_Enter_ Octavio, Jacintha.
_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_.