Fran. Alas, I see the Trick, Sir, a mere Trick put upon a Man, a married Man, and a married Man to a handsome young Woman,—you apprehend me.
Bal. Not I, Sir.
Fran. Not you, Sir! why, look ye, your young Governor who now is, made most desperate love to her who is now my Wife, d’ye mind me?—but you, being a Man of an exact Judgment, to her great grief, gave her to me, who best deserv’d her, both for my civil Behaviour, and comely Personage, d’ye understand me? but now this Carlos, by his Father’s death, being made Governor, d’ye see? is to marry me your other daughter Clara, and to exasperate me, wou’d never let me be at quiet till he had got both of us hither to Cadiz, to grace his Wedding; a Pox of his Invitation, was I so civil to invite him to mine?
Bal. If this be your Affliction, you may avoid it.
Fran. No, no, I’ll try to force Nature a little, and be civil, or so; but as soon as the Ceremony’s over, I’ll steal out of Town, whip a way, presto, i’faith.
Bal. But shou’d you do so rude a thing to your new Brother, your Wife wou’d think you were jealous of her. No, dissemble that Fault, I beseech you, ‘twill make you odious to her and all the world, when ‘tis needless, ’.is natural for Women to hate what they fear.
Fran. Say you so, then I will hide it as much as I can in words, I can dissemble too upon occasion.
Bal. Let her remain awhile amongst us.
Fran. The Devil a bit she shall, good Father mine, no, no, I have more years than you, Sir Father, and understand what Women are, especially when married to ancient Men, and have the Conversation of young Men—whose Eyes like Basilisks destroy Modesty with looking on ‘em; the very Thought on’t has rais’d a Bump in my Forehead already.
Bal. I am sorry you should suspect my Daughter’s Virtue.