Partly infects you too; but to remove them,
What think you of _Gerardo_, for a Husband?
My wishes meet with yours, if he's their Object;
You know I'm no Dissembler.

_Eugen._ Nor shall you find me so; for I confess
In this you prove your Kindness, Care, and Justice;
And I must meet it with my greatest thanks.

_Anto._ I'm joyful for it; to morrow is the day,
A private Wedding will prevent all Rumour,
You'd best withdraw then to provide your self.
[Ex. _Eugen_.
What Paper's this I got out of her Pocket?
Pray Heaven it be the right; it is the same,
The very same ---- what makes me tremble!
Is't horror or desire, or both assault me?
Be it what it will, 'tis Hell to live in doubt;
But stay, my Conscience sayes 'tis Sacriledge--
What's that? A word by cunning Priests invented
To keep the Cheats they live by from our knowledge;
As the _Ægyptian_ did with _Hieroglyfficks_;
But be it what it will, a Name, or thing,
I'le read it, for't may Cure my Jealousie,
And surely that exceeds Hells misery.
But to my Closet, where no Eye can see,
All are call'd Pious, who live scandal free.
[Exit.

_Enter _Eugenia_ and Nurse._