POSTSCRIPT.
Since I writ this, I have so wrought upon her,
(Who, of herself, is timorous enough)
That she believes her brother will betray her,
Or else be forced to give her up to you;
Therefore, unknown to him, she means to fly:
Come to the garden door at seven this evening,
And there you may surprise her; mean time, I
Will keep her ignorant of all things, that
Her fear may still increase.
Enter LEONORA again.
Rod. How now? How does your lady?
Leon. So ill, she cannot possibly wait on you.
Man. Kind heaven, give me her sickness!
Rod. Those are wishes: What's to be done?
Man. We must defer our marriages.
Rod. Leonora, now! [Aside to her
Leon. My lady, sir, has absolutely charged, Her brother's should go forward.