Guil. Alas, poor Mortal!
Ant. But, for you, Francisco.
Fran. Ah, dear Antonio, I vow and swear I cannot chuse but weep to lose thee; but my Daughter was born for a Lady, and none can help their destiny.
Ant. And is it possible thou canst use me thus? [To Isa.
Isa. Take away that little Fellow; in pity of your life, I deign to bid you withdraw and be safe.
Guil. D’ye hear, hah?—this Lady has beg’d your life.
Ant. Beg’d my Life!
Guil. Vile Wretch, dar’st thou retort? [Draws, the Women hold him.
Fran. Oh, hold, hold, my noble Son-in-law, he shall do any thing;— dear Antonio, consider, I was never Father to a Lord all days of my Life before:—my Lord, be pacified, my Daughter shall be a Lady.
Isa. For my sake spare him, and be Friends with him, as far as you may deign to be with a little Citizen.