Ism. See who ’tis knocks. One knocks.
Ant. What will this come to? Aside.
Isab. Madam, ’tis Alberto.
Enter Alberto. Bows.
Ism. My Lord, you’ve often told me that you lov’d me,
Which I with Womens usual Pride believ’d;
And now, encourag’d by my hopeful Promises,
You look for some Returns: Sir, is it so?
Alb. What means she?
Pray Heaven I answer right. Aside.