_Don. Louisa_. My father's answer, I suppose.
_Don Ant_. My dearest Louisa, you may be assured that it contains
nothing but threats and reproaches.
_Don. Louisa_. Let us see, however.--[Reads.] _Dearest daughter, make
your lover happy: you have my full consent to marry as your whim has
chosen, but be sure come home and sup with your affectionate father_.
_Don Ant_. You jest, Louisa!
_Don. Louisa_. [_Gives him the letter_..] Read! read!
_Don Ant_. 'Tis so, by heavens! Sure there must be some mistake; but
that's none of our business.--Now, Louisa, you have no excuse for
delay.
_Don. Louisa_. Shall we not then return and thank my father?
_Don Ant_. But first let the priest put it out of his power to recall
his word.--I'll fly to procure one.
_Don. Louisa_. Nay, if you part with me again, perhaps you may lose
me.
_Don Ant_. Come, then--there is a friar of a neighbouring convent is
my friend; you have already been diverted by the manners of a nunnery;
let us see whether there is less hypocrisy among the holy fathers.
_Don. Louisa_. I'm afraid not, Antonio--for in religion, as in
friendship, they who profess most are the least sincere. [_Exeunt_.]
_Re-enter_ DONNA CLARA.
_Don. Clara_, So, yonder they go, as happy as a mutual and confessed
affection can make them, while I am left in solitude.
Pages:
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68