+ACT+ I. +SCENE+ I.
+SCENE+, _the Street_.
_Enter ~Carlos~ and ~Sancho~._
_Car._ I Tell thee, I am satisfy'd, I'm in love enough to be suspicious
of every body.
_San._ And yet methinks, Sir, you shou'd leave me out.
_Car._ It may be so; I can't tell: but I'm not at ease. If they don't
make a knave, at least they will make a fool of thee.
_San._ I don't believe a word on't: but good faith, Master, your love
makes somewhat of you; I don't know what 'tis; but methinks when you
suspect me, you don't seem a man of half those parts I us'd to take
you for. Look in my face, 'tis round and comely, not one hollow line
of a villain in it: men of my fabrick don't use to be suspected for
knaves; and when you take us for fools, we never take you for wise
men. For my part, in this present case, I take myself to be mighty
deep. A stander-by, Sir, sees more than a gamester. You are pleased
to be jealous of your poor Mistress without a cause, she uses you but
too well, in my humble opinion; she sees you, and talks with you, till
I'm quite tir'd on't sometimes; and your rival that you are so scar'd
about, forces a visit upon her about once in a fortnight.
_Car._ Alas, thou art ignorant of these affairs, he that's the civilest
received is often the least car'd for: women appear warm to one, to
hide a flame for another. _Lorenzo_ in short appears too compos'd of
late to be a rejected lover, and the indifference he shews upon the
favours I seem to receive from her, poisons the pleasure I else shou'd
taste in them, and keeps me upon a perpetual rack. No----I would fain
see some of his jealous transports, have him fire at the sight of
me, contradict me whenever I speak, affront me wherever he meets me,
challenge me, fight me----
_San._ ----Run you through the guts.
_Car._ But he's too calm, his heart's too much at ease, to leave me
mine at rest.
_San._ But, Sir, you forget that there are two ways for our hearts to
get at ease; when our mistresses come to be very fond of us, or we--not
to care a fig for them. Now suppose upon the rebukes you know he has
had, it shou'd chance to be the latter.
_Car._ Again thy ignorance appears; alas, a lover who has broke his
chain, will shun the tyrant that enslaved him. Indifference never
is his lot; he loves or hates for ever; and if his mistress proves
another's prize, he cannot calmly see her in his arms.
_San._ For my part, Master, I am not so great a philosopher as you
be, nor (thank my stars) so bitter a lover, but what I see----that I
generally believe; and when _Jacinta_ tells me she loves me dearly, I
have good thoughts enough of my person never to doubt the truth on't.
See here the baggage comes.
_Enter ~Jacinta~ with a letter._
Hist! _Jacinta_! my dear.
_Jacin._ Who's that? Blunderbuss! Where's your Master?
_San._ Hard by.
[_Shewing him._
_Jacin._ O, Sir, I'm glad I have found you at last; I believe I have
travel'd five miles after you, and could neither find you at home, nor
in the walks, nor at church, nor at the opera nor----
_San._ Nor any where else, where he was not to be found: if you had
look'd for him where he was, 'twas ten to one but you had met with him.
_Jacin._ I had, Jack-a-dandy!
_Car._ But pr'ythee what's the matter? Who sent you after me?
_Jacin._ One who's never well but when she sees you, I think; 'twas my
Lady.
_Car._ Dear _Jacinta_, I fain would flatter myself, but am not able;
the blessing's too great to be my lot: yet 'tis not well to trifle with
me; how short soe'er I am in other merit, the tenderness I have for
_Leonora_ claims something from her generosity. I should not be deluded.
_Jacin._ And why do you think you are? methinks she's pretty well above
board with you: what must be done more to satisfy you?
_San._ Why _Lorenzo_ must hang himself, and then we are content.
_Jacin._ How! _Lorenzo_?
_San._ If less will do, he'll tell you.
_Jacin._ Why, you are not mad, Sir, are you? Jealous of him! Pray which
way may this have got into your head? I took you for a man of sense
before----Is this your doings, dog?
[_To ~Sancho~._
_San._ No, forsooth _Pert_, I'm not much given to suspicion, as you can
tell, Mrs. _Forward_----if I were, I might find more cause I guess,
than your Mistress has given our Master here. But I have so many pretty
thoughts of my own person, hussy, more than I have of yours, that I
stand in dread of no man.
_Jacin._ That's the way to prosper; however, so far I'll confess the
truth to thee; at least if that don't do, nothing else will. Men are
mighty simple in love-matters, Sir: when you suspect woman's a falling
off, you fall a plaguing her to bring her on again, attack her with
reason and a sour face: udslife, Sir, attack her with a fiddle,
double your good humour----give her a ball----powder your perriwig at
her----let her cheat you at cards a little, and I'll warrant all's
right again. But to come upon a poor woman with the gloomy face of
jealousy, before she gives the least occasion for't, is to set a
complaisant rival in too favourable a light. Sir, Sir, I must tell you,
I have seen those have ow'd their success to nothing else.
_Car._ Say no more; I have been to blame, but there shall be no more
on't.
_Jac._ I should punish you but justly however for what's past, if I
carried back what I have brought you; but I'm good-natur'd, so here
'tis; open it, and see how wrong you tim'd your jealousy.
_Car._ [Reads.] _If you love me with that tenderness you have made me
long believe you do, this letter will be welcome; 'tis to tell you, you
have leave to plead a daughter's weakness to a father's indulgence: and
if you prevail with him to lay his commands upon me, you shall be as
happy as my obedience to them can make you._ Leonora.
Then I shall be what man was never yet [_Kissing the Letter._] Ten
thousand blessings on thee for thy news, I could adore thee as a Deity.
[_Embracing ~Jacin~._
_Jacin._ True flesh and blood, every inch of her, for all that.
_Car._ [Reads again.] _And if you prevail with him to lay his commands
upon me, you shall be as happy as my obedience to them can make you._
O happy, happy _Carlos_! But what shall I say to thee for this welcome
message? [_To ~Jacinta~._] Alas! I want words----But let this speak for
me, and this, and this, and----
[_Giving her his ring, watch, and purse._
_San._ Hold, Sir; pray leave a little something for our board-wages.
You can't carry 'em all, I believe: [_To ~Jacinta~._] shall I ease thee
of this?
[_Offering to take the purse._
_Jacin._ No; but you may carry----That, sirrah.
[_Giving him a box o' th' ear._
_San._ The jade's grown purse-proud already.
_Car._ Well, dear _Jacinta_, say something to your charming mistress,
that I am not able to say myself: But, above all, excuse my late
unpardonable folly, and offer her my life to expiate my crime.
_Jacin._ The best plea for pardon will be never to repeat the fault.
_Car._ If that will do 'tis seal'd for ever.
_Jacin._ Enough; but I must be gone; success attend you with the old
gentleman. Good-by t'ye, Sir.
[_Exit ~Jacin~._
_Car._ Eternal blessings follow thee.
_San._ I think she has taken them all with her; the jade has got her
apron full.
_Car._ Is not that _Lorenzo_ coming this way?
_San._ Yes, 'tis he; for my part now I pity the poor gentleman.
_Enter ~Lorenzo~._
_Car._ I'll let him see at last I can be chearful too. Your servant,
Don _Lorenzo_; how do you do this morning?
_Lor._ I thank you, Don _Carlos_, perfectly well both in body and mind.
_Car._ What! cur'd of your love, then?
_Lor._ No, nor I hope I never shall. May I ask you how 'tis with yours?
_Car._ Increasing every hour; we are very constant both.
_Lor._ I find so much delight in being so, I hope I never shall be
otherwise.
_Car._ Those joys I am well acquainted with. But should lose them soon,
were I to meet a cool reception.
_Lor._ That's every generous lover's case, no doubt; an angel could not
fire my heart but with an equal flame.
_Car._ And yet you said you still lov'd _Leonora_.
_Lor._ And yet I said I lov'd her.
_Car._ Does she then return you----
_Lor._ Everything my passion can require.
_Car._ Its wants are small, I find.
_Lor._ Extended as the Heavens.
_Car._ I pity you.
_Lor._ He must be a Deity that does so.
_Car._ Yet I'm a mortal, and once more can pity you. Alas, _Lorenzo_,
'tis a poor cordial to an aching heart, to have the tongue alone
announce it happy; besides 'tis mean, you should be more a man.
_Lor._ I find I have made you an unhappy one, so can forgive the
boilings of your spleen.
_Car._ This seeming calmness might have the effect your vanity proposes
by it; had I not a testimony of her love would (should I shew it) sink
you to the center.
_Lor._ Yet still I'm calm as ever.
_Car._ Nay then have at your peace. Read that, and end the farce.
[_Gives him ~Leonora~'s letter._
_Lor._ [_Reads._] I have read it.
_Car._ And know the hand?
_Lor._ 'Tis _Leonora_'s; I have often seen it.
_Car._ I hope you then at last are satisfied.
_Lor._ I am, [_Smiling._] Good-morrow, _Carlos_.
[_Exit ~Lor~._
_San._ Sure he's mad, Master.
_Car._ Mad! say'st thou?
_San._ And yet by'r lady, that was a sort of a dry sober smile at going
off.
_Car._ A very sober one! Had he shewn me such a letter, I had put on
another countenance.
_San._ Ay, o' my conscience had you.
_Car._ Here's mystery in this----I like it not.
_San._ I see his man and confidant there, _Lopez_. Shall I draw on a
_Scotch_ pair of boots, Master, and make him tell all?
_Car._ Some questions I must ask him; call him hither.
_San._ Hem, _Lopez_, hem!
_Enter ~Lopez~._
_Lop._ Who calls?
_San._ I, and my master.
_Lop._ I can't stay.
_San._ You can indeed, Sir.
[_Laying hold on him._
_Car._ Whither in such haste, honest _Lopez_! What! upon some love
errand?
_Lop._ Sir, your servant; I ask your pardon, but I was going----
_Car._ I guess where; but you need not be shy of me any more, thy
master and I are no longer rivals; I have yielded up the cause; the
lady will have it so, so I submit.
_Lop._ Is it possible, Sir, shall I then live to see my master and you
friends again?
_San._ Yes; and what's better, thou and I shall be friends too. There
will be no more fear of Christian bloodshed. I give thee up _Jacinta_;
she's a slippery hussy, so master and I are going to match ourselves
elsewhere.
_Lop._ But is it possible, Sir, your honour should be in earnest? I'm
afraid you are pleased to be merry with your poor humble servant.
_Car._ I'm not at present much dispos'd to mirth, my indifference in
this matter is not so thoroughly form'd; but my reason has so far
master'd my passion, to shew me 'tis in vain to pursue a woman whose
heart already is another's. 'Tis what I have so plainly seen of late, I
have rous'd my resolution to my aid, and broke my chains for ever.
_Lop._ Well, Sir, to be plain with you, this is the joyfullest news I
have heard this long time; for I always knew you to be a mighty honest
gentleman, and good faith it often went to the heart o' me to see you
so abused. Dear, dear have I often said to myself (when they have had a
private meeting just after you have been gone)----
_Car._ Ha!
_San._ Hold, Master, don't kill him yet.
[_To ~Car.~ aside._
_Lop._ I say I have said to myself, what wicked things are women, and
what pity it is they should be suffer'd in a Christian country; what
a shame they should be allow'd to play Will-in-the-wisp with men of
honour, and lead them thro' thorns and briars, and rocks, and rugged
ways, 'till their hearts are all torn to pieces, like an old coat in a
fox-chace; I say, I have said to myself----
_Car._ Thou hast said enough to thyself, but say a little more to me:
Where were these secret meetings thou talk'st of?
_Lop._ In sundry places, and by divers ways; sometimes in the cellar,
sometimes in the garret, sometimes in the court, sometimes in the
gutter; but the place where the kiss of kisses was given was----
_Car._ In Hell.
_Lop._ Sir!
_Car._ Speak, fury, what dost thou mean by the kiss of kisses?
_Lop._ The kiss of peace, Sir, the kiss of union; the kiss of
consummation.
_Car._ Thou ly'st, villain.
_Lop._ I don't know but I may, Sir,----What the Devil's the matter now?
[_Aside._
_Car._ There's not a word of truth in all thy cursed tongue has utter'd.
_Lop._ No, Sir, I----I----believe there is not.
_Car._ Why then didst thou say it, wretch?
_Lop._ O----only in jest. Sir.
_Car._ I am not in a jesting condition.
_Lop._ Nor I at present, Sir.
_Car._ Speak then the truth, as thou wouldst do it at the hour of death.
_Lop._ Yes, at the gallows, and be turn'd off as soon as I've done.
[_Aside._
_Car._ What's that you murmur?
_Lop._ Nothing but a short prayer.
_Car._ I am distracted, and fright the wretch from telling me what I am
upon the rack to know. [_Aside._] Forgive me, _Lopez_, I am to blame
to speak thus harshly to thee: let this obtain thy pardon. [_Gives him
money._] Thou see'st I am disturb'd.
_Lop._ Yes, Sir, I see I have been led into a snare; I have said too
much.
_Car._ And yet you must say more; nothing can lessen my torment, but
a farther knowledge of what causes my misery. Speak then! Have I any
thing to hope?
_Lop._ Nothing; but that you may be a happier bachelor, than my master
may probably be a married man.
_Car._ Married, say'st thou?
_Lop._ I did, Sir, and believe he'll say so too in a twelvemonth.
_Car._ O torment!----But give me more on't: When, how, to whom, where?
_Lop._ Yesterday, to _Leonora_, by the parson, in the pantry.
_Car._ Look to't, if this be false, thy life shall pay the torment thou
hast given me: be gone.
_Lop._ With the body and the soul o'me.
[_Ex. ~Lopez~._
_San._ Base news, Master.
_Car._ Now my insulting rival's smile speaks out: O cursed, cursed
woman!
_Enter ~Jacinta~._
_Jacin._ I'm come in haste to tell you, Sir, that as soon as the moon's
up, my lady will give you a meeting in the close-walk by the back-door
of the garden; she thinks she has something to propose to you will
certainly get her father's consent to marry you.
_Car._ Past sufferance! this aggravation is not to be borne: go, thank
her--with my curses: fly----and let them blast her, while their venom
is strong.
[_Exit ~Car~._
_Jacin._----Won't thou explain? What's this storm for?
_San._ And dar'st thou ask me questions, smooth-faced iniquity,
crocodile of _Nile_, syren of the rocks? Go carry back the too gentle
answer thou hast received: only let me add with the poet:
_We are no fools, trollop, my Master nor me;
And thy Mistress may go----to the Devil with thee._
[_Exit ~Sancho~._
_~Jacinta~ sola._
Am I awake!----I fancy not; a very idle dream this. Well: I'll go talk
in my sleep to my lady about it; and when I awake, we'll try what
interpretation we can make on't.
[_Exit._
+ACT+ II. +SCENE+ I.
_Enter ~Camillo~ and ~Isabella~._
=Isabella.=
How can you doubt my secrecy? Have you not proofs of it?
_Cam._ Nay I am determin'd to trust you; but are we safe here? can no
body over-hear us?
_Isab._ Much safer than in a room. No body can come within hearing,
before we see them.
_Cam._ And yet how hard 'tis for me to break silence!
_Isab._ Your secret sure must be of great importance.
_Cam._ You may be sure it is, when I confess 'tis with regret I own it
e'en to you; and were it possible, you should not know it.
_Isab._ 'Tis frankly own'd, indeed; but 'tis not kind, perhaps not
prudent; after what you know I already am acquainted with. Have not I
been bred up with you? And am I ignorant of a secret, which were it
known----
_Cam._ Would be my ruin; I confess it would. I own you know why both
my birth and sex are thus disguised; you know how I was taken from
my cradle to secure the estate, which had else been lost by young
_Camillo_'s death; but which is now safe in my supposed father's hands,
by my passing for his son; and 'tis because you know all this, I have
resolved to open farther wonders to you. But before I say any more,
you must resolve one doubt, which often gives me great disturbance;
whether Don _Alvarez_ ever was himself privy to the Mystery which has
disguised my sex, and made me pass for his son?
_Isab._ What you ask me, is a thing has often perplex'd my thoughts,
as well as yours, nor could my mother ever resolve the doubt. You know
when that young child _Camillo_ dy'd, in whom was wrapt up so much
expectation, from the great estate his uncle's will (even before he
came into the world) had left him; his mother made a secret of his
death to her husband _Alvarez_, and readily fell in with a proposal
made her to take you (who then was just _Camillo_'s Age) and bring
you up in his room. You have heard how you were then at nurse with my
mother, and how your own was privy and consenting to the plot; but Don
_Alvarez_ was never led into it by 'em.
_Cam._ Don't you then think it probable his wife might after tell him?
_Isab._ 'Twas ever thought nothing but a death-bed repentance cou'd
draw it from her to any one; and that was prevented by the suddenness
of her exit to t'other world, which did not give her even time to call
Heaven's mercy on her. And yet now I have said all this, I own the
correspondence and friendship I observe he holds with your real mother,
gives me some suspicion, and the presents he often makes her (which
people seldom do for nothing) confirm it. But since this is all I can
say to you on that point, pray let us come to the secret, which you
have made me impatient to hear.
_Cam._ Know then, that tho' _Cupid_ is blind, he is not to be deceived:
I can hide my sex from the world but not from him; his dart has found
the way thro' the manly garb I wear to pierce a virgin's tender
heart----I love----
_Isab._ How!
_Cam._ Nay be'nt surpriz'd at that, I have other wonders for you.
_Isab._ Quick, let me hear 'em.
_Cam._ I love _Lorenzo_.
_Isab._ _Lorenzo_! Most nicely hit. The very man from whom your
imposture keeps this vast estate; and who on the first knowledge of
your being a woman wou'd enter into possession of it. This is indeed a
wonder.
_Cam._ Then wonder still, I am his wife.
_Isab._ Ha! his wife!
_Cam._ His wife, _Isabella_; and yet thou hast not all my wonders, I am
his wife without his knowledge: he does not even know I am a woman.
_Isab._ Madam, your humble servant; if you please to go on, I won't
interrupt you, indeed I won't.
_Cam._ Then hear how these strange things have past; _Lorenzo_, bound
unregarded in my sister's chains, seem'd in my eyes a conquest worth
her care. Nor cou'd I see him treated with contempt, without growing
warm in his interest: I blam'd _Leonora_ for not being touch'd with his
merit; I blam'd her so long, 'till I grew touch'd with it myself: and
the reasons I urg'd to vanquish her heart, insensibly made a conquest
of my own: 'Twas thus, my friend, I fell. What was next to be done my
passion pointed out; my heart I felt was warm'd to a noble enterprize,
I gave it way, and boldly on it led me. _Leonora_'s name and voice,
in the dark shades of night, I borrow'd, to engage the object of my
wishes. I met him, _Isabella_, and so deceived him; he cannot blame
me sure, for much I blest him. But to finish this strange story: in
short I own, I long had lov'd, but finding my father most averse to my
desires, I at last had forc'd myself to this secret correspondence;
I urg'd the mischiefs would attend the knowledge on't, I urg'd them
so, he thought them full of weight, so yielded to observe what rules
I gave him: they were, to pass the day in cold indifference, to avoid
even signs or looks of intimacy, but gather for the still, the secret
night, a flood of love to recompence the losses of the day. I will not
trouble you with lovers cares, nor what contrivances we form'd to bring
this toying to a solid bliss. Know only, when three nights we thus had
pass'd, the fourth it was agreed should make us one for ever; each kept
their promise, and last night has join'd us.
_Isab._ Indeed your talents pass my poor extent; you serious ladies are
well form'd for business: What wretched work a poor coquet had made
on't! But still there's that remains will try your skill; you have your
man, but----
_Cam._ Lovers think no farther, the object of that passion possesses
all desire; however I have open'd to you my wond'rous situation. If
you can advise me in my difficulties to come, you will. But see----My
husband!
_Enter ~Lorenzo~._
_Lor._ You look as if you were busy, pray tell me if I interrupt you,
I'll retire.
_Cam._ No, no, you have a right to interrupt us, since you were the
subject of our discourse.
_Lor._ Was I?
_Cam._ You were; nay, I'll tell you how you entertain'd us too.
_Lor._ Perhaps I had as good avoid hearing that.
_Cam._ You need not fear, it was not to your disadvantage; I was
commending you and saying, if I had been a woman I had been in danger;
nay I think I said I shou'd infallibly have been in love with you.
_Lor._ While such an If is in the way, you run no great risque in
declaring; but you'd be finely catch'd now, shou'd some wonderful
transformation give me a claim to your heart.
_Cam._ Not sorry for't at all, for I ne'er expect to find a mistress
please me half so well as you would do if I were yours.
_Lor._ Since you are so well inclin'd to me in your wishes, Sir, I
suppose (as the fates have ordain'd it) you wou'd have some pleasure in
helping me to a mistress, since you can't be mine yourself.
_Cam._ Indeed I shou'd not.
_Lor._ Then my obligation is but small to you.
_Cam._ Why, wou'd you have a woman, that is in love with you herself,
employ her interest to help you to another?
_Lor._ No, but you being no woman might.
_Cam._ Sir, 'tis as a woman I say what I do, and I suppose myself a
woman when I design all these favours to you: therefore out of that
supposition, I have no other good intentions to you than you may expect
from one that says he's----Sir, your humble servant.
_Lor._ So unless Heaven is pleas'd to work a miracle, and from a sturdy
young fellow, make you a kind-hearted young lady, I'm to get little by
your good opinion of me.
_Cam._ Yes; there is one means yet left (on this side a miracle) that
wou'd perhaps engage me, if with an honest oath you could declare,
were I woman, I might dispute your heart even with the first of my
pretending sex.
_Lor._ Then solemnly and honestly I swear, that had you been a woman,
and I the master of the world, I think I should have laid it at your
feet.
_Cam._ Then honestly and solemnly I swear, henceforwards all your
interest shall be mine.
_Lor._ I have a secret to impart to you will quickly try your
friendship.
_Cam._ I've a secret to unfold to you will put you even to a fiery
trial.
_Lor._ What do you mean, _Camillo_?
_Cam._ I mean that I love, where I never durst yet own it, yet where
'tis in your power to make me the happiest of----
_Lor._ Explain, _Camillo_; and be assur'd if your happiness is in my
power, 'tis in your own.
_Cam._ Alas! you promise me you know not what.
_Lor._ I promise nothing but what I will perform; name the person.
_Cam._ 'Tis one who is very near to you.
_Lor._ If 'tis my sister, why all this pain in bringing forth the
secret?
_Cam._ Alas! it is your----
_Lor._ Speak!
_Cam._ I cannot yet; farewel.
_Lor._ Hold! Pray speak it now.
_Cam._ I must not: but when you tell me your secret, you shall know
mine.
_Lor._ Mine is not in my power, without the consent of another.
_Cam._ Get that consent, and then we'll try who best will keep their
oaths.
_Lor._ I am content.
_Cam._ And I. Adieu.
_Lor._ Farewel.
[_Exit ~Lorenzo~._
_Enter ~Leonora~ and ~Jacinta~._
_Leo._ 'Tis enough: I will revenge myself this way; if it does but
torment him, I shall be content to find no other pleasure in it.
Brother, you'll wonder at my change; after all my ill usage of
_Lorenzo_, I am determined to be his wife.
_Cam._ How, sister! so sudden a turn? This inequality of temper indeed
is not commendable.
_Leo._ Your change, brother, is much more justly surprizing; you
hitherto have pleaded for him strongly, accus'd me of blindness,
cruelty, and pride; and now I yield to your reasons, and resolve in his
favour, you blame my compliance, and appear against his interest.
_Cam._ I quit his service for what's dearer to me, yours. I have
learn'd from sure intelligence, the attack he made on you was but a
feint, and that his heart is in another's chain; I would not therefore
see you expos'd, to offer up yourself to one who must refuse you.
_Leo._ If that be all, leave me my honour to take care of; I am no
stranger to his wishes, he won't refuse me, brother, nor I hope will
you, to tell him of my resolution: if you do, this moment with my own
tongue (thro' all the virgin's blushes) I'll own to him I am determin'd
in his favour----You pause as if you'd let the task lie on me.
_Cam._ Neither on you, nor me; I have a reason you are yet a stranger
to: know then there is a virgin young and tender, whose peace and
happiness so much are mine, I cannot see her miserable; she loves him
with that torrent of desire, that were the world resign'd her in
his stead, she'd still be wretched: I will not pique you to a female
strife, by saying you have not charms to tear him from her; but I would
move you to a female softness, by telling you her death wou'd wait your
conquest. What I have more to plead is as a brother, I hope that gives
me some small interest in you; whate'er it is, you see how I'd employ
it.
_Leo._ You ne'er cou'd put it to a harder service. I beg a little time
to think: pray leave me to myself a while.
_Cam._ I shall; I only ask that you wou'd think, and then you won't
refuse me.
[_Exit ~Cam~._
_Jacin._ Indeed, Madam, I'm of your brother's mind, tho' for another
cause; but sure 'tis worth thinking twice on for your own sake: you are
too violent.
_Leo._ A slighted woman knows no bounds. Vengeance is all the cordial
she can have, so snatches at the nearest. Ungrateful wretch! to use me
with such insolence.
_Jacin._ You see me as much enrag'd at it, as you are yourself, yet
my brain is roving after the cause, for something there must be:
never letter was receiv'd by man with more passion and transport; I
was almost as charming a goddess as yourself, only for bringing it.
Yet when in a moment after I come with a message worth a dozen on't,
never was witch so handled; something must have pass'd between one and
t'other, that's sure.
_Leo._ Nothing cou'd pass worth my enquiring after, since nothing cou'd
happen that can excuse his usage of me; he had a letter under my hand
which own'd him master of my heart; and till I contradicted it with my
mouth, he ought not to doubt the truth on't.
_Jacin._ Nay I confess, madam, I han't a word to say for him, I'm
afraid he's a rogue at bottom, as well as my shameless that attends
him; we are bit, by my troth, and haply well enough serv'd, for
list'ning to the glib tongues of the rascals: but be comforted, Madam;
they'll fall into the hands of some foul sluts or other, before they
die, that will set our account even with e'm.
_Leo._ Well: let him laugh; let him glory in what he has done: he shall
see I have a spirit can use him as I ought.
_Jacin._ And let one thing be your comfort by the way, Madam, that in
spite of all your dear affections to him, you have had the grace to
keep him at arms length. You han't thank'd me for't; but good faith
'twas well I did not stir out of the chamber that fond night. For there
are times the stoutest of us are in danger, the rascals wheedle so.
_Leo._ In short, my very soul is fir'd with his treatment: and if ever
that perfidious monster should relent, though he should crawl like a
poor worm beneath my feet, nay plunge a dagger in his heart, to bleed
for pardon; I charge thee strictly, charge thee on thy life, thou do
not urge a look to melt me toward him, but strongly buoy me up in
brave resentment; and if thou see'st (which heav'ns avert) a glance
of weakness in me, rouse to my memory the vile wrongs I've borne, and
blazon them with skill in all their glaring colours.
_Jacin._ Madam, never doubt me; I'm charged to the mouth with fury,
and if ever I meet that fat traitor of mine, such a volley will I
pour about his ears----Now heav'n prevent all hasty vows; but in the
humour I am, methinks I'd carry my maiden-head to my cold grave with
me, before I'd let it simper at the rascal. But soft; here comes your
father.
_Enter ~Alvarez~._
_Alv._ _Leonora_, I'd have you retire a little, and send your brother's
tutor to me, _Metaphrastus_.
[_Exit ~Leo.~ and ~Jacin~._
_Solus._
I'll try if I can discover, by his tutor, what it is that seems so much
to work his brain of late; for something more than common there plainly
does appear, yet nothing sure that can disturb his soul, like what
I have to torture mine upon his account. Sure nothing in this world
is worth a troubled mind: what racks has avarice stretch'd me on! I
wanted nothing, kind heav'n had given me a plenteous lot, and seated
me in great abundance; why then approve I of this imposture? What have
I gain'd by it? Wealth and misery. I have barter'd peaceful days for
restless nights; a wretched bargain! and he that merchandises thus,
must be undone at last.
_Enter ~Metaphrastus~._
_Metaph._ _Mandatum tuum curo diligenter._
_Alv._ Master, I had a mind to ask you----
_Metaph._ The title, master, comes from _Magis_ and _Ter_, which is as
much, to say, _thrice worthy_.
_Alv._ I never heard so much before, but it may be true for ought I
know: but, master----
_Metaph._ Go on.
_Alv._ Why so I will if you'll let me, but don't interrupt me then.
_Metaph._ Enough, proceed.
_Alv._ Why then, master, for a third time, my son _Camillo_ gives me
much uneasiness of late; you know I love him, and have many careful
thoughts about him.
_Metaph._ 'Tis true. _Filio non potest præferri nisi filius._
_Alv._ Master, when one has business to talk on, these scholastic
expressions are not of use; I believe you a great Latinist; possibly
you may understand _Greek_: those who recommended you to me, said so,
and I am willing it should be true: but the thing I want to discourse
you about at present, does not properly give you an occasion to display
your learning. Besides, to tell you truth, 'twill at all times be lost
upon me; my father was a wise man, but he taught me nothing beyond
common sense; I know but one tongue in the world, which luckily being
understood by you as well as me, I fancy whatever thoughts we have to
communicate to one another, may reasonably be convey'd in that, without
having recourse to the language of _Julius Cæsar_.
_Metaph._ You are wrong, but may proceed.
_Alv._ I thank you: what is the matter, I do not know; but tho' it is
of the utmost consequence to me to marry my son, what match soever I
propose to him, he still finds some pretence or other to decline it.
_Metaph._ He is, perhaps, of the humour of a brother of _Marcus
Tullius_, who----
_Alv._ Dear master, leave the _Greeks_, and the _Latins_, and the
_Scotch_, and the _Welsh_, and let me go on in my business; what have
those people to do with my son's marriage?
_Metaph._ Again you are wrong; but go on.
_Alv._ I say then, that I have strong apprehensions from his refusing
all my proposals, that he may have some secret inclination of his own;
and to confirm me in this fear, I yesterday observed him (without his
knowing it) in a corner of the grove, where nobody comes----
_Metaph._ A place out of the way, you would say; a place of retreat.
_Alv._ Why, the corner of the grove, where nobody comes, is a place of
retreat, is it not?
_Metaph._ In _Latin_, _secessus_.
_Alv._ Ha!
_Metaph._ As _Virgil_ has it. _Est in secessu locus._
_Alv._ How could _Virgil_ have it, when I tell you no soul was there
but he and I?
_Metaph._ _Virgil_ is a famous author, I quote his saying as a phrase
more proper to the occasion than that you use, and not as one who was
in the wood with you.
_Alv._ And I tell you, I hope to be as famous as any _Virgil_ of 'em
all, when I have been dead as long, and have no need of a better phrase
than my own to tell you my meaning.
_Metaph._ You ought however to make choice of the words most us'd by
the best authors. _Tu vivendo bonos_, as they say, _scribendo sequare
peritos_.
_Alv._ Again!
_Metaph._ 'Tis _Quintilian_'s own precept.
_Alv._ Oons----
_Metaph._ And he hath something very learned upon it, that may be of
service to you to hear.
_Alv._ You son of a whore, will you hear me speak?
_Metaph._ What may be the occasion of this unmanly passion? What is it
you would have with me?
_Alv._ What you might have known an hour ago, if you had pleas'd.
_Metaph._ You would then have me hold my peace.----I shall.
_Alv._ You will do very well.
_Metaph._ You see I do; well, go on.
_Alv._ Why then, to begin once again, I say my son _Camillo_----
_Metaph._ Proceed; I shan't interrupt you.
_Alv._ I say, my son _Camillo_----
_Metaph._ What is it you say of your son _Camillo_?
_Alv._ That he has got a dog of a tutor, whose brains I'll beat out, if
he won't hear me speak.
_Metaph._ That dog is a philosopher, contemns passion, and yet will
hear you.
_Alv._ I don't believe a word on't, but I'll try once again; I have a
mind to know from you, whether you have observ'd any thing in my son----
_Metaph._ Nothing that is like his father. Go on.
_Alv._ Have a care.
_Metaph._ I do not interrupt you; but you are long in coming to a
conclusion.
_Alv._ Why, thou hast not let me begin yet.
_Metaph._ And yet 'tis high time to have made an end.
_Alv._ Dost thou know thy danger? I have not----thus much patience left.
[_Shewing the end of his finger_.
_Metaph._ Mine is already consum'd. I do not use to be thus treated; my
profession is to teach, and not to hear, yet I have hearken'd like a
school-boy, and am not heard, altho' a master.
_Alv._ Get out of the room.
_Metaph._ I will not. If the mouth of a wise man be shut, he is, as it
were, a fool; for who shall know his understanding? Therefore a certain
philosopher said well, Speak, that thou may'st be known; great talkers,
without knowledge, are as the winds that whistle; but they who have
learning, should speak aloud. If this be not permitted, we may expect
to see the whole order of nature o'erthrown; hens devour foxes, and
lambs destroy wolves, nurses suck children, and children give suck;
generals mend stockings, and chambermaids take towns; we may expect, I
say----
_Alv._ That, and that, and that, and----
[_Strikes him, and kicks him; and then follows him
off with a bell at his ear._
_Metaph. O tempora! O mores!_
+ACT+ III. +SCENE+ I.
+SCENE+, _the Street_.
_Enter ~Lopez~._
_Lop._ Sometimes fortune seconds a bold design, and when folly has
brought us into a trap, impudence brings us out on't. I have been
caught by this hot-headed lover here, and have told like a puppy what
I shall be beaten for like a dog. Come! courage, my dear _Lopez_; fire
will fetch out fire: thou hast told one body thy master's secret, e'en
tell it to half a dozen more, and try how that will thrive; go tell it
to the two old Dons, the lovers fathers. The thing's done, and can't
be retriev'd; perhaps they'll lay their two ancient heads together,
club a pennyworth of wisdom a-piece, and with great penetration at last
find out, that 'tis best to submit, where 'tis not in their power to do
otherwise. This being resolv'd, there's no time to be lost.
[_Knocks at ~Alvarez~'s door._
_Alv._ Who knocks?
[_Within._
_Lop._ _Lopez_.
_Alv._ What dost want?
[_Looking out._
_Lop._ To bid you good-morrow, Sir.
_Alv._ Well, good-morrow to thee again.
[_Retires._
_Lop._ What a----I think he does not care for my company.
[_Knocks again._
_Alv._ Who knocks?
_Lop._ _Lopez_.
_Alv._ What would'st have?
[_Looking out._
_Lop._ My old master, Sir, gives his service to you, and desires to
know how you do.
_Alv._ How I do? Why well: how shou'd I do? Service to him again.
[_Retires._
_Lop._ Sir.
_Alv._ [_Returning._] What the deuce wouldst thou have with me, with
thy good-morrows, and thy services?
_Lop._ This man does not understand good breeding, I find. [_Aside._]
Why, Sir, my master has some very earnest business with you.
_Alv._ Business! About what? What business can he have with me?
_Lop._ I don't know, truly; but 'tis some very important matter: he has
just now (as I hear) discover'd some great secret, which he must needs
talk with you about.
_Alv._ Ha! a secret, say'st thou?
_Lop._ Yes; and bid me bring him word, if you were at home, he'd be
with you presently. Sir, your humble servant.
[_Exit ~Lopez~._
_~Alvarez~ solus._
A secret: and must speak with me about it! Heav'ns, how I tremble!
What can this message mean? I have very little acquaintance with him,
what business can he have with me? An important secret 'twas, he
said, and that he had just discover'd it. Alas, I have in the world
but one, if it be that----I'm lost; an eternal blot must fix upon me.
How unfortunate am I, that I have not follow'd the honest counsels
of my heart, which have often urg'd me to set my conscience at ease,
by rendering to him the estate that is his due, and which by a foul
imposture I keep from him. But 'tis now too late; my villainy is out,
and I shall not only be forc'd with shame to restore him what is his,
but shall be perhaps condemned to make him reparation with my own. O
terrible view!
_Enter Don ~Felix~._
Don _Fel._ My son to go and marry her, without her father's knowledge?
This can never end well. I don't know what to do, he'll conclude I was
privy to it, and his power and interest are so great at court, he may
with ease contrive my ruin: I tremble at his sending to speak with
me----Mercy on me, there he is.
[_Aside._
_Alv._ Ah! Shield me, kind heaven! There's Don Felix come: how I am
struck with the sight of him! O the torment of a guilty mind!
[_Aside._
Don _Fel._ What shall I say to soften him?
[_Aside._
_Alv._ How shall I look him in the face?
[_Aside._
Don _Fel._ 'Tis impossible he can forgive it.
[_Aside._
_Alv._ To be sure he'll expose me to the whole world.
[_Aside._
Don _Fel._ I see his countenance change.
[_Aside._
_Alv._ With what contempt he looks upon me!
[_Aside._
Don _Fel._ I see, Don _Alvarez_, by the disorder of your face, you are
but too well inform'd of what brings me here.
_Alv._ 'Tis true.
Don _Fel._ The news may well surprize you, 'tis what I have been far
from apprehending.
_Alv._ Wrong, very wrong, indeed.
Don _Fel._ This action is certainly to the last point to be condemn'd,
and I think nobody should pretend to excuse the guilty.
_Alv._ They are not to be excus'd, tho' heaven may have mercy.
Don _Fel._ That's what I hope you will consider.
_Alv._ We should act as Christians.
Don _Fel._ Most certainly.
_Alv._ Let mercy then prevail.
Don _Fel._ It is indeed of heavenly birth.
_Alv._ Generous Don _Felix_!
Don _Fel._ Too indulgent _Alvarez_!
_Alv._ I thank you on my knee.
Don _Fel._ 'Tis I ought to have been there first.
[_They kneel._
_Alv._ Is it then possible we are friends?
Don _Fel._ Embrace me to confirm it.
[_They embrace._
_Alv._ Thou best of men!
Don _Fel._ Unlook'd-for bounty!
_Alv._ Did you know the torment [_Rising._] this unhappy action has
given me----
Don. _Fel._ 'Tis impossible it could do otherwise; nor has my trouble
been less.
_Alv._ But let my misfortune be kept secret.
Don _Fel._ Most willingly; my advantage is sufficient by it, without
the vanity of making it publick to the world.
_Alv._ Incomparable goodness! That I should thus have wronged a man so
worthy! [_Aside._] My honour then, is safe?
Don _Fel._ For ever, even for ever let it be a secret, I am content.
_Alv._ Noble gentleman! [_Aside._] As to what advantages ought to
accrue to you by it, it shall be all to your entire satisfaction.
Don _Fel._ Wonderful bounty! [_Aside._] As to that, Don _Alvarez_, I
leave it entirely to you, and shall be content with whatever you think
reasonable.
_Alv._ I thank you, from my soul I must, you know I must.----This must
be an angel, not a man.
[_Aside._
Don _Fel._ The thanks lie on my side, _Alvarez_, for this unexpected
generosity, but may all faults be forgot, and heav'n ever prosper you.
_Alv._ The same prayer I, with a double fervour, offer up for you.
Don _Fel._ Let us then once more embrace, and be forgiveness seal'd for
ever.
_Alv._ Agreed; thou best of men, agreed.
[_They embrace._
Don _Fel._ This thing then being thus happily terminated, let me own
to you, Don _Alvarez_, I was in extreme apprehensions of your utmost
resentment on this occasion; for I could not doubt but you had form'd
more happy views in the disposal of so fair a daughter as _Leonora_,
than my poor son's inferior fortune e'er can answer; but since they are
join'd, and that----
_Alv._ Ha!
Don _Fel._ Nay, 'tis very likely to discourse of it may not be very
pleasing to you, tho' your christianity and natural goodness have
prevail'd on you so generously to forgive it. But to do justice
to _Leonora_, and skreen her from your too harsh opinion in this
unlucky action, 'twas that cunning wicked creature that attends her,
who by unusual arts wrought her to this breach of duty, for her own
inclinations were dispos'd to all the modesty and resignation a father
could ask from a daughter; my son I can't excuse, but since your bounty
does so, I hope you'll quite forget the fault of the less guilty
_Leonora_.
_Alv._ What a mistake have I lain under here! And from a groundless
apprehension of one misfortune, find myself in the certainty of another.
[_Aside._
Don _Fel._ He looks disturb'd; what can this mean?
[_Aside._
_Alv._ My daughter marry'd to his son!----Confusion. But I find myself
in such unruly agitation, something wrong may happen if I continue with
him; I'll therefore leave him.
[_Aside._