_Enter_ DON JEROME, LOPEZ, _and_ SERVANTS.
_Don Jer_. Be sure, now, let everything be in the best order--let all
my servants have on their merriest faces: but tell them to get as
little drunk as possible, till after supper.--[_Exeunt_ SERVANTS.] So,
Lopez, where's your master? shan't we have him at supper?
_Lop_. Indeed, I believe not, sir--he's mad, I doubt! I'm sure he has
frighted me from him.
_Don Jer_. Ay, ay, he's after some wench, I suppose: a young rake!
Well, well, we'll be merry without him. [_Exit_ LOPEZ.]
_Enter a_ SERVANT.
_Ser_. Sir, here is Signor Isaac. [_Exit_.]
_Enter_ ISAAC.
_Don Jer_. So, my dear son-in-law--there, take my blessing and
forgiveness. But where's my daughter? where's Louisa?
_Isaac_. She's without, impatient for a blessing, but almost afraid to
enter.
_Don Jer_. Oh, fly and bring her in.--[_Exit_ ISAAC.] Poor girl, I
long to see her pretty face.
_Isaac_. [_Without_.] Come, my, charmer! my trembling angel!
_Re-enter_ ISAAC _with_ DUENNA; DON JEROME _runs to meet them; she
kneels_.
_Don Jer_. Come to my arms, my--[_Starts back_.] Why, who the devil
have we here?
_Isaac_. Nay, Don Jerome, you promised her forgiveness; see how the
dear creature droops!
_Don Jer_. Droops indeed! Why, Gad take me, this is old Margaret! But
where's my daughter? where's Louisa?
_Isaac_. Why, here, before your eyes--nay, don't be abashed, my sweet
wife!
_Don Jer_. Wife with a vengeance! Why, zounds! you have not married
the Duenna!
_Duen_. [_Kneeling_.] Oh, dear papa! you'll not disown me, sure!
_Don Jer_. Papa! papa! Why, zounds! your impudence is as great as your
ugliness!
_Isaac_. Rise, my charmer, go throw your snowy arms about his neck,
and convince him you are----
_Duen_. Oh, sir, forgive me! [_Embraces him_.]
_Don Jer_. Help! murder!
_Enter_ SERVANTS.
_Ser_. What's the matter, sir?
_Don Jer_. Why, here, this damned Jew has brought an old harridan to
strangle me.
_Isaac_. Lord, it is his own daughter, and he is so hard-hearted he
won't forgive her!
_Enter_ DON ANTONIO _and_ DONNA LOUISA; _they kneel_.
_Don Jer_. Zounds and fury! what's here now? who sent for you, sir,
and who the devil are you?
_Don Ant_. This lady's husband, sir.
_Isaac_. Ay, that he is, I'll be sworn; for I left them with a priest,
and was to have given her away.
_Don Jer_. You were?
_Isaac_. Ay; that's my honest friend, Antonio; and that's the little
girl I told you I had hampered him with.
_Don Jer_. Why, you are either drunk or mad--this is my daughter.
_Isaac_. No, no; 'tis you are both drunk and mad, I think--here's your
daughter.
_Don Jer_. Hark ye, old iniquity! will you explain all this, or not?
_Duen_. Come then, Don Jerome, I will--though our habits might inform
you all. Look on your daughter, there, and on me.
_Isaac_. What's this I hear?
_Duen_. The truth is, that in your passion this morning you made a
small mistake; for you turned your daughter out of doors, and locked
up your humble servant.
_Isaac_. O Lud! O Lud! here's a pretty fellow, to turn his daughter
out of doors, instead of an old Duenna!
_Don Jer_. And, O Lud! O Lud! here's a pretty fellow, to marry an old
Duenna instead of my daughter! But how came the rest about?
_Duen_. I have only to add, that I remained in your daughter's place,
and had the good fortune to engage the affections of my sweet husband
here.
_Isaac_. Her husband! why, you old witch, do you think I'll be your
husband now? This is a trick, a cheat! and you ought all to be ashamed
of yourselves.
_Don Ant_. Hark ye, Isaac, do you dare to complain of tricking? Don
Jerome, I give you my word, this cunning Portuguese has brought all
this upon himself, by endeavouring to overreach you, by getting your
daughter's fortune, without making any settlement in return.
_Don Jer_. Overreach me!
_Don. Louisa_. 'Tis so, indeed, sir, and we can prove it to you.
_Don Jer_. Why, Gad, take me, it must be so, or he never could put up
with such a face as Margaret's--so, little Solomon, I wish you joy of
your wife, with all my soul.
_Don. Louisa_. Isaac, tricking is all fair in love--let you alone for
the plot!
_Don Ant_. A cunning dog, ar'n't you? A sly little villain, eh?
_Don. Louisa_. Roguish, perhaps; but keen, devilish keen!
_Don Jer_. Yes, yes; his aunt always called him little Solomon.
_Isaac_. Why, the plagues of Egypt upon you all! but do you think I'll
submit to such an imposition?
_Don Ant_. Isaac, one serious word--you'd better be content as you
are; for, believe me, you will find that, in the opinion of the world,
there is not a fairer subject for contempt and ridicule than a knave
become the dupe of his own art.
_Isaac_. I don't care--I'll not endure this. Don Jerome, 'tis you have
done this--you would be so cursed positive about the beauty of her you
locked up, and all the time I told you she was as old as my mother,
and as ugly as the devil.
_Duen_. Why, you little insignificant reptile!----
_Don Jer_. That's right!--attack him, Margaret.
_Duen_. Dare such a thing as you pretend to talk of beauty?--A walking
rouleau?--a body that seems to owe all its consequence to the dropsy!
a pair of eyes like two dead beetles in a wad of brown dough! a beard
like an artichoke, with dry, shrivelled jaws that would disgrace the
mummy of a monkey?
_Don Jer_. Well done, Margaret!
_Duen_. But you shall know that I have a brother who wears a sword--
and, if you don't do me justice--
_Isaac_. Fire seize your brother, and you too! I'll fly to Jerusalem
to avoid you!
_Duen_. Fly where you will, I'll follow you.
_Don Jer_. Throw your snowy arms about him, Margaret.--[_Exeunt_ ISAAC
_and_ DUENNA.] But, Louisa, are you really married to this modest
gentleman?
_Don. Louisa_. Sir, in obedience to your commands, I gave him my hand
within this hour.
_Don Jer_. My commands!
_Don Ant_. Yes, sir; here is your consent, under your own hand.
_Don Jer_. How! would you rob me of my child by a trick, a false
pretence? and do you think to get her fortune by the same means? Why,
'slife! you are as great a rogue as Isaac!
_Don Ant_. No, Don Jerome; though I have profited by this paper in
gaining your daughter's hand, I scorn to obtain her fortune by deceit.
There, sir--[_Gives a letter_.] Now give her your blessing for a
dower, and all the little I possess shall be settled on her in return.
Had you wedded her to a prince, he could do no more.
_Don Jer_. Why, Gad, take me, but you are a very extraordinary fellow!
But have you the impudence to suppose no one can do a generous action
but yourself? Here, Louisa, tell this proud fool of yours that he's
the only man I know that would renounce your fortune; and, by my soul!
he's the only man in Spain that's worthy of it. There, bless you both:
I'm an obstinate old fellow when I'm in the wrong; but you shall now
find me as steady in the right.
_Enter_ DON FERDINAND _and_ DONNA CLARA.
Another wonder still! Why, sirrah! Ferdinand, you have not stole a
nun, have you?
_Don Fred_. She is a nun in nothing but her habit, sir--look nearer,
and you will perceive 'tis Clara d'Almanza, Don Guzman's daughter;
and, with pardon for stealing a wedding, she is also my wife.
_Don Jer_. Gadsbud, and a great fortune! Ferdinand, you are a prudent
young rogue, and I forgive you: and, ifecks, you are a pretty little
damsel. Give your father-in-law a kiss, you smiling rogue!
_Don. Clara_. There, old gentleman; and now mind you behave well to
us.
_Don Jer_. Ifecks, those lips ha'n't been chilled by kissing beads!
Egad, I believe I shall grow the best-humoured fellow in Spain. Lewis!
Sancho! Carlos! d'ye hear? are all my doors thrown open? Our
children's weddings are the only holidays our age can boast; and then
we drain, with pleasure, the little stock of spirits time has left
us.--[_Music within_.] But, see, here come our friends and neighbours!
_Enter_ MASQUERADERS.
And, i'faith, we'll make a night on't, with wine, and dance, and
catches--then old and young shall join us.
FINALE.
_Don Jer_.
Come now for jest and smiling,
Both old and young beguiling,
Let us laugh and play, so blithe and gay,
Till we banish care away.
_Don. Louisa_.
Thus crown'd with dance and song,
The hours shall glide along,
With a heart at ease, merry, merry glees
Can never fail to please.
_Don Ferd_.
Each bride with blushes glowing,
Our wine as rosy flowing,
Let us laugh and play, so blithe and gay,
Till we banish care away.
_Don Ant_.
Then healths to every friend
The night's repast shall end,
With a heart at ease, merry, merry glees
Can never fail to please.
_Don. Clar_.
Nor, while we are so joyous,
Shall anxious fear annoy us;
Let us laugh and play, so blithe and gay,
Till we banish care away.
_Don Jer_.
For generous guests like these
Accept the wish to please,
So we'll laugh and play, so blithe and gay,
Your smiles drive care away.
[_Exeunt omnes_.]