Rho. The king best knows the reason of the progress. But, answer me, I beseech you, what brought you home from travel?
Pala. The commands of an old rich father.
Rho. And the hopes of burying him?
Pala. Both together, as you see, have prevailed on my good nature. In few words, my old man has already married me; for he has agreed with another old man, as rich and as covetous as himself; the articles are drawn, and I have given my consent, for fear of being disinherited; and yet know not what kind of woman I am to marry.
Rho. Sure your father intends you some very ugly wife, and has a mind to keep you in ignorance till you have shot the gulf.
Pala. I know not that; but obey I will, and must.
Rho. Then I cannot chuse but grieve for all the good girls and courtezans of France and Italy. They have lost the most kind-hearted, doting, prodigal humble servant, in Europe.
Pala. All I could do, in these three years I staid behind you, was to comfort the poor creatures for the loss of you. But what's the reason that, in all this time, a friend could never hear from you?
Rho. Alas, dear Palamede! I have had no joy to write, nor indeed to do any thing in the world to please me. The greatest misfortune imaginable is fallen upon me.
Pala. Pr'ythee, what's the matter?