Ism. Thou hast more Skill than I;
But prithee why does he not tell me so himself?
Isab. Oh Madam, whilst he takes you for Clarina,
’Twould shew his disrespect to tell his Love?
But when he knows Ismena is the Object,
He’ll tire you with the wish’d for story.
Ism. Ah, thou art a pleasing Flatterer.
Enter Page.
Page. Madam, Alberto is without.
Ism. Tell him I’m indispos’d, and cannot see him now.