Rod. Absolutely!
Leon. Expressly, sir; because, she says, there are
So many honourable persons here,
Whom to defraud of their intended mirth,
And of each others company, were rude:
So, hoping your excuse—[Exit LEONORA.
Rod. That privilege of power, which brothers have
In Spain, I never used, therefore submit
My will to hers; but with much sorrow, sir,
My happiness should go before, not wait
On yours: Lead on.
Man. Stay, sir; though your fair sister, in respect
To this assembly, seems to be content
Your marriage should proceed, we must not want
So much good manners as to suffer it.
Rod. So much good manners, brother?
Man.—I have said it.
Should we, to show our sorrow for her sickness,
Provoke our easy souls to careless mirth,
As if our drunken revels were designed
For joy of what she suffers?
Rod. 'Twill be over In a few days.
Man. Your stay will be the less.
Rod. All things are now in readiness, and must not Be put off, for a peevish humour thus.
Man. They must; or I shall think you mean not fairly.