_Alv._ A sudden disorder I am seiz'd with; you'll pardon me, I must
retire.
[_Exit ~Alvarez~._
_Don ~Felix~ solus._
I don't like this: He went oddly off--I doubt he finds this bounty
difficult to go through with. His natural resentment is making an
attack upon his acquir'd generosity: pray heaven it ben't too strong
for't. The misfortune is a great one, and can't but touch him nearly.
It was not natural to be so calm; I wish it don't yet drive him to
my ruin. But here comes this young hot-brain'd coxcomb, who with his
midnight amours has been the cause of all this mischief to me.
_Enter ~Lorenzo~._
So, Sir, you are come to receive my thanks for your noble exploit?
You think you have done bravely now, ungracious offspring, to bring
perpetual troubles on me. Must there never pass a day, but I must drink
some bitter potion or other of your preparation for me?
_Lor._ I am amaz'd, Sir; pray what have I done to deserve your anger?
Don _Fel._ Nothing; no manner of thing in the world; nor never do. I
am an old testy fellow, and am always scolding, and finding fault for
nothing; complaining that I have got a coxcomb of a son, that makes me
weary of my life, fancying he perverts the order of nature, turning
day into night, and night into day; getting whims in my brain, that he
consumes his life in idleness, unless he rouses now and then to do some
noble stroke of mischief; and having an impertinent dream at this time,
that he has been making the fortune of the family, by an underhand
marriage with the daughter of a man who will crush us all to powder for
it. Ah----ungracious wretch; to bring an old man into all this trouble!
The pain thou gav'st thy mother to bring thee into the world, and the
plague thou hast given me to keep thee here, make the getting thee
(tho' 'twas in our honey-moon) a bitter remembrance to us both.
[_Exit Don ~Felix~._
_~Lorenzo~ solus._
So----all's out----Here's a noble storm arising, and I'm at sea in a
cock-boat. But which way could this business reach him? By this traitor
_Lopez_----it must be so; it could be no other way; for only he, and
the priest that marry'd us, knew of it. The villain will never confess
tho'. I must try a little address with him, and conceal my anger. O,
here he comes.
_Enter ~Lopez~._
_Lor._ _Lopez_.
_Lop._ Do you call, Sir?
_Lor._ I find all's discover'd to my father, the secret's out; he knows
my marriage.
_Lop._ He knows your marriage. How the pest should that happen? Sir,
'tis impossible; that's all.
_Lor._ I tell thee 'tis true; he knows every particular of it.
_Lop._ He does!----Why then, Sir, all I can say is, that Satan and he
are better acquainted than the devil and a good Christian ought to be.
_Lor._ Which way he has discover'd it I can't tell, nor am I much
concern'd to know, since beyond all my expectations, I find him
perfectly easy at it, and ready to excuse my fault with better reasons
than I can find to do it myself.
_Lop._ Say you so?----I am very glad to hear that, then all's safe.
[_Aside._
_Lor._ 'Tis unexpected good fortune; but it could never proceed purely
from his own temper, there must have been pains taken with him to bring
him to this calm; I'm sure I owe much to the bounty of some friend or
other; I wish I knew where my obligation lay, that I might acknowledge
it as I ought.
_Lop._ Are you thereabout's, I'faith? Then sharp's the word; I'gad I'll
own the thing, and receive his bounty for't. [_Aside._] Why, Sir----not
that I pretend to make a merit o'the matter, for alas, I am but your
poor hireling, and therefore bound in duty to render you all the
service I can----But----'tis I have don't.
_Lor._ What hast thou done?
_Lop._ What no man else could have done; the job, Sir, told him the
secret, and then talk'd him into a liking on't.
_Lor._ 'Tis impossible; thou dost not tell me true.
_Lop._ Sir, I scorn to reap any thing from another man's labours, but
if this poor piece of service carries any merit with it, you now know
where to reward it.
_Lor._ Thou art not serious!
_Lop._ I am; or may hunger be my mess-mate.
_Lor._ And may famine be mine, if I don't reward thee for't, as thou
deserv'st----Dead.
[_Making a pass at him._
_Lop._ Have a care there [_Leaping on one side._] What do you mean,
Sir? I bar all surprise.
_Lor._ Traitor, is this the fruit of the trust I plac'd in thee,
villain?
[_Making another thrust at him._
_Lop._ Take heed, Sir; you'll do one a mischief before you're aware.
_Lop._ What recompence can'st thou make me, wretch, for this piece of
treachery? Thy sordid blood can't expiate the thousandth----But I'll
have it however.
[_Thrusts again._
_Lop._ Look you there again: pray, Sir, be quiet; is the devil in you?
'Tis bad jesting with edg'd tools. I'gad that last push was within
an inch o' me. I don't know what you make all this bustle about, but
I'm sure I've done all for the best, and I believe it will prove for
the best too at last, if you'll have but a little patience. But if
gentlemen will be in their airs in a moment--Why, what the deuce----I'm
sure I have been as eloquent as _Cicero_, in your behalf; and I don't
doubt to good purpose too, if you'll give things time to work. But
nothing but foul language, and naked swords about the house, sa, sa;
run you through you dog; why, nobody can do business at this rate.
_Lor._ And suppose your project fails, and I'm ruin'd by it, Sir.
_Lop._ Why, 'twill be time enough to kill me then, Sir? won't it? What
should you do it for now? Besides, I an't ready, I'm not prepar'd, I
might be undone by't.
_Lor._ But what will _Leonora_ say to her marriage being known, wretch?
_Lop._ Why may be she'll draw----her sword too. [_Shewing his tongue._]
But all shall be well with you both, if you will but let me alone.
_Lor._ Peace; here's her father.
_Lop._ That's well: we shall see how things go presently.
_Enter Don ~Alvarez~._
_Alv._ The more I recover from the disorder this discourse has put me
in, the more strange the whole adventure appears to me. _Leonora_
maintains there is not a word of truth in what I have heard; that she
knows nothing of marriage: and indeed she tells me this, with such a
naked air of sincerity, that for my part I believe her. What then must
be their project? Some villainous intention, to be sure; tho' which
way, I yet am ignorant. But here's the bridegroom; I'll accost him----I
am told, Sir, you take upon you to scandalize my daughter, and tell
idle tales of what can never happen.
_Lop._ Now methinks, Sir, if you treated your son-in-law with a little
more civility, things might go just as well in the main.
_Alv._ What means this insolent fellow by my son-in-law! I suppose 'tis
you, villain, are the author of this impudent story.
_Lop._ You seem angry, Sir----perhaps without cause.
_Alv._ Cause, traitor! Is a cause wanting where a daughter's defam'd,
and a noble family scandaliz'd?
_Lop._ There he is, let him answer you.
_Alv._ I shou'd be glad, he'd answer me, why, if he had any desires to
my daughter, he did not make his approaches like a man of honour.
_Lop._ Yes; and so have had the doors bolted against him like a
house-breaker.
[_Aside._
_Lor._ Sir to justify my proceeding, I have little to say; but to
excuse it, I have much; if any allowance may be made to a passion,
which in your youth you have yourself been sway'd by: I love your
daughter to that excess----
_Alv._ You would undo her for a night's lodging.
_Lor._ Undo her, Sir?
_Alv._ Yes, that's the word; you knew it was against her interest to
marry you, therefore you endeavour'd to win her to't in private; you
knew her friends would make a better bargain for her, therefore you
kept your designs from their knowledge, and yet you love her to that
excess----
_Lor._ I'd readily lay down my life to serve her.
_Alv._ Could you readily lay down fifty thousand pistoles to serve her,
your excessive love would come with better credentials; an offer of
life is very proper for the attack of a counterscarp, but a thousand
ducats will sooner carry a lady's heart; you are a young man, but will
learn this when you are older.
_Lop._ But since things have succeeded better this once, Sir, and
that my master will prove a most incomparable good husband (for that
he'll do, I'll answer for him) and that 'tis too late to recall what's
already done, Sir----
_Alv._ What's done, villain?
_Lop._ Sir, I mean, that since my master and my lady are marry'd,
and----
_Alv._ Thou ly'st; they are not marry'd.
_Lop._ Sir!----I say, that since they are marry'd, and that they love
each other so passing dearly, indeed I fancy that----
_Alv._ Why, this impudence is beyond all bearing; Sir, do you put your
rascal upon this?
_Lor._ Sir, I am in a wood; I don't know what it is you mean.
_Alv._ And I am in a plain, Sir, and think I may be understood; do you
pretend you are marry'd to my daughter?
_Lor._ Sir, 'tis my happiness on one side, as it is my misfortune on
another.
_Alv._ And do you think this idle project can succeed? do you believe
your affirming you are marry'd to her, will induce both her and me to
consent it shall be so?
_Lop._ Sir, I see you make my master almost out of his wits to hear you
talk so: but I, who am but a stande-by now, as I was at the wedding,
have mine about me, and desire to know, whether you think this project
can succeed? Do you believe your affirming they are not marry'd, will
induce both him and I to give up the lady? One short question to bring
this matter to an issue, Why do you think they are not marry'd?
_Alv._ Because she utterly renounces it.
_Lop._ And so she will her religion, if you attack it with that
dreadful face. D'ye hear, Sir? the poor lady is in love heartily, and
I wish all poor ladies that are so, would dispose of themselves so
well as she has done; but you scare her out of her senses: bring her
here into the room, speak gently to her, tell her you know the thing
is done, that you have it from a man of honour, Me. That may be you
wish it had been otherwise, but are a Christian, and profess mercy, and
therefore have resolved to pardon her: say this, and I shall appear a
man of reputation, and have satisfaction made me.
_Alv._ Or an impudent rogue, and have all your bones broke.
_Lop._ Content.
_Alv._ Agreed, _Leonora_! who's there? call _Leonora_.
_Lop._ All will go rarely, Sir; we shall have shot the gulf in a moment.
[_Aside to ~Lorenzo~._
_Enter ~Leonora~._
_Alv._ Come hither, _Leonora_.
_Lop._ So, now we shall see.
_Alv._ I call'd you to answer for yourself; here's a strong claim
upon you; if there be any thing in the pretended title, conceal it no
farther, it must be known at last, it may as well be so now. Nothing is
so uneasy as uncertainty, I would therefore be gladly freed from it: if
you have done what I am told you have, 'tis a great fault indeed; but
as I fear 'twill carry much of its punishment along with it, I shall
rather reduce my resentment into mourning your misfortune, than suffer
it to add to your affliction; therefore speak the truth.
_Lop._ Well, this is fair play; now I speak, Sir: you see, fair lady,
the goodness of a tender father, nothing need therefore hinder you
from owning a most loving husband. We had like to have been altogether
by the ears about this business, and pails of blood were ready to run
about the house: but, thank heaven, the sun shines out again, and one
word from your sweet mouth makes fair weather for ever. My master has
been forc'd to own your marriage, he begs you'll do so too.
_Leo._ What does this impudent rascal mean?
_Lop._ Ha!----Madam!
_Leo._ Sir, I should be very glad to know [_To ~Lorenzo~._] what can
have been the occasion of this wild report; sure you cannot be yourself
a party in it.
_Lop._ He, he----
_Lor._ Forgive me, dear _Leonora_, I know you had strong reasons for
the secret being longer kept; but 'tis not my fault our marriage is
disclos'd.
_Leo._ Our marriage, Sir!----
_Lor._ 'Tis known, my dear, tho' much against my will; but since it is
so, 'twou'd be in vain for us to deny it longer.
_Leo._ Then, Sir, I am your wife? I fell in love with you, and married
you without my father's knowledge?
_Lor._ I dare not be so vain to think 'twas love; I humbly am content
to owe the blessing to your generosity; you saw the pains I suffer'd
for your sake, and in compassion eas'd 'em.
_Leo._ I did, Sir! Sure this exceeds all human impudence.
_Lop._ Truly, I think it does. She'd make an incomparable actress.
[_Aside._
_Lor._ I begin to be surpris'd, Madam, at you carrying this thing so
far; you see there's no occasion for it; and for the discovery, I have
already told you, 'twas not my fault.
_Lop._ My master's! no, 'twas I did it: why, what a bustle's here! I
knew things would go well, and so they do, if folks would let 'em. But
if ladies will be in their merriments, when gentlemen are upon serious
business, why what a deuce can one say to 'em?
_Leo._ I see this fellow is to be an evidence in your plot; where you
hope to drive, it is hard to guess; for if any thing can exceed its
impudence, it is its folly. A noble stratagem indeed to win a lady by!
I could be diverted with it, but that I see a face of villainy requires
a rougher treatment; I could almost, methinks, forget my sex, and be my
own avenger.
_Lor._ Madam, I am surpris'd beyond all----
_Lop._ Pray, Sir, let me come to her; you are so surpris'd, you'll
make nothing on't: she wants a little snubbing. Look you, madam, I
have seen many a pleasant humour amongst ladies, but you out-cut them
all. Here's contradiction, with a vengeance: you han't been married
eight-and-forty hours, and you are slap----at your husband's beard
already: why, do you consider who he is?----Who this gentleman is?
And what he can do----by law? Why, he can lock you up----knock you
down----tie you neck and heels----
_Lor._ Forbear, you insolent villain, you.
[_Offering to strike him._
_Leo._ That----for what's past, however.
[_Giving him a box o' th' ear._
_Lop._ I think----she gave me a box o' the ear; ha!
[_Exit ~Leonora~._
Sir, will you suffer your old servants to be us'd thus by new comers?
It's a shame, a mere shame: Sir, will you take a poor dog's advice for
once? She denies she's married to you: take her at her word; you have
seen some of her humours,----let her go.
_Alv._ Well, gentlemen, thus far you see I have heard all with
patience; have you content? Or how much farther do you design to go
with this business?
_Lop._ Why truly, Sir, I think we are near at a stand.
_Alv._ 'Tis time, you villain you.
_Lop._ Why, and I am a villain now, if every word I've spoke be not
as true as----as the _Gazette_: and your daughter's no better than
a----a----a whimsical young woman, for making disputes among gentlemen.
And if every body had their deserts, she'd have a good----I won't speak
out to inflame reckonings; but let her go, master.
_Alv._ Sir, I don't think it well to spend any more words with your
impudent and villainous servant here.
_Lop._ Thank you, Sir: but I'd let her go.
_Alv._ Nor have I more to say to you than this, that you must not think
so daring an affront to my family can go long unresented. Farewel.
[_Exit ~Alv~._
_Lor._ Well, Sir, what have you to say for yourself now?
_Lop._ Why, Sir, I have only to say, that I am a very
unfortunate----middle-ag'd man; and that I believe all the stars upon
heaven and earth have been concern'd in my destiny. Children now unborn
will hereafter sing my downfal in mournful lines, and notes of doleful
tune: I am at present troubled in mind, despair around me, signify'd
in appearing gibbets, with a great bundle of dog-whips by way of
preparation.
I therefore will go seek some mountain high,
If high enough some mountain may be found, }
With distant valley dreadfully profound, }
And from the horrid cliff--look calmly all around. }
Farewel.
[_Aside._
_Lor._ No, sirrah, I'll see your wretched end myself. Die here, villain.
[_Drawing his sword._
_Lop._ I can't, Sir, if any body looks upon me.
_Lor._ Away, you trifling wretch; but think not to escape, for thou
shalt have thy recompence.
[_Exit ~Lorenzo~._
_~Lopez~ solus._
Why, what a mischievous jade is this, to make such an uproar in a
family the first day of her marriage! Why my master won't so much as
get a honey-moon out of her; I'gad let her go. If she be thus in her
soft and tender youth, she'll be rare company at threescore: well, he
may do as he pleases, but were she my dear, I'd let her go----Such a
foot at her tail, I'd make the truth bounce out at her mouth, like a
pellet out of a pot-gun.
[_Exit._
+ACT+ IV. +SCENE+ I.
_Enter ~Camillo~ and ~Isabella~._
_Isab._ 'Tis an unlucky accident indeed.
_Cam._ Ah _Isabella_! Fate has now determin'd my undoing. This thing
can ne'er end here, _Leonora_ and _Lorenzo_ must soon come to some
explanation; the dispute is too monstrous to pass over, without
further enquiry, which must discover all, and what will be the
consequence, I tremble at: for whether Don _Alvarez_ knows of the
imposture, or whether he is deceiv'd, with the rest of the world, when
once it breaks out, and the consequence is the loss of that great
wealth he now enjoys by it, what must become of me? All paternal
affections then must cease, and regarding me as an unhappy instrument
in the trouble which will then o'erload him, he will return me to my
humble birth, and then I'm lost for ever. For what, alas! will the
deceiv'd _Lorenzo_ say? A wife with neither fortune, birth, nor beauty,
instead of one most plenteously endow'd with all. O heavens! what a sea
of misery I have before me!
_Isab._ Indeed you reason right, but these reflections are ill-tim'd;
why did you not employ them sooner?
_Cam._ Because I lov'd.
_Isab._ And don't you do so now?
_Cam._ I do, and therefore 'tis I make these cruel just reflections.
_Isab._ So that love, I find, can do any thing.
_Cam._ Indeed it can: its powers are wondrous great, its pains no
tongue can tell, its bliss no heart conceive, crowns cannot recompense
its torments, heaven scarce supplies its joys. My stake is of this
value: oh counsel me how I shall save it.
_Isab._ Alas! that counsel's much beyond my wisdom's force, I see no
way to help you.
_Cam._ And yet 'tis sure there's one.
_Isab._ What?
_Cam._ Death.
_Isab._ There possibly may be another; I have thought this
moment----perhaps there's nothing in it; yet a small passage comes to
my remembrance, that I regarded little when it happen'd----I'll go and
search for one may be of service. But hold; I see Don _Carlos_: he'll
but disturb us now, let us avoid him.
[_Exeunt ~Camillo~ and ~Isabella~._
_Enter Don ~Carlos~ and ~Sancho~._
_Car._ Repuls'd again! this is not to be borne. What tho' this
villain's story be a falshood, was I to blame to hearken to it? This
usage cannot be supported: how was it she treated thee?
_San._ Never was ambassador worse receiv'd. Madam, my master asks ten
thousand pardons, and humbly begs one moment's interview:----Begone,
you rascal you. Madam, what answer shall I give my Master?----Tell
him he's a villain. Indeed, fair lady, I think this is hasty
treatment--Here, my footmen, toss me this fellow out at the window; and
away she went to her devotions.
_Car._ Did you see _Jacinta_?
_San._ Yes; she saluted me with half a score rogues and rascals too. I
think our destinies are much alike, Sir; and o'my conscience, a couple
of scurvy jades we are hamper'd with.
_Car._ Ungrateful woman, to receive with such contempt so quick a
return of a heart so justly alarm'd.
_San._ Ha, ha, ha.
_Car._ What, no allowance to be made to the first transports of a
lover's fury, when rous'd by so dreadful an appearance? as just as my
suspicions were, have I long suffer'd them to arraign her?
_San._ No.
_Car._ Have I waited for oaths or imprecations to clear her?
_San._ No.
_Car._ Nay, even now is not the whole world still in suspense about
her? whilst I alone conclude her innocent.
_San._ 'Tis very true.
_Car._ She might, methinks, thro' this profound respect, observe a
flame another would have cherish'd: she might support me against
groundless fears, and save me from a rival's tyranny; she might release
me from these cruel racks, and would, no doubt, if she cou'd love as I
do.
_San._ Ha, ha, ha.
_Car._ But since she don't, what do I whining here? Curse on the base
humilities of love.
_San._ Right.
_Car._ Let children kiss the rod that fleas them, let dogs lie down and
lick the shoe that spurns them.
_San._ Ay.
_Car._ I am a man by nature meant for power; the scepter's given us to
wield, and we betray our trust whenever we meanly lay it at a woman's
feet.
_San._ True, we are men, boo----Come, Master, let us both be in a
passion; here's my scepter, [_Shewing a cudgel._] Subject _Jacinta_,
look about you. Sir, was you ever in _Muscovy_? the women there love
the men dearly; why? because----[_Shaking his stick._] there's your
love-powder for you. Ah, Sir, were we but wise and stout, what work
should we make with them! But this humble love-making, spoils them all.
A rare way indeed to bring matters about with them; we are persuading
them all day they are angels and Goddesses, in order to use them at
night like human creatures; we are like to succeed truly.
_Car._ For my part I never yet could bear a slight from any thing, nor
will I now. There's but one way however to resent it from a woman: and
that's to drive her bravely from your heart, and place a worthier in
her vacant throne.
_San._ Now, with submission to my betters, I have another way, Sir,
I'll drive my tyrant from my heart, and place myself in her throne.
Yes; I will be lord of my own tenement, and keep my household in
order. Wou'd you wou'd do so too, Master; for look you, I have been
servitor in a college at _Salamanca_, and read philosophy with the
doctors; where I found that a woman, in all times, has been observed
to be an animal hard to understand, and much inclined to mischief.
Now as an animal is always an animal, and a captain always a captain,
so a woman is always a woman: whence it is, that a certain _Greek_
says, her head is like a bank of sand; or, as another, a solid rock;
or, according to a third, a dark lanthorn. Pray, Sir, observe, for
this is close reasoning; and so as the head is the head of the body;
and that the body without a head, is like a head without a tail;
and that where there is neither head nor tail, 'tis a very strange
body: so I say a woman is by comparison, do you see, (for nothing
explains things like comparisons) I say by comparison, as _Aristotle_
has often said before me, one may compare her to the raging sea; for
as the sea, when the wind rises, knits its brows like an angry bull,
and that waves mount upon rocks, and rocks mount upon waves: that
porpusses leap like trouts, and whales skip about like gudgeons;
that ships roll like beer-barrels, and mariners pray like saints;
just so, I say a woman----A woman, I say, just so, when her reason
is ship-wreck'd upon her passion, and the hulk of her understanding
lies thumping against the rock of her fury; then it is, I say, that by
certain immotions, which----um cause, as one may suppose, a sort of
convulsive----yes----hurricanious----um----like----in short, a woman is
like the Devil.
_Car._ Admirably reason'd indeed, _Sancho_.
_San._ Pretty well, I thank Heaven; but here come the crocodiles to
weep us into mercy.
_Enter ~Leonora~ and ~Jacinta~._
Master, let us shew ourselves men, and leave their briny tears to wash
their dirty faces.
_Car._ It is not in the power of charms to move me.
_San._ Nor me, I hope; and yet I fear those eyes will look out sharp to
snatch up such a prize.
[_Pointing to ~Jacinta~._
_Jacin._ He's coming to us, Madam, to beg pardon; but sure you'll never
grant it him?
_Leo._ If I do may heaven never grant me mine.
_Jacin._ That's brave.
_Car._ You look, Madam, upon me, as if you thought I came to trouble
you with my usual importunities; I'll ease you of that pain, by telling
you my business now is calmly to assure you, but I assure it you with
Heaven and hell for seconds; for may the joys of one fly from me,
whilst the pains of t'other overtake me, if all your charms display'd
e'er shake my resolution; I'll never see you more.
_San._ Bon.
_Leo._ You are a man of that nice honour, Sir, I know you'll keep your
word: I expected this assurance from you, and came this way only to
thank you for't.
_Jacin._ Very well.
_Car._ You did, imperious dame, you did: how base is woman's pride!
How wretched are the ingredients it is form'd of! If you saw cause for
just disdain, why did you not at first repulse me? Why lead a slave
in chains, that could not grace your triumphs? If I am thus to be
contemn'd, think on the favours you have done the wretch, and hide your
face for ever.
_San._ Well argued.
_Leo._ I own you have hit the only fault the world can charge me with:
the favours I have done to you, I am indeed asham'd of; but since women
have their frailties, you'll allow me mine.
_Car._ 'Tis well, extremely well, Madam. I'm happy however, you at last
speak frankly. I thank you for it: from my soul I thank you: but don't
expect me groveling at your feet again; don't, for if I do----
_Leo._ You will be treated as you deserve; trod upon.
_Car._ Give me patience;----but I don't want it; I am calm: Madam,
farewel;----be happy if you can; by heavens I wish you so, but never
spread your net for me again; for if you do----
_Leo._ You'll be running into it.
_Car._ Rather run headlong into fire and flames; rather be torn
with pincers bit from bit; rather be broil'd like martyrs upon
gridirons----But I am wrong; this sounds like passion, and heaven
can tell I am not angry: Madam, I think we have no farther business
together; your most humble servant.
_Leo._ Farewel t'ye, Sir.
_Car._ Come along.
[_To ~Sancho~._
[_Goes to the scene and returns._
Yet once more before I go (lest you should doubt my resolution) may
I starve, perish, rot, be blasted, dead, damn'd, or any other thing
that men or gods can think of, if on any occasion whatever, civil or
military, pleasure or business, love or hate, or any other accident of
life, I, from this moment, change one word or look with you.
[_Going off, ~Sancho~ claps him on the back._
_Leo._ Content: come away, _Jacinta_.
_~Carlos~ returns._
_Car._ Yet one word, Madam, if you please; I have a little thing here
belongs to you, a foolish bawble I once was fond of. [_Twitching her
picture from his breast._] Will you accept a trifle from your servant?
_Leo._ Willingly, Sir; I have a bawble too I think you have some claim
to; you'll wear it for my sake.
[_Breaks a bracelet from her arm, and gives it him._
_Car._ Most thankfully; this too I shou'd restore you, it once was
yours----[_Giving her a table-book._] By your favour madam----there is
a line or two in it, I think you did me once the honour to write with
your own fair hand. Here it is.
[_Reads._
_You love me, ~Carlos~, and would know
The secret movements of my heart:
Whether I give you mine or no,
With yours, methinks, I'd never, never part._
Thus you have encouraged me, and thus you have deceived me.
_San._ Very true.
_Leo._ I have some faithful lines too; I think I can produce 'em,
[_Pulls out a table-book; reads, and then gives it him._
_How long soe'er, to sigh in vain,
My destiny may prove,
My fate (in spite of your disdain)
Will let me glory in your chain,
And give me leave eternally to love._
There, Sir, take your poetry again.
[_Throwing it at his feet._
'Tis not much the worse for my wearing: 'twill serve again upon a fresh
occasion.
_Jacin._ Well done.
_Car._ I believe I can return the present, Madam, with----a pocket full
of your prose----There----
[_Throwing a handful of letters at her feet._
_Leo._ _Jacinta_, give me his letters. There, Sir, not to be
behind-hand with you.
[_Takes a handful of his letters out of a box,
and throws them in his face._
_Jacin._ And there, and there, and there, Sir.
[_~Jacinta~ throws the rest at him._
_San._ 'Cods my life, we want ammunition: but for a shift----There, and
there, you saucy slut you.
[_~Sancho~ pulls a pack of dirty cards out of his
pocket, and throws 'em at her; then they
close; he pulls off her headclothes, and she his
wig, and then part, she running to her mistress,
he to his master._
_Jacin._ I think, Madam, we have clearly the better on't.
_Leo._ For a proof, I resolve to keep the field.
_Jacin._ Have a care he don't rally and beat you yet though: pray walk
off.
_Leo._ Fear nothing.
_San._ How the armies stand and gaze at one another after the battle!
What think you, Sir, of shewing yourself a great general, by making an
honourable retreat?
_Car._ I scorn it: Oh _Leonora_! _Leonora_! A heart like mine should
not be treated thus.
_Leo._ _Carlos_! _Carlos_! I have not deserv'd this usage.
_Car._ Barbarous _Leonora_! but 'tis useless to reproach you; she that
is capable of what you have done, is form'd too cruel ever to repent of
it. Go on then, tyrant; make your bliss compleat; torment me still, for
still, alas! I love enough to be tormented.
_Leo._ Ah _Carlos_! little do you know the tender movements of that
thing you name: the heart where love presides, admits no thoughts
against the honour of its ruler.
_Car._ 'Tis not to call that honour into doubt, if conscious of our own
unworthiness, we interpret every frown to our destruction.
_Leo._ When jealousy proceeds from such humble apprehensions, it shews
itself with more respect than yours has done.
_Car._ And where a heart is guiltless, it easily forgives a greater
crime.
_Leo._ Forgiveness is not now in our debate; if both have been in
fault, 'tis fit that both should suffer for it; our separation will do
justice on us.
_Car._ But since we are ourselves the judges of our crimes, what if we
should inflict a gentler punishment?
_Leo._ 'Twould but encourage us to sin again.
_Car._ And if it shou'd?
_Leo._ 'Twould give a fresh occasion for the pleasing exercise of mercy.
_Car._ Right: and so we act the part of earth and heaven together, of
men and gods, and taste of both their pleasures.
_Leo._ The banquet's too inviting to refuse it.
_Car._ Then thus let's fall on, and feed upon't for ever.
[_Carries her off, embracing her, and kissing her hand._
_Leo._ Ah woman! foolish, foolish woman!
_San._ Very foolish indeed.
_Jacin._ But don't expect I'll follow her example.
_San._ You wou'd, Mopsy, if I'd let you.
_Jacin._ I'd sooner tear my eyes out! ah----that she had a little of my
spirit in her.
_San._ I believe I shall find thou hast a great deal of her flesh, my
charmer; but 'twon't do; I am all rock, hard rock, very marble.
_Jacin._ A very pumice stone, you rascal you, if one would try thee;
but to prevent thy humilities, and shew thee all submission would be
vain; to convince thee thou hast nothing but misery and despair before
thee; here----take back thy paltry thimble, and be in my debt for the
shirts I have made thee with it.
_San._ Nay, if y'are at that sport, Mistress, I believe I shall
lose nothing by the balance of thy presents. There, take thy
tobacco-stopper, and stop thy----
_Jacin._ Here, take thy sattin pincushion, with thy curious half
hundred of pins in't, thou mad'st such a vapouring about yesterday:
tell them carefully, there's not one wanting.
_San._ There's thy ivory-hafted knife again, whet it well; 'tis so
blunt 'twill cut nothing but love.
_Jacin._ And there's thy pretty pocket scissars thou hast honour'd me
with, they'll cut off a leg or an arm; heaven bless them.
_San._ Here's the inchanted handkerchief you were pleased to indear
with your precious blood, when the violence of your love at dinner,
t'other day, made you cut your fingers----There.
[_Blows his nose in it, and gives it her._
_Jacin._ The rascal so provokes me, I won't even keep his paltry
garters from him. D'ye see these? You pitiful beggarly scoundrel
you:----There, take 'em, there.
[_She takes her garters off, and flaps them about his face._
_San._ I have but one thing more of thine. [_Shewing his cudgel._] I
own 'tis the top of all thy presents, and might be useful to me; but
that thou may'st have nothing to upbraid me with, even take it again
with the rest of them.
[_Lifting it up to strike her, she leaps about his neck._
_Jacin._ Ah cruel _Sancho_!--Now beat me, _Sancho_, do.
_San._ Rather, like _Indian_ beggars, beat my precious self.
[_Throws away his stick, and embraces her._
Rather let infants blood about the streets,
Rather let all the wine about the cellar,
Rather let----Oh _Jacinta_----thou hast o'ercome.
How foolish are the great resolves of man!
Resolves, which we neither wou'd keep, nor can.
When those bright eyes in kindness please to shine,
Their goodness I must needs return with mine:
Bless my _Jacinta_ in her _Sancho_'s arms----
_Jacin._ And I my _Sancho_ with _Jacinta_'s charms.
[_Exeunt._
+ACT+ V. +SCENE+ I.
+SCENE+, _the Street_.
_Enter ~Lopez~._
As soon as it is night, says my master to me, tho' it cost me my
life, I'll enter _Leonora_'s lodgings; therefore make haste, _Lopez_,
prepare every thing necessary, three pair of pocket pistols, two
wide-mouth'd blunderbusses, some six ells of sword-blade and a couple
of dark lanthorns. When my Master said this to me; Sir, said I to my
master, (that is, I would have said it, if I had not been in such
a fright, I could say nothing, however I'll say it to him now, and
shall probably have a quiet hearing;) look you, Sir, by dint of reason
I intend to confound you: you are resolv'd, you say, to get into
_Leonora_'s lodgings, tho' the Devil stand in the door-way?----Yes,
_Lopez_, that's my resolution----Very well, and what do you intend to
do when you are there?----Why, what an injur'd man shou'd do; make
her sensible of----Make her sensible of a pudding, don't you see
she's a jade? She'll raise the house about your ears, arm the whole
family, set the great dog at you.----Were there legions of Devils to
repulse me, in such a cause I could disperse them all----Why then you
have no occasion for help, Sir, you may leave me at home to lay the
cloth.----No; thou art my ancient friend, my fellow-traveller, and to
reward thy faithful services, this night thou shalt partake my danger
and my glory.----Sir, I have got glory enough under you already, to
content any reasonable servant for his life----Thy modesty makes me
willing to double my bounty; this night may bring eternal honour to
thee and thy family.----Eternal honour, Sir, is too much in conscience
for a serving-man; besides ambition has been many a great soul's
undoing----I doubt thou art afraid, my _Lopez_, thou shalt be arm'd
with back, with breast and headpiece----They will encumber me in my
retreat.----Retreat! my hero! Thou never shalt retreat.----Then by my
troth I'll never go, Sir.----But here he comes.
_Enter ~Lorenzo~._
_Lor._ Will it never be night? sure 'tis the longest day the sun e'er
travell'd.
_Lop._ Would 'twere as long as those in _Greenland_, Sir, that you
might spin out your life t'other half year. I don't like these nightly
projects; a man can't see what he does: we shall have some scurvy
mistake or other happen; a brace of bullets blunder thro' your head in
the dark perhaps, and spoil all your intrigue.
_Lor._ Away, you trembling wretch, away.
_Lop._ Nay, Sir, what I say is purely for your safety: for as to
myself----Uds-death, I no more value the losing a quart of blood, than
I do drinking a quart of wine. Besides, my veins are too full, my
physician advis'd me yesterday to let go twenty ounces for my health.
So you see, Sir, there's nothing of that in the case.
_Lor._ Then let me hear no other objections: for 'till I see _Leonora_
I must lie upon the rack. I cannot bear her resentment, and will pacify
her this night, or not live to see to-morrow.
_Lop._ Well, Sir, since you are so determin'd, I shan't be impertinent
with any farther advice; but I think you have laid your design
to----[_He coughs._] (I have got such a cold to-day) to get in
privately, have you not?
_Lor._ Yes; and have taken care to be introduced as far as her
chamber-door with all secrecy.
_Lop._ [_He coughs._]----This unlucky cough, I had rather have had a
fever at another time. Sir, I should be sorry to do you more harm than
good upon this occasion: if this cough shou'd come upon me in the
midst of the action, [_Coughs._] and give the alarm to the family, I
shou'd not forgive myself as long as I liv'd.
_Lor._ I have greater ventures than that to take my chance for, and
can't dispense with your attendance, Sir.
_Lop._ This 'tis to be a good servant, and make one's self necessary.
_Enter ~Toledo~._
_Tol._ Sir,----I am glad I have found you. I am a man of honour, you
know, and do always profess losing my life upon a handsome occasion:
sir, I come to offer you my service. I am inform'd from unquestionable
hands, that Don _Carlos_ is enrag'd against you to a dangerous degree;
and that old _Alvarez_ has given positive directions to break the legs
and arms of your servant _Lopez_.
_Lop._ Look you there, now, I thought what 'twou'd come to; what do
they meddle with me for? What have I to do in my Master's amours? The
old Don's got out of his senses, I think, have I married his daughter?
_Lor._ Fear nothing, we'll take care o'thee----Sir, I thank you for
the favour of your intelligence, 'tis nothing however but what I have
expected and am provided for.
_Tol._ Sir, I wou'd advise you to provide yourself with good friends, I
desire the honour to keep your back hand myself.
_Lop._ 'Tis very kind indeed. Pray, Sir, have you never a servant with
you cou'd hold a racket for me too?
_Tol._ I have two friends fit to head two armies; and yet----a word in
your ear, they shan't cost you above a ducat a-piece.
_Lop._ Take 'em by all means, Sir, you were never offer'd a better
pennyworth in your life.
_Tol._ Ah, Sir,----little _Diego_----you have heard of him; he'd have
been worth a legion upon this occasion: you know, I suppose, how they
have serv'd him----They have hang'd him, but he made a noble execution;
they clapp'd the rack and the priest to him at once, but cou'd neither
get a word of confession, nor a groan of repentance; he died mighty
well truly.
_Lor._ Such a man is indeed much to be regretted: As for the rest of
your escorte, captain, I thank you for 'em, but shall not use 'em.
_Tol._ I'm sorry for't, Sir, because I think you go in very great
danger; I'm much afraid your rival won't give you fair play.
_Lop._ If he does, I'll be hang'd; he's a damn'd passionate fellow, and
cares not what mischief he does.
_Lor._ I shall give him a very good opportunity: for I'll have no other
guards about me but you, Sir. So come along.
_Lop._ Why, Sir, this is the sin of presumption; setting heaven at
defiance, making a Jack-pudding of a blunderbuss.
_Lor._ No more, but follow. Hold! turn this way; I see _Camillo_ there.
I wou'd avoid him, 'till I see what part he takes in this odd affair of
his sister's. For I wou'd not have the quarrel fix'd with him, if it be
possible to avoid it.
[_Exit ~Lorenzo~._
_Lop._ Sir----Captain _Toledo_, one word if you please, Sir; I'm mighty
sorry to see my Master won't accept of your friendly offer; look ye,
I'm not very rich; but as far as the expences of a dollar went, if
you'd be so kind to take a little care of me, it shou'd be at your
service.
_Tol._ Let me see:----A dollar you say? but suppose I'm wounded?
_Lop._ Why you shall be put to no extraordinary charge upon that: I
have been 'prentice to a barber; and will be your surgeon myself.
_Tol._ 'Tis too cheap in conscience; but my land estate is ill paid
this war-time----
_Lop._ That a little industry may be commendable; so say no more, that
matter's fix'd.
[_Exeunt ~Lop.~ and ~Tol~._
_Enter ~Camillo~._
_Cam._ How miserable a perplexity have I brought myself into! Yet
why do I complain? since with all the dreadful torture I endure, I
can't repent of one wild step I've made. O Love! what tempests canst
thou raise, what storms canst thou assuage! To all thy cruelties I am
resign'd: Long years thro' seas of torment I'm content to roll, so thou
wilt guide me to the happy port of my _Lorenzo_'s arms, and bless me
there with one calm day at last.
_Enter ~Isabella~._
_Cam._ What news, dear _Isabella_? methinks there's something chearful
in your looks may give a trembling lover hopes. If you have comfort for
me, speak, for I indeed have need of it.
_Isab._ Were your wants yet still greater than they are, I bring a
plentiful supply.
_Cam._ O Heav'ns! is it possible?
_Isab._ New mysteries are out, and if you can find charms to wean
_Lorenzo_ from your sister, no other obstacle is in the way to all your
wish.
_Cam._ Kind messenger from Heaven, speak on.
_Isab._ Know then, that you are daughter to _Alvarez_.
_Cam._ How! daughter to _Alvarez_?
_Isab._ You are: The truth this moment's come to light; and till this
moment he, altho' your father, was a stranger to it; nay, did not even
know you were a woman. In short, the great estate, which has occasion'd
these uncommon accidents, was left but on condition of a son; great
hopes of one there was, when you destroy'd 'em, and to your parents
came a most unwelcome guest: To repair the disappointment, you were
exchang'd for that young _Camillo_, who few months after dy'd. Your
father then was absent, but your mother quick in contrivance, bold in
execution, during that infant's sickness, had resolv'd his death shou'd
not deprive her family of those advantages his life had given it; so
order'd things with such dexterity, that once again there past a change
between you: of this (for reasons yet unknown to me) she made a secret
to her husband, and took such wise precautions, that 'till this hour
'twas so to all the world, except the person from whom I now have heard
it.
_Cam._ This news indeed affords a view of no unhappy termination; yet
there are difficulties still may be of fatal hindrance.
_Isab._ None, except that one I just now nam'd to you; for to remove
the last, know I have already unfolded all, both to Alvarez and Don
Felix.
_Cam._ And how have they receiv'd it?
_Isab._ To your wishes both. As for _Lorenzo_, he is yet a stranger to
all has past, and the two old fathers desire he may some moments longer
continue so. They have agreed to be a little merry with the heat he is
in, and engage you in a family-quarrel with him.
_Cam._ I doubt, _Isabella_, I shall act that part but faintly.
_Isab._ No matter, you'll make amends for it in the scene of
reconciliation.
_Cam._ Pray heaven it be my lot to act it with him.
_Isab._ Here comes Don _Felix_ to wish you joy.
_Enter Don ~Felix~._
Don _Fel._ Come near, my daughter, and with extended arms of great
affection let me receive thee. [_Kisses her._] Thou art a dainty
wench, good faith thou art, and 'tis a mettled action thou hast done;
if _Lorenzo_ don't like thee the better for't, Cods my life, he's a
pitiful fellow, and I shan't believe the bonny old man had the getting
of him.
_Cam._ I'm so encourag'd by your forgiveness, Sir, methinks I have some
flattering hopes of his.
Don _Fel._ Of his! I'gad, and he had best, I believe he'll meet with
his match if he don't. What dost think of trying his courage a little,
by way of a joke or so?
_Isab._ I was just telling her your design, Sir.
Don _Fel._ Why I'm in a mighty witty way upon this whimsical occasion;
but I see him coming. You must not appear yet; go your way in to the
rest of the people there, and I'll inform him what a squabble he has
work'd himself into here.
[_Exeunt ~Camillo~ and ~Isabella~._
_Enter ~Lorenzo~ and ~Lopez~._
_Lop._ Pray, Sir, don't be so obstinate now, don't affront Heaven at
this rate. I had a vision last night about this business on purpose to
forwarn you; I dreamt of goose-eggs, a blunt knife, and the snuff of a
candle; I'm sure there's mischief towards.
_Lor._ You cowardly rascal, hold your tongue.
Don _Fel._ _Lorenzo_, come hither, my boy, I was just going to send for
thee. The honour of our ancient family lies in thy hands; there is a
combat preparing, thou must fight, my son.
_Lop._ Look you there, now, did not I tell you? O dreams are wond'rous
things, I never knew that snuff of a candle fail yet.
_Lor._ Sir, I do not doubt but _Carlos_ seeks my life, I hope he'll do
it fairly.
_Lop._ Fairly, do you hear, fairly! Give me leave to tell you, Sir,
folks are not fit to be trusted with lives, that don't know how to look
better after them. Sir, you gave it him, I hope you'll make him take a
little more care on't.
Don _Fel._ My care shall be to make him do as a man of honour ought to
do.
_Lop._ What, will you let him fight, then? let your own flesh and blood
fight?
Don _Fel._ In a good cause, as this is.
_Lop._ _O monstrum horrendum!_ Now I have that humanity about me, that
if a man but talks to me of fighting, I shiver at the name on't.
_Lor._ What you do, on this occasion Sir, is worthy of you: And had I
been wanting to you, in my due regards before, this noble action wou'd
have stamp'd that impression, which a grateful son ought to have for so
generous a father.
_Lop._ Very generous, truly! gives him leave to be run thro' the guts,
for his posterity to brag on a hundred years hence.
[_Aside._
_Lor._ I think, Sir, as things now stand, it won't be right for me to
wait for _Carlos_'s call; I'll, if you please, prevent him.
_Lop._ Ay, pray, Sir, do prevent him by all means, 'tis better made up,
as you say, a thousand times.
Don _Fel._ Hold your tongue, you impertinent Jackanapes, I will have
him fight, and fight like a fury too; If he don't, he'll be worsted, I
can tell him that. For know, son, your antagonist is not the person you
name, it is an enemy of twice his force.
_Lop._ O dear, O dear, O dear! and will nobody keep 'em asunder?
_Lor._ Nobody shall keep us asunder, if once I know the man I have to
deal with.
Don _Fel._ Thy man then is----_Camillo_.
_Lor._ _Camillo!_
Don _Fel._ 'Tis he, he'll suffer no body to decide this quarrel but
himself.
_Lop._ Then there are no seconds, Sir.
Don _Fel._ None.
_Lop._ He's a brave man.
Don _Fel._ No, he says nobody's blood shall be spilt upon this
occasion, but theirs who have a title to it.
_Lop._ I believe he'll scarce have a law-suit upon the claim.
Don _Fel._ In short, he accuses thee of a shameful falshood, in
pretending his sister _Leonora_ was thy wife; and has upon it prevailed
with his father, as thou has done with thine, to let the debate be
ended by the sword 'twixt him and thee.
_Lop._ And pray, Sir, with submission, one short question if you
please; what may the gentle _Leonora_ say of this business?
Don _Fel._ She approves of the combat, and marries _Carlos_.
_Lop._ Why, God a-mercy.
_Lor._ Is it possible? Sure she's a devil, not a woman.
_Lop._ I----cod, Sir, the Devil and a woman both, I think.
Don _Fel._ Well, thou sha't have satisfaction of some of 'em. Here they
all come.
_Enter ~Alvarez~, ~Leonora~, ~Carlos~, ~Sancho~, and ~Jacinta~._
_Alv._ Well, Don _Felix_, have you prepared your son? for mine, he's
ready to engage.
_Lor._ And so is his. My wrongs prepare me for a thousand combats. My
hand has hitherto been held by the regard I've had to every thing of
kin to _Leonora_; but since the monstrous part she acts has driven her
from my heart, I call for reparation from her family.
_Alv._ You'll have it, Sir; _Camillo_ will attend you instantly.
_Lop._ O lack! O lack! will no body do a little something to prevent
bloodshed? Why, Madam, have you no pity, no bowels? [_To ~Leonora~._]
stand and see one of your husbands stoter'd before your face? 'Tis an
arrant shame.
_Leo._ If widowhood be my fate, I must bear it as I can.
_Lop._ Why, did you ever hear the like?
_Lor._ Talk to her no more. Her monstrous impudence is no otherwise to
be replied to, than by a dagger in her brother's heart.
_Leo._ Yonder he's coming to receive it. But have a care, brave Sir, he
does not place it in another's.
_Lor._ It is not in his power. He has a rotten cause upon his sword,
I'm sorry he's engag'd in't; but since he is, he must take his fate.
For you, my bravo, expect me in your turn.
[_To ~Carlos~._
_Car._ You'll find Camillo, Sir, will set your hand out.
_Lor._ A beardless boy. You might have match'd me better, Sir: but
prudence is a virtue.
Don _Fel._ Nay, son, I wou'd not have thee despise thy adversary
neither; thou'lt find Camillo will put thee hardly to't.
_Lor._ I wish we were come to the trial. Why does he not appear?
_Jacin._ Now do I hate to hear people brag thus. Sir, with my lady's
leave, I'll hold a ducat he disarms you.
[_They laugh._
_Lor._ Why, what!--I think I'm sported with. Take heed, I warn you all;
I am not to be trifled with.
_Enter ~Camillo~ and ~Isabella~._
_Leo._ You shan't, Sir, here's one will be in earnest with you.
_Lor._ He's welcome: tho' I had rather have drawn my sword against
another. I'm sorry, _Camillo_, we should meet on such bad terms as
these; yet more sorry your sister should be the wicked cause on't:
but since nothing will serve her but the blood either of a husband or
brother, she shall be glutted with't. Draw.
_Lop._ Ah Lard, ah Lard, ah Lard!
_Lor._ And yet before I take this instrument of death into my fatal
hand, hear me, _Camillo_; hear _Alvarez_; all! I imprecate the utmost
powers of heaven to shower upon my head the deadliest of its wrath;
I ask that all hell's torments may unite to round my soul with one
eternal anguish, if wicked _Leonora_ ben't my wife.
_Omnes._ O Lord, O Lord, O Lord!
_Leo._ Why then may all those curses pass him by, and wrap me in their
everlasting pains, if ever once I had a fleeting thought of making him
my husband.
_Lop._ O Lord, O Lord, O Lord!
_Leo._ Nay more; to strike him dumb at once, and shew what men with
honest looks can practise, know he's married to another.
_Alv._ and _Fel._ How!
_Leo._ The truth of this is known to some here.
_Jacin._ Nay, 'tis certainly so.
_Isab._ 'Tis to a friend of mine.
_Car._ I know the person.
_Lor._ 'Tis false, and thou art a villain for thy testimony.
_Cam._ Then let me speak; what they aver is true, and I myself was in
disguise, a witness of its doing.
_Lor._ Death and confusion! he a villain too! have at thy heart.
[_He draws._
_Lop._ Ah!----I can't bear the sight on't.
_Cam._ Put up that furious thing, there's no business for't.
_Lor._ There's business for a dagger, strippling; 'tis that should be
thy recompence.
_Cam._ Why then to shew thee naked to the world, and close thy mouth
for ever----I am myself thy wife.----
_Lor._ What does the dog mean?
_Cam._ To fall upon the earth and sue for mercy.
[_Kneels and lets her perriwig fall off._
_Lor._ A woman!
_Lop._ Ay----cod, and a pretty one too; you wags you.
_Lor._ I'm all amazement. Rise, _Camillo_, (if I am still to call you
by that name) and let me hear the wonders you have for me.
_Isab._ That part her modesty will ask from me: I'm to inform you then,
that this disguise hides other mysteries besides a woman; a large and
fair estate was cover'd by it, which with the lady now will be resigned
to you. 'Tis true, in justice it was yours before; but 'tis the God of
Love has done you right. To him you owe this strange discovery, thro'
him you are to know the true _Camillo_'s dead, and that this fair
adventurer is daughter to _Alvarez_.
_Lor._ Incredible! but go on; let me hear more.
Don _Fel._ She'll tell thee the rest herself, the next dark night she
meets thee in the garden.
_Lor._ Ha!--Was it _Camillo_ then, that I----
_Isab._ It was _Camillo_ who there made you happy: And who has virtue,
beauty, wit and love----enough to make you so, while life shall last
you.
_Lor._ The proof she gives me of her love, deserves a large
acknowledgment indeed. Forgive me therefore, _Leonora_, if what I owe
this goodness and these charms, I with my utmost care, my life, my
soul, endeavour to repay.
_Cam._ Is it then possible you can forgive me?
_Lor._ Indeed I can; few crimes have such a claim to mercy; but join
with me then, dear _Camillo_, (for still I know you by no other name)
join with me to obtain your father's pardon: yours, _Leonora_, too,
I must implore; and yours, my friend, for now we may be such. [_To
~Carlos~._] Of all I ask forgiveness. And since there is so fair a
cause of all my wild mistakes, I hope I by her interest shall obtain
it.
_Alv._ You have a claim to mine, _Lorenzo_, I wish I had so strong
a one to yours; but if by future services, (tho' I lay down my life
amongst 'em) I may blot out of your remembrance a fault (I cannot name)
I then shall leave the world in peace.
_Lor._ In peace then, Sir, enjoy it; for from this very hour, whate'er
is past with me, is gone for ever. Your daughter is too fair a
mediatrix to be refus'd his pardon, to whom she owes the charms she
pleads with for it.
_From this good day, then, let all discord cease;
Let those to come be harmony and peace;
Henceforth let all our diff'rent interests join, }
Let fathers, lovers, friends, let all combine, }
To make each other's days as blest, as she will mine._ }
[_Exeunt._