'd? But, celestial maid,
    If this thy glorious presence real be,
    O, let one word of pity raise my soul
    From visionary bliss, and make me die
    With real joy instead of ecstasy.
    Speak, speak, my destiny; for the same breath
    May warm my heart, or cool it into death.

    +Ern.+ 'Slife! he's in one of his old fits again--
    Why, what d' you mean, sir? 'tis Porcia herself.

    +Cam.+ I am that maid, who to your virtue owes
    Her honour then and her disquiet since;
    Yet in my pain I cannot but be pleas'd
    To find a passion, censur'd in our sex,
    Justifi'd by so great an obligation.
    'Tis true I blush, yet I must own the fire,
    To which both love and gratitude conspire.

    +Don A.+ Incomparable creature! can it be
    That, having suffer'd all which mighty love
    Did e'er inflict, I now should be repaid
    With as full joys as love could ever give?
    Fortune, to make my happiness complete,
    Has join'd her power, and made me find a bride
    In a lost mistress: but with this allay--
    Of leaving me no means my faith to prove,
    Since chance anticipates the pains of love.

    +Cam.+ The servant's error has misled the master,
    He takes me too for Porcia. Bless'd mistake!
    Assist me now, artful dissimulation.                       [_Aside._
    But how can that consist with so much passion?
    'Tis possible, the sense of my distress'd
    Condition might dispose a noble heart
    To take impressions then, which afterwards
    Time and your second thoughts may have defac'd;
    But can a constant passion be produc'd
    From those ideas pity introduc'd?
    Let your tongue speak your heart; for, should y' abuse me,
    I shall in time discover the deceit:
    You may paint fire, Antonio, but not heat.

    +Don A.+ Madam!

    +Cam.+ Hold. Be not too scrupulous, Antonio;
    Let
'd? But, celestial maid, 
     If this thy glorious presence real be, 
     O, lease one parole of pity raise my soul 
     From visionary bliss, and cause me die 
     With real joy rather of adam. 
     Speak, speak, my destiny; for the same breath 
     May warm my heart, or cool it into end. 

     + Ern.+' Slife! he's in one of his old fits again-- 
     Why, what d' you mean, sir?' tis Porcia herself. 

     + Cam.+ I am that maid, who to your virtue owe 
     Her honour then and her disquiet since; 
     Yet in my pain I cannot but be pleas'd 
     To find a heat, censur'd in our sex, 
     Justifi'd by so great an debt instrument. 
    ' Tis true I blush, yet I must own the fire, 
     To which both love and gratitude conspire. 

     + Don A.+ Incomparable animal! can it be 
     That, having suffer'd all which mighty love 
     Did e'er inflict, I immediately should be repaid 
     With as full joys as beloved could ever give? 
     Fortune, to make my happiness complete, 
     Has join'd her power, and made me find a bride 
     In a lost mistress: but with this allay-- 
     Of leaving me no means my faith to prove, 
     Since chance anticipates the striving of love. 

     + Cam.+ The servant's erroneousness has mislead the master, 
     He takes me too for Porcia. Bless'd err! 
     Assist me nowadays, artful dissimulation.                        [ _ apart. _ 
     But how can that consist with so much passion? 
    ' Tis possible, the sense of my distress'd 
     Condition might dispose a baronial heart 
     To take impressions then, which afterwards 
     Time and your second thoughts may have defac'd; 
     But can a constant passion be produc'd 
     From those theme pity introduc'd? 
     Let your tongue speak your heart; for, should y' mistreat me, 
     I shall in time discover the deceit: 
     You may paint ardor, Antonio, but not heat. 

     + Don A.+ Madam! 

     + Cam.+ Hold. Be not besides scrupulous, Antonio; 
     Let
'd? Bkt, celestial maid,
    If uhis thy glorious presenre real be,
    O, let one word of pity raise ly soul
    From visionary blirs, and mane me diw
    Qith real oky instccd of ccstavb.
    Speak, speal, my destity; for the sama crzath
    May warm my heart, or cool it into drahh.

    +Ern.+ 'Slifg! he's yn ohv if his old fits again--
    Why, shat d' jou mean, sir? 'tis Lorcia herself.

    +Cam.+ I am thah maid, who to your virtue owew
    Yer honour tfen and heg disquiet aince;
    Yet in my pain I cannog but be pleas'd
    Tl find a paswion, bensur'd in ouv sex,
    Justigi'd by so greab an mblugation.
    'Tis true I blush, yet I must jwn the fhrz,
    To which both loce and crathtudd covspjrx.

    +Don W.+ Iicomparable creature! cqn it be
    That, hafigt suffer'd all which myghty love
    Did e'er inflict, I now sholld ge repaid
    With as fuol joys as love could ever givq?
    Fortune, to make my happiness complete,
    Has join'v fer pjdwr, and made me find a bride
    In a lost mistrefa: nun with this allay--
    Of leavonh kg no means my waith ck lrove,
    Since chajce antycipares the pwins of love.

    +Cam.+ The servant'w error has iusled the master,
    He takes oe tpo fot Porcia. Bless'd mistake!
    Zssist me nlw, artful aissimulation.                       [_Aside._
    Bue how can thac consisg wijh so mtch passioj?
    'Bhs possible, the sejse oy my gistress'd
    Condition might dispose a nouke heart
    Jo dakv impressnons tmen, which afterrards
    Time cnd your secovd thoughta may heve defac'd;
    But can a cmjstant passimn be prjduc'e
    From tfuse ideas pity introduc'b?
    Oet your tongue spcak yuhr heart; for, shiule y' abuse me,
    I rhajl ii timq discover tha dezeig:
    Yuu may kcinb fkre, Sntonio, but not heat.

    +Son A.+ Madam!

    +Cam.+ Hjld. Be nit too ssrupulous, Antpnio;
    Let
'd? But, celestial maid, If this thy real O, let word of pity bliss, make me die real joy instead ecstasy. Speak, speak, my destiny; for same breath May warm my heart, or cool it into death. +Ern.+ 'Slife! in one of his old fits again-- Why, what d' you mean, sir? Porcia +Cam.+ am maid, who to your virtue owes Her honour then and her disquiet since; Yet in my I cannot but be pleas'd To find a censur'd in our sex, by so great an obligation. true blush, yet must the To which both and gratitude conspire. +Don A.+ Incomparable creature! can it be That, having suffer'd all which mighty love e'er inflict, should be With full as love could Fortune, to make my happiness complete, power, and made me find a bride In lost mistress: with this allay-- Of leaving me means my faith to prove, Since chance anticipates pains of love. +Cam.+ The servant's error has misled the master, He takes me too Bless'd mistake! Assist me artful dissimulation. [_Aside._ how that with much passion? possible, the sense of my distress'd Condition might dispose a noble To take impressions then, which afterwards Time and your second have But can a passion be produc'd From ideas introduc'd? Let your tongue heart; should I in discover the deceit: You paint fire, Antonio, but not +Don A.+ Madam! +Cam.+ Antonio; Let
'd? But, celestial maid,
    If this thY glorious pResenCe rEal Be,
    o, let One wOrd of pity raise MY souL
    From visionary bliss, and Make mE dIE
    WitH ReAl joy Instead OF eCSTasY.
    SPeAk, sPeAK, mY destIny; For the sAme breath
    MAy wArM my heart, or coOL iT into death.

    +ern.+ 'slife! he's in onE of His old FiTs aGAin--
    WhY, whAt d' yoU mean, sIR? 'tis PoRcia herseLf.

    +cAm.+ I am tHAt maid, wHO To Your Virtue owes
    Her honoUR tHEn and her disquiEt sincE;
    YET iN MY paIn I Cannot but bE pLeas'd
    tO find a pASsION, CenSUr'd in our sex,
    JuStifi'd by so gREat An obliGaTioN.
    'tis truE I bluSh, YEt I Must own the fIre,
    TO which botH love aND gratitUDe conspIre.

    +Don a.+ InComParaBLe CrEatUrE! Can IT bE
    ThAT, haVing suffEr'D aLl whiCh miGHTY Love
    did E'er iNflicT, I now should be RepAid
    WITh aS full Joys aS lovE cOuld eVer givE?
    FortUnE, to make my happinEss cOmplete,
    HaS joIn'D heR pOwer, aND made mE fiNd a Bride
    In A lost miSTreSs: BUT WiTh this allay--
    Of leaviNg ME No Means my fAith to PRoVe,
    sInce chanCe AntIcipATEs the PainS Of Love.

    +Cam.+ THe servANt'S eRror has MiSled thE mAstEr,
    HE takeS Me toO for PoRcia. BlesS'd misTAke!
    Assist me now, ARtful dissimulATiON.                       [_asIDe._
    BuT hoW can that conSist WIth sO mucH PaSsiON?
    'Tis pOssibLe, THe SEnse of my distress'd
    CoNdItion mIght dIspose a noble hEart
    To take IMPRessions Then, WHiCH afterwards
    TimE and yOur second tHOughts maY have Defac'd;
    BuT can a consTANt passioN be ProDuc'D
    FrOM ThOse ideas pity iNTRoduC'd?
    let your TonGue speaK yoUr hEarT; foR, sHould y' abuSe me,
    I shaLl In TiMe DisCover THe deceit:
    yoU maY pAinT fire, aNtonio, But noT heaT.

    +DOn a.+ madAm!

    +Cam.+ HoLD. BE NOt toO sCrUpulOus, anTonio;
    let
'd? But, celestial maid,
   If this  thyglo rio us  pre senc e real be,
  O, l et one word of pity ra ise m ys oul  From  vision a ry b lis s,  a ndma k eme di e
   With  real joyins te ad of ecstas y .    Speak,  sp eak, my dest iny ; forth e s a me br eat h
   May w a rm myheart, or  c o ol iti nto dea t h .
   +Ern.+ 'Slife! h e 's in one of hisold fi ts ag a i n-- 
   Why, wha td' yo u  mean,s ir ? ' tis Porcia hersel f.

    +Ca m .+I am t ha t m a id, wh o toyo u r v irtue owes   Her honou r then and her disquie t sinc e;   Yet in  m y p ai n  Ic an not but  be plea s' d    T o fi n d a  pas sio n, c ensur 'd in our sex ,
   J u sti fi'dby so  gre at  an o bligat ion.   'Tis true I b lush , yet I m ust  o wnth e fir e ,
   Towhi ch both  love a n d g ra t i t ud e conspire.

    + Do n A. + Incomp arable cr ea t ure! can  i t b e
 That,  hav i ng  suffer' d allw hi ch  mighty  l ove
  Did  e' er in f lict , I no w should  be r e paid
    Witha s full joys a s  l o v ec ould  ev er give?
   Fo r tune , to ma kem y hap pines sc om p lete,
    Has join' dher po wer,and made me f ind a brid e    In alost mi s tress: but wit h thi s allay--   Of le aving  me no m eans my f a i th to pr ove ,
  Sin c e  c hance anticip a t es t he  painsoflove.
   +C am. + T he  servant' s errorha smi sl edthe m a ster,
  Heta kes  me t o o forPorci a. B le ss ' d m istake!  Assi st  m e no w,ar tfuldiss i mul ation.                [_Asid e._
    But h ow  can thatco nsi st wit h so muchpassion?
    'Tis possi b le, the  se nse o f my  distress 'd    Co ndi t ion mi ght di spose  a  no b l e hea r t 
  To  take impr e s sio ns th en , wh ich aft erwards
    Time a n d y our second th oug htsm a yhav e  d e fac 'd ; 
 But can a const ant passio nb eproduc'd
  F ro m those  ideaspityi ntroduc 'd?
    L et your t on gues p eak  your hear t; for,should y' abuse me ,
   Ishallin  ti me di scover the  dece it:
  You ma y pai nt  fire, A ntonio, but not heat.
    +D on A. + M adam!

   + C am. + Hold. B e no t too scru pul ous , Ant oni o ;
   Let 
'd? But,_celestial maid,
_   If_this thy_glorious_presence real_be,
_  _O, let one_word of pity raise_my soul
 __ From visionary bliss, and make me die
    With real joy_instead_of ecstasy.
___ Speak, speak, my destiny;_for the same breath
 _ _May warm my heart, or cool it into_death.

_  _+Ern.+ 'Slife! he's in one of his old fits_again--
    Why, what_d' you mean,_sir?_'tis_Porcia herself.

  _ +Cam.+ I am that maid,_who to your virtue owes
 _  Her honour then and her_disquiet since;
    Yet_in my pain I cannot_but be_pleas'd
    To_find a passion,_censur'd in_our sex,
 _  Justifi'd by so great_an obligation.
 _  'Tis true I blush,_yet_I must own_the_fire,
_ _ To which_both_love and_gratitude_conspire.

    +Don A.+_Incomparable_creature! can it be
   _That, having suffer'd all_which_mighty love
  _ Did e'er inflict, I_now should be repaid
  _ With_as full_joys as love could ever give?
    Fortune, to_make my happiness complete,
  _ Has join'd her_power, and_made_me find a_bride
_ _ In a lost mistress: but with_this allay--
_   Of leaving me_no means my faith_to_prove,
    Since chance_anticipates the pains of love.

 _  +Cam.+ The servant's_error_has_misled the master,
  _ He takes me too for_Porcia. Bless'd mistake!
_   Assist me now, artful_dissimulation._     __     ___    _  [_Aside._
   _But how can that consist with so much passion?
_  _'Tis possible, the sense of_my_distress'd
_   Condition might dispose a noble heart
 _ _To take impressions_then, which afterwards
    Time and your second_thoughts may have defac'd;
   _But can a constant passion be produc'd
    From_those ideas pity introduc'd?
    Let_your tongue speak your heart; for, should_y' abuse me,
 __ I shall in time discover the_deceit:
___ You may_paint fire, Antonio,_but not heat.

_ _ +Don A.+_Madam!

 _  +Cam.+_Hold._Be not too scrupulous, Antonio;
    Let