Chapter 30

Enter _Frederick_ passing in Anger over the Stage, meets _Lorenzo_.

_Lor._ O Sir, I’m glad I’ve found you; for I have the rarest News for you.

_Fred._ What News?

_Lor._ Oh the Devil, he’s angry;--Why, Sir, the prettiest young--

_Fred._ There’s for your Intelligence. [Strikes him, and goes out.

_Lor._ So, very well; how mortal is the favour of Princes! these be turns of State now; what the Devil ails he trow; sure he could not be Offended with the News I have brought him; If he be, he’s strangely out of tune: And sure he has too much Wit to grow virtuous at these Years. No, no, he has had some repulse from a Lady; and that’s a wonder; for he has a Tongue and a Purse that seldom fails: if Youth and Vigour would Stretch as far, he were the wonder of the Age.

Enter _Curtius_.

_Cur._ _Lorenzo_, didst thou see the Prince?

_Lor._ Marry, did I, and feel him too.

_Cur._ Why, did he strike you?

_Lor._ I’m no true Subject if he did not; and that Only for doing that Service which once was most acceptable To him.--Prithee what’s the matter with him, hah?

_Cur._ I know not, leave me.

_Lor._ Leave thee, what, art thou out of humour too? Let me but know who ‘tis has disoblig’d thee, and I’ll--

_Cur._ What wilt thou?

_Lor._ Never see his Face more, if a Man.

_Cur._ And what if a Woman?

_Lor._ Then she’s an idle peevish Slut, I’ll warrant her.

_Cur._ Conclude it so, and leave me.

_Lor._ Nay, now thou hast said the only thing that could Keep me with thee, thou mayst be desperate; I’ll Tell you, _Curtius_, these female Mischiefs make Men Take dangerous Resolutions sometimes.

Enter _Alberto_.

_Alb._ _Curtius_, I’ve something to deliver to your Ear. [Whispers.

_Cur._ Any thing from _Alberto_ is welcome.

_Lor._ Well, I will be hang’d if there be not some Mischief in agitation; it cannot be wenching; They look all too dull and sober for that; And besides, then I should have been a party concern’d.

_Cur._ The place and time.

_Alb._ An hour hence i’th’ Grove by the River-side.

_Cur._ Alone, thou say’st?

_Alb._ Alone, the Prince will have it so.

_Cur._ I will not fail a moment. [Ex. _Alb._ --So this has eas’d my heart of half its Load.

_Lor._ I’ll sneak away, for this is some fighting Business, and I may perhaps be invited a Second, A Compliment I care not for. [Offers to go.

_Cur._ _Lorenzo_, a word with you.

_Lor._ ‘Tis so, what shall I do now? [Aside.

_Cur._ Stay.

_Lor._ I am a little in haste, my Lord.

_Cur._ I shall soon dispatch you.

_Lor._ I believe so, for I am half dead already With Fear. [Aside.] --Sir, I have promis’d to make a visit To a Lady, and--

_Cur._ What I’ve to say will not detain you long.

_Lor._ What a Dog was I, I went not When he first desir’d me to go! Oh Impertinency, thou art justly rewarded!

_Cur._ _Lorenzo_, may I believe you love me?

_Lor._ Now what shall I say, Ay or no? [Aside. The Devil take me if I know.

_Cur._ Will you do me a favour?

_Lor._ There ‘tis again. [Aside.

_Cur._ I know I may trust thee with a secret.

_Lor._ Truly, _Curtius_, I cannot tell. In some cases I am not very retentive.

_Cur._ I am going about a business, that perhaps May take up all the time I have to live, And I may never see thy Sister more; Will you oblige me in a Message to her?

_Lor._ You know you may command me; --I’m glad ‘tis no worse. [Aside.

_Cur._ Come, go with me into my Cabinet, And there I’ll write to _Laura_; And prithee if thou hear’st that I am dead, Tell her I fell a Sacrifice to her, And that’s enough, she understands the rest.

_Lor._ But harkye, _Curtius_, by your favour, this is but a Scurvy Tale to carry to your Mistress; I hope you are not in earnest.

_Cur._ Yes.

_Lor._ Yes! why, what a foolish idle humour’s this in you? I vow ‘twill go near to break the poor Girl’s Heart;-- Come, be advis’d, Man.

_Cur._ Perhaps I may consider on’t for that reason.

_Lor._ There are few that go about such businesses, But have one thing or other to consider in favour of Life; I find that even in the most magnanimous:-- Prithee who is’t with?

_Cur._ That’s counsel: and pray let this too which I have Told you be a Secret, for ‘twill concern your Life.

_Lor._ Good _Curtius_, take it back again then; For a hundred to one but my over-care of keeping it Will betray it.

_Cur._ Thou lovest thy self better.

_Lor._ Well, that’s a comfort yet.

[Exeunt.