Alon. Madam, I’ll take my leave, and wish the Heart I leave with you to night, may persuade you to suffer my Visits to morrow, till when I shall do nothing but languish.
Cleo. I know not what loss you have suffer’d to night; but since your fair Sister’s Presence with us allows it, you need not doubt a welcome.
Alon. I humbly thank you, Madam. [Kisses her Hand, and looks amorously on Clarinda.
Fran. Madam, pray retire, for Don Marcel is come into the House all bloody, inrag’d against somebody.
Clar. I’m troubled at his Hurt, but cannot fear his Rage. Good night, Sir. [They go out.
Alon. They are gone; now had I as much mind to have kist the other’s Hand, but that ’twas not a Ceremony due to a Sister—What the Devil came into my Head, to say she was so? nothing but the natural itch of talking and lying: they are very fair; but what’s that to me? Euphemia surpasses both: But of Marriage, I’ll set that to her Beauty, and then these get the Day, as far as natural Necessity goes: But I’ll home and sleep upon’t, and yield to what’s most powerful in the Morning.
To night these Strangers do my Heart possess,
But which the greatest share, I cannot guess:
My Fate in Love resembles that in War,
When the rich Spoil falls to the common share. [Goes out.