Alb. Hold, my divine Clarina.—
Ant. Shall I discover my self, or steal away? Aside.
And all asham’d of Life after this Action,
Go where the Sun or Day may [never] find me?
Oh! what Virtue I’ve abus’d—
Curse on my little Faith;
And all the Curses Madness can invent,
Light on my groundless Jealousy. Ex. Antonio.
Alb. Clarina, why so cruel to my Heart?
’Tis true, I love you, but with as chaste an Ardour,