Ism. Oh Alberto, Isabella has undone us all!
Alb. She weeps, and looks as innocent!
—What mean you, false dissembling Clarina?
What, have you borrow’d from Deceit new Charms,
And think’st to fool me to a new belief?
Ism. How, Sir, can you too be unkind?
Nay then ’tis time to die; alas, there wanted but your credit
To this mistake, to make me truly miserable.
Alb. What Credit? What Mistake? oh, undeceive me,
For I have done thee Injuries past Forgiveness,