms, [after long Despairs],
Possess the yielding Treasure in their Arms:
Only thus much the happier Lover I,