Scene VII. The Street.

Enter _Alonzo_, as out of the House, gazing upon it.

Alon. Sure I shall know this House again to morrow. [To him _Lovis_.

Lov. I wonder what should be become of _Alonzo_, I do do not like these

Night-works of his— Who’s there?

Alon. _Lovis!_

Lov. _Alonzo?_

Alon. The same, where hast thou been?

Lov. In search of you this two Hours.

Alon. O, I have been taken up with new Adventures, since I saw thee;

but prithee what became of thine? for methought it was a likely Woman.

Lov. Faith, Sir, I thought I had got a Prize; but a Pox on’t, when I

came into the Street, e’er she had recover’d Breath to tell me who she

was, the Cavalier you rescu’d from _Marcel_, laid claim to her; thank’d

me for her Preservation, and vanisht. I hope you had better luck with

your Female, whose Face I had not the good fortune to see.

Alon. Not so good as I could have wisht, for she stands still on her

honourable terms.

Lov. Of Matrimony, ha, ha, a very Jilt, I’ll warrant her; Come, come,

you shall see her no more.

Alon. Faith, I fear I must.

Lov. To what purpose?

Alon. To persuade her to Reason.

Lov. That you’ll soon do, when she finds you will not bite at t’other

Bait.

Alon. The worst is, if I see her again, it must be at her Father’s

House; and so transform’d from Man to Beast—I must appear like a

ridiculous Lover she expects out of _Flanders_.

261 Lov. A very Cheat, a trick to draw thee in: be wise in time.

Alon. No, on my Conscience she’s in earnest, she told me her Name, and

his I am to represent.

Lov. What is’t, I pray?

Alon. _Haunce van Ezel._

Lov. Hah! her Name too, I beseech you? [Impatiently.

Alon. _Euphemia_: And such a Creature ’tis—

Lov. ’Sdeath, my Sister all this while: This has call’d up all that’s

Spaniard in me, and makes me raging mad. [Aside.] But do you love her,

Sir?

Alon. Most desperately, beyond all Sense or Reason.

Lov. And could you be content to marry her?

Alon. Any thing but that —But thou know’st my ingagement elsewhere; and

I have hopes that yet she’ll be wise, and yield on more pleasant terms.

Lov. I could be angry now; but ’twere unreasonable to blame him for

this. [Aside.] Sir, I believe by your Treatment from _Ambrosio_ and

_Marcel_, you may come off there easily.

Alon. That will not satisfy my Honour, tho ’twill my Love; that I have

not _Hippolyta_, I will owe to my own Inconstancy, not theirs: besides,

this may be a Cheat, as you say.

Lov. But does _Euphemia_ love you?

Alon. Faith, I think she has too much Wit to dissemble, and too much

Beauty to need that Art.

Lov. Then you must marry her.

Alon. Not if I can avoid it.

Lov. I know this Lady, Sir, and know her to be worth your Love: I have

it in my Power too, to serve you, if you proceed suddenly, which you

must do, or lose her; for this _Flandrian_ Boor your Rival is already

arriv’d, and designs to morrow to make his first Address to _Euphemia_.

Alon. Oh, he must not, shall not see her.

Lov. How will you hinder him?

Alon. With this. [To his Sword.] Where is this Rival? 262 tell me:

Conduct me to him strait; I find my Love above the common rate, and

cannot brook this Rival.

Lov. So, this blows the flame—His Life will be no hindrance to you in

this Affair, if you design to love on.

Alon. Do’st know him?

Lov. Yes, he is a pleasant Original for you to be copy’d by: It is the

same Fop, I told you was to marry my Sister, and who came along with me

to _Madrid_.

Alon. How! _Euphemia_ thy Sister?

Lov. Yes, indeed is she, and whom my Father designs to cast away upon

this half Man, half Fool; but I find she has Wit to make a better

Choice: she yet knows nothing of my Arrival, and till you resolve what

to do, shall not; and my _Dutchman_ does nothing without me.

Alon. If thou hast the management of him, he’s likely to thrive.

Lov. But not in his Amour, if you please: In short, Sir, if you do

really love my Sister, I am content to be so ungracious a Child to

contribute to the cheating my Father of this same hopeful Son he

expects, and put you upon him; but what you do, must be speedily then.

Alon. I am oblig’d to thee for this frank Offer, and will be instructed

by thee.

Lov. If you’re resolv’d, I’ll warrant you Success.

Alon. I think I am resolv’d in spite of all my Inclinations to

Libertinism.

Lov. Well, Sir, I’ll get you such a Suit then, as that our Hero makes

his first approach in, as ridiculously gay as his Humour, which you

must assume too.

Alon. Content.

Lov. To night I must pay my Duty to my Father, and will prepare your

way, and acquaint my Sister with it; ’tis but a Frolick if we succeed

not.

Alon. God-a-mercy, Lad, let’s about it then e’er we sleep, lest I

change my Resolution before Morning. [Exeunt.

263

ACT III.

Scene I. House of _Carlo_.

Enter _Alonzo_ drest ridiculously, meeting _Lovis_, they laugh at each

other.

Lov. Very _Haunce_ all over, the Taylor has play’d his part, play but

yours as well, and I’ll warrant you the Wench.

Alon. But prithee, why need I act the Fool thus, since _Haunce_ was

never seen here?

Lov. To make good the Character I always gave of him to my Father; but

here he comes, pray be very rude, and very impertinent.

Alon. Lord, Lord, how shall I look thus damnably set out, and thus in

love!

Enter Don _Carlo_.

Lov. This, Sir, is Monsieur _Haunce_, your Son that must be.

Alon. _Beso los manos, signor_: Is your Name Don _Carlo?_ and are you

the Gravity of this House? and the Father of Donna _Euphemia?_ and are

you—

Car. Sir, I guess by all these your Demands at once, your Name to be

_Myn heer Haunce van Ezel_.

Alon. Your Judgment’s good; but to my Questions.

Car. In truth I have forgot them, there were so many.

Alon. Are you he who is to be my Father?

Car. ’Tis so negotiated—and if all Circumstances concur—For, Sir, you

must conceive, the Consequence of so grand a Conjunction—

Alon. Less of your Compliments, Sir, and more of your Daughter, I

beseech you. ’Sheart, what a formal Coxcomb ’tis. [Aside.

Lov. Prithee give him way. [Aside.

Alon. By this Light I’ll lose thy Sister first; Why, who can indure the

grave approaches to the Matter? ’Dslife, I would have it as I would my

Fate, sudden and unexpected.

264 Car. Pray, how long have you been landed?

Alon. So, now shall I be plagu’d with nothing but wise Questions, to

which I am able to make no Answer. [Aside.] Sir, it is your Daughter

that I desire to see impatiently.

Car. Have you no Letters from my very good Friend your Father?

Alon. What if I have not? cannot I be admitted to your Daughter without

a Pass?

Car. O lack, Sir—

Alon. But to let you see I come with full Power (tho I am old enough to

recommend my self) here is my Commission for what I do. [Gives him

Letters.

Car. I remember amongst his other Faults, my Son writ me word he had

Courage: If so, I shall consider what to do. [Reads.] Sir, I find by

these your Father’s Letters, you are not yet arriv’d.

Alon. I know that, Sir, but I was told I should express my Love in my

haste; therefore outsailing the Pacquet, I was the welcome Messenger my

self; and since I am so forward, I beseech you, Sir— [_Carlo_ coming to

imbrace him.

Now dare not I proceed, he has so credulous a consenting Face. [Aside.

Car. Spare your Words, I understand their meaning; a prudent Man speaks

least, as the _Spaniard_ has it: and since you are so forward, as you

were saying, I shall not be backward; but as your Father adviseth here,

hasten the uniting of our Families, with all celerity; for delay in

these Affairs is but to prolong time, as the wise Man says.

Alon. You are much in the right, Sir. But my Wife, I desire to be

better acquainted with her.

Car. She shall be forth-coming, Sir. Had you a good Passage? for the

Seas and Winds regard no Man’s necessity.

Alon. No, no, a very ill one; your Daughter, Sir.

Car. Pray, how long were you at Sea?

Alon. _Euphemia_, Sir, _Euphemia_, your Daughter. This Don’s fuller of

Questions than of Proverbs, and that’s a Wonder. [Aside.

265 Car. They say _Flanders_ is a very fine Country, I never saw it;

but—

Alon. Nor ’tis no matter, Sir, if you never do, so I saw your Daughter.

He’ll catechize me home to my _Dutch_ Parents by and by, of which I can

give him no more account than— [Aside.

Car. Are they as dissatisfied with their new Governour, as they were

with Don _John?_ for they love change.

Alon. A Pox of their Government, I tell you I love your Daughter.

Car. I fear ’tis so, he’s valiant; and what a dangerous Quality is that

in _Spain!_ ’tis well he’s rich. [Aside.

Lov. Pray, Sir, keep him not long in Discourse, the Sea has made him

unfit for—

Alon. Any thing but seeing my Mistress.

Lov. I’ll have mercy upon thee, and fetch her to thee. [Ex. _Lovis_.

Car. Sir, you must know, that we suffer not our Women in Spain to

converse so frequently with your Sex, and that thro a cautious—well

consider’d prudent—Consideration.

Alon. But, Sir, do you consider what an impatient thing a young Lover

is? Or is it so long since you were one your self, you have forgot it?

’Tis well he wanted Words. [Enter _Euphemia_ and _Lovis_.] But yonder’s

_Euphemia_, whose Beauty is sufficient to excuse every Defect in the

whole Family, tho each were a mortal sin; and now ’tis impossible to

guard my self longer from those fair Eyes. [Aside.

Car. I must not urge him to speak much before _Euphemia_, lest she

discover he wants Wit by his much Tongue: [Aside.

There’s my Daughter, Sir, go and salute her.

Alon. Oh, I thank you for that, Sir. [He stands ridiculously looking on

her.

Car. You must be bold, Sir.

Alon. Well, Sir, since you command me— [Goes rudely to kiss her.

266 Car. I did not mean kissing by saluting.

Alon. I cry you Mercy, Sir, so I understood you.

Car. Fie upon’t, that he should be no more a Master of Civility.

Lov. I fear, Sir, my Sister will never like this Humour in her Lover;

he wants common Conversation.

Car. Conversation—ye foolish Boy, he has Money, and needs none of your

Conversation. And yet if I thought he were valiant—

[This while _Alonzo_ and _Euphemia_ make signs of Love with their Eyes.

Lov. I hope, Sir, he does not boast of more of that than he really has.

Car. That Fault I my self have been guilty of, and can excuse; but the

thing it self I shall never endure: you know I was forc’d to send you

abroad, because I thought you addicted to that. I shall never sleep in

quiet—Valiant! that’s such a thing, to be Rich, or Wise and Valiant.

[Goes to _Euphemia_.

Lov. Colonel, pray to the business, for I fear you will betray your

self.

Car. But look upon his Wealth, _Euphemia_, and you will find those

Advantages there which are wanting in his Person; but I think the Man’s

well.

Euph. I must not seem to yield too soon. [Aside.

Sir, there be many Spaniards born that are as rich as he, and have Wit

too.

Car. She was ever very averse to this Marriage. [Aside.

This Man is half a _Spaniard_, his Mother was one, and my first

Mistress, and she I can tell you, was a great Fortune—

Euph. I, Sir, but he is such a Fool—

Car. You are a worse, to find fault with that in a Husband.

Alon. Stand aside, Sir, are you to court your Daughter or I?

Car. I was inclining her—

Alon. You inclining her! an old Man wants Rhetorick; set me to her.

[Goes to _Euphemia_.

267 Car. This capricious Humour was tolerable in him, Whilst I believ’d

it the Effects of Folly, but now ’tis that of Valour: Oh, I tremble at

the Sight of him. [Retires.

Euph. Now, I see you are a Cavalier of your Word.

Alon. Faith, _Euphemia_, you might have believ’d, and taken me upon

better Terms, if you had so pleas’d: To marry you is but an

ill-favour’d Proof to give you of my Passion.

Euph. Do you repent it?

Alon. Would to God ’twere come but to that, I was just upon the Point

of it when you enter’d. But I know not what the Devil there is in that

Face of yours, but it has debauch’d every sober Thought about me:

Faith, do not let us marry yet.

Euph. If we had not proceeded too far to retreat, I should be content.

Alon. What shall I come to? all on the sudden to leave delicious

whoring, drinking and fighting, and be condemn’d to a dull honest Wife.

Well, if it be my ill Fortune, may this Curse light on thee that has

brought me to’t: may I love thee even after we are married to that

troublesome Degree, that I may grow most damnable jealous of thee, and

keep thee from the Sight of all Mankind, but thy own natural Husband,

that so thou may’st be depriv’d of the greatest Pleasure of this Life,

the Blessing of Change.

Euph. I am sorry to find so much ill Nature in you; would you have the

Conscience to tie me to harder Conditions than I would you?

Alon. Nay, I do not think I shall be so wickedly loving; but I am

resolv’d to marry thee and try.

Euph. My Father, Sir, on with your Disguise. [To them _Carlo_.

Car. Well, Sir, how do you like my Daughter?

Alon. So, so, she’ll serve for a Wife.

Car. But do you find her willing to be so?

268 Alon. ’Tis not a half-penny matter for that, as long as my Father

and you are agreed upon the matter,

Car. Well, _Euphemia_, setting all foolish Modesty aside, how do you

like this Man?

Euph. As one, whom in Obedience to you, I am content to cast my self

away upon.

Car. How seems his Humour to you?

Euph. Indifferent, Sir, he is not very courtly, something rough and

hasty.

Car. I fear she has found his ill Quality of Valour too; and since ’tis

certain ’tis so, why should it be said that I ruin’d a Child to satisfy

my Appetite of Riches? [Aside.

Come, Daughter, can you love him, or can you not? For I’ll make but

short Work on’t; you are my Daughter, and have a Fortune great enough

to inrich any Man; and I’m resolv’d to put no Force upon your

Inclinations.

Euph. How’s this! nay, then ’tis time I left dissembling. [Aside.] Sir,

this Bounty in you has strangely overcome me, and makes me asham’d to

have withstood your Will so long.

Car. Do not dissemble with me, I say do not; for I am resolv’d you

shall be happy.

Euph. Sir, my Obedience shall—

Car. No more of your Obedience; I say again, do not dissemble, for I’m

not pleas’d with your Obedience.

Euph. This Alteration is very strange and sudden; pray Heaven he have

not found the Cheat. [Aside.

Love, Sir, they say will come after Marriage; pray let me try it.

Car. Few have found it so; nor shall you experience it at so dear a

Rate as your Ruin.

Euph. But, Sir, methinks I am grown to love him more since he spoke to

me, than before.

Car. The Effects of your Obedience again.

Euph. This is a strange Alteration, Sir; not all my Tears and Prayers

before I saw him, could prevail with you. I beseech you, Sir, believe

me.

269 Car. Nor should now, had I not another Reason for’t.

Euph. Oh, I fear—But, Sir—

Car. Go to, I’ll be better satisfy’d e’er I proceed farther—both of

your Inclinations, and his Courage. [Aside.

Euph. Do you consider his Wealth, Sir?

Car. That shall not now befriend him.

Alon. Sir, I bar whispering; ’tis not in my Bargain, nor civil: I’ll

have fair Play for my Money.

Car. I am only knowing my Daughter’s Pleasure; she is a little peevish,

as Virgins use in such Cases; but wou’d that were all, and I’d

endeavour to reconcile her.

Alon. I thank you, Sir; in the mean time I’ll take a Walk for an Hour

or two, to get me a better Stomach both to my Dinner and Mistress.

Car. Do so, Sir. Come, _Euphemia_, I will give you a Proof of my

Indulgence, thou shalt marry no valiant Fools! valiant, quoth ye. Come,

come—had he been peaceable and rich—Come, come— [Ex. with _Euphemia_.

Lov. Well, now I’ll go look after my _Dutchman_, lest he surprize us

here, which must not be; where shall I find you?

Alon. I’ll wait upon my Prince, and then on you here.

Lov. Do so, and carry on this Humour. Adieu.

Scene II. A flat Grove.

Enter _Haunce_ in a fantastical travelling Habit, with a Bottle of

Brandy in his Hand, as sick: _Gload_ marches after.

Hau. Ah, ah, a pox of all Sea-Voyages. [Drinks.

Here, _Gload_, take thee t’other Sope, and then let’s home. [_Gload_

drinks.

Ah, ah, a pox of all Sea-Voyages.

Gload. Sir, if I may advise, take t’other turn in the Grove, for I find

by my Nose you want more airing.

Hau. How, Sirrah! by your Nose? have a care, you know ’tis ill jesting

with me when I’m angry.

270

Gload. Which is as often as you are drunk; I find it has the same

Effects on me too: but truly, Sir, I meant no other than that you smell

a little of the Vessel, a certain sour remains of a Storm about you.

Hau. Ah, ah, do not name a Storm to me, unless thou wilt have the

Effects on’t in thy Face. [Drinks.

Gload. Sha, sha, bear up, Sir, bear up.

Hau. _Salerimente_, a Sea-phrase too! Why, ye Rascal, I tell you I can

indure nothing that puts me in mind of that Element. [Drinks.

Gload. The Sight of _Donna Euphemia_ will— [_Gload_ drinks between

whiles too.

Hau. Hold, hold, let me consider whether I can indure to hear her nam’d

or not; for I think I am so thorowly mortify’d, I shall hardly relish

Woman-kind again this—two Hours. [Drinks.

Gload. You a Man of Courage, and talk thus!

Hau. Courage! Why, what dost thou call Courage?—_Hector_ himself would

not have chang’d his ten Years Siege for our ten Days Storm at Sea—a

Storm—a hundred thousand fighting Men are nothing to’t; Cities sackt by

Fire nothing: ’tis a resistless Coward that attacks a Man at

disadvantage; an unaccountable Magick, that first conjures down a Man’s

Courage, and then plays the Devil over him. And in fine, it is a Storm—

Gload. Good lack that it should be all these terrible things, and yet

that we should outbrave it.

Hau. No god-a-mercy to our Courages tho, I tell you that now, _Gload_;

but like an angry Wench, when it had huft and bluster’d it self weary,

it lay still again. [Drinks.

Gload. Hold, hold, Sir, you know we are to make Visits to Ladies, Sir;

and this replenishing of our Spirits, as you call it, Sir, may put us

out of Case.

Hau. Thou art a Fool, I never made love so well as when I was drunk; it

improves my Parts, and makes me witty; that is, it makes me say any

thing that comes next, which 271 passes now-a-days for Wit: and when I

am very drunk, I’ll home and dress me, and the Devil’s in’t if she

resist me so qualify’d and so dress’d.

Gload. Truly, Sir, those are things that do not properly belong to you.

Hau. Your Reason, your Reason; we shall have thee witty too in thy

Drink, hah! [Laughs.

Gload. Why, I say, Sir, none but a Cavalier ought to be soundly drunk,

or wear a Sword and Feather; and a Cloke and Band were fitter for a

Merchant.

Hau. _Salerimente_, I’ll beat any _Don_ in _Spain_ that does but think

he has more right to any sort of Debauchery, or Gallantry than I, I

tell you that now, _Gload_.

Gload. Do you remember, Sir, how you were wont to go at home? when

instead of a Periwig, you wore a slink, greasy Hair of your own, thro

which a pair of large thin Souses appear’d, to support a formal Hat, on

end thus— [Imitates him.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, the Rogue improves upon’t. [Gives him Brandy.

Gload. A Collar instead of a Cravat twelve inches high; with a blue,

stiff, starcht, lawn Band, set in print like your Whiskers; a Doublet

with small Skirts hookt to a pair of wide-kneed Breeches, which dangled

halfway over a Leg, all to be dash’d and dirty’d as high as the

gartering.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, very well, proceed. [Drinks.

Gload. Your Hands, defil’d with counting of damn’d dirty Money, never

made other use of Gloves, than continually to draw them thro—thus—till

they were dwindled into the scantling of a Cats-gut.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, a pleasant Rascal. [Drinks.

Gload. A Cloke, half a yard shorter than the Breeches, not thorow

lin’d, but fac’d as far as ’twas turn’d back, with a pair of frugal

Butter-hams, which was always manag’d—thus—

Hau. Well, Sir, have you done, that I may show you this Merchant

revers’d?

272 Gload. Presently, Sir; only a little touch at your Debauchery,

which unless it be in damn’d Brandy, you dare not go to the Expence of.

Perhaps at a Wedding, or some Treat where your Purse is not concern’d,

you would most insatiably tipple; otherwise your two Stivers-Club is

the highest you dare go, where you will be condemn’d for a Prodigal,

(even by your own Conscience) if you add two more extraordinary to the

Sum, and at home sit in the Chimney-Corner, cursing the Face of Duke

_de Alva_ upon the Jugs, for laying an Imposition on Beer: And now,

Sir, I have done.

Hau. And dost thou not know, when one of those thou hast described,

goes but half a League out of Town, that he is so transform’d from the

Merchant to the Gallant in all Points, that his own Parents, nay the

Devil himself cannot know him? Not a young English Squire newly come to

an Estate, above the management of his Wit, has better Horses, gayer

Clothes, swears, drinks, and does every thing with a better grace than

he; damns the stingy Cabal of the two Stiver-Club, and puts the young

King of _Spain_ and his Mistress together in a Rummer of a Pottle; and

in pure Gallantry breaks the Glasses over his Head, scorning to drink

twice in the same: and a thousand things full as heroick and brave I

cou’d tell you of this same Holy-day Squire. But come, t’other turn,

and t’other sope, and then for _Donna Euphemia_. For I find I begin to

be reconcil’d to the Sex.

Gload. But, Sir, if I might advise, let’s e’en sleep first.

Hau. Away, you Fool, I hate the sober Spanish way of making Love,

that’s unattended with Wine and Musick; give me a Wench that will

out-drink the Dutch, out-dance the French, and out—out—kiss the

English.

Gload. Sir, that’s not the Fashion in _Spain_.

Hau. Hang the Fashion; I’ll manage her that must be my Wife, as I

please, or I’ll beat her into Fashion.

Gload. What, beat a Woman, Sir?

273 Hau. Sha, all’s one for that; if I am provok’d, Anger will have its

Effects on whomsoe’er it light; so said _Van Trump_, when he took his

Mistress a Cuff o’th’ Ear for finding fault with an ill-fashion’d Leg

he made her: I lik’d his Humour well, therefore come thy ways. [Exeunt.

Scene III. Draws off. A Grove.

Discovers _Antonio_ sleeping on the Ground; _Hippolyta_ sitting by, who

sings.

Ah false _Amyntas_, can that Hour

So soon forgotten be,

When first I yielded up my Power

To be betray’d by thee?

God knows with how much Innocence

I did my Heart resign

Unto thy faithless Eloquence,

And gave thee what was mine.

I had not one Reserve in store,

But at thy Feet I laid

Those Arms which conquer’d heretofore,

Tho now thy Trophies made.

Thy Eyes in silence told their Tale

Of Love in such a way,

That ’twas as easy to prevail,

As after to betray. [She comes forth, weeps.

Hip. My Grief’s too great to be diverted this way. [Pointing to

_Antonio_.

Why should this Villain sleep, this treacherous Man—

Who has for ever robb’d me of my rest?

Had I but kept my Innocence intire,

I had out-brav’d my Fate, and broke my Chains,

Which now I bear like a poor guilty Slave,

Who sadly crys, If I were free from these,

I am not from my Crimes; so still lives on,

274 And drags his loathed Fetters after him.

Why should I fear to die, or murder him?

It is but adding one Sin more to th’ number.

This—would soon do’t—but where’s the Hand to guide it? [Draws a Dagger,

sighs.

For ’tis an act too horrid for a Woman. [Turns away.

But yet thus sleeping I might take that Soul, [Turns to him.

Which waking all the Charms of Art and Nature

Had not the Power t’effect.

Oh were I brave, I could remember that,

And this way be the Mistress of his Heart.

But mine forbids it should be that way won;

No, I must still love on, in spite of me,

And wake him quickly, lest one Moment’s thought

Upon my Shame should urge me to undo him.

_Antonio_, _Antonio_.

[He wakes, rises, and looks amazedly to see the Dagger in her Hand.

Ant. Vile Woman, why that Dagger in that Hand?

Hip. To’ve kill’d thee with,

But that my Love o’ercame my juster Passion,

And put it in thy Power to save thy self;

Thank that, and not my Reason for thy Life.

Ant. She’s doubly arm’d, with that and Injury,

And I am wounded and defenceless. [Aside.

_Hippolyta_, why all this Rage to me? [Kindly smiles.

Hip. _Antonio_, thou art perjur’d, false and base. [In great Rage.

Ant. What said my fairest Mistress? [Goes to her looking softly.

Hip. I said that thou wert perjur’d, false and base. [Less in Rage.

Ant. My dear _Hippolyta_, speak it again,

I do not understand thee, [Takes her by the Hand.

Hip. I said that thou wert perjur’d, my _Antonio_. [Sighs.

Ant. Thou wert to blame, but ’twas thy Jealousy.

Which being a Fault of Love I will excuse.

275 Give me that Mark of Anger, prithee do,

It misbecomes thy Hand.

Hip. I’ve nothing left but this I can command,

And do not ravish this too.

Ant. It is unkind thus to suspect my Love;

Will you make no Allowance for my Humour?

I am by Nature rough, and cannot please,

With Eyes and Words all soft as others can,

But I can love as truly my blunt way.

Hip. You were so soft when first you conquer’d me. [Sighs.

That but the Thoughts of that dear Face and Eyes,

So manag’d, and so set for Conquest out,

Would make me kind even to another Man;

Could I but thus imbrace and hide my Eyes,

And call him my _Antonio_.

[She leans on his Bosom, he the while gets her Dagger.

Ant. Stand off, false Woman, I despise thy Love,

Of which to every Man I know thou deal’st

An equal share.

Hip. I do not wonder that I am deceiv’d,

But that I should believe thee, after all thy Treachery.

But prithee tell me why thou treat’st me thus?

Why didst thou with the sacred Vows of Marriage,

After a long and tedious Courtship to me,

Ravish me from my Parents and my Husband?

For so the brave _Alonzo_ was by promise.

Ant. Why, I will tell thee; ’twas not love to thee,

But hatred to thy Brother Don _Marcel_,

Who made Addresses to the fair _Clarinda_,

And by his Quality destroy’d my Hopes.

Hip. And durst you not revenge your self on him?

Ant. His Life alone could not appease my Anger;

And after studying what I had to do—

Hip. The Devil taught thee this.

Ant. Yes, and you I chose, 276

Because you were contracted to _Alonzo_,

That the disgrace might be more eminent.

Hip. I do believe thee, for when I reflect

On all thy Usage since thou hast betray’d me,

I find thou hast not paid me back one Sigh,

Or Smile for all that I have given thee.

Ant. Hear me out.

Hip. Most calmly.

Ant. From Town to Town you know I did remove you,

Under pretence to shun your Brother’s Anger:

But ’twas indeed to spread your Fame abroad.

But being not satisfy’d till in _Madrid_,

Here in your native Town, I had proclaim’d you;

The House from whence your Brother’s Fury chas’d us,

Was a Bordello, where ’twas given out

Thou wert a _Venice_ Curtezan to hire,

Whilst you believ’d it was your nuptial Palace. [Laughs.

Hip. Dost think I did not understand the Plot?

Yes, and was mad till some young Lovers came.

But you had set a Price too high upon me,

No brisk young Man durst venture,

I had expos’d my self at cheaper Rates.

Ant. Your Price, I pray, young Sinner? [Pulls off his Hat in scorn.

Hip. Thy Life; he that durst say _Antonio_ lives no more,

Should have possest me _gratis_.

Ant. I would have taken care none should have don’t;

To show, and offer you to Sale, was equally as shameful.

Hip. Well, what hast thou more to do? this is no

Place to inhabit in, nor shall thou force me further;

And back into the Town thou dar’st not go.

Ant. Perhaps I had been kinder to you,

Had you continu’d still to give me that—

Might have begot a Passion in me.

Hip. I have too much Repentance for that Sin,

To increase it, at the Price of being belov’d by thee.

277

Ant. Consider what you do, this Place is silent,

And far from any thing that may assist you.

Come lead me to the Covert of this Grove. [Takes her rudely.

Enter _Haunce_ and _Gload_ drunk; _Haunce_ seeing them, offers to go

out again.

Glo. Hold, hold, Sir, why do you run away?

Hau. Thou Fool, dost not see the Reason?

Glo. I see a Man and a Lady, Sir.

Hau. Why, you Coxcomb, they are Lovers;

Or some that are going to do the deed of Love.

Ant. How! Men here? Your Business.

Hau. Prithee, Friend, do not trouble your self with ours, but follow

your own; my Man is a little saucy in his Drink indeed, but I am sober

enough to understand how things go.

Ant. Leave us then.

Hau. Leave us then—good Words, good Words, Friend; for look ye, I am in

a notable Humour at present, and will be intreated.

Glo. Yes, Sir, we will be intreated.

Ant. Pray leave us then.

Hau. That’s something—but hark ye, Friend, say a Man had a mind to put

in for a share with you.

Ant. Rude Slaves, leave us.

Hau. Ha, Slaves!

Glo. Slaves said you, Sir? hah—

Hip. Oh, as you’re a Gentleman, assist me. [To _Haunce_.

Hau. Assist thee? this Fellow looks as he would not have his Abilities

call’d in question; otherwise I am amorous enough to do thee a

kindness. [Offers still to go, she holds him.

Hip. Sir, you mistake me; this is a Ravisher—

Hau. A Ravisher! ha, ha, ha, dost like him the worse for that? No, no,

I beg your Pardon, Madam.

Hip. Have you no Manhood, Sir?

278 Glo. She is in earnest; now if I durst stay, how I would domineer

over my Master; I never try’d perhaps, I may be valiant thus inspir’d.

Lady, I am your Champion, who dares ravish you, or me either?

Ant. Rascal, unhand her. [He comes up to them, _Gload_ puts the Lady

before him.

Hau. How now, _Gload_ ingag’d! nay, I scorn to be out-done by my Man.

Sirrah, march off with the Baggage, whilst I secure the Enemy.

Ant. Rash Man, what mean you?

Hau. I say, stand off, and let him go quietly away with the Wench, or

look you—

Ant. Unmanner’d Fool, I will chastise thy Boldness. [Goes up to him

with his Dagger.

Hau. How, how, hast thou no other Weapon?

Ant. No, if I had, thou durst not have encounter’d me.

Hau. I scorn thy Words, and therefore there lies my Sword; and since

you dare me at my own Weapon, I tell you I am good at Snick-a-Sne as

the best _Don_ of you all— [Draws a great Dutch Knife.

Ant. Can I endure this Affront?

Glo. The best way to make a Coward fight, is to leave him in

Danger—Come, Lady— [Goes out.

Ant. Thou base unmanner’d Fool, how darst thou offer at a Gentleman,

with so despis’d a thing as that?

Hau. Despis’d a thing? talk not so contemptibly of this Weapon, I say,

do not, but come on if you dare.

Ant. I can endure no longer— [Flies at him, _Haunce_ cuts his Face, and

takes away, after a-while, his Dagger.

Injustice! can such a Dog, and such a Weapon vanquish me?

Hau. Beg your Life; for I scorn to stain my Victory in Blood—that I

learnt out of _Pharamond_. [Aside.

Ant. He does not merit Life, that could not defend it against so poor

and base a thing as thou: Had but _Marcel_ left me my Sword—

279 Hau. O then I perceive you are us’d to be vanquish’d, and therefore

I scorn to kill thee; live, live.

Ant. How the Rascal triumphs over me!

Hau. And now, like a generous Enemy, I will conduct thee to my Tent,

and have thy Wounds drest—That too I had out of _Pharamond_. [Aside.

Ant. What if I take the offer of this Sot? so I may see _Hippolyta

again._ But I forget— [Aside.

Hau. Will you accept my Offer?

Ant. For some Reasons I dare not venture into the Town.

Hau. My Lodging is at St. Peter’s Gate, hard by; and on the Parole of a

Man of Prowess you shall be safe and free—_Pharamond_ again. [Aside.

Ant. I’ll trust him, for worse I cannot be. [Aside.

Lead on, I’ll follow, Sir—

Hau. Not so, for tho the Captive ought to follow the Victor, yet I’ll

not trust my Enemy at my backside. Politicks too.— [Aside.

Ant. You must command— [Go out.

Scene IV. The Garden.

Enter _Silvio_ and _Francisca_.

Silv. Well, dear _Francisca_, will _Cleonte_ come, And all alone into

the Garden?

Fran. My Lord, she will; I have at last prevail’d, to what intent she

knows not; this is an Hour wherein you’ll scarce be interrupted: The

amorous Entertainment you have prepar’d for her, will advance your

Design; such Objects heighten the Desire. Is all ready on your part?

Silv. It is, and I am prepared for all the Resistance she can make, and

am resolv’d to satisfy my insupportable Flame, since there’s no other

hope left me.

Fran. She’s coming, Sir, retire. [Exit _Silvio_ into the Garden.

Oh, how he kills me! Well, at least this pleasure I have 280 whilst I

am dying, that when he possesses the fair _Cleonte_, he for ever ruins

his Interest in her Heart, and must find nothing but her mortal Hate

and Scorn.

Enter _Cleonte_.

Cleo. _Francisca_, why art thou so earnest for my coming into the

Garden so early?

Fran. Because, Madam, here without Interruption you may learn what the

Lady _Clarinda_ has to tell you.

Cleo. Is that all? go wait upon her hither then.

Fran. Yes, when your more pleasant Affair is dispatch’d, I will—

[Aside.

[Exit _Francisca_.

Cleo. Can this be Love I feel?

This strange unusual something in my Soul,

That pleads so movingly for _Silvio_ there;

And makes me wish him not allied to me?

[A noise of rural Musick is heard within the Trees, as Pipes, Flutes,

and Voices.

Hah! what pleasant Noise is this? sure ’tis i’ the Air— Bless me, what

strange things be these!

Enter Swains playing upon Pipes, after them four Shepherds with

Garlands and Flowers, and four Nymphs dancing an amorous Dance to that

Musick; wherein the Shepherds make Love to the Nymphs, and put the

Garlands on their Heads, and go out; the Nymphs come and lay them at

_Cleonte’s_ Feet, and sing.

1 Nymph. _Here at your Feet, we tribute pay,_

_Of all the Glories of the May._

2 Nymph. _Such Trophies can be only due_

_To Victors so divine as you,_

Both. _Come, follow, follow, where Love leads the way,_

_To Pleasures that admit of no Delay._

1 Nymph. _Come follow to the amorous Shade,_

_Covered with Roses, and with Jessamine._

2 Nymph. _Where the Love-sick Boy is laid,_

_Panting for Love’s charming Queen._

281

Both. _Come follow, follow, where we lead the way,_

_To Pleasures that admit of no delay._ [Lead her out.

The Scene changes to a fine Arbour, they leave her and vanish.

Cleo. I am all Wonder.

Enter _Silvio_ in rapture, not yet seeing _Cleonte_.

Silv. I’m all on Fire, till I enjoy my Sister;

Not all the Laws of Birth and Nature

Can hinder me from loving—Nor is’t just:

Why should the charm of fair _Cleonte’s_ Eyes,

Me less than Aliens to her Blood surprize?

And why (since I love Beauty every where,

And that _Cleonte_ has the greatest share)

Should not I be allowed to worship her?

The empty Words of Nature and of Blood,

Are such as Lovers never understood.

Prudence in love ’twere Nonsense to approve,

And he loves most that gives a Loose to Love.

Cleo. _Silvio_ here!

Silv. Hah—yonder she’s! [Sees her.

And now my Passion knows no Bounds, nor Laws.

_Cleonte_, come, come satisfy my Flame. [Runs to her, and takes her

passionately by the hand.

These private Shades are ours, no jealous Eye

Can interrupt our Heaven of Joy.

Cleo. What mean you? do you know I am your Sister?

Silv. Oh that accursed Name!—why should it check me? [He pauses.

Wouldst thou had rather been some mis-begotten Monster,

That might have startled Nature at thy Birth:

Or if the Powers above would have thee fair,

Why wert thou born my Sister?

Oh, if thou shouldst preserve thy Soul, and mine,

Fly from this Place and me; make haste away,

A strange wild Monster is broke in upon thee;

282 A thing that was a Man, but now as mad

As raging Love can make him.

Fly me, or thou art lost for ever.

Cleo. Remember, _Silvio_, that you are my Brother,

And can you hurt your Sister? [Weeps.

Silv. Shouldst thou repeat those Ties a thousand times,

’Twill not redeem thee from the Fate that threatens thee.

Be gone, whilst so much Virtue does remain about me,

To wish thee out of Danger.

Cleo. Sure, _Silvio_, this is but to try my Virtue. [Weeps still.

Silv. No, look on my Eyes, _Cleonte_, and thou shalt see them flame

with a strange wicked Fire. [Looks wildly on her.

Yet do not look, thy Eyes increase it.

—Alas! [Turns away, and hides his Eyes.

And I shall still forget I am thy Brother:

Go, go, whilst I have power to take my Eyes away,

For if they turn again, it will be fatal.

Cleo. Pray hear me, Sir.

Silv. Oh, do not speak; thy Voice has Charms

As tempting as thy Face; but whilst thou art silent and unseen,

Perhaps my Madness may be moderate;

For as it is, the best Effects of it

Will prompt me on to kill thee.

Cleo. To kill me!

Silv. Yes; for shouldst thou live, adorn’d with so much Beauty,

So much my Passion is above my Reason,

In some such fit as does possess me now

I should commit a Rape, a Rape upon thee:

Therefore be gone, and do not tempt Despair,

That merciless rude thing, but save thy Honour,

And thy Life.

Cleo. I will obey you, Sir. [Goes into the Garden.

Silv. She’s gone—and now [Walks, and talks in stopping.] my hot Fit

abates—she is my Sister—that is, my Father’s 283 Daughter—but—what if

his Wife deceiv’d him—or perhaps—(which is the likelier thing) my

Mother play’d the false one—for ’twas her Trade to do so—and I’m not

Son to _Ambrosio_—Oh, that she were in being to confess this Truth, for

sure ’tis Truth; then I might love, and might enjoy _Cleonte_—enjoy

_Cleonte!_ [In transport.] Oh that Thought! what Fire it kindles in my

Veins, and now my cold Fit’s gone— [Offers to go, but starts and

returns.

—No, let me pause a while—

For in this Ague of my Love and Fear,

Both the Extremes are mortal— [Goes into the Garden.

Enter _Ambrosio_ and _Marcel_.

Amb. I’m reconcil’d to you, since your Brother _Silvio_ would have it

so.

Mar. My Blood flows to my Face, to hear him named.

Amb. Let there be no more Differences between you: But _Silvio_ has of

late been discontented, keeps home, and shuns the Conversation which

Youth delights in; goes not to Court as he was wont. Prithee, _Marcel_,

learn thou the cause of it.

Mar. I do believe I shall, my Lord—too soon. [Aside.

Amb. I’m now going to my _Villa_, and shall not return till Night; by

the way I mean to visit your Wife, that was design’d to be, the rich

_Flavia_, and see if I can again reconcile her to you; for your Neglect

has been great, and her Anger is just.

Mar. I rather wish it should continue, Sir, for I have yet no

Inclinations to marry.

Amb. No more, I’ll have it so, if I can.

Mar. I’m silent, Sir. [Ex. _Ambrosio_ and _Marcel_.

Enter as from out of the Garden, _Cleonte_, _Clarinda_, _Francisca_,

_Dormida_, from amongst the Trees, sadly; _Silvio_ who starts at sight

of them.

Cleo. I am satisfied you knew not of my Brother’s being in the Garden.

[To _Franc._

284 Silv. _Clarinda_ with my Sister! and in our House! she’s very

fair—and yet how dull and blasted all her Beauties seems, when they

approach the fair _Cleonte’s_—I cannot shun a tedious Compliment; to

see the fair _Clarinda_ [Goes to _Clarinda_.] here, is a Happiness

beyond my Hope; I’m glad to see her kind to the Sister, who always

treated the Brother with so much Scorn and Rigour.

Clar. _Silvio!_ sure I’m betray’d. [Aside. [He talks to her.

Enter _Marcel_, and is amaz’d.

Mar. Hah! _Silvio_ with _Clarinda_ in our House! Oh, daring Villain! to

make this place a Sanctuary To all thy Lusts and Treachery! Now I’m

convinc’d, ’twas he that wounded me, And he that fled last Night with

that false Woman. [_Cleonte_ goes to _Marcel._

Silv. You need not fear me now, fair Maid, I’m disarm’d of all my

dangerous Love.

Mar. It was by his contrivance that she came, [To _Cleonte_.] do not

excuse him, but send her quickly from you, lest you become as infamous

as she.—

Cleo. Oh, how I hate her now; I know my Brother _Silvio_ loves her.

Mar. How every Gesture shows his Passion, whilst she seems pleas’d to

hear him. I can endure no more—

Cleo. What will you do? [She goes to them.

Mar. Nothing, dear Sister,

But if I can be wise and angry too:

For ’tis not safe t’attack him in the Garden.

How now, _Silvio_—under the Name of Brother,

I see you dare too much. [Snatches away his Sister and _Clarinda_.

Silv. What mean you by this rude Address, _Marcel?_

Mar. I’ll tell ye, Sir, anon. Go get you in. [To the Women, who go in.

285 Silv. Well, Sir, your Business now?

Mar. It is not safe to tell you here, tho I have hardly Patience to

stay till thou meet me in St. _Peter’s_ Grove.

Silv. I will not fail you, Sir, an Hour hence. [Goes in after them.

Mar. I dare not in this Rage return to upbraid _Clarinda_, lest I do

things that mis-become a Man. [Goes out.

ACT IV.

Scene I. _Carlo’s_ House.

After a Noise of Musick without, enter _Haunce_ drest as _Alonzo_ was,

follow’d by _Gload_, in Masquerade.

Hau. Hold, hold, I do not like the Salutations I receive from all I

meet in this House.

Glo. Why, Sir, methinks they are very familiar Scabs all.

Hau. _Salerimente_, they all salute me as they were my old

Acquaintance. Your servant, _Myn heer Haunce_, crys one; your servant,

Monsieur _Haunce_, crys another.

Enter _Servant_.

Serv. Your servant, Sir, you come indeed like a Bridegroom all beset

with Dance and Fiddle.

Hau. Bridegroom! ha, ha, ha, dost hear, _Gload?_ ’tis true faith. But

how the Devil came he to know it, man, hah?

Serv. My Master, Sir, was just asking for you, he longs to speak with

you.

Hau. Ha, ha, with me, Sir? why, ha, ha, who the pox am I?

Serv. You, Sir, why, who should you be?

Hau. Who should I be? why, who should I be?

Serv. _Myn heer Haunce van Ezel_, Sir.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, well guest, i’faith now.

Glo. Why how should they guess otherwise, coming so attended with

Musick, as prepar’d for a Wedding?

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, say’st thou so? faith, ’tis a good Device to save the

Charges of the first Compliments, hah: but 286 hark ye, hark ye,

Friend, are you sure this is the House of Don _Carlo?_

Serv. Why, Sir, have you forgot it?

Hau. Forgot it! ha, ha, ha, dost hear, _Gload?_ forgot it! why how the

Devil should I remember it?

Glo. Sir, I believe this is some new-fashion’d Civility in Spain, to

know every Man before he sees him.

Hau. No, no, you fool, they never change their Fashion in Spain, Man.

Glo. I mean their manner of Address, Sir.

Hau. It may be so, I’ll see farther. Friend, is Don _Carlo_ within?

Serv. He has not been out since, Sir.

Hau. Since, ha, ha, ha, since when? hah.

Serv. Since you saw him, Sir.

Hau. _Salerimente_, will you make me mad? why you damnable Rascal, when

did I see him? hah.

Serv. Here comes my Master himself, Sir, [Enter _Carlo_.] let him

inform you, if you grow so hot upon the Question.

Car. How now, Son, what, angry? You have e’en tir’d your self with

walking, and are out of Humour.

Hau. Look there again—the old Man’s mad too; why how the pox should he

know I have been walking? Indeed, Sir, I have, as you say, been walking

[Playing with his Hat.] —and am—as you say, out of Humour—But under

favour, Sir, who are you? Sure ’tis the old Conjurer, and those were

his little Imps I met. [Surlily to him.

Car. Sure, Son, you should be a Wit, by the shortness of your Memory.

Hau. By the Goodness of yours, you should be none, ha, ha, ha. Did I

not meet with him there, _Gload_, hah? But pray refresh my Memory, and

let me know you; I come to seek a Father amongst you here, one Don

_Carlo_.

Car. Am I not the Man, Sir?

Hau. How the Devil should I know that now, unless by instinct?

287 Glo. The old Man is mad, and must be humour’d.

Hau. Cry you Mercy, Sir, I vow I had quite forgot you. Sir, I hope

Donna _Euphemia_—

Car. Oh, Sir, she’s in a much better Humour than when you saw her last,

complies with our Desires more than I cou’d hope or wish.

Hau. Why look you here again—I ask’d after her Health, not her Humour.

Car. I know not what Arts you made use of, but she’s strangely taken

with your Conversation and Person.

Glo. Truly, Sir, you are mightily beholden to her, that she should have

all this good Will to your Person and Conversation before she sees you.

Hau. Ay, so I am; therefore, Sir, I desire to see your Daughter, for I

shall hardly be so generous as she has been, and be quits with her

before I see her.

Car. Why, Sir, I hop’d you lik’d her when you saw her last.

Hau. Stark mad—I saw her last! why, what the Devil do you mean? I never

saw her in all my Life, man. Stark mad, as I am true Dutch— [Aside.

Car. A Lover always thinks the time tedious: But here’s my Daughter.

Enter _Euphemia_ and _Olinda_.

Hau. Ay, one of these must be she: but ’tis a Wonder I should not know

which she is by instinct. [Aside.

[Stands looking very simply on both.

Euph. This is not _Alonzo_—has he betray’d me? [Aside.

Car. Go, Sir, she expects you.

Hau. Your pardon, Sir; let her come to me, if she will, I’m sure she

knows me better than I do her.

Glo. How should she know you, Sir?

Hau. How? by instinct, you Fool, as all the rest of the House does:

don’t you, fair Mistress?

Euph. I know you—

288 Hau. Yes, you know me; you need not be so coy mun, the old Man has

told me all.

Euph. What has he told you?—I am ruin’d. [Aside.

Hau. Faith, much more than I believ’d, for he was very full of his

new-fashion’d Spanish Civility, as they call it; But ha, ha, I hope,

fair Mistress, you do not take after him?

Euph. What if I do, Sir?

Hau. Why then I had as lieve marry a Steeple with a perpetual Ring of

Bells.

Glo. Let me advise you, Sir; methinks you might make a handsomer Speech

for the first, to so pretty a Lady—Fakes, and were I to do’t—

Hau. I had a rare Speech for her thou knowest, and an Entertainment

besides, that was, tho I say it, unordinary: But a pox of this new way

of Civility, as thou call’st it, it has put me quite beside my part.

Glo. Tho you are out of your complimenting Part, I am not out of my

dancing one, and therefore that part of your Entertainment I’ll

undertake for. ’Slife, Sir, would you disappoint all our Ship’s

Company?—

Hau. That’s according as I find this proud Tit in Humour.

Car. And why so coy? pray why all this Dissimulation? Come, come, I

have told him your Mind, and do intend to make you both happy

immediately.

Euph. How, Sir, immediately!

Car. Yes, indeed; nay, if you have deceiv’d me, and dissembled with me,

when I was so kind, I’ll show you Trick for Trick i’faith— [Goes to

_Haunce_.

Euph. What shall we do, _Olinda?_

Olin. Why marry Don _Alonzo_, Madam.

Euph. Do not rally, this is no time for Mirth.

Olin. Fie upon’t, Madam, that you should have so little Courage; your

Father takes this Fellow to be _Alonzo_.

Car. What Counsel are you giving there, hah?

Olin. Only taking leave of our old Acquaintance, since you talk of

marrying us so soon.

289 Car. What Acquaintance, pray?

Olin. Our Maiden-heads, Sir.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, a pleasant Wench, faith now; I believe you would be

content to part with yours with less warning.

Olin. On easy Terms perhaps, but this marrying I do not like; ’tis like

going a long Voyage to Sea, where after a while even the Calms are

distasteful, and the Storms dangerous: one seldom sees a new Object,

’tis still a deal of Sea, Sea; Husband, Husband, every day,—till one’s

quite cloy’d with it.

Car. A mad Girl this, Son.

Hau. Ay, Sir, but I wish she had left out the simile, it made my

Stomach wamble.

Glo. Pray, Sir, let you the Maid alone as an Utensil belonging to my

Place and Office, and meddle you with the Mistress.

Hau. Faith now, thou hast the better Bargain of the two; my Mistress

looks so scurvily and civil, that I don’t know what to say to

her—Lady—hang’t, that look has put me quite out again.

Car. To her, Son, to her—

Hau. Hark ye, Lady—Well, what next now? Oh pox, quite out, quite out;

tell me whether the old Man ly’d or no, when he told me you lov’d me.

Euph. I love you!

Hau. Look you there now, how she looks again.

Car. She’s only bashful, Sir, before me; therefore if you please to

take a small Collation, that has waited within for you this three

Hours—

Hau. That’s strange now, that any thing should wait for me, who was no

more expected here than _Bethlehem-Gaber_: Faith now, Lady, this Father

of yours is very simple.

Euph. To take you for his Son.

Hau. I meant to have surpriz’d you I vow, before you had dreamt of me;

and when I came, you all knew me as well as if you had cast a Figure

for me.

290 Car. Well, Son, you’ll follow.

Euph. You will not leave me alone, Sir, with a Man?

Hau. Go your ways, go your ways—I shall know more of your Secrets

before [_Gload_ makes Grimaces to _Olinda_ of Love.] night yet, you

little pouting Hypocrite you.

Euph. You know my Secrets! why, who are you?

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, that’s a very good one faith now: who am I, quoth

thou? why there’s not a Child thus high in all your Father’s House

would have ask’d me so simple a Question.

Olin. Madam, I find by this Man, this is your expected Lover, whom you

must flatter, or you are undone, ’tis _Haunce van Ezel_. [To

_Euphemia_.

Euph. The Fop himself.

Hau. Oh, do you know me now?

Euph. ’Tis impossible.

Hau. This is an extreme the other way now. [Aside.

Impossible, ha, ha, ha! No, no, poor thing, do not doubt thy Happiness:

for look ye, to confirm you, here are my Bills of Exchange with my own

natural Name to them, if you can read written Hand— [Shews her Papers.

Glo. Not love you! I’ll swear you lye now, you little Jade, I am now in

Masquerade, and you cannot judge of me; but I am Book-keeper and

Cashier to my Master, and my Love will turn to account, I’ll warrant

you.

Olin. There may be use made of him. [Aside.

I shall think of it. But pray why are you thus accouter’d?

Glo. Fakes, to entertain your Lady, we have brought the whole Ship’s

Company too in Masquerade.

Olin. That indeed will be very proper at this time of the Day, and the

first Visit too.

Glo. Shaw, that’s nothing, you little think what Blades we are mun—Sir,

I’ll call in the Fiddles and the Company.

Hau. Well remember’d, faith, now I had e’en forgot it.

Euph. What’s the meaning of this? [Fiddles strike up.

Hau. To show you the difference between the damnable 291 dull Gravity

of the _Spanish_, and brisk Gaiety of the _Dutch_. Come, come, begin

all.

Enter _Dutchmen_ and Women dancing.

Nay, I’ll shew you what I can do too, come, _Gload_. [They two dance.

There’s for you now, and yet you have not seen half my good Qualities;

I can sing the newest Ballad that has been made, so I can. [Sings a

_Dutch_ Song.

Euph. Be these your Friends, Sir? they look as if you had ransack’d a

Hoy for them.

Hau. How! look on them well, they are all States or States-fellows, I

tell you that now, and they can bear witness who I am too.

Euph. Now I’m convinced, and am sorry I doubted my Happiness so long: I

had such a Character of you.

Hau. Of me! oh Lord, I vow now—as they say—I don’t know—ha, ha—

Euph. I heard you were the most incorrigible Fool, the most intolerable

Fop.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, do you hear, _Gload_—who, I a Fop? I vow they were

mistaken in me, for I am counted as pretty a Merchant as any walks the

Change; can write a very plain Hand, and cast Account as well—my man

_Gload_—can’t I, Sirrah?

Glo. Yes indeed, forsooth, can he.

Hau. Egad, a Fool, a Fop, quoth ye— [Walks angry.

Olin. By all means flatter him, Madam.

Euph. I’m satisfy’d, Sir.

Hau. I care not whether you are or no, for I shall have you whether you

will or no, mun.

Euph. ’Tis very likely; but there is a certain troublesome Fellow in

love with me, that has made me vow whenever I marry to ask him leave.

Hau. How, ask his leave? I scorn to ask any Body’s leave, I tell you

that, tho ’twere my Mistress—

292 Euph. I cannot marry you then.

Hau. How, not marry me? look here now: [Ready to cry.

_Gload_, can’t you marry, and let no living Soul know it?

Euph. Oh no, Sir, I love your Life better, which would be indanger’d.

Hau. Why, what a cursed Custom you have in _Spain_, a Man can neither

marry, nor console his Neighbour’s Wife without having his Throat cut.

Why, what if he will not give you leave?

Euph. Why, then you must fight him.

Hau. How! fight him, I fight him!

Glo. Why, yes, Sir, you know you can fight, you try’d but this very

Morning—

Hau. Softly, you damn’d Rogue, not a Word of my Prowess aloud.

_Salerimente_, I shall be put to fight when I am sober, shall I, for

your damn’d prating, ye Rascal?

Euph. I am glad you have that good Quality.

[_Olinda_ speaking to _Gload_, pushes him to speak.

Glo. Ay, Madam—my Master—has many more:

But if you please to tell him his Rival’s Name—

Hau. I’ll have your Ears for this, Sirrah, the next time I’m soundly

drunk, and you know that won’t be long. [Aside.

Lord, Madam, my Man knows not what he says.

Ye Rascal, say I have no Courage—or I will drink my self to the Miracle

of Valour, and exercise it all on thee.

Glo. I know what I do, Sir, you had Courage this Morning, is the Fit

over?

Hau. Have I not slept since, you Rogue, have I not?

Glo. I have a trick to save your Honour, Sir, and therefore I will

stand in’t you have Courage.

Hau. A Pox of your Trick, the Rogue knows I dare not chastise him now,

for fear they should think I have Valour.

Glo. Madam, my Master’s modest, but tell him who ’tis he must fight

with—

Hau. Oh, for a Tun of Rhenish—that I might abundantly beat thee—

293 Euph. Your Rival’s Name’s _Alonzo_, Sir.

Hau. Oh the Devil, a thundring Name too; but will this same—_Alonzo_

make no allowance for necessity?—I vow ’tis pure necessity in me to

marry you: the old Men being agreed upon the Matter, I am but an

Instrument—alas, not I, [Crys.

A very Tool, as they say, so I am.

Glo. Lord, Sir, why do you cry? I meant no harm.

Hau. No harm, you Rascal—to say I am valiant.

Glo. Why, yes, Sir, and if you would say so too, at worst ’twas but

getting Don _Lovis_ to have fought for you; you know that’s a small

courtesy to a Friend.

Hau. Faith, now thou art in the right; he’ll do his Business for him,

I’ll warrant him. [Wipes his Eyes.

Nay then, Madam, I have Courage, and will to this Don—this _Alonzo_ you

speak of; and if he do not resign you, and consign you too, I’ll make

him; yes, make him, do ye see—If _Lovis_ should refuse me now— [Aside.

Glo. Shaw, Sir, he makes nothing to kill a Man, ten or twenty.

Euph. Well, since you are so resolv’d, my Brother will tell you where

to find this _Alonzo_; and tell him, I must marry you to day, for I am

resolv’d not to lie alone tonight.

Hau. What would not a Man do for so kind a Mistress?

Euph. Well, get you about it strait then, lest my Father’s coming

prevent it. [Exeunt _Euphemia_ and _Olinda_.

Hau. I am gone—but if _Lovis_ should fail—

Glo. He would beat you, if he thought you doubted him.

Hau. I’ll keep my Fears then to my self. [Go out.

Scene II. The Street.

Enter _Hippolyta_ drest like a Man, with a Paper.

Hip. Thus I dare look abroad again:

Methinks I am not what I was,

My Soul too is all Man;

294 Where dwells no Tenderness, no womanish Passions.

I cannot sigh, nor weep, nor think of Love,

But as a foolish Dream that’s gone and past.

Revenge has took possession of my Soul,

And drove those Shadows thence; and shows me now

Love, in so poor, so despicable a Shape,

So quite devested of his Artful Beauty,

That I’m asham’d I ever was his Votary.

Well, here’s my Challenge to _Antonio_;

But how to get it to him is the Question.

Base as he is, he’ll not refuse to come,

And since he never saw the wrong’d _Alonzo_,

Sure I may pass for him. Who’s here?—

Enter _Haunce_ and _Gload_. She stands aside.

Hau. _Gload_, if it were possible I could be sober, and valiant at

once, I should now be provok’d to exercise it: for I cannot find

_Lovis_, and then how I shall come off, the Lord knows. And then again,

for letting the Lady go, whom I rescu’d in the Grove this Morning.

Glo. Should I disobey a Lady, Sir? for she commanded me to let her go

so soon as she came into the Gate. And, Sir, look, here comes Don

_Lovis_.

Enter _Lovis_ and _Alonzo_.

Hau. Oh, Brother _Lovis_, where the Devil have you been all this Day? I

stay’d for you to go with me to your Sister’s, as long as Flesh and

Blood could forbear.

Lov. Why, have you been there without me?

Hau. Yes, marry have I, Sir.

Alon. I am undone then— [Aside.

Hau. I needed no Recommendation mun, for when I came they were all as

well acquainted with me—I never saw them before; but by the way, they

are all no wiser than they should be, except your Sister, who is the

pretty’st loving, sweet Rogue—

295 Alon. How’s this?

Lov. But have you seen my Sister?

Hau. Seen her! yes, and will marry her too mun before Night, an she

were a thousand Sisters—but harkye, _Lovis_, the business is this—you

must know that before I marry her, I am to seek out a certain Fellow,

they call—they call _Alonzo_, ay, ay, _Alonzo_—a Pox on him, a

troublesome Rascal they say he is; and his leave, it seems, must be

askt to marry your Sister.

Lov. Well, Sir, and what if he will not give you leave?

Hau. Why then, you must know I am to get him very well favour’dly

beaten.

Alon. Sure this is the Coxcomb himself.

Hau. Now for your Sister’s sake, who loves me, poor thing, I will not

run the danger of beating him my self, but must desire that small

courtesy of thee.

Lov. How! I beat him?

Hau. You beat him, yes, you; what a Pox do you scruple such a kindness

to a Friend? I know you make no more of killing a Man next your Heart

in a Morning, than I do of eating a pickled Herring.

Lov. But she desir’d you to do’t.

Hau. That’s all one so it be done, mun; besides, why should I run my

self into a Premunire, when I need not? Your Father is bound by

Agreement to mine, to deliver me the Wares (that is, his Daughter) safe

and sound; and I have no more to do, but to protest against him in case

of Non-performance. ’Twill be a dear Commodity to me at this rate.

[Cries.

Lov. Well, Sir, I’ll see what may be done.

Hau. Spoke like a Friend now: Well, you must about it instantly, for I

must be married to day.

Alon. Must you so, Sir?—

Hau. Yes marry must I, Sir—Who the Devil’s this now? [To _Lovis_.

Alon. That same _Alonzo_ whom you inquire for.

296 Hau. Are you so, Sir?—Why, what then, Sir,—_Lovis_, _Lovis_. [Runs

behind _Lovis_.

Alon. What then, Sir? then I tell you, I will not be beaten.

Hau. Look ye here now—_Lovis_.

Lov. Ha, ha, ha, canst thou be angry with him? [To _Alonzo_.

Hau. I, can you be angry with me?

Alon. I know not why an Ass should have more privilege than any other

rude Beast.

Lov. Ha, ha, ha, this Humour’s so pleasant in thee, I wish thou wouldst

pursue it a little—_Haunce_, bear up to him, he’s but a mere Huff, ha,

ha, ha. [Claps him on the Back, he goes fearfully forward.

Glo. I, Sir, as long as Don _Lovis_ is here, you may say what you will.

Hau. May I so?—and why, Sir?—am I, Sir—an Ass, Sir? [Runs behind

_Lovis_.

Alon. ’Sdeath, you Rascal, do you question me?

Hau. Oh, hold, Sir, hold, not I, God forbid I should question it,

_Lovis_—is it, indeed, _Alonzo_, hah?

Lov. Yes indeed is it.

Hau. And wilt thou not do so much as to beat him for me a little?

Lov. Not I, I dare not, he’s a terrible Man.

Hau. Why look you here now, you damn’d Rogue, [To _Gload_.] Have not

you serv’d me finely, hah?

Gload. Why, Sir, ’tis but crying Peccavi.

Hau. Peccavi, and be hang’d to you—Lord, Sir, [To _Alonzo_.] why are

you so angry? I came but to ask you a civil Question, from my Wife that

must be.

Alon. You must ask me leave, first.

Hau. Yes, yes, Sir, so she said mun; for she must marry me to night.

Alon. Yes, you shall have it with this—too. [Draws.

Hau. Why look you [_Haunce_ runs away, _Lovis_ stays 297 him.] here

now, here’s damn’d doings. For my part, I declare it here upon my

Death-bed, I am forc’d to what I do, and you kill me against my Will.

Alon. Do’st think we are not discover’d in our Design? I’d kill the Dog

if I thought we were.

Lov. I believe not; and perceive by my Sister’s Message, that we are to

come to her, and prevent this Fellow’s marrying her.

Alon. Well, Sir, I’ll spare your Life, and give your Mistress leave to

marry to night.

Hau. How, Sir, to Night?—But is he in earnest, _Lovis?_

Lov. In very good earnest.

Hau. Tan, ta, ra, ra, ra—hay, Boys, what a Night we’ll have on’t,

_Gload_, for Fiddles and Dancing.

Alon. Tell your Mistress I will dispatch a little Affair, and wait on

her.

Gload. And pray, Sir, may I have leave to marry the Maid too?

Alon. We’ll consider on’t.

Hau. I am not such a Fool to venture tho, till I know the Coast is

clear, for his very Looks are terrible; but go you, _Gload_, and tell

her what he says. [_Alonzo_ talks to _Lovis_.

Enter _Hippolyta_ from aside.

Hip. These be the Men that rescu’d me this morning,

And are not to be employ’d in my Affair.

But yonder Stranger has a noble Look,

And from him I’ll intreat this Favour—Sir— [To _Alonzo_.

Alon. With me, Sir?

Hip. Yes, please you to walk a little this way, Sir. [Takes him aside.

Hau. Well, make you sure of Fiddles, for look ye, we’ll appear to night

like our selves.

Gload. It shall be done, Sir.

Hip. I am a Stranger and a Gentleman,

And have an humble Suit to you.

298 Alon. You may command me any thing.

Hip. Sir, there is a Gentleman, if I may call him so, that dares do

ill; has put a base Affront upon a Lady—a Lady whom all brave Men are

bound to vindicate: I’ve writ him here a Challenge, and only beg you’ll

give it him; I will attend you in St. _Peter’s_ Grove, where I desire

the perfidious _Antonio_ (for that’s his Name, to whom this is

directed) to meet me.

Alon. I’m pleas’d to see this Gallantry in a Man so young, and will

serve you in this, or whatever else you shall command. But where is

this _Antonio?_

Hip. That I’ll inquire of these. Sir, pray can you give any account of

the Cavalier [To _Haunce_, who starts as afraid.] you fought with this

Morning in St. _Peter’s_ Grove, that had a Lady with him?

Hau. So, now perhaps I shall be hang’d for that. [Aside.

I fight, Sir! I never fought in my Life, nor saw no Man, not I.

Gload. ’Sha, you may confess it, Sir; there’s no Law against killing in

_Spain_.

Hip. How, have you murder’d him? [Takes hold of him.

Hau. This Rogue has a mind to have me dispatch’d. [Aside.

Hold, Sir, the Man’s as well and alive as you are, and is now at my

Lodgings: look ye, here’s the Dagger I disarm’d him of—but that I do

not love to boast. [Shews it.

Hip. It is the same.

Alon. Sir, I shall not fail to wait on you with the Answer I receive.

Hip. I humbly thank you, Sir.

Alon. So prithee, dear _Lovis_, go make my excuse to your Sister for a

moment, and let her get all things ready against I come; let the Priest

too wait, for I see my Destiny, which I can no longer prevent, draws on

apace. [Exit _Lovis_.

Come, Sir, you must conduct me to _Antonio_.

[Exeunt _Alonzo_, _Haunce_, and _Gload_.

299

Hip. So now the Work’s half done, that will redeem

All the lost Credit of our Family.

To kill, or to be kill’d, I care not which, [Weeps.

So one or both expire; be strong, my Soul,

And let no feeble Woman dwell about thee.

Hence Fears and Pity, such poor things as these

Cannot the Storms of my Revenge appease:

Those Showers must from his treacherous Heart proceed,

If I can live and see _Antonio_ bleed. [Sighs, and Exit.

Scene III. A deep Grove.

Enter _Marcel_ alone.

Mar. The hour is almost come which I appointed,

And yet no _Silvio_ appears, the time seems long to me;

But he that’s circled in his Mistress’ Arms,

Forgets the hasty hours,

And passes them as unregarded by,

As Men do Beggars who demand a Charity.

Enter _Hippolyta_.

Young Man, hast thou encounter’d none within this Grove?

Hip. Not any, Sir,—_Marcel!_ my injur’d Brother!

Mar. Why dost thou turn away, and hide thy Face?

Hip. ’Tis not my Face I hide, but Sorrow there. [Weeps.

Mar. Trust me, thou weepest; would I could do so too,

That I might be less angry;

And Silence best expresses Grief:

But thine’s a saucy Sorrow dares approach

A Face so fair and young.

Hip. If the Ingrate for whom I grieve had thought so, I might have

spar’d my Tears. Farewel, Sir.

Mar. Stay, hast thou been a Lover?

Hip. A very, very passionate one.

Mar. And wert thou not belov’d?

300 Hip. At first, to draw me in, the cunning Artist Made me believe I

was.

Mar. Oh! I could kiss thee now, for the alliance

Between thy Grief and mine.

Hadst thou a loose and wanton Sister too,

Then thou wert perfect wretched, as I am. [Weeps.

But prithee leave me, now I think of it:

For shouldst thou stay, thou’dst rob me of my Anger;

For since a Youth like thee can be unhappy,

With such a Shape, and so divine a Face,

Methinks I should not quarrel with my Star,

But bow to all my faithless Mistress’ Scorns.

[Hollowing within.] So ho, ho, so ho, ho—

Mar. So ho, so ho, ho, ho—’Tis my false Rival.

Now leave me, Sir, to reassume my Anger.

Hip. I will obey—farewel—

My own Despair makes me neglect his Life. [Goes out.

Enter _Silvio_.

Mar. ’Tis _Silvio_.

Silv. You see I have obey’d you, Sir.

Mar. Come, Sir, your Sword.

Silv. You are my Brother, and ’twere an impious Action,

To fight you unprovok’d: give me a cause,

Nay, and a just one too, or I shall find it hard

—To wound _Cleonte’s_ Brother. [Aside sighing.

Mar. Thou cam’st prepar’d to talk, and not to fight.

I cannot blame thee for’t, for were I _Silvio_,

Thus I would do to save a Life belov’d: [Offers to fight, _Silvio_

steps back.

But ’twill not serve you now.

Silv. Your Reason, Sir, and I’m ready, if it be just.

Mar. Oh do not urge me to repeat my Wrongs,

For if thou dost, I hardly shall have Man enough remain

To fight thee fairly. [Offers still.

Silv. Surely he knows my Passion for _Cleonte_— [Aside.

I urge the Reason still.

301

Mar. Hast thou forgot thy last Night’s Treachery?

How like a Thief thou stol’st into her Lodgings?

Silv. ’Tis so—’tis true, _Marcel_, I rudely did intrude—

Mar. Oh, quickly haste—this looks like Women’s jangling. [Offers to

fight again.

Silv. Oh, is it bravely done, _Marcel_, to punish

A Passion which you ought to pity rather?

’Tis what I cannot reconcile nor justify:

And so distracted it has made me too—

I will not fight in so unjust a Cause.

Kill me, and I’ll embrace you whilst I die;

A thousand Wounds imprinted on this Body,

Will bring less Pain than that her Eyes have caus’d.

Here strike—Pity my Pain and ease me. [Opens his Arms, and throws away

his Sword.

Mar. I find thou hast a Charm about thy Tongue,

And thou implor’st thy Death in such a way,

I cannot hurt thee; and it gives me hopes

Thou art not yet so bless’d to be belov’d,

For then thou wouldst not be thus desperate.

Silv. Oh yes, I am belov’d.

Mar. Oh do not say thou art,

Nor take me from a Calmness, that may spare thee.

Silv. Not say I am belov’d! thou canst not hire me

With Life or fuller Joy, to say I am not.

If there be Truth and Love in Innocence, she loves me.

Mar. Yet, yet, ye Gods, I can endure—say, but thou art not,

For I would yet preserve thee.

Silv. Oh, canst thou wish that I should fall so low,

To save my Life with Lyes; the poorest Sin of all the number?

Mar. Then once again thou hast debauch’d my Pity. [Takes to his Sword.

Silv. Her Passion I will justify, but not my own;

Her’s is as pure as Prayers of Penitence;

302 But mine—I cannot give a Name to.

[They fight: Enter _Alonzo_, and parts them.

Alon. How now, what’s here to do! _Marcel?_

Mar. _Alonzo!_ the only Man I wish to shun.

Silv. I’m glad, who e’er thou be’st thou hast prevented us.

Alon. Thou hast more Wit than he, then I find: Your Quarrel, Sir, may a

Man have leave to enquire into’t?

Mar. This is that _Silvio_, that noble Youth my Brother, whom thou hast

often heard me name.

Alon. An excellent Character for an Enemy, Noble, and Brother: For

shame put up your Swords, and I’ll be Judge between ye.

Mar. The Case is soon decided; I will not tell you with how tedious a

Courtship I won the Heart, as I thought, of a young Beauty of this

Town—and yesterday receiv’d a Billet from her, to wait on her at night,

to receive the recompence of all my Pains and Sufferings—In this extasy

of Joy I show’d him the Paper; and he getting thither before me, rob’d

me of my Prize.

Silv. I am so pleas’d at this mistake of thine, I can forgive it

freely.

Mar. Not content with this, most treacherously, hid in the shades of

Night, he met me in the Hall of this false Woman, and stab’d me, which

did secure his flight with her; and wouldst thou have me put this

Injury up?

Alon. Faith, you must, and your Sword too,

Unless you mean to keep it drawn on me.

’Twas I that wounded you i’ th’ dark; and it was I

That rob’d you of _Clarinda_.

Mar. Thou?

Alon. I, am I so unlikely a Man to do such a feat?

Mar. How dare you, Sir, do this?

Alon. I dare do any thing, but break my Word, as thou hast basely done

with me—But I am now in haste, and should be glad to know where to meet

you anon.

Mar. I’ll wait on you at the farther side of this Grove by the River.

303 Alon. I will not fail you— [Ex. _Alonzo_.

Mar. Come, Sir, till I can better prove you are my Rival, I will

believe you are my Friend and Brother.

Silv. When thou shalt know my miserable Story,

Thou wilt believe and pity me. [Go out.

Enter again _Hippolyta_ from out of the Wood.

Hip. I wonder this Cavalier stays so long,

Pray Heaven he meet _Antonio_.

Enter _Alonzo_.

Your Servant, Sir.

Alon. The Cavalier to whom you sent me, Sir, Will wait upon you here.

Hip. I humbly thank you, Sir, and should be glad to know how I might

pay my Gratitude.

Alon. My Duty ends not here; I have a Sword to serve you.

Hip. You shame me with this Generosity; but, Sir, I hope my own will be

sufficient in so good a Cause.

Alon. Tho you are young, I question not your Bravery; But I must beg to

stay and see fair play, And offer you my Service when you’ve done.

Hip. The Enemy appears, Sir,—and since you are so good, I beg you would

retire behind those Trees; for if he see us both, since he is single,

he will suspect some treachery.

Alon. You’ve reason, Sir, and I’ll obey you. [Goes aside.

Enter _Antonio_ reading a Paper.

SIR,

I do desire you to meet me in _St. Peter’s_ Grove, with your Sword in

your Hand, about an Hour hence; you will guess my Business, when you

know my name to be

Alonzo.

Alon. How’s that? [Aside.

Ant. I wish’t had been another Enemy,

Since from the Justice of his Cause I fear

304 An ill success; would I had seen _Hippolyta_,

That e’er I dy’d I might have had her pardon.

This Conscience—’tis ominous,

But ne’er appears in any horrid shape,

Till it approaches Death—

[Goes forward, sees _Hippolyta_, who justles him in passing by; he

stops and looks.

Hip. You seem, Sir, to be he whom I expect.

Ant. I’m call’d _Antonio_, Sir—

Hip. And I _Alonzo_; the rest we need not ask,

For thou art well acquainted with my Injuries,

And I with thy Perfidiousness. [Draws.

Ant. I know of none you have receiv’d from me,

If on _Hippolyta’s_ account you fight:

She lov’d me, and believ’d; and what dull Lover

Would have refus’d a Maid so easily gain’d?

Hip. Ah, Traytor, by how base a way

Thou wouldst evade thy Fate?

Didst thou not know she was my Wife by promise?

Did not _Marcel_, _Ambrosio_, all consent

To make her mine as soon as I arriv’d?

Alon. Who the Devil’s that young Bully that takes my Name, and my

Concerns upon him? [Aside.

Hip. But why should I expect a Truth from thee,

Who after so much time, so many Vows,

So many Tears, Despairs and Sighs, at last

Didst gain a Credit with this easy Fool,

Then left her to her shames, and her despairs?—Come, Sir—

Or I shall talk my self to calmness— [Aside.

Ant. I’m ready, Sir, to justify the Deed.

[They offer to fight, _Alonzo_ steps forth.

Alon. Hold! hold! fair Thief that rob’st me of my Name,

And wouldst my Honour too; [Puts her by.

If thou hast wrong’d the fair _Hippolyta_, [To _Antonio_.

No Man but I has right to do her justice.

Or you are both my Rivals—tell me which,

305 Which of you is it I must kill—or both?

I am _Alonzo_, who dares love _Hippolyta?_

Hip. Let not your friendship, Sir, proceed so far,

To take my Name, to take my Quarrel on you.

Alon. In this Dispute none’s more concern’d than I,

And I will keep my ground in such a cause,

Tho all the Rivals that her Beauty makes me,

Were arm’d to take my Life away.

Ant. Come, Sir, I care not which of you’s _Alonzo_. [They go to fight,

she holds _Alonzo_.

Hip. This Gallantry’s too much, brave Stranger.

_Antonio_, hurt him not; I am the wrong’d _Alonzo_,

And this a perfect Stranger to the business,

Who seeing me appear less Man than he,

And unacquainted with my Deeds abroad,

In Bounty takes my Name and Quarrel on him.

Alon. Take heed, young Man, and keep thy Virtue in,

Lest thus misguided it become a Crime.

But thou, he says, hast wrong’d _Hippolyta_, [To _Antonio_.

And I am he must punish it.

Hip. Sure it is he indeed—

For such a Miracle my Brother render’d him, [Aside.

Hold, hold, thou Wonder of thy Sex— [They fight.

Alon. Stand by, I shall be angry with thee else,

And that will be unsafe—

[As _Alonzo_ fights with one Hand, he keeps her off with t’other; she

presses still forward on _Antonio_ with her Sword, indeavouring to keep

back _Alonzo_.

Enter to them _Marcel._

Mar. Sure I heard the Noise of Swords this way! [Draws.

Hah, two against one! Courage, Sir. [To _Antonio_.

[They fight all four, _Marcel_ with _Hippolyta_ whom he wounds, and

_Alonzo_ with _Antonio_, who is disarmed.

Hip. Good Heaven, how just thou art!

306 Mar. What, dost thou faint already?—Hah, the pretty talking Youth I

saw but now! [Runs to her, and holds her up.

Alas, how dost thou?

Hip. Well, since thy Hand has wounded me—

Ant. My Life is yours, nor would I ask the Gift,

But to repair my Injuries to _Hippolyta_.

Alon. I give it thee— [Gives him his Sword.

Mar. How, _Antonio!_—

What unkind Hand has rob’d me of the justice

Of killing thee?

Alon. His that was once thy Friend, _Marcel_.

Mar. Oh! dost thou know my Shame? [Turns away.

Alon. I know thou art false to Friendship,

And therefore do demand mine back again, thou’st us’d it scurvily.

Mar. Thou knowst too much to think I’ve injur’d thee.

Alon. Not injur’d me! Who was it promis’d me _Hippolyta?_

Who his Alliance, and his Friendship too?

And who has broke them all, but thou perfidious?

Come, ’tis _Hippolyta_ that I demand.

Mar. By this he should not know my Sister’s Shame. [Aside.

Oh, Sir, you must not have _Hippolyta_.

Alon. How! not have _Hippolyta!_

Tho every Step were guarded by a Brother,

Tho she were circled round about with Rivals,

Ye should not all have Power to keep her from me.

Not have _Hippolyta!_—

’Sdeath, Sir, because I do not know my Birth,

And cannot boast a little empty Title,

I must not have _Hippolyta_.—

Now I will have her; and when you know I can,

You shall petition me to marry her.

And yet I will not do’t. Come, Sir— [Offers to fight.

307

Hip. Hold, hold, brave Man, or turn your Sword on me.

I am the unhappy Cause of all your Rage:

’Tis I, generous _Alonzo_, that can tell you

What he’s asham’d to own,

And thou wilt blush to hear.

Mar. _Hippolyta!_ thou wretched wicked Woman:

Thus I reward thy Sins— [Offers to kill her, _Antonio_ steps between.

Ant. Hold, Sir, and touch her not without my leave,

She is my Wife; by sacred Vows my Wife.

Alon. I understand no riddling; but whoever thou be’st.

Man or Woman, thou’rt worth our Care—

She faints—come, let us bear her hence. [She faints, _Antonio_ kneels

to her.

Ant. Oh stay, _Hippolyta_, and take me with thee,

For I’ve no use of Life when thou art gone. [Weeps.

Here, kill me, brave _Marcel_—and yet you need not;

My own Remorse, and Grief will be sufficient.

Mar. I credit thee, and leave thee to their Mercy.

Hip. That Goodness, Sir, has call’d me back to Life,

To pay my humble Thanks; could you have Mercy too,

To pardon me—you might redeem my Soul.

Mar. Some Pity I have yet, that may preserve thee too,

Provided this Repentance be not feign’d.

Ant. My Life, Sir, is Security for both.

Mar. Doubt not, I’ll take the Forfeit, Sir—Come, _Hippolyta_.

Thy Father’s House shall once again receive thee.

Ant. Lean on my Arm, my dearest.

Mar. Sir, by the way, I’ll let you know her Story,

And then perhaps you will not blame my Friendship.

Alon. And in return, I’ll give you back _Clarinda_—

And beg your Pardon for the Wound I gave you. [Exeunt, leading

_Hippolyta_.

308

ACT V.

Scene I. A Garden.

Enter _Cleonte_, _Clarinda_ weeping, and _Dormida_ and _Francisca_.

Cleo. Fear not, I’ll use my Interest both with your

Mother and my Father, to set your Heart at rest,

Whose Pain I feel by something in my own.

Clar. The Gods reward your Bounty, fair _Cleonte_.

Dor. I, I, Madam, I beseech you make our Peace with my good Lady her

Mother, whatsoever becomes of the rest, for she’ll e’en die with Grief—

[Weeps.

She had but two fair Pledges of her Nuptial Bed.

And both by cruel Fate are ravisht from her.

_Manuel_ a Child was lost,

And this; not holy Relicks were more strictly guarded,

Till false _Marcel_ betray’d me to debauch her. [Weeps aloud.

Cleo. Alas, had you a Brother once? [To _Clarinda_.

Clar. Madam, I might have had: but he was lost e’er I was born.

Cleo. Ah! would my _Silvio_ had been so. [Aside.

By what strange Accident, _Clarinda?_

Dor. Madam, I can inform you best. [Puts herself between.

Cleo. Do then, _Dormida_.

Dor. Madam, you must know, my Lady _Octavia_, for that’s her name, was

in her Youth the very Flower of Beauty and Vertue: Oh such a Face and

Shape! had you but seen her—And tho I say it, Madam, I thought my self

too somebody then.

Clar. Thou art tedious: Madam, ’tis true my Mother had the Reputation

of both those Attractions, which gain’d her many Lovers: amongst the

rest, Don _Manuel_, and Don _Alonzo_, were most worthy her Esteem.

Dor. Ay, Madam, Don _Alonzo_, there was a Man for you, so obliging and

so bountiful—Well, I’ll give you 309 Argument of both to me: for you

must know I was a Beauty then, and worth obliging. [Puts herself

between.

And he was the Man my Lady lov’d, tho Don _Manuel_ were the richer: but

to my own Story—

Cleo. Forward, _Clarinda_.

Clar. But as it most times happens,

We marry where our Parents like, not we;

My Mother was dispos’d of to Don _Manuel_.

Dor. Ay, Madam; but had you seen Don _Alonzo’s_ Rage, and how my Lady

took this Disappointment—But I who was very young, and very pretty, as

I told you before—

Clar. Forbear, Madam; ’tis true,

_Alonzo_ was so far transported,

That oft he did attempt to kill my Father;

But bravely tho, and still he was prevented:

But when at the Intreaties of my Mother,

The King confin’d my Father,

_Alonzo_ then study’d a new Revenge;

And thinking that my Father’s Life depended

Upon a Son he had, scarce a Year old,

He did design to steal him; and one Evening,

When with the Nurse and Maid he took the Air,

This desperate Lover seiz’d the smiling Prize,

Which never since was heard of.

Cleo. I guess the Grief the Parents must sustain.

Dor. It almost caus’d their Deaths; nor did kind Heaven

Supply them with another till long after,

Unhappy this was born:

Which just her Father liv’d to see, and dy’d. [Weeps.

Then she was Daughter, Son and Husband too,

To her afflicted Mother: But as I told you, Madam, I was then in my

Prime—

Clar. Now, Madam, judge what her Despair must be,

Who is depriv’d of all her Joys in me. [Weeps.

Cleo. _Francisca_, see who it is that knocks so hastily. [One knocks.

310 Franc. Oh, Madam, ’tis Don _Marcel_ leading a wounded Man.

Cleo. Oh my Fears, ’tis _Silvio!_

Franc. ’Tis not Don _Silvio_.

Enter _Marcel_, leading _Hippolyta_ wounded, followed by _Alonzo_ and

_Pedro_.

Cleo. Alas, what Youth is this you lead all bleeding?

Mar. One that deserves your Care; where’s my Father?

Cleo. Not yet return’d.

Mar. ’Tis well; and you, Sir, I must confine till I know how to satisfy

my Honour, and that of my wrong’d Sister. [To _Antonio_.

Ant. The holy Man will soon decide our Difference:

Pray send for one, and reconcile us all.

Hip. I fear, _Antonio_, still thou dost dissemble.

Ant. So let me find Forgiveness when I die,

If any fear of Death have wrought this change,

But a pure Sense of all my Wrongs to thee,

Knowing thy constant Love, and Virtue to me.

Mar. I will secure your fear—_Francisca_, send for Father _Joseph_ to

me, and conduct these Gentlemen to the Lodgings next the Garden.

[Exeunt _Francisca_, _Antonio_ and _Hippolyta_.

Alon. Prithee, _Marcel_, are thee and I awake, or do we dream? thou,

that thou art in thy Father’s House; and I, that I see those two fair

Women there? Pray, lovely Fugitive, how came you hither? [To

_Clarinda_.

Mar. I thought thou wert mistaken;

’Twas _Silvio_ brought her hither, that false Man.

But how came you to know her?

Alon. Know her! ’slife, I question my Sense.

Pray, Lady, are you Flesh and Blood? [To _Cleonte_.

Cleo. Yes surely, Sir; for ’twere pity you should have bestow’d your

Heart on a Shadow, and I well remember you gave it one of us last

Night.

311 Alon. A Dream, a Dream! but are you indeed the same fair Person,

and is this the same House too?

Cleo. I am afraid your Heart’s not worth the keeping, since you took no

better notice where you dispos’d of it.

Alon. Faith, Madam, your wrong a poor Lover, who has languish’d in

search of it all this live-long day.

Cleo. Brother, I beseech you, receive the innocent _Clarinda_, who, I

fear, will have the greatest Cause of Complaint against you. [To

_Marcel._ Gives him to _Clarinda_.

Alon. But pray, fair one, let you and I talk a little about that same

Heart you put me in mind of just now. [To _Cleonte_, with whom he seems

to talk.

Ped. Surely that’s my old Mistress, _Dormida_; twenty years has not

made so great an Alteration in that ill-favour’d Face of hers, but I

can find a Lover there.

[Goes to her, they seem to talk earnestly, and sometimes pleasantly,

pointing to _Clarinda_.

Mar. Enough, _Clarinda_: I’m too well convinc’d,

Would thou hadst still remain’d a Criminal.

Now how can I reward thy Faith and Love?

Clar. I know, _Marcel_, it is not in thy Power,

Thy faithless Story I’m acquainted with.

Mar. Do not reproach me with my Shame, _Clarinda_.

’Tis true, to gain thee to consent to my Desires,

I made an honourable Pretence of loving.

Pardon a Lover all the ways he takes

To gain a Mistress so belov’d and fair.

But I have since repented of that Sin,

And came last Night for thy Forgiveness too.

Ped. This is News indeed; ’tis fit I keep this Secret no longer from my

Master. Don _Manuel_ being dead, my Vow’s expir’d. [Aside.]

[_Pedro_ goes to _Alonzo_.

Clar. And do you mean no more to love me then?

Mar. In spite of me, above my Sense or Being.

Clar. And yet you’ll marry _Flavia_.

Mar. Against my Will I must, or lose a Father.

312 Clar. Then I must die, _Marcel_.

Mar. Do not unman my Soul, it is too weak To bear the Weight of fair

_Clarinda’s_ Tears. [Weeps.

Alon. Why was this Secret kept from me so long?

Ped. I was oblig’d by Vow, Sir, to Don _Alonzo_, my dead Master, not to

restore you till Don _Manuel’s_ Death; believing it a Happiness too

great for his Rival, for so he was upon your Mother’s score.

Alon. Have I a Mother living?

Ped. Here in Madrid, Sir, and that fair Maid’s your Sister. [Pointing

to _Clarinda_.

Alon. I scarce can credit thee, but that I know thee honest.

Ped. To confirm that belief, Sir, here are the Writings of twelve

thousand Crowns a Year, left you by your Foster-Father the brave

_Alonzo_, whose Name he gave you too. [Gives him Papers, he reads.

Alon. I am convinc’d—How now, _Marcel_, what all in Tears? why, who the

Devil would love in earnest?

Come, come, make me Judge between you.

Mar. You’ll soon decide it then, my Heart’s _Clarinda’s_; But my forc’d

Vows are given to another.

Alon. Vows! dost think the Gods regard the Vows of Lovers? they are

things made in necessity, and ought not to be kept, nor punish’d when

broken; if they were—Heaven have mercy on me poor Sinner.

Enter _Ambrosio_.

Mar. My Father return’d! [Bows, and goes to him, and then leads

_Alonzo_ to him.

Sir, this is the gallant Man that was design’d to be your Son-in-Law.

Amb. And that you were not so, Sir, was my misfortune only.

Alon. I am glad to find it no slight to my Person,

Or unknown Quality that depriv’d me of that Honour.

313 Mar. To convince you of that, _Alonzo_, I know my Father will

bestow this other Sister on you; more fair and young, and equally as

rich. [_Ambrosio_ calls _Marcel_ aside.

Alon. How, his Sister! Fool that I was, I could not guess at this; and

now have I been lying and swearing all this while how much I lov’d her.

Well, take one time with another, a Man falls into more Danger by this

amorous Humour, than he gets good turns by it.

Mar. Pardon me, Sir, I knew not you had design’d her elsewhere—Dear

_Alonzo_, my Father—

Alon. Ay, Sir, I am much oblig’d to him. Oh Pox, would I were well with

_Euphemia_.

Mar. I protest I could wish—

Alon. Ay, so could I, Sir, that you had made a better Judgment of my

Humour: All must out, I have no other way to avoid this Compliment

else. Why look ye, _Marcel_—Your Sister is—Pox, I am ill at

Dissimulation, and therefore in plain Terms, I am to be married this

very Evening to another.

Mar. This was happy, and has sav’d me an Excuse. [Aside.

But are you in earnest, How is it possible, being so lately come into

_Madrid?_

Alon. Destiny, Destiny, _Marcel_, which there was no avoiding, tho I

mist of _Hippolyta_.

Mar. Who is it, prithee?

Alon. A Woman I hope, of which indeed I would have been better assur’d;

but she was wilful. She’s call’d _Euphemia._

Mar. Our next Neighbour, the Daughter of old _Carlo_.

Alon. The same.

Mar. Thou art happy to make so good a Progress in so short a time, but

I am—

Alon. Not so miserable as you believe. Come, come, you shall marry

_Clarinda_.

Mar. ’Tis impossible.

314 Alon. Where’s the hindrance?

Mar. Her want of Fortune; that’s enough, Friend.

Alon. Stand by and expect the best— [Goes to _Ambrosio_.

Sir, I have an humble Suit to you.

Amb. I shall be infinitely pleas’d you could ask me any thing in my

Power; but, Sir, this Daughter I had dispos’d of, before I knew you

would have mist of _Hippolyta_.

Alon. Luckier than I expected. [Aside.

Sir, that was an Honour I could not merit, and am contented with my

Fate: But my Request is, that you would receive into your Family a

Sister of mine, whom I would bestow on Don _Marcel_.

Mar. Hah, what mean you, Sir? a Sister of yours?

Alon. Yes, she will not be unwelcome—This is she.

Amb. This is the Daughter to _Octavia_—Her Mother was a Lady whom once

I did adore, and ’twas her fault she was not more happy with me, than

with Don _Manuel_. Nor have I so wholly forgot that Flame, but I might

be inclin’d to your Proposal: But, Sir, she wants a Fortune.

Alon. That I’ll supply.

Mar. You supply, Sir? On what kind Score, I pray?

Alon. That which you’ll suffer without being jealous, When you shall

know she is indeed my Sister.

Clar. How! this brave Man my Brother?

Alon. So they tell me, and that my Name is _Manuel_. Had you not such a

Brother?

Dor. Oh ye Gods, is this the little _Manuel?_

Ped. Yes, _Dormida_, and for a farther Proof see this. [Opens his

Master’s Bosom and shews a Crucifix.

Dor. This I remember well, it is Don _Manuel_:

Pray let me look upon you: Just like my Lord—Now

may the Soul of Don _Alonzo_ rest in Peace,

For making so hopeful a Man of you.

Alon. Amen. But, Sir, if you approve of my Sister,

I’ll make her as worthy of _Marcel_, as _Flavia_.

Amb. I’ve lost the Hopes of her—She’s not to be reconcil’d. [Aside.

315

_Clarinda_ needs no more than to belong to you,

To make her valuable—and I consent with Joy. [Gives her to _Marcel._

Mar. And I with Joys unutterable take her.

Alon. _Pedro_, there rests no more than that you wait on my Mother, and

let her know all that has happen’d to my self and Sister, and that I’ll

pay my Duty to her e’er I sleep.

Dor. The very Joy to find her Son again, will get my Pardon too: and

then perhaps _Pedro_ and I may renew our old Amours.

Alon. Sir, I have another Request to make.

Amb. You must command, Sir.

Alon. That is, that you will permit this fair Company to honour me this

Evening at my Father-in-law’s, Don _Carlo_.

Amb. How, has Don _Carlo_ married the Lady Octavia?

Alon. No, Sir, but a worse matter than that, I am to marry his

Daughter.

Amb. Oh, Sir, _Euphemia_ has too much Beauty and Virtue to make you

doubt your Happiness.

Alon. Well, Sir, I must venture that. But your Company I’ll expect, the

Ladies may clap on their Vizards, and make a masquerading Night on’t:

tho such Freedoms are not very usual in _Spain_, we that have seen the

World, may absolve one another.

Amb. My Garden joins to that of Don _Carlo_, and that way we will wait

on you, as soon as I have dispatcht a small Affair.

Alon. Your humble servant, Sir. [Goes out; _Ambrosio_ the other way.

Mar. Sister, go you and prepare my Father to receive _Hippolyta_,

whilst I go see them married.

[Exeunt _Cleonte_ and _Clarinda_.

[_Marcel_ passing over the Garden, sees _Silvio_ enter in Passion,

followed by _Francisca_.

Silv. Do not, _Francisca_—do not blow my Flame,

The Cure thou bring’st is much the greater Hell. [Offers to go, but

stops.

316 Mar. Hah, _Silvio!_ unseen I’ll hear the Business. [Goes aside.

Silv. I would fain shun thee, but this impious Weight

Of Love upon my Soul hinders my flight:

I’m fixt—like conscious Guilt it keeps me here,

And I am now insensible of Fear.

Speak on, thou Messenger of sacred Love—speak on.

Franc. The fair _Cleonte_, Sir, whose Soul’s inflam’d

No less than yours; tho with a virgin Modesty

She would conceal it, pitying now your Pain,

Has thro my Intercession—

Silv. Oh quickly speak! What Happiness design’d me?

Franc. To admit you, Sir, this Night into her Chamber.

Mar. Death to my Soul! What’s this? [Aside.

Silv. Her Chamber? is that all? will that allay this Fever

In my Blood?—No, no, _Francisca_,

’Tis grown too high for amorous Parleys only;

Her Arms, her charming Bosom, and her Bed,

Must now receive me; or I die, _Francisca_.

Franc. I mean no other, Sir; why, can you think

A Maid in love as much as you can be,

Assisted with the silence of the Night,

(Which veils her Blushes too) can say—I dare not?

Or if she do, she’ll speak it faintly o’er,

And even whilst she so denies will yield.

Go, go prepare your self for this Encounter,

And do not dally as you did to day,

And fright your Pleasure with the Name of Sister—

Mar. Oh cursed Witch! [Aside.

Franc. What say you, Sir?

Silv. That Name has check’d my Joy—

And makes it strangely silent and imperfect. [Walks away.

Franc. Why do you go, before you answer me? [Follows him into the

Garden.

Mar. I’ll follow him, and kill them. [Comes out with a Dagger.

317 Oh, who would be allied unto a Woman,

Nature’s loose Handy-Work? the slight Imploys

Of all her wanton Hours?—Oh, I could rave now—

Abandon Sense and Nature.

Hence, all considerate Thoughts, and in their Room,

Supply my Soul with Vengeance, that may prove

Too great to be allay’d by Nature, or by Love. [Goes into the Garden

after them.

Enter again _Silvio_ melancholy, followed by _Francisca_.

Franc. But will you lose this Opportunity,

Her Lodgings too being so near your own?

Silv. Hell take her for her Wickedness.

Oh that ten thousand Mountains stood between us,

And Seas as vast and raging as her Lust,

That we might never meet—Oh perfect Woman!

I find there is no Safety in thy Sex;

No trusting to thy Innocence:

That being counterfeit, thy Beauty’s gone,

Dropt like a Rose o’er-blown;

And left thee nothing but a wither’d Root,

That never more can bloom.

Franc. Alas, I fear I have done ill in this. [Aside.

Silv. I now should hate her: but there yet remains

Something within, so strangely kind to her,

That I’m resolv’d to give her one proof more,

Of what I have vow’d her often; yes, I’ll kill her—

Franc. How, kill her, Sir? Gods, what have I done! [Aside.

Silv. Yes, can I let her live, and say I lov’d her?

No, she shall tempt no more vain yielding Men.

Franc. Consider, Sir, it is to save your Life she does it.

Silv. My Life!

’Twere better she and I were buried

Quick in one Grave, than she should fall to this,

She has out-sinn’d even me in this Consent.

318

Enter _Marcel_ from amongst the Trees softly with his Dagger behind

_Silvio_.

Mar. Oh, here they are—

Franc. My Lord, defend your self, your are undone else.

Silv. Hah, _Marcel!_ [Draws.

Franc. Help, help.

Mar. Hell take thy Throat.

Enter _Ambrosio_, _Clarinda_, _Cleonte_, and the rest of the House.

Amb. Hold, Villain, hold.

How dar’st thou thus rebel—ungrateful Wretch?

Mar. This cause, Sir, is so just, that when you hear it,

You’ll curse me, that I let him live thus long:

He loves my Sister, Sir; and that leud Woman

Repays his lustful Flame, and does this Evening

Invite him to her Bed—Oh, let me kill him. [Offers to go to him.

Amb. That he should love _Cleonte_ I’ll allow,

And her returns too, whilst they are innocent.

Mar. But, Sir, he does not love her as a Sister.

Amb. If that be all his Crime, I still forgive him.

Silv. Yes, Sir, ’tis true, I do adore my Sister,

But am so far from that foul thing he nam’d,

That could I think I had a secret Thought

That tended that way, I would search it—thus— [Goes to stab himself.

Cleo. What mean you by this Desperation?

Silv. Oh, take away this Woman from my sight. [Pointing to _Cleonte_.

For she will finish what this has ill begun. [Holds his Dagger up.

Franc. Thus low, Sir, for you Mercy I must kneel; [Kneels.

Which yet I must despair of, when you know

319 How very very wicked I have been. [Weeps.

_Cleonte_, Sir, is chaste as Angels are.

Silv. My Sister innocent! how soon I do believe thee!

Franc. Yes, Sir, nor knows of that vile Message which I brought you.

Silv. What Devil set thee on to tempt me then?

Franc. The worst of Devils, hopeless, raging Love;

And you, my Lord, were the unhappy Object.

Mar. Oh sinful Woman, what was thy Design?

Cleo. What means all this? [Aside.

Franc. At least to have enjoy’d him once; which done,

Thinking that it had been the fair _Cleonte_,

It would have made him hate her.

Silv. Should all thy other Sins be unrepented,

The Piety of this Confession saves thee.

Pardon, _Cleonte_, my rude Thoughts of thee, [Kneels, she takes him up.

I had design’d to have kill’d thee—

Had not this Knowledge of thy Innocence

Arriv’d before I’d seen thee next.

And, Sir, your Pardon too I humbly beg, [To _Ambrosio_.

With license to depart; I cannot live

Where I must only see my beauteous Sister;

That Torment is too great to be supported,

That still must last, and never hope a Cure.

Amb. Since you are so resolv’d, I will unfold

A Secret to you, that perhaps may please you.

Silv. Low at your Feet I do implore it, Sir. [Kneels.

Amb. Your Quality forbids this Ceremony. [Takes him up.

Silv. How, Sir!

Amb. Your Father was the mighty Favourite, the Count _d’Olivarez_; your

Mother, _Spain’s_ celebrated Beauty, _Donna Margarita Spiniola_, by

whom your Father had two natural Sons, _Don Lovis de Harro_, and your

self _Don Roderigo_. The Story of his Disgrace, you know, with all the

World; 320 ’twas then he being banisht from the Court, he left you to

my Care then very young. I receiv’d you as my own, and as more than

such educated you, and as your Father oblig’d me to do, brought you

always up about their Majesties; for he hoped, if you had Beauty and

Merits, you might inherit part of that Glory he lost.

Mar. This is wondrous.

Amb. This Truth you had not known so soon, had you not made as great an

Interest at Court as any Man so young ever did, and if I had not

acquitted my self in all Points as became the Friend of so great and

brave a Man, as Count _d’Olivarez_: the Fortune he left you was two

Millions of Crowns.

Silv. Let me embrace your feet for this blest News. Is not the fair

_Cleonte_ then my Sister?

Amb. No, Sir, but one whom long since I design’d your Wife, if you are

pleas’d to think her worthy of it. [Offers her.

Silv. Without her, Sir, I do despise my Being;

And do receive her as a Blessing sent

From Heaven to make my whole Life happy.

Amb. What say you, _Cleonte?_

Cleo. Sir, I must own a Joy greater than is fit for a Virgin to

express.

Mar. Generous Don _Roderigo_, receive me as your Friend, and pardon all

the Fault you found in me as a Brother. [Embraces him.

Silv. Be ever dear unto my Soul, _Marcel_.

Mar. Now is the time to present _Hippolyta_ and _Antonio_ to my Father,

whilst his Humour is so good. And you, dear Brother, I must beg to join

with us in so just a Cause.

Silv. You need not doubt my Power, and less my Will.

Mar. Do you prepare him then, whilst I bring them in: for by this I

know my Confessor has made them one. [Exit _Marcel_.

Silv. Sir, I’ve a Suit to you.

321 Amb. You cannot ask what I can deny.

Silv. _Hippolyta_, Sir, is married to _Antonio_, And humbly begs your

Pardon for her past fault.

Amb. _Antonio_ and _Hippolyta!_ oh, name them not.

Enter _Antonio_ and _Hippolyta_, a Fryar, and _Marcel_.

Mar. Pray, Sir, forgive them, your Honour being safe,

Since Don _Antonio_ has by marrying her,

Repair’d the Injury he did us all,

Without which I had kill’d him.

Amb. Thou art by Nature more severe than I,

And if thou think’st our Honour satisfy’d,

I will endeavour to forget their Faults.

Ant. We humbly thank you, Sir, and beg your Blessing,

At least bestow it on _Hippolyta_;

For she was ever chaste, and innocent,

And acted only what became her Duty;

Since by a sacred Vow she was my Wife.

Amb. How cam’st thou then to treat her so inhumanly?

Ant. In pure revenge to Don _Marcel_ her Brother,

Who forc’d my Nature to a stubbornness,

Which whilst I did put on, I blush to own;

And still between Thoughts so unjust, and Action,

Her Virtue would rise up and check my Soul,

Which still secur’d her Fame.

Hip. And I have seen in midst of all thy Anger,

Thou’st turn’d away, and chang’d thy Words to Sighs;

Dropt now and then a Tear, as if asham’d,

Not of thy Injuries, but my little Merit.

Amb. How weak and easy Nature makes me—Rise,

I must forgive you both.

Come, Sir, I know you long to be secur’d

Of what you say you love so much, _Cleonte_.

Franc. But, Madam, have you fully pardon’d me?

Silv. We will all join in your behalf, _Francisco_.