Clow. We shall never reach London, I fear;
My mind runs so much of hanging, landing at Wapping. [Exeunt.
Enter Mariana.
This well may be a day of joy long wish'd for
To my Clarissa, she is innocent.
Nor can her youth but with an open bosome
Meet Hymens pleasing bounties, but to me
That am inviron'd with black guilt and horror
It does appear a funeral though promising much
In the conception were hard to mannage
But sad in [the] event, it was not hate
But fond indulgence in me to preserve
Cesario's threatn'd life in open court
Then forc'd me to disclaime him, choosing rather
To rob him of his birthright, and honor
Than suffer him to run the hazard of
Inrag'd Baptista's fury, while he lives;
I know I have a Son, and the Dukes sentence
A while deluded, and this tempest over,
When he assures himself despair hath seiz'd him. [Knock within.
Enter Baptista.
I can relieve and raise him—speak, who is it
That presses on my privacies? Sir your pardon.
You cannot come unwelcome, though it were
To read my secret thoughts.
Bap. Lady to you
Mine shall be ever open; Lady said I,
That name keeps too much distance, sister rather
I should have stil'd you, and I now may claime it,
Since our divided families are made one
By this blessed marriage; to whose honor comes
The Duke in person, waited on by all
The braveries of his Court, to witness it,
And then to be our ghests, is the bride ready
To meet and entertain him?
Maria. She attends the comming of your Son.
Bap. Pray you bring her forth.
The Duke's at hand—Musick, in her loud voyce,
Speaks his arrivall.
Maria. She's prepar'd to meet it. [—Exit.
Enter Mariana, Clarissa, led by two Maids: at the other door, Baptista meets with Mentivole, led by two Cour[t]iers, the Duke, Bishop; divers Attendants: (A Song) whilst they salute.