Isab. Alas, ’twas in the dark, how could I know him?
Pray forgive it me, and try my future Service.
Clar. I never will forgive thee, naughty Girl;
Alberto now incens’d will tell Antonio all.
Isab. What need you care, Madam?
You are secure enough.
Clar. Thou salv’st an Error with a greater still;
Dost thou not know Antonio’s Jealousy,
Which yet is moderate, rais’d to a higher pitch,
May ruin me, Ismena, and thy self?