_Octa_.
If that you lov'd _Ascanio_ for himself, And not your private ends, you rather should Bless the fair opportunity, that restores him To his Birth-right, and the Honours he was born to, Than grieve at his good Fortune.
_Jac_.
Grieve, _Octavio_?
I would resign my Essence, that he were As happy as my love could fashion him, Though every blessing that should fall on him, Might prove a curse to me: my sorrow springs Out of my fear and doubt he is not safe.
I am acquainted with _Don Henrique_'s nature, And I have heard too much the fiery temper Of Madam _Violante_: can you think That she, that almost is at war with Heaven For being barren, will with equal eyes Behold a Son of mine?
_Octa_.
His Father's care, That for the want of Issue, took him home, (Though with the forfeiture of his own fame) Will look unto his safety.
_Jac_.
Step-mothers Have many eyes, to find a way to mischief, Though blind to goodness.
_Enter_ Jamie _and_ Ascanio.
_Octa_.
Here comes _Don Jamie_, And with him our _Ascanio_.
_Jam_.
Good youth leave me, I know thou art forbid my company, And only to be seen with me, will call on Thy Fathers anger.
[_Asc_.]
Sir, if that to serve you Could lose me any thing (as indeed it cannot) I still would follow you. Alas I was born To do you hurt, but not to help my self, I was, for some particular end, took home, But am cast off again.
_Jam_.
Is't possible?
_Asc_.
The Lady, whom my Father calls his Wife, Abhors my sight, is sick of me, and forc'd him To turn me out of doors.
_Jac_.
By my best hopes I thank her cruelty, for it comes near A saving Charity.
_Asc_.
I am only happy That yet I can relieve you, 'pray you share: My Father's wondrous kind, and promises That I should be supplied: but sure the Lady Is a malicious Woman, and I fear Means me no good.
_Enter_ Servant.
_Jam_.
I am turn'd a stone with wonder, And know not what to think.
_Ser_.
From my Lady, Your private ear, and this--
_Jam_.
New Miracles?
_Ser_.
She says, if you dare make your self a Fortune, She will propose the means; my Lord _Don Henrique_ Is now from home, and she alone expects you, If you dare trust her, so, if not despair of A second offer.
[_Exit_.
_Jam_.
Though there were an Ambush Laid for my life, I'le on and sound this secret.
Retire thee, my _Ascanio_, with thy Mother: But stir not forth, some great design's on foot, Fall what can fall, if e're the Sun be set I see you not, give me for dead.
_Asc_.
We will expect you, And those bless'd Angels, that love goodness, guard you.
[_Exeunt_.
SCENA V.
_Enter_ Lopez _and_ Bartolus.
_Bar_.
Is't possible he should be rich?
_Lop_.
Most possible, He hath been long, though he had but little gettings, Drawing together, Sir.
_Bar_.
Accounted a poor Sexton, Honest poor _Diego_.
_Lop_.