That still must last, and never hope a Cure.
Amb. Since you are so resolv’d, I will unfold
A Secret to you, that perhaps may please you.
Silv. Low at your Feet I do implore it, Sir. [Kneels.
Amb. Your Quality forbids this Ceremony. [Takes him up.
Silv. How, Sir!
Amb. Your Father was the mighty Favourite, the [Count d’Olivarez]; your Mother, Spain’s celebrated Beauty, Donna Margarita Spiniola, by whom your Father had two natural Sons, Don Lovis de Harro, and your self Don Roderigo. The Story of his Disgrace, you know, with all the World; ’twas then he being banisht from the Court, he left you to my Care then very young. I receiv’d you as my own, and as more than such educated you, and as your Father oblig’d me to do, brought you always up about their Majesties; for he hoped, if you had Beauty and Merits, you might inherit part of that Glory he lost.
Mar. This is wondrous.
Amb. This Truth you had not known so soon, had you not made as great an Interest at Court as any Man so young ever did, and if I had not acquitted my self in all Points as became the Friend of so great and brave a Man, as Count d’Olivarez: the Fortune he left you was two Millions of Crowns.
Silv. Let me embrace your feet for this blest News. Is not the fair Cleonte then my Sister?