Lov. Hey day! What Stuff’s here? Nay, now I see thou art quite gone indeed.
Alon. I fear it. Oh, had she not been honest!
What Joy, what Heaven of Joys she would distribute!
With such a Face, and Shape, a Wit, and Mein—
But as she is, I know not what to do.
Lov. You cannot marry her.
Alon. I would not willingly, tho I think I’m free: For Pedro went to Marcel to tell him I was arriv’d, and would wait on him; but was treated more like a Spy, than a Messenger of Love: They sent no Answer back, which I tell you, Lovis, angers me: ’twas not the Entertainment I expected from my brave Friend Marcel. But now I am for the fair Stranger who by this expects me.
Mar. ’Tis Alonzo. O how he animates my Rage, and turns me over to Revenge, upon Hippolyta and her false Lover! [Aside.
Lov. Who’s this that walks before us? [[They go out.]
Alon. No matter who.