ACT I.

A SELECT COLLECTION

OF

OLD ENGLISH PLAYS.

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY ROBERT DODSLEY

IN THE YEAR 1744.

_FOURTH EDITION_,

NOW FIRST CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED, REVISED AND ENLARGED

WITH THE NOTES OF ALL THE COMMENTATORS,

AND NEW NOTES

BY

W. CAREW HAZLITT.

BENJAMIN BLOM, INC.

[Illustration]

New York

ELVIRA

OR

THE WORST NOT ALWAYS TRUE.

_EDITION._

_Elvira: Or, The worst not always true. A Comedy, Written

by a Person of Quality. Licenced May 15th, 1667, Roger

L'Estrange. London, Printed by E. Cotes for Henry Brome in

Little-Brittain. 1667. 4º._

INTRODUCTION.

George Digby, Earl of Bristol, was the author of the following

play. He was, as Mr. Walpole[1] observes, "a singular person, whose

life was one contradiction. He wrote against Popery, and embraced

it; he was a zealous opposer of the Court, and a sacrifice for it;

was conscientiously converted in the midst of his prosecution of

Lord Strafford, and was most unconscientiously a prosecutor of Lord

Clarendon. With great parts, he always hurt himself and his friends;

with romantic bravery, he was always an unsuccessful commander. He

spoke for the Test Act, though a Roman Catholic; and addicted himself

to astrology on the birthday of true philosophy." The histories of

England abound with the adventures of this inconsistent and eccentric

nobleman who, amongst his other pursuits, esteemed the drama not

unworthy of his attention. Downes, the prompter,[2] asserts that he

wrote two plays between the years 1662 and 1665, _made out of the

Spanish_; one called "'Tis better than it was," and the other entitled

"Worse and Worse." Whether either of these is the present performance

cannot now be ascertained. It is, however, at least probable to be one

of them with a new title.[3] The same writer says he also joined with

Sir Samuel Tuke in the composition of "The Adventures of Five Hours."

"Elvira" was printed in the year 1667, and Mr Walpole imagines that it

occasioned our author being introduced into Sir John Suckling's Session

of Poets, a conjecture which, however, will by no means correspond with

the time in which Lord Bristol and Sir John Suckling are supposed to

have written the respective works before mentioned. From the notice

taken of him by Sir John Suckling as a poet, he seems to have been

the author of some pieces which are now lost to the world.[4] After a

life, which at different periods of it commanded both the respect and

contempt of mankind, and not unfrequently the same sentiments at one

time, he died, neither loved nor regretted by any party, in the year

1676.

[A MS. note in one of the former editions says: "A play of pure

_intrigue_.--Style feeble and drawling.--Plot extremely complicated,

and quite unintelligible without a most fixed attention, which,

however, the play has not merit enough to excite. _July 1819._"]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] "Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors," ii. 25.

[2] "Roscius Anglicanus," 1708, p. 25.

[3] P. 22.

[4] It is not easy to find out why this inference is drawn, since Sir

J. Suckling only mentions him by name, with three others comparatively

little known.

"Sands with Townshend, for they kept no order;

_Digby_ and Shillingsworth a little further."

"Session of the Poets."--_Collier_. [But the Digby here mentioned was

Sir Kenelm Digby, surely.]

_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._

+Don Julio Rocca.+

+Don Pedro de Mendoça.+

+Don Fernando Solis+, _in love with Donna Elvira._

+Don Zancho de Moneçes+, _in love with Donna Blanca._

+Fabio+, _servant to Don Fernando._

+Fulvio+, _servant to Don Pedro._

+Chichon+, _servant to Don Zancho._

+A Page.+

+Donna Elvira+, _a beautiful lady, Don Pedro's daughter._

+Donna Blanca+, _a lady of high spirit, Don Julio's sister._

+Francisca+, _Donna Blanca's woman._

_Scene, Valencia._

ELVIRA;

OR,

THE WORST NOT ALWAYS TRUE.[5]

ACT I.

_The room in the inn._

_Enter +Don Fernando+, and at another door his

servant +Fabio+, both in riding-clothes._

+Don F.+ Have you not been with him, Fabio, and given him

The note?

+Fab.+ I found him newly got out of his bed;

He seem'd much satisfied, though much surpris'd,

With your arrival; and as soon as possibly

He can get ready, he'll be with you here.

He says he hopes some good occasion brings you

To Valencia, and that he shall not be

At quiet till he know it. 'Twas not fit

For me, without your orders, to give him

Any more light than what your ticket did.

+Don. F.+ 'Tis well: go now, and see if Donna Elvira

Be stirring yet, for I would gladly have her

A witness, even at first, to what shall pass

Betwixt my friend and me in our concernments:

If she be still asleep, Fabio, make bold

To knock, and wake her; w' have no time to lose.

O, here she comes. Wait you Don Julio. [_Exit +Fabio+._

_Enter +Donna Elvira+._

+Elv.+ Ah! can you think my cares and sleep consistent?

Slumber and tears have sometimes met in dreams;

But hearts, with such a weight as mine opprest,

Find still the heaviest sleep too light a guest.

+Don F.+ Madam, though such least pity do deserve,

Who by their own unsteadiness have drawn

Misfortune on themselves, yet truly, Elvira,

Such is my sense of yours and my compassion,

To see a lady of your quality

Brought to such sad extremes in what is dearest,

As makes me even forget my own resentments,

Granting to pity the whole place of love;

And at that rate I'll serve you. Yet thus far

You must allow the eruption of a heart

So highly injur'd, as to tell you frankly,

'Tis to comply with my own principles

Of honour now, without the least relation

To former passion or to former favours.

+Elv.+ Those you have found a ready way to cancel;

Your sullen silence, during all our journey,

Might well have spar'd you these superfluous words;

That had sufficiently instructed me

What power mere appearances have had,

Without examination, to destroy

With an umbrageous nature all that love

Was ever able on the solid'st grounds

To found and to establish. Yet, methinks,

A man that boasts such principles of honour,

And of such force to sway him in his actions,

In spite of all resentments, should reflect,

That honour does oblige to a suspense,

At least of judgment, when surprising chances,

Yet uninquired into, tempt gallant men

To prejudicial thoughts of those with whom

They had settled friendship upon virtuous grounds.

But 'tis from Heav'n, I see, and not from you,

Elvira must expect her vindication;

And until then submit to th' hardest fate

That ever can befall a generous spirit--

Of being oblig'd by him that injures her.

+Don F.+ Nay, speak, Elvira, speak; you've me attentive:

[_With a kind of scornful accent._

It were a wonder worthy of your wit

To make me trust my ears before my eyes.

+Elv.+ Those are the witnesses, indeed, Fernando,

To whose true testimony's false inference

You owe my moderation and my silence,

And that I leave it to the gods and time

To make appear both to the world and you

The maxim false, that still the worst proves true.

_Enter +Fabio+._

+Fab.+ Don Julio is without.

+Don F.+ Wait on him in---- [_Exit +Fabio+._

And now, Elvira,

If you'll be pleas'd to rest yourself awhile

Within that closet, you may hear what passes

Betwixt my friend and me, until such time

As I by some discourse having prevented

Too great surprise, you shall think fit t' appear.

He is the man (as I have often told you

During my happy days) for whom alone

I have no reserves; and 'tis to his assistance

That I must owe the means of serving you

In the concernments of your safety and honour;

And therefore, madam, 'twill be no offence,

I hope, to trust him with the true occasion

That brings me hither to employ his friendship;

Observing that respect in the relation

Which I shall always pay you.

+Elv.+ [_Retiring as into the closet._] There needs no management in

the relation.

I am indifferent what others think,

Since those who ought t' have thought the best have fail'd me:

Sir, I obey, resign'd up to your conduct,

Till mistress of my own. [_Exit._

_Enter +Don Julio+: +Don Fernando+ and he embrace._

+Don J.+ My joy to have my dear Fernando here

So unexpectedly, as great as 'tis,

Cannot make Julio insensible

Of th' injury you have done him, t' have alighted,

And pass'd a night within Valencia

At any other place than at his house:

Donna Blanca herself will scarce forgive it,

When she shall know it.

+Don F.+ I hope she's well.

+Don J.+ She is so, thanks to heaven:

But I must bid you expect a chiding from her.

+Don F.+ You both might well accuse me of a failure,

Did not th' occasion of my coming hither

Bring with it an excuse, alas! too just,

As you will quickly find.

+Don J.+ Nay, then you raise disquiet; ease me quickly,

By telling me what 'tis. Of this be sure:

Heart, hand and fortune are entirely yours

At all essays.

+Don. F.+ [_After pausing awhile._] It is not new t' ye that

I was a lover,

Engaged in all the passion that e'er beauty,

In height of its perfection, could produce;

And that confirm'd by reason from her wit,

Her quality and most unblemish'd conduct;

Nor was there more to justify my love,

Than to persuade my happiness in her

Just correspondence to it, by all the ways

Of honourable admission, that might serve

To make esteem transcend the pitch of love.

+Don J.+ Of all this I have not only had knowledge,

But great participation in your joys:

Than which I thought nothing more permanent,

Since founded on such virtue as Elvira's.

+Don F.+ Ah, Julio! how fond a creature is the man

That founds his bliss upon a woman's firmness!

Even that Elvira, when I thought myself

Securest in my happiness, nothing wanting

To make her mine, but those exterior forms,

Without which men of honour, that pretend

In way of marriage, would be loth to find

Greater concession, where the love is greatest;

As I was sitting with her, late at night,

By usual admittance to her chamber,

As two whose hearts in wedlock-bands were join'd,

And seem'd above all other care, but how

Best to disguise things to a wayward father,

Till time and art might compass his consent;

A sudden noise was heard in th' inner room,

Belonging to her chamber: she starts up

In manifest disorder, and runs in,

Desiring me to stay till she had seen

What caus'd it. I, impatient, follow,

As fearing for her, had it been her father:

My head no sooner was within the room,

But straight I spied, behind a curtain shrinking,

A goodly gallant, but not known to me.

+Don J.+ Heavens, what can this be?

+Don F.+ You will not think that there, and at that hour,

I stay'd to ask his name. He ready as I

To make his sword th' expresser of his mind,

We soon determin'd what we sought: I hurt

But slightly in the arm; he fell as slain,

Run through the body: what Elvira did,

My rage allow'd me not to mark: but straight

I got away, more wounded to the heart

Than he I left for dead.

+Don J.+ Prodigious accident! where can it end?

+Don F.+ I got safe home where, carefully conceal'd,

I sought by Fabio's diligence to learn

Who my slain rival was, and what became

Of my unhappy mistress, and what course

Don Pedro de Mendoça took to right

The honour of his house.

+Don J.+ You long'd not more

To know it then, than I do now.

+Don F.+ All could be learn'd was this: that my rival,

Whom I thought dead, was likely to recover,

And that he was a stranger lately come

Up to the court, to follow some pretensions:

His name he either learn'd not perfectly,

Or did not well retain. As for Elvira,

That none knew where she was; and that Don Pedro

Had set a stop to prosecution

In any public way, with what reserves

Was not yet known.

+Don J.+ More and more intricate.

+Don F.+ I must now come to that you least look for.

I had but few days pass'd in my concealment

(Resentment and revenge still boiling in me)

When late one evening, as I buried was

In deepest thought, I suddenly was rous'd

By a surprising apparition, Julio--

Elvira in my chamber, speaking to me

With rare assurance thus:--Don Fernando,

I come not here to justify myself,

That were below Elvira towards one,

Whose action in deserting me hath shown

So disobligingly his rash judgment of me.

I come to mind you of honour, not of love:

Mine can protection seek from none but yours.

I've hitherto been shelter'd from the fury

Of my enrag'd father by my cousin Camilla:

But that's no place, you easily may judge,

For longer stay: I do expect from you

To be convey'd where, free from violence

And from new hazards of my wounded fame,

I may attend my righting from the gods.

+Don J.+ Can guilt maintain such confidence in a maid?

Yet how to think her innocent, I know not.

+Don F.+ 'Twere loss of time to dwell on circumstances,

Either of my wonder or reply: in short,

What I found honour dictated, I did.

Within two hours, I put her in a coach,

And, favour'd by the night, convey'd her safe

Out of Madrid to Ocana, and thence

In three days hither to Valencia,

The only place where (by your generous aid)

I could have hopes to settle and secure

Her person and her honour. That once done,

Farewell to Spain: I'll to the wars of Milan,

And there soon put a noble end to cares.

+Don J.+ Let us first think how to dispose of her,

Since here you say she is; that done (which presses),

You will have time to weigh all other things.

+Don F.+ My thoughts can pitch upon no other way

Decent or safe for her, but in a convent,

If you have any abbess here to friend.

+Don J.+ I have an aunt, ruling the Ursulines,

With whom I have full power; and she is wise,

In case that course were to be fix'd upon.

But that's not my opinion.

+Don F.+ What can

Your reason be?

+Don J.+ Last remedies, in my judgment,

Are not to be used, till easier have been tried.

Had this strange accident been thoroughly

Examined in all its circumstances,

And that from thence she were convicted guilty,

Nought else were to be thought on but a cloister;

But, as things stand imperfectly discover'd,

Although appearances condemn her strongly,

I cannot yet conclude a person guilty

Of what throughout so contradictory seems

To the whole tenor of her former life,

As well as to her quality and wit;

And therefore let's avoid precipitation,

Let my house be her shelter for awhile;

You know my sister Blanca is discreet,

And may be trusted; she shall there be serv'd

By her and me with care and secrecy.

+Don F.+ The offer's kind, but nowise practicable,

And might prove hazardous to Blanca's honour,

When it should once break out (as needs it must)

From servants seeing such a guest so treated.

+Don J.+ That, I confess, I know not how to answer:

But, could Elvira's mind submit unto it,

I could propose a course without objection.

+Don F.+ That she can soon resolve; what is it, Julio?

+Don J.+ A gentlewoman, who waited on my sister,

Hath newly left her service for a husband,

And it is known she means to take another:

I have a ready way to recommend one--

By Violante, of whose love and mine

You are not ignorant, since that ere this

We had been married, had not kindred forc'd us

To wait a dispensation for 't from Rome.

Blanca (I am sure) will readily

Embrace any occasion of obliging her.

+Don F.+ That were a right expedient indeed,

Could but Elvira's spirit brook it.

_Enter +Elvira+ as from the closet._

+Elv.+ You have ill measures of Elvira's spirit,

Mistaken Don Fernando. Till Heaven's justice

Shall her entirely to herself restore,

The lowlier shape her fate shall hide her under,

The more 'twill fit her humour.

[_+Don Julio+ starts back as it were amazed._

+Don J.+ [_Aside._] O heavens! can guilt with such perfection dwell,

And put on such assurance? It cannot be.

+Don J.+ [_Addressing himself to her, and beginning; she

holding out her hand and interrupting him._] Madam----

+Elv.+ Spare compliments, and let your actions speak:

Those may oblige both him and me; your words

Cannot comply with both.

+Don J.+ [_Aside._] Did ever yet

Such majesty with misery combine,

But in this woman? [_To her._] Madam, I obey,

And, since you're pleas'd t' approve what I proposed,

No moment shall be lost in th' execution.

[_Exit +Julio+, +Fernando+ accompanying him,

and +Fabio+._

+Elv.+ O, how unkindly have the heavens dealt

With womankind above all other creatures!

Our pleasure and our glory to have placed

All on the brink of precipices, such

As every breath can blow the least light of us

Headlong into, past all hopes of redemption:

Nor can our wit or virtue give exemption.

'Tis true, I lov'd; but justified therein

By spotless thoughts and by the object's merit,

I deem'd myself above the reach of malice;

When in an instant, by another's folly,

I am more lost than any by her[6] own.

Accurs'd Don Zancho, what occasion

E'er gave Elvira to thy mad intrusion?

Unless disdain and scorn incentives are

To make men's passions more irregular.

Ah, matchless rigour of the Pow'rs above!

Not only to submit our honour's fate

Unto the vanity of those we love,

But to the rashness even of those we hate. [_Exit._

_Enter +Donna Blanca+ at one door, reading a paper, with great

marks of passion and disturbance; and her waiting-woman

+Francisca+ at another, observing her._

+Blan.+ Ah, the traitor!

+Fran.+ What can this mean? [_Aside._

+Blan.+ Was this thy sweet pretension at Madrid,

Drawn out in length, and hind'ring thy return?

Thy fair pretence, thou shouldst have said, false man.

+Fran.+ For love's sake, madam, what can move you thus?

+Blan.+ For hate's sake, say, and for revenge, Francisca,

And so thou may'st persuade me to discover

My shame unto thee. Read, read that letter;

'Tis from your favourite Chichon.

[_+Francisca+ takes the letter and reads it._

"Madam, to make good my engagements of concealing nothing from

you during this absence of my master, I am bound to tell you

that some ten days since, late at night, he was left for dead,

run through the body by another unknown gallant, in the chamber

of a famed beauty of the court. Whilst the danger continued,

I thought it not fit to let you know either the accident or

the occasion; which, now he is recovered, and thinking of his

return to Valencia, I must no longer forbear. I hope you will

have a care not to undo me for being more faithful to you than

to the master you gave me.--Your creature,

"+Chichon.+"

+Blan.+ Have I not a worthy gallant, think you?

+Fran.+ Madam, this comes of being over-curious,

And gaining servants to betray their masters.

How quiet might you have slept, and never felt

What pass'd with your Don Zancho at Madrid!

His pale and dismal looks at his return,

Though caus'd by loss of blood in the hot service

Of other dames, might fairly have been thought

Effects of care and want of sleep for you,

And (taken so) have pass'd for new endearments.

Who ever pry'd into another's letter,

Or slyly hearken'd to another's whisper,

But saw or heard somewhat that did not please him?

'Twas Eve's curiosity undid us all.

+Blan.+ Away with thy moralities,[7] dull creature!

I'll make thee see, and false Don Zancho feel,

That Blanca's not a dame to be so treated.

But who are those I hear without? Whoe'er

They be, they come at an unwelcome hour. [_+Francisca+ looks out._

+Fran.+ Madam, it is a page of Violante's,

Ushering [in] a handsome maid.

_Enter a Page with a letter, and +Elvira+. The Page presents

the letter to +Blanca+; she addresses herself to +Elvira+,

and she throws up her veil._

+Blan.+ This letter is in your behalf, fair maid,

[_Having read the letter._

There's no denying such a recommender;

But such a face as yours is needed none.

Page, tell your lady as much: and you, Silvia, [_Turning._

(For so she says you are call'd) be confident

Y'are fallen into the hands of one that knows

How to be kind, more as your friend than mistress,

If your demeanour and good-nature answer

But what your looks do promise.

+Elv.+[8] Madam, it is the noble charity

Of those you cast upon me, not mine own,

To which I must acknowledge any advantage

I ever can pretend to, more than what

Fair Violante's meditation gives me.

+Blan.+ She's strangely handsome, and how well

she speaks! [_Aside to +Francisca+._

+Fran.+ So, so, methinks: you know new-comers, madam,

Set still the best foot forward.

+Blan.+ And know as well, that you decaying stagers

Are always jealous of new-comers, young

And handsome.

+Fran.+ You may be as sharp upon me as you please;

I know to what t' attribute your ill-humour.

+Blan.+ Francisca, entertain her: I'll go write

To Violante, and then rest awhile,

In hopes to ease the headache that hath seiz'd me;

That done, sweet Silvia, we shall talk at leisure. [_Exit +Blanca+._

+Fran.+ _Sweet Silvia!_ kind epithets are for new faces. [_Aside._

+Elv.+ Now comes the hard part of my task indeed,

To act the fellow waiting-woman right.

But, since the gods already have conform'd

My mind to my condition, I do hope

They'll teach me words and gestures suitable.

[_Aside. +Francisca+ embraces +Elvira+._

+Fran.+ Let me embrace thee, my sweet sister, and beg you

To be no niggard of a little kindness:

A very little serves, with such a face,

To gain what heart you please.

+Elv.+ If it can help to gain me yours, I'll take it

For the best office that it ever did me,

And love it much the better.

+Fran.+ Make much on't then, for that 't has done already.

+Elv.+ If you will have me vain enough to think it,

You must confirm it by the proof of being

My kind instructor how to please my lady,

For I am very raw in service.

+Fran.+ O, that

I were so too, and had thy youth t' excuse it.

But my experience, sister, shall be yours

By free communication. Come, let's in,

And rest us in my chamber; there I'll give you

First handsel of the frankness of my nature.

[_Exeunt +Elvira+ and +Francisca+._

_Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ his man,

in riding-habits._

+Don Z.+ I must confess, Chichon, the very smell

Of sweet Valencia has e'en reviv'd my spirits.

There's no such pleasure as to suck and breathe

One's native air.

+Chi.+ Chiefly after being in so fair a way,

As you, of never breathing any more!

+Don Z.+ Prythee, no more of that; since I have forgot it,

Methinks thou easily may'st.

+Chi.+ Faith, hardly, sir, whilst still your ghastly face

Doth bear such dismal memorandums of it,

Apter to raise inquisitiveness in those

Knowing nothing of the matter, than t' allay

Remembrance in partakers.

+Don Z.+ Heaven shield us from Donna Blanca's queries!

No matter for the rest.

+Chi.+ You would not wish to find her so unconcern'd;

I'm sure you would not: faith, I long to hear

Th' ingenious defeats, I make account,

You are prepar'd to give to her suspicions.

+Don Z.+ Let me alone for that: but, on thy life,

Be sure that nothing be screw'd out of thee,

Neither by her nor by her sly Francisca.

+Chi.+ Be you, sir, sure, that from your true Chichon

They'll know no more to-day, than yesterday

They did; nor thence more to the world's end,

Than what they did before we left Madrid.

+Don Z.+ Truly, Chichon, we needs must find the means

To get a sight of her this very night:

I die, if I should miss it.

+Chi.+ Last week left gasping for Elvira's love.

And scarce reviv'd, when presently expiring

For Blanca's again! I did not think Don Cupid

Had been a merchant of such quick returns.

+Don Z.+ Thou art an ass, and want'st distinctiveness

'Twixt love and love: that was a love of sport

To keep the serious one in breath.

+Chi.+ Faith, sir, I must confess my ignorance,

That when I saw you grovelling in your blood,

I thought your love had been in sober sadness.

+Don Z.+ Prythee, leave fooling, and let's carefully

Gain the back way into my house unseen,

That none may know of my return, till Blanca

Find me at her feet. And be you industrious

T' observe Don Julio's going forth this evening:

Doubtless he'll keep his usual hours abroad

At Violante's, since not married yet.

+Chi.+ I shall observe your orders punctually. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Don Julio+, and knocks as at +Blanca's+ door._

+Don J.+ What, sister, at your siesta[9] already? if so,

You must have patience to be wak'd out of it,

For I have news to tell you.

_Enter +Blanca+._

+Blan.+ No, brother, I was much more pleasingly

Employ'd--in serving you; that is, making

My court to Violante by receiving

To wait upon me, in Lucilla's place,

A gentlewoman of her recommending.

+Don J.+ Where is she? let me see her.

+Blan.+ 'Twere not safe:

She is too handsome. You think now I jest?

But, without raillery, she is so lovely,

That, were not Violante very assur'd

Of her own beauty and the strong ideas

That still upholds within you, one might question

Her wit to have set her in her gallant's way.

But what's the news you mean?

+Don J.+ That our dear friend and kinsman, Don Fernando,

Is come to town, and going for Italy:

The secret of it doth so much import him,

It forc'd him to forbear alighting here,

And lodging with us, as he us'd to do;

But yet he says, nothing shall hinder him

From waiting on you in the dusk of th' evening:

I hope you'll find wherewith to regale[10] him.

+Blan.+ As well as you have drain'd my cabinets

Of late in presents to your mistress, some

Perfumes will yet be found, such as at Rome

Itself shall not disgrace Valencia.

+Don J.+ I know your humour, and that the best present

Can be given you is to give you the occasion

Of presenting; but I am come in now

Only to advertise you, and must be gone;

Yet not, I hope, without a sight of one

So recommended and commended so.

+Blan.+ I should have thought you strangely chang'd in humour,

Should you have gone away so uncuriously.

Francisca, ho! [_She knocks._

_Enter +Francisca+._

+Fran.+ What please you, madam?

+Fran.+ Prythee, tell Silvia I would speak with her.

[_Exit +Francisca+._

Well, clear your eyes, and say I have no skill,

If she appears not t' ye exceeding handsome.

_Enter +Francisca+ with +Elvira+. +Don Julio+

salutes her._

+Don J.+ Welcome, fair maid, into this family,

Where, whilst you take a servant's name upon you,

To do my sister honour, you must allow

Its master to be yours, and that by strongest ties,

Knowing who plac'd you here, and having eyes.

+Elv.+ I wish my service, sir, to her and you

May merit such a happy introduction.

+Don J.+ Farewell, sister, till anon: accompanied

As now you are, I think you'll miss me little. [_Exit +Julio+._

+Blan.+ I must confess, I ne'er could better spare you

Than at this time, but not for any reason

That you, I hope, can guess at.

Francisca, you and Silvia may retire,

[_Exeunt +Elvira+ and +Francisca+._

And entertain yourselves: I'll to my closet,

And try to rest, or (rather) to vent freely

My restless thoughts. O, the self-torturing part [_Aside._

To force complaisance from a jealous heart! [_Exit._

FOOTNOTES:

[5] The errors Dodsley committed, and Reed allowed to remain, in the

course of this play, were very numerous: it has been thought worth

while to point out only a few of them in the notes.--_Collier._

[6] The substitution of _my_ for _her_, in opposition to the authority

of the old copy, till now made this passage unintelligible.--_Collier._

[7] In former editions misprinted--

"Away with thy _formalities_, dull creature!"--

which destroys all the spirit of the exclamation.--_Collier._

[8] The old copy inserts in the margin opposite Elvira the words _by

the name of Silvia_ merely to show more distinctly that Elvira was to

pass by that name, which is inserted before what she says.--_Collier._

[9] The heat of the day, from noon forwards. So called from Hora Sexta,

noonday, a time when the Spanish ladies retire to sleep.

[10] It is singular that in the old copy the author should here

have inserted the Spanish verb _regalar_ instead of the English

one.--_Collier._

ACT II.

_Scene changes to the room in the inn. Enter +Don

Julio+ and +Don Fernando+._

+Don J.+ Albricias,[11] friend, for the good news I bring you:

All has fallen out as well as we could wish.

As to Elvira's settling with my sister,

So lucky a success in our first aims

Concerning her, I trust, does bode good fortune

Beyond our hopes; yet, in the farther progress

Of this affair----

+Don F.+ There's no such thing in nature left as _better_,

Julio; the worst proves always true with me.

Yet prythee, tell, how does that noble beauty

(Wherein high quality is so richly stamp'd)

Comport her servile metamorphosis?

+Don J.+ As one whose body, as divine as 'tis,

Seems bound to obey exactly such a mind,

And gently take whate'er shape that imposes.

+Don F.+ Ah, let us mention her no more, my Julio!

Ideas flow upon me too abstracted

From her unfaithfulness, and may corrupt

The firmest reason. Above all, be sure

I do not see her so transform'd, lest that

Transform me too: I'll rather pass with Blanca

Both for unkind and rude, and leave Valencia

Without seeing her.

+Don J.+ Leave that to me, Fernando;

But if you intend the honour to my sister,

It will be time: the night draws on apace.

+Don F.+ Come, let's begone then.

[_As they are going out, enter +Fabio+ hastily._

+Fab.+ Stay, sir, for heaven's sake, stay----

+Don F.+ Why, what's the matter?

+Fab.+ That will surprise you both, as much as me.

Don Pedro de Mendoça is below,

Newly alighted.

+Don F.+ Ha! What say'st thou, sirrah?

Elvira's father?

+Fab.+ Sir, the very same;

And he had scarcely set one foot to ground

When he inquired, Where lives Don Julio Rocca?

+Don J.+ For my house, Fabio? It cannot be;

I never knew the man.

+Don F.+ The thing does speak itself and my hard fate.

What else can bring him hither but pursuit

Of me and of his daughter, having learn'd

The way we took? and what's so easy, Julio,

Here at Valencia, as to know our friendship;

And then of consequence, your house to be

My likeliest retreat?

+Don J.+ 'Tis surely so;

Let us apply our thoughts to best preventives.

+Don F.+ Whilst we retire into the inner room

T' advise together, Fabio, be you sure

(Since unknown to him) to observe his motions. [_Exeunt omnes._

_Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter +Don Zancho+

and +Chichon+, as in the street near +Don Julio's+ house._

+Don Z.+ Newly gone out, say you?

That is as lucky as we could have wish'd:

And see but how invitingly the door

Stands open still!

+Chi.+ An open door may lead to a face of wood;

[_Aside to +Don Zancho+._

But mean you, sir, to go abruptly in

Without more ceremony?

+Don Z.+ Surprise redoubles (fool) the joys of lovers.

But stay, Chichon, let's walk aside awhile,

Till yonder coach be past. [_Exeunt._

_Scene changes to the room in the inn. Enter +Don

Julio+ and +Don Fernando+._

+Don J.+ There's no safety in any other way.

You must not stir from hence, until w' have got

Some farther light what course he means to steer.

Let Fabio be vigilant: I'll get home

Down that back-stairs, and take such order there

Not to be found, in case he come to inquire,

As for this night at least shall break his measures;

And in the morning we'll resolve together,

Whether you ought to quit Valencia or no.

+Don F.+ Farewell, then, for to-night: I'll be alert.

But see y' excuse me fairly to my cousin. [_Exeunt._

_Scene changes to +Blanca's+ antechamber. Enter

+Donna Blanca+ and +Francisca+._

+Blan.+ As well as Silvia pleases me, Francisca,

I'm glad at present that she is not well,

She would constrain me else: she has wit enough

To descant on my humour, and from thence

To make perhaps discoveries, not fit

For such new-comers.

+Fran.+ If she has wit, she keep it to herself,

At least from me: of pride and melancholy

I see good store.

+Blan.+ Still envious and detracting?

_Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+._

+Fran.+ See who comes there, madam, to stop your mouth!

[_+Donna Blanca+ casting an eye that way, and +Chichon+

clinging up close behind his master, and making a

mouth._

+Chi.+ Sh' has spied us, and it thickens in the clear.

I fear a storm: goes not your heart pit-a-pat?

[_To his master, aside._

+Blan.+ Ah, the bold traitor!--but I must dissemble,

And give his impudence a little line,

The better to confound him.

[_Advancing to him, and as it were embracing him

with an affected cheerfulness._

Welcome as unexpected, my Don Zancho.

+Don Z.+ Nay, then we are safe, Chichon. [_Aside to +Chichon+._

Incomparable maid! Heaven bless those eyes,

From which I find a new life springing in me;

Having so long been banish'd from their rays,

How dark the court appear'd to me without them;

Could it have kept me from their influence,

As from their light, I had expir'd long since.

+Blan.+ Y' express your love now in so courtly a style,

I fear you have acted it in earnest there,

And but rehearse to me your country mistress.

+Don Z.+ Ah, let Chichon but tell you how he hath seen me

During my absence from you.

+Chi.+ I vow I have seen him even dead for love.

You might have found it in his very looks,

Before you brought the blood into his cheeks.

+Blan.+ E'en dead (you say) for love! but say of whom?

+Don Z.+ Can Blanca ask a question so injurious,

As well to her own perfections as my faith?

+Blan.+ I can hold no longer. [_Aside to +Francisca+._

My faithful lover, then it is not you---- [_To him scornfully._

+Chi.+ She changes tone: I like not, faith, the key,

The music will be jarring. [_Aside to his master._

+Blan.+ 'Tis not then you, Don Zancho, who, having chang'd

His suit at court into a love pretension,

And his concurrents into a gallant rival,

Fell by his hand, a bloody sacrifice

At his fair mistress' feet: who was it, then?

[_+Don Zancho+ stands awhile as amazed, with folded arms.

+Chichon+ behind his master, holding up his hands, and

making a pitiful face; +Francisca+ steals to him, and

holding up her hand threateningly_--

+Fran.+ A blab, Chichon, a pick-thank, peaching varlet!

Ne'er think to look me in the face again. [_Aside to +Chichon+._

+Chi.+ In what part shall I look thee, hast thou a worse?

It is the devil has discover'd it--

Some witch dwells here: I've long suspected thee.

[_Aside to +Francisca+._

+Fran.+ I never more shall think thee worth my charms.

+Blan.+ What, struck dumb with guilt? perfidious man!

That happens most to the most impudent,

When once detected. Well, get thee hence,

And see thou ne'er presum'st to come again

Within these walls, or I shall let thee see

'Tis not at court alone, where hands are found

To let such madmen blood.

[_She turns as going away, and +Don Zancho+

holds her gently by the gown._

+Don Z.+ Give me but hearing, madam, and then if----

+Don J.+ What, ho! no lights below-stairs? [_Aloud, as below._

+Fran.+ O heavens! madam, hear you not your brother?

Into the chamber quickly, and let them

Retire behind that hanging; there's a place,

Where usually we throw neglected things.

I'll take the lights and meet him: certainly

His stay will not be long from Violante

At this time of the night; besides, you know,

He never was suspicious.

[_+Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ go behind the hanging, and

+Donna Blanca+, retiring to her chamber, says--_

Capricious fate! must I who, whilst I lov'd him,

Ne'er met with checking accident, fall now

Into extremest hazards for a man,

Whom I begin to hate?

[_Exit, and +Francisca+ at another door with the lights._

_+Francisca+ re-enters with +Don Julio+._

+Don J.+ Where's my sister?

+Fran.+ In her chamber, sir,

Not very well; she's taken with a megrim.

+Don J.+ Light me in to her.

[_Exit +Don Julio+, +Francisca+ lighting him with one of

the lights. +Chichon+ peeping out from behind the

hangings._

+Chi.+ If this be Cupid's prison, 'tis no sweet one.

Here are no chains of roses; yet I think

Y' had rather b' in 't than in Elvira's chamber,

As gay and as perfum'd as 'twas.

+Don Z.+ Hold your peace, puppy; is this a time for fooling?

_Enter +Francisca+, and +Chichon+ starts back._

+Fran.+ [_Coming to the hanging._] Chichon, look out; you may,

the coast is clear. [_+Chichon+ looks out._

Could I my lady's near concerns but sever

From yours in this occasion, both of you

Should dearly pay your falsehood.

+Chi.+ You are jealous too, I see; but help us out

This once, and if you catch me here again,

Let Chichon pay for all, faithful Chichon.

+Fran.+ Y' are both too lucky in the likelihood

Of getting off so soon. Stay but a moment,

Whilst I go down to see the wicket open,

And see that there be nobody in the way. [_Exit +Francisca+._

+Chi.+ It is a cunning drab, and knows her trade.

_Re-enter +Francisca,+ and comes to the hanging._

+Fran.+ There's now some witch o' th' wing indeed, Chichon,

Julio, that never till this night forbore

To go to Violante's, ere he slept,

And pass some hours there--Julio, who never

Inquired after the shutting of a door,

Hath lock'd the gate himself at 's coming in,

And bid a servant wait below till midnight,

With charge to say to any that should knock

And ask for him, that he's gone sick to bed!

What it can mean, I know not.

+Chi.+ I would I did not; but I have too true

An almanac in my bones foretells a beating

Far surer than foul weather. He has us, faith,

Fast in Lob's-pound.[12] Heaven send him a light hand,

To whom my fustigation shall belong:

As for my master, he may have the honour

To be rebuk'd at sharp.

+Fran.+ May terror rack this varlet; but for you, sir,

Be not dismay'd, the hazard's not so great.

Yonder balcony, at farther end o' th' room,

Opens into the street, and the descent is

Little beyond your height, hung by the arms:

When Julio is asleep, I shall not fail

To come and let you out; I keep the key.

In the meanwhile, you must have patience.

+Chi.+ It were a nasty hole to stay in long.

Did not my fear correct its evil savour. [_Aside._

Dame, you say well for him, with whom I think

Y' have measur'd length, you speak so punctually

Of his dimensions; but I see no care

For me, your pretty, not your proper man,

Who does abhor feats of activity. [_To her._

+Fran.+ I'll help you--with a halter!

[_Exit +Francisca+, and +Chichon+ retires._

_Scene changes to +Blanca's+ Bed-chamber. Enter +Blanca+ and

+Elvira+; and soon after +Francisca+, as in +Blanca's+

chamber, she sitting at her toilet undressing._

+Blan.+ My brother told me I should see him again,

Before he went to rest.

+Fran.+ I think I hear him coming.

+Blan.+ He'll not stay long, I hope; for I am on thorns

Till I know they are out. I' th' meanwhile,

We must persuade Silvia to go to bed,

Lest some odd chance should raise suspicion in her,

Before I know her fitness for such trusts.

_Enter +Don Julio+. +Elvira+ offers to unpin her gorget._

+Blan.+ I prythee, Silvia, leave, and get thee gone

To bed: you ha'n't been well, nor are not yet;

Your heavy eyes betray indisposition.

+Elv.+ Good madam, suffer me; 'twill make me well

To do you service.

+Blan.+ Brother, I ask your help; [_To Julio._

Take Silvia hence, and see her in her chamber.

This night she must be treated as a stranger,

And you must do the honour of your house.

[_+Julio+ goes to +Elvira+, and taking

her by the hand, leads her away._

+Elv.+ Since you will not let me begin to serve,

I will begin to obey. [_Making a low curtsey._

+Fran.+ Quaint, in good faith! [_Bridling._

+Don J.+ My sister's kinder than she thinks, to give me

[_To +Elvira+, as he leads her._

This opportunity of telling Silvia

How absolutely mistress in this place

Elvira is. [_+Francisca+ whispers all this while with +Blanca+._

+Elv.+ Good sir, forget that name. [_Exeunt +Julio+ and +Elvira+._

+Blan.+ If that be so, what shall we do, Francisca?

What way to get them out?

+Fran.+ It is a thing so unusual with him,

It raises ominous thoughts, else I make sure

To get them off as well as you can wish;

But, if already awaken'd by suspicion,

Nothing can then be sure.

+Blan.+ O, fear not that: what you have seen him do

Of unaccustom'd, I dare say relates

To quite another business.

+Fran.+ Then set your heart at rest from all disturbance

Arising from this accident.

+Blan.+ If you are certain

To get them off so clear from observation,

'Twill out of doubt be best: I'll tell my brother

Don Zancho is return'd, and had call'd here

This evening to have seen him; for my fears

Sprang only from the hour and the surprise,

Warm'd as he then had found me; since you know

How little apt he is to jealousy.

+Fran.+ Madam, y' have reason; that will make all sure,

In case he should be told of's being here;

The time of's stay can hardly have been noted.

_Enter +Don Julio+._

+Don J.+ As an obedient brother, I have perform'd

What you commanded me.

+Blan.+ A hard injunction from a cruel sister,

To wait upon a handsome maid to her chamber!

+Don J.+ You see I've not abused your indulgence

By staying long; nor can I stay indeed

With you, I must be abroad so early

To-morrow morning; therefore, dear, good night.

+Blan.+ Stay, brother, stay; I had forgot to tell you

[_As he is going._

Don Zancho de Moneçes is return'd,

And call'd this evening here t' have kiss'd your hands.

Francisca spake with him.

+Don J.+ I hope he's come successful in his suit:

To-morrow I'll go see him. [_Exit +Don Julio+._

+Blan.+ You see he's free from umbrage on that subject.

+Fran.+ I see all's well, and may he sleep profoundly--

The sooner, madam, you are abed the better.

+Blan.+ Would once my fears were over, that my rage

Might have its course.

+Fran.+ I shall not stop it,

But after it has had its full career

'Twill pause, I hope, and reason find an ear. [_Exeunt._

_Scene changes to the room in the inn. Enter +Don

Fernando+ and +Fabio+._

+Don F.+ Is he gone out?

+Fab.+ No, sir, not as yet;

But seeing the servant he had sent abroad

Newly return'd, I listen'd at his door,

And heard him plainly give him this account--

That he had found Don Julio Rocca's house,

And having knock'd a good while at the door,

Answer was made him without opening it,

Don Julio's not at home; whereat Don Pedro

Impatient rose, and, calling for his cloak

And sword, he swore he'd rather wait himself

Till midnight at his door, than lose a night

In such a pressing business.--This I thought

Fit to acquaint you with, and that he spake

Doubtfully of his returning to lodge here.

+Don F.+ You have done well, but must do better yet,

In following him, and being sure to lose

No circumstance of what he does.

+Fab.+ To dog him possibly might be observ'd,

This moonlight, by his servant; but since, sir,

We're certain whither he goes, my best course

(I think) will be to go out the back-way,

And place myself beforehand in some porch

Near Julio's house, where I may see and hear

What passes, and then do as I shall see cause.

+Don F.+ 'Tis not ill thought on; but how late soever

Your return be, I shall expect to see you,

Before we go to bed.

+Fab.+ I shall not fail. [_Exeunt._

_Scene changes to +Donna Blanca's+ antechamber. Enter

+Francisca+, and goes to the hanging where +Don Zancho+ and

+Chichon+ are hid._

+Fran.+ Ho! trusty servant with his faithful master!

Come out; the balcony's open, lose no time,

Julio's abed, and fast asleep ere this--

There's nobody in the street, it is so light

One may discover a mile; therefore be quick.

[_+Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ come out from behind the

hanging, and follow her, as leading to the balcony._

[_Exeunt._

[_And soon after +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ appear as in

the balcony, and +Francisca's+ head as peeping out of

the door into it._

_Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter +Fabio+ as in

the street, and settling himself in a porch._

+Fab.+ Here is a porch, as if 'twere built on purpose.

[+Fabio+, _looking up, perceives them in the balcony._

Ha! here's a vision that I little dreamt of.

Stand close, Fabio, and mum!

[_+Don Zancho+ gets over the balcony, and letting himself

down at arm's length, leaps gently into the street.

+Chichon+ offers at the like, but takes a fall as he

lights, and (rising) counterfeits lameness. +Francisca+

retires, and locks the balcony._

+Chi.+ Curse on the drab, I think I've broke my leg.

+Fab.+ The moon has turn'd my brains, or I have seen

That person somewhere, and that very lately--

[_He pauses, scratching his head._

But, sure, I'm mad to think it can be he.

[_Exeunt +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+, as turning

down the next street._

_Enter +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+._

+Fab.+ O, now I see my men. [_Retiring into the porch._

+Don P.+ This is the street, you say; which is the house?

+Fulv.+ That fair one, over against the monastery.

Shall I go knock?

+Don P.+ What else?

[_+Fulvio+ knocks at +Don Julio's+ door, and nobody answers._

+Don P.+ Knock harder.

[_He knocks again, and one asks as from within_, Who's there?

+Don P.+ A stranger, who must needs speak with Don Julio,

Although unknown to him: my business presses.

+From within.+ Whoe'er you be, and whatsoe'er your business,

You must have patience till to-morrow, sir.

Don Julio went sick to bed, and I dare not

Wake him.

+Don P.+ Fortune takes pleasure, sure, in disappointing,

When men are press'd with most impatience;

But, since there is no remedy, guide, Fulvio,

Unto the lodging y' have provided for me;

I hope 'tis near at hand.

+Fulv.+ Not above three doors from Don Julio's,

There, where it makes the corner of the street. [_Pointing._

+Fab.+ Here I must follow, till I've harbour'd them.

[_Exeunt; +Fabio+ stealing after them._

_Scene changes to a room in the inn. Enter +Don

Fernando+ alone, as in his chamber._

+Don F.+ It cannot now be long, ere Fabio come,

And 'twere in vain to go to bed before,

For rest, I'm sure, I should not--

[_He walks about the room pensively._

Ah, my Elvira!--Mine? thou dost infect

My very words with falsehood, when I name thee.

Did ever mistress make a lover pay

So dear as I for the short bliss she gave?

What now I suffer in exchange of that,

May make mankind afraid of joys excessive.

But here he comes--

_Enter +Fabio+._

Have you learn'd anything

That's worth the knowing? [_To +Fabio+._

+Fab.+ Two things I think considerable, sir:

The one, that Julio hath found means to gain

This night to cast your business in, without

Admitting of Don Pedro, whose pressures

Might have been troublesome, and urged you

To hasty resolutions; whereas now

You've time to take your measures. The other, sir,

Is that Don Pedro lodges here no more,

And consequently hath eas'd you of constraint,

Whilst you rest here, and left the way more free

For intercourse betwixt Don Julio and you.

This more I must observe t' ye, that Don Pedro

Took special care to have his lodging near

Don Julio's house, whereby 'tis evident,

That there he makes account his business lies.

+Don F.+ The news you bring me hath been worth your pains,

And thanks t' ye for 't. I suppose that is all?

+Fab.+ Perhaps there's something else.

+Don F.+ Say, Fabio, what is't?

+Fab.+ Pray, sir, allow me

This night to think, whether it be fit or no

To tell it you; since 'tis a thing relates not,

As I conceive, to you nor to your business;

And yet, in the concernments of another,

May trouble you.

+Don F.+ Be not o'erwise, I prythee. I will know

What 'tis, since you have raised curiosity

By such grimaces.

+Fab.+ You must be obey'd; but pray remember, sir,

If afterwards I am call'd fool for my pains,

Who made me so: but since I do not only

Expect the fool, but ready to be thought

A madman too, ere I have done my story,

In this I will be wilful, not to tell it

Till y' are abed, that I may run away--

So if you long to hear it, hasten thither.

[_Exit +Fabio+, as to the chamber within._

+Don F.+ Content, i'faith; you ask no great compliance. [_Exit._

_Scene changes to the room in +Zancho's+ house. Enter +Don

Zancho+; and +Chichon+, as at home, halting._

+Don Z.+ We're well come off from danger; would we were

But half as well from Blanca's jealousy.

+Chi.+ Speak for yourself; I never came off worse.

A pox upon your venery, it has made me

Another Vulcan. [_He halts about, grumbling._

+Don Z.+ Go, rest to-night, or grumble, as you please;

But do not think limping will serve your turn

To-morrow: faith, I'll make you stir your stumps.

Think you a lover of my temper likely

To sit down by it so?

+Chi.+ I'm sure I am only fit to sit down by it,

Since I can hardly stand.

[_He makes as if he would sit down, and +Don

Zancho+ giving him a kick on the breech._

+Don Z.+ Coxcomb, come away.

+Chi.+ To-night's to-night: to-morrow's a new day.[13] [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[11] See an early note to "The Adventures of Five Hours" in the present

volume.

[12] [_i.e._, In a snare. See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 200, where

it is shown that the earlier phrase is _Cob's pound_.]

[13] [A common proverbial expression.]

ACT III.

_Enter +Don Fernando+ and +Fabio,+ as in the room

in the inn._

+Don F.+ Are all things ready, Fabio, in case

Don Julio, when he comes, conclude with me

That I should be gone presently?

+Fab.+ Horses stand ready for you at the posthouse.

+Don F.+ 'Tis well; attend without. [_Exit +Fabio+._

_Enter +Don Julio+._

I see you sleep not in your friend's concerns,

You are so early; and since so, the sooner

We fix a resolution, certainly

'Twill be the better. 'Twas no small point gain'd,

To frustrate for a night Don Pedro's aims,

As Fabio tells me you have done; for he

Ne'er quitted him an inch last night, until

He had harboured him.

+Don J.+ What, has he left his lodging?

+Don F.+ That he has,

And (which is more considerable) taken one

Close by your house, which evidences clearly,

Where his suspicions lie: that being so,

I'm confident you'll be of my opinion

For my dislodging from Valencia

Immediately; for, Elvira being

Already so well settled, nothing can

So much endanger her discovery

As my remaining longer in these parts.

+Don J.+ Were I but free as yesterday, Fernando,

To think of nothing but Elvira and your

Concernments, I must confess your absence

From hence were to be wish'd: but, cousin,

There's fallen out this very night a thing,

Which shows how little I beholden am

To fortune that, having so newly lent me

The means of serving handsomely my friend,

Calls back the debt already, and makes me

As needing of your aid, as you of mine.

+Don. F.+ Ho! Fabio, forbid the horses presently.

[_+Fabio+ looks in._

The least appearance, Julio, of my being [_To +Julio+._

Useful to you by staying puts an end

To all deliberation for myself;

Say, what's the accident? you have me ready.

+Don J.+ Such and of such a nature, my Fernando,

That, as to be communicated to none

But you (another self), so I am sure

It will astonish you with the rehearsal.

Ah! could you think it possible, that Blanca

Should raise disturbance in the heart of Julio,

As to the honour of his family?

+Don F.+ Heavens forbid!

+Don J.+ Never was brother so secure as I,

Or so unalterable in his persuasion,

Of having a sister of unmatch'd discretion;

Nor e'er could less than evidence itself

Have shaken such a confidence.

+Don F.+ For God's sake, Julio,

Hold me no longer in such pain of mind.

But, sure, we shall be better there within,

Free from the noise of the street.

+Don J.+ You say well. [_Exit +Julio+._

+Don F.+ [_As he follows him, aside._] This is what Fabio told me

he saw last night,

Discovered by some accident to Julio;

It can be nothing else. O women, women! [_Exit +Fernando+._

_Enter +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+, as in their new lodgings._

+Don P.+ I am glad you have lighted on so fit a place

For all I intend, as this is, Fulvio.

I shall repair the last night's disappointment

By early care this morning: in the meanwhile,

Fail not of your part in the discovery

Where my enemy dwells, and i' th' observation

Of all his motions; that's the important part.

+Fulv.+ Rely, sir, on my care and vigilance.

[_Exeunt +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+._

_Enter +Don Julio+ and +Don Fernando+, as in the

outward room of the inn._

+Don J.+ It is a quarter

Always reserv'd to my own privacy.

There lying unsuspected, if, whilst I

Continue late abroad, under pretence

Of being at Violante's, you keep watch

Carefully within, he cannot 'scape us:

So you be sure to observe punctually

The sign agreed, and bolting of the doors,

When he is once within.

+Don F.+ Since you have so resolv'd and laid your business,

Dispose of me, and lead the way, whilst I

Give Fabio his instruction what to do

During my absence. [_Exeunt +Fernando+ and +Julio+._

_Enter +Donna Blanca+ and +Francisca+, as in

+Blanca's+ antechamber._

+Fran.+ Since the black cloud, that threaten'd you last night

With such a storm, is luckily blown over

Without a sprinkling, I hope, madam, you

Will imitate the Fates, and grow serene

From all those clouds which so much threaten'd others.

+Blan.+ Ah! Francisca, canst thou--

[_She stops, seeing +Elvira+ coming._

_Enter +Elvira+, with a fine basin of flowers._

But here's Silvia.

O, the sharp thorns she brings me at this time,

With flowers in her hand, by the constraint

Her presence gives me! [_Aside._

+Elv.+ Madam, I wish the 'ranging of these flowers

May be to your mind; but alas, I fear

I am too dull for works of fancy.

+Blan.+ 'Tis me you find too dull to relish them:

Anon they may be welcomer.

+Elv.+ I'll wait that happy hour.

[_Aside._] She's in ill humour. [_Exit +Elvira+._

+Blan.+ But tell me now, didst ever see, Francisca,

So false and bold a creature? The impudence

He had to clothe his treachery with new courtships,

Provokes me most of all.

+Fran.+ Last night indeed, incens'd as you were, madam,

I fain would know what air so soft and gentle

He could have breath'd, would not have blown the flame

Higher and higher; but methinks your pillow

Should in so many hours have had some power

T' allay and mollify: I then complied

(He present) with your anger; but now, madam,

You must allow me to speak reason t' you

In his behalf, before you go too far,

And put things in your passion past recal,

Which, that once over, you would give your life

To have again.

+Blan.+ Pray, think me not so tame.

+Fran.+ So tame, say you? I think you wild, I swear,

To take so much to heart, what at the most

Deserves but some such sparkling brisk resentment,

As, once flash'd out in a few choleric words,

Ought to expire in a next visit's coyness.

+Blan.+ Make you so slight of infidelity?

+Fran.+ Cupid forbid! I'd have men true to love;

But I'd have women, too, true to themselves,

And not rebuke their gallants by requiring

More than the nature of frail flesh will bear.

I'd have men true as steel; but steel, you know,

(The purest and best-polish'd steel) will ply,

Urg'd from its rectitude, forsooth; but then

With a smart spring comes to its place again.

+Blan.+ Come, leave your fooling, and speak soberly.

+Fran.+ Why then, in sober sadness, you're i' th' wrong--

I do not say in being angry with him,

And nettled at the thing--that's natural.

We love no partners, even in what we know

We cannot keep all to ourselves: but, madam,

To think the worse of him for it: or resolve

A breach of friendship for a slight excursion,

That were a greater fault than his, who has

For one excuse long absence; and in truth

Another you'd be sorry he wanted--youth.

+Blan.+ You talk as if----

+Fran.+ [_interrupting her._] Stay, madam, I beseech you,

And let me make an end: I have not yet

Touch'd the main point in his excuse, a suit

At court, enough I trow for any dog-trick.

+Blan.+ How like a goose you talk! a court pretension!

What has that to do, one way or other,

With his faith to me?

+Fran.+ So one, displeased to find his crawfishes

Shrivell'd within and empty, said to his cook

(Who laid the fault upon the wane o' th' moon):

What has the moon to do with crawfishes?

Marry, she has, 'tis she that governs shell-fish;

And 'tis as true, in courts that love rules business

By as preposterous an influence.

+Blan.+ I prythee, make an end, or come to th' point.

+Fran.+ Why, then, I'll tell you: you may believe me

(Having been train'd up in my youth, you know,

In the best school to learn court mysteries,

An aunt of mine being mother of the maids),

Love holds the rudder, and steers in all courts.

How oft, when great affairs perplex the brains

Of mighty politicians to conjecture,

From whence sprung such designs, such revolutions:

Such exaltations, madam, such depressions,

Against the rules of their mysterious art;

And when, as in surprising works of nature,

Reason's confounded, men cry those are secrets

Of the high pow'rs above, that govern all

Grave lookers on, stroking their beards, would say,

What a transcendent fetch of state is this!

These are the things that wisdom hides and hatches

Under black cap of weighty jobbernowl;

I mean Count Olivarez. All the while,

We female Machiavels would smile to think,

How closely lurking lay the nick of all

Under our daughter Doll's white petticoat.

+Blan.+ All this, I grant you, may be true, and yet

Ne'er make a jot for his excuse, Francisca.

His suit had no relation to such matters.

+Fran.+ Whate'er the thing be, 'tis all one. D' you think

Suits, be they what they will, can be obtain'd

By such as pass for fops, as all young men

Without a mistress or a confidant

Are sure to do there? A sharp-pointed hat

(Now that you see the gallants all flat-headed)

Appears not so ridiculous as a younker

Without a love-intrigue to introduce

And sparkify him there. Madam, in short,

Allow me once to be sententious:

It is a thing that always was, and is,

And ever will be, true to the world's end:

That, as in courts of justice, none can carry

On business well without a procurator,

So none in princes' courts their suits make surer,

Than those that work them by the best procurer.

+Blan.+ [_Smiling a little._] Well, hast done, Francisca?

+Fran.+ Madam, I have.

+Blan.+ Then letting pass

Thy fine reflections politic, now vented

To shew thy skill in courts, I'll tell thee freely,

I'm not transported in my jealousy

So far beyond the bounds of reason, as

Not to know well the difference betwixt

Such escapades of youth, as only spring

From warmth of blood or gales of vanity,

And such engagements as do carry with them

Dishonour unto those, whose quality

And love leave little to the serious part,

Once embark'd by them in a gallantry.

+Fran.+ I see the clouds disperse. There's no such art

Of compassing one's ends with those above us,

As that of working them into good humour

By things brought in by the by. [_Aside._

Why, surely, madam, unless anger lend you

Its spectacles to see things, I cannot think

You judge Don Zancho's fault to be any other

Than of the first kind, so well stated by you.

+Blan.+ Francisca, were I otherwise persuaded,

I am not of an humour that could suffer

Such parleys for him, much less intercession;

But since, upon reflection, I find cause

To think what he has done a sally only

Of youth and vanity, when I shall find him

Sufficiently mortified, I may pardon him.

+Fran.+ Heavens bless so sweet a temper! but, madam,

Have a care, I beseech you, of one thing.

+Blan.+ What's that?

+Fran.+ That, whilst your pride of heart

Prolongs his readmission, his despair

Urge him not to some precipitate attempt

That may expose your honour, safe as yet.

You see what danger the last night's distemper

Had like t' have brought you into: transported lovers,

Like angels fallen from their bliss, grow devils.

+Blan.+ What, would you have me appear so flexible?

Is't not enough

I tell you I may pardon him in due time?

+Fran.+ Good madam, be advis'd: I do not press you

For his sake, but your own. Trust my experience,

To women nought's so fatal as suspense;

Whose smartest actions ne'er did cast such blot

On honour as this--shall I? shall I not?

+Blan.+ I'd rather die, than have him think me easy.

+Fran.+ Your spirit never can be liable

To that suspicion. Madam, leave to me

The conduct of this matter, I beseech you:

If, ere you sleep, you do not see the gallant

Sufficiently humbled at your feet,

Ne'er trust Francisca more.

+Blan.+ You are so troublesome: do what you will.

[_+Blanca+ turns away, and exit as into her closet._

+Fran.+ What, gone away?

I'll do what she would have, but dares not say. [_Exit._

_Enter +Don Julio+ and +Elvira+, as in +Blanca's+ chamber._

+Don J.+ Where's my sister, Silvia? [_Looking about him._

+Elv.+ In her closet, sir:

As yet not ready.

+Don J.+ And where's Francisca?

+Elv.+ She's with her, dressing her.

+Don J.+ Why then, Elvira,

Let me not lose this opportunity

Of telling you how sad a man I am

To see you in this posture, and to assure you

How gladly I would lay down life and fortune

To serve you in Don Fernando's absence.

+Elv.+ Your generosity I make no doubt of:

But is Fernando gone?

+Don J.+ I cannot say

That he is gone; for he was not himself,

With the thought of leaving you, and yet less

Himself, whene'er he thought of staying near you;

Tortur'd by two such contrary passions,

As love and sharp resentment.

+Elv.+ He is gone then?---- [_She pauses._

Ah, generous Don Julio, [_Putting her handkerchief to her eyes._

You needs must be indulgent to a weakness

Which, whilst that he was present, indignation,

And a just sense of what I am, had pow'r

To keep within myself; but now I find

That check remov'd, nature will have its tribute,

And you must pardon my withdrawing, where [_She weeps._

Such grief may pay it with unwitness'd tears. [_Exit Elvira._

+Don J.+ Can a demeanour so compos'd, so noble,

And yet so tender, want true innocence?

It cannot be. It grieves my heart, I swear,

T' have given her new affliction; but the secret

Of Don Fernando's close concealment here

Is so important, it necessitated

My saying what I did, since secrets are

Ever kept best by those that know them least.

_Enter +Blanca+ and +Francisca+._

Now, high dissimulation play, thy part! [_Aside._

Good morrow, sister, have you rested well?

And do you rise serene, as does the sun?

Free from distemper, as the day from clouds?

Your looks persuade it me, they are so clear

And fresh this morning.

+Blan.+ The pleasure of seeing you puts life into them,

Else they'd be dull enough, this ugly headache

Having tormented me all night. You might

Have heard me call Francisca up at midnight.

+Fran.+ That was well thought on, for 'tis possible

He may have heard some noise. [_Aside._

+Don J.+ How cunning she is! [_Aside._

Faith, now you put me in mind of it (I think)

'Twixt sleep and waking, I once heard some stirring.

+Blan.+ The worst of my indisposition is,

That 'twill, I fear, hinder me again to-day

From visiting Violante, to thank her

For Silvia.

+Don J.+ I charge myself with all your compliments;

For this whole afternoon, till late at night,

I needs must pass with her, to make amends

For yesterday's failings, caus'd, as you know,

By Don Fernando's being in town.

+Blan.+ I must not hope to see you then again

To-day, when once gone out?

+Don J.+ Hardly; unless to wait on Violante,

In case she come to see you, as 'tis likely,

When I shall tell her you are indispos'd:

And so farewell. [_Exit +Don Julio+._

+Blan.+ All's well, I see, Francisca, as to him:

I wish my heart were but as much at rest

In what concerns Don Zancho.

+Fran.+ It shall be

Your own fault if it be not quickly so,

As I'll order the matter.

+Blan.+ Take heed you make him not grow insolent,

By discovering to him my facility.

+Fran.+ I'm too well vers'd to need instructions.

+Blan.+ I leave all t' you. But how does Silvia

This morning?

+Fran.+ I think she has been crying,

She looks so dull and moped.

+Blan.+ I'll in and see her. [_Exeunt._

_Scene changes to +Don Zancho's+ house. Enter +Don

Zancho+, and +Chichon+ limping._

+Don Z.+ What, not yet gone, thou lazy, trifling rascal?

+Chi.+ What juster excuse, sir, for not going,

Than is a broken leg?

+Don Z.+ If you find not your own leg quickly, sirrah,

I shall find you a wooden one.

+Chi.+ Be as angry as you will, sir, I'll not go

Till I have made my conditions: the true time

For servants to stand upon points is, when

Their masters stand upon thorns.

+Don Z.+ What are they, owl's face?

+Chi.+ Assurance, sir, but of free air within,

With fair retreat upon an even floor;

And that it shall not be in a slut's power,

After having kept me in a nasty place,

To empty me out at window.

+Don Z.+ Prythee, Chichon,

Ha' done, and miss not th' opportunity

By fooling. Unless you take Francisca,

Just as she comes from mass, this day is lost,

And I lost with it.

+Chi.+ Come, I'll hobble to her.

Expect a sorry account, but yet a true one;

Truth always comes by the lame messenger. [_Exeunt._

_Scene changes to a fine pleasant apartment. Enter +Don Julio+,

and knocks, as at the door of his private apartment:

+Fernando+ opens the door and lets him in._

+Don F.+ Y' have given me here a very pleasant prison:

But what news, my Julio? Are things disposed

For clearing of your doubts? My own concerns

I cannot think on during your disquiet.

+Don. J.+ And I come now so strangely mov'd with yours,

I scarce have sense or memory of my own.

A heart of adamant could not be hinder'd,

I think, from liquefaction into tears,

To 've seen and heard Elvira, as I have done,

Upon th' occasion of my telling her

That you were gone.

A sense so gallant and so tender both

I never saw in woman.

+Don. F.+ Can that high heart descend to tenderness?

+Don J.+ Not whilst (you present) noble pride upheld it;

But, nature once set free from that constraint,

O, how pathetic was her very silence!

And the restraint of tears in her swol'n eyes,

More eloquent in grief than others' torrents.

If she be guilty, all her sex are devils.

+Don. F.+ O, say no more; for were there room but left

For self-deceit, I might be happy yet.

Ah! evidence too cruel to deny me that! [_A noise without._

+Don. J.+ But what can be the noise I hear without--

In the next room? [_+Fernando+ peeps through the key-hole._

+Don F.+ 'Slife! I see Don Pedro,

Elvira's father: there's no avoiding him;

He'd not a' come up so, without being sure

You are within.

+Don J.+ Farther put-off would be of little use,

Since first or last he must be satisfied,

Being come hither upon such an errand.

The sooner now we see what 'tis he drives at,

The sooner we shall take from thence our measures;

I'll therefore go out to him, and be sure

To entertain him still so near the door,

That you may hear what passes.

+Don F.+ I shall be attentive, and expect the issue

With much impatience. [_Exit +Don Julio+._

_Scene changes to +Don Julio's+ antechamber. Enter +Don Pedro+

and his Servant, and +Don Julio+ and a Page._

+Don P.+ My business, sir, is to Don Julio Rocca;

[_Addressing himself to +Don Julio+._

If you be he, I shall desire the favour

Of some few words with you in private.

+Don J.+ Sir, I am he to serve you. Page, set chairs.

[_He points to the Page, and makes him set the chairs by

the door where +Don Fernando+ is, and then the Page and

+Don Pedro's+ man retire._ [_They sit down._

+Don P.+ Having not the honour to be known t' you, sir,

'Tis fit this letter make my introduction:

'Tis from the Duke of Medina.

[_He gives +Don Julio+ the letter, which he receives with

great respect; and going a little aside, reads it._

"Don Pedro de Mendoça, my kinsman and most particular friend,

goes to Valencia in pursuit of one who hath highly injured his

family, whose righting I am so much concerned in, as, could

it have been done without too much publication of the thing,

I would have accompanied him myself, but my presence will

be needless in a place where you have power: I do therefore

conjure you, and expect from your regard and kindness to me,

that you employ it thoroughly in his behalf, and what service

you shall do him, put it upon my account, whom you shall always

find

"Your most affectionate cousin to serve you,

+The Duke of Medina+."

+Don J.+ [_giving the letter to +Don Pedro+, and he taking it._]

Sir, it is fit you see how heartily

The Duke hath recommended your concernments,

Whose will's a law to me.

[_+Don Pedro+ having read it, and restoring it._

+Don P.+ He told me, indeed, how very sure he was

Of your friendship and dependence.

I am proud to find he makes

So obliging use of it to my advantage.

+Don J.+ I do avow myself his creature, sir;

Therefore the sooner you shall let me know

In what I may be useful t' you, the sooner

You'll see my readiness to serve you.

+Don P.+ Your personal reputation, sir, as well

As your relation to the duke, assur'd me

Beforehand of what I find; and therefore

As hard a part as it is for a gentleman

Of my blood and temper to become

Relater of his own shame, unreveng'd

On the author of it, I shall tell you in short:

I live under an affront of th' highest nature

To the honour of my family; and the person

Who did it makes Valencia his retreat.

'Tis against him, Don Julio,

That your assistance must support me here:

I have already got some notice of him,

And when I shall be ascertain'd, I'll repair

Again unto you for your friendly aid,

And for the present trouble you no farther.

[_+Don Pedro+ offers to rise, as going away._

+Don J.+ A little patience, I beseech you, sir.

I have express'd my readiness, and be sure

I am a man never to fail, where once

I have engag'd my word; but, sir, withal

You must consider with a fair reflection,

That in this place are all my chief relations

Of blood and friendship; and though neither shall

Have power t' exempt me from the serving you

In any just pretension, yet you know

That men of honour ever ought to seek,

How to comply with one duty without

Violating another.

+Don P.+ I understand you, sir; and as 'tis that

Which well becomes a person of your worth

To have reflected on, so it becomes me

To satisfy, before I engage you farther.

Then give me leave to ask you, whether or no

Don Zancho de Moneçes be of the number

Of those, towards whom y'are under obligation

Either of blood or friendship?

[_+Don Julio+ showing some little surprise, but

presently recovering._

+Don J.+ Don Zancho de Moneçes, say you?

+Don P.+ Sir, the same--

He startled at his name. [_Aside._

+Don J.+ He is a person I have always liv'd

In friendly correspondence with, without

Any such tie upon me towards him,

As ought to hinder my frank serving you.

+Don P.+ You have reviv'd me; and since I have now nam'd

My enemy, I can conceal no longer

The grounds on which he is so. That Don Zancho,

About a fortnight since, was late at night

Found in my house, run newly through the body,

And welt'ring in his blood, ready to expire.

I by the outcry brought upon the place,

Surpris'd as you may imagine, and enrag'd,

Was yet so far master of my passion,

As to disdain the owing my revenge

To an unknown hand, perhaps as guilty

Towards me as was the sufferer. I made

Him straight be carried to a surgeon, where

I thought it generous to give him life,

Then dead, that living I might give him death.

Recover'd sooner than I thought, he fled,

And with him, as I have reason to believe,

My only daughter, who the very night

Of the accident was missing. O, the curse

Of men, to have their honours subjected

To the extravagance of such vile creatures!

+Don J.+ [_Sighing._] 'Tis our hard fate indeed.

+Don P.+ I presently employ'd all diligence

To know what way he took, and having learn'd

'Twas towards this place, hither I have pursued him;

Confirm'd in my pursuit by information

Along the road, that an unknown gallant

Had, with his servant, guarded all the way

A conceal'd lady in a coach. And thus, sir,

You have the story of my injury;

Whereof I doubt not but your generous heart

Will wed the just revenge.

+Don J.+ You may rely on't, sir, without reserves,

To th' utmost of my power.

+Don P.+ May the gods reward you

The life that you renew to these grey hairs!

I'll take my leave at present, and return t' ye,

As soon as from the diligences used

I shall have clearer lights.

+Don J.+ Here you shall find me waiting your commands.

[_Exit +Don Pedro+, +Don Julio+ waiting on him

out._

_Scene changes. Enter +Don Julio+ and +Don Fernando+,

as in the private apartment._

+Don J.+ I hope you overheard us?

+Don F.+ All distinctly,

And with surprising joy at his mistake.

Did ever bloodhound, in a hot pursuit,

Run on so readily upon the change?

+Don J.+ I hope it bodes good fortune in the rest.

+Don F.+ Were e'er two friends engag'd in an adventure

So intricate as we, and so capricious?

+Don J.+ Sure, never in this world: methinks it merits

A special recapitulation.

You, at the height of all your happiness,

Supplanted with your mistress by a rival

You neither knew nor dreamt of, evidence

Anticipating jealousy.

+Don F.+ And when that rival, fallen by my sword

In her own presence, is by miracle

Revived, and fitter to serve her than I,

That faithless mistress with the same assurance

She could have done, had she been true as fair,

And for my sake expos'd to fatal hazards,

Flies to my arms for her protection.

+Don J.+ And whilst that you, refining point of honour,

In spite of rage expose yourself to serve her,

She asks and takes, with a vow'd indignation

To be beholden t' ye, new obligations.

+Don F.+ I have recourse unto my only friend,

To help me in protecting my false mistress,

And he, at the same time, by highest powers [is]

Impos'd upon to be her persecutor.

+Don J.+ Whilst the same friend, and by the selfsame pow'rs,

Is urg'd to act in their revenge against

The man, on whom you most desire to take it:

And then, to heighten all beyond invention,

That very friend is forc'd, even in that instant,

To a dependence on your only aid,

In his honour's nearest and most nice concerns.

+Don F.+ Heaven, sure, delights t' involve us in a kind

Of labyrinth will pose itself t' unwind. [_Exeunt._

ACT IV.

_Scene changes to the room at +Don Zancho's+. Enter +Don

Zancho+, and +Chichon+ at another door, halting still with

a staff._

+Don Z.+ What, here again already! have you sped?

+Chi.+ Lame as I am, you see I've made good speed

In my return, whate'er I've had in my errand.

+Don Z.+ Leave, fool, your quibbling, and deliver me

From the disquiet of uncertainty.

+Chi.+ That's quickly done. Set, sir, your heart at rest

From the vain hopes of ever seeing Blanca--

Now you are at ease, I trow?

+Don Z.+ You'll be at little, unless you leave your jesting

With such edge-tools. Is banishment from her

Matter of raillery? Say, sirrah, and say

Quickly, what hopes?----

Prythee, if thou lov'st me, [_Kindly._

Hold me no longer in suspense, Chichon.

+Chi.+ Why, then, for fear--the devil a bit for love--

I'll tell you, sir, that luckily I met

The drab Francisca at the capuchin's,

Lodging behind her lady, I think on purpose;

For I perceiv'd her eager sparrowhawk's eye,

With her veil down (ne'er stirs a twinkling-while

From its sly peeping-hole) had found me straight--

took my time i' th' nick, but she outnick'd me;

For trudging on, her face another way,

With such a voice, as some you have seen have had

The trick to draw from caverns of their belly,

And make one think it came from a mile off,

She made me hear these words: _About twilight

Fail not to pass by our door, and ask no more

At this time, varlet._ And thus, sir, you see,

That neither she nor I have been prolix,

For this is all. You have leave to make your comment

On a brief text.

+Don Z.+ As sweet methinks as short: such words imply

Little less than a demi-assignation.

+Chi.+ All puddings have two ends,[14] and most short sayings

Two handles to their meaning.

+Don Z.+ I'm sure I'll still lay hold upon the pleasing'st,

Till it be wrested from me: i' th' meanwhile,

If any visitants come this afternoon,

Be sure to tell them I am gone abroad,

That nothing else embark us at the time.

You shall not go alone.

+Chi.+ I thank you for it--

I cannot go alone.

[_Holding up his staff. Exeunt, +Chichon+ halting._

_Scene changes to +Don Julio's+ private apartment.

Enter +Don Fernando+ and +Julio+._

+Don J.+ All things are rightly laid, for Violante

Will pass the afternoon with Blanca, and then,

I waiting on her home in th' evening, Blanca

Will be secure from me till late at night.

I shall be where I told you, in full view

Of those two windows. If the gallant come

Up the great stairs, he must pass through that room,

And cannot 'scape your knowledge; if up the back one,

You needs must see him passing through the entry,

Close by that door. If this latter way,

Be sure to set the candle in that window: [_Pointing._

If up the other, in that: and in either case,

As soon as he's within, fail not to bolt,

On th' inside, th' entry-door, and so he may

Find no retreat that way, I coming up

The other.

+Don F.+ Be assured I shall be punctual,

As you direct. [_Exeunt._

_Scene changes to +Don Pedro's+ lodging. Enter

+Don Pedro+ and his servant +Fulvio+._

+Don P.+ Are you sure of what you say?

+Fulv.+ As sure, sir,

As my own eyes can make me of what I saw.

You cannot doubt my knowing him, since 'twas I

(You may remember) fetch'd the surgeon to him,

And saw his wounds dress'd more than once or twice.

The tavern, where I was, looks into his garden,

And there I left him walking to come tell you.

+Don P.+ We are well advanc'd then towards my just revenge.

I found Don Julio as ready to comply

With all the duke's desires as I could wish;

And my great fear is over, that Don Zancho

Might possibly have been some near relation

Of his own: so that now, Fulvio, if you

Keep but a careful eye upon his motions,

And give me notice, he can hardly 'scape us.

+Fulv.+ Doubt not my diligence. [_Exeunt._

_Scene changes to the garden. Enter +Blanca+ and +Francisca+ as

in a fine garden with orange-trees and fountains._

+Blan.+ You must have your will; but know, Francisca,

If you expose me to his vanity,

I never shall forgive you.

+Fran.+ I tell you, madam, I will bring him t' ye

So mortified, he shall an object be

For pity, not for anger: you'll need employ

Kindness to erect the poor dejected knight.

+Blan.+ It fell out luckily, that Violante

Came hither; for, my brother now engag'd

With her, we're safe till ten o'clock at least.

+Fran.+ But how shall we dispose of Silvia?

It will be hard to 'scape her observation,

For she has wit, and of the dangerous kind--

A melancholy wit. O the unlucky star,

That leads a lady, engaged in love-intrigues,

To take a new attendant near her person!

+Blan.+ 'Twas an unluckiness; but Violante

Could not be denied, I having told her

So often that I wanted one; besides,

Who could have thought sh' had one ready at hand?

But we must make the best on't for this night:

'Twill not be hard to busy her, till 't be late,

In the perfuming-room. This near occasion

Well o'er, I think it will not be amiss,

Against another, to say somewhat to her,

That may, in case she have perceiv'd anything,

Persuade her she is not distrusted.

+Fran.+ Madam, take heed of that: whene'er you find

It necessary to say anything,

Be sure to say that, that she may think all.

Take one rule more from my experience:

Nothing so fatal as a confidence

By halves in amorous transactions.

But here she comes--

_Enter +ELVIRA+._

+Blan.+ Come, Silvia, and take your part of this sweet place;

This is a day indeed to taste its freshness.

+Elv.+ Madam, I needs must say, within a town

I never saw so fine a one.

+Blan.+ In truth

I think not many sweeter. Those fountains,

Playing among the orange-trees and myrtles,

Have a fine mix'd effect on all the senses,

But think not, Silvia, to enjoy the pleasure

Without contributing to make it more.

+Elv.+ How can I be so happy?

+Blan.+ Francisca tells me she has overheard you

Warbling alone such notes unto yourself,

As have not only a good voice betray'd,

But skill to manage it.

+Elv.+ It is Francisca,

That has betray'd a very ill one, madam.

+Blan.+ Under yon palm-tree's shade, there is a seat

That yields to none in the advantages

It lends to music: let's go sit down there.

For this first time, one song shall satisfy.

+Elv.+ When you have heard that one, I shall not fear

Your asking me another.

[_They go and sit down under the palm-tree, and

+Elvira+ sings._

+The Song.+

_See, O, see!

How every tree,

Every bower,

Every flower,

A new life gives to others' joys;

Whilst that I,

Grief-stricken, lie,

Nor can meet

With any sweet,

But what faster mine destroys.

What are all the senses' pleasures,

When the mind has lost all measures?_

_Hear, O, hear!

How sweet and clear

The nightingale

And waters'-fall

In concert join for others' ears;

Whilst to me

For harmony

Every air

Echoes despair,

And every drop provokes a tear.

What are all the senses' pleasures,

When the mind has lost all measures?_

+Blan.+ I thank you, Silvia; but I'll not allow

One of your youth to nourish melancholy

By tunes and words so flattering to that passion.

+Elv.+ The happiness of serving you may fit me

In time for gayer things.

+Blan.+ I will not ask another for the present;

Not for your reason, but because I'll be

More moderate in my pleasures. Now, Silvia,

I have a task to give you.

+Elv.+ Whate'er it be, 'twill be a pleasing one,

Of your imposing.

+Blan.+ 'Tis to gather store of

Fresh orange-flowers, and then carefully

To shift the oils in the perfuming-room,

As in the several ranges you shall see

The old begin to wither. To do it well

Will take you up some hours; but 'tis a work

I oft perform myself; and that you may

Be sure not to mistake, I'll go thither

With you, and show you the manner of it.

+Elv.+ I hope I shall not fail, so well instructed. [_Exeunt._

_Scene changes to the room at +Don Zancho's+. Enter

+Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+._

+Chi.+ Y'are so impatient, sir, you will mar all:

I tell you that 'tis yet too light by half,

The sun is hardly set: pray fetch a turn

Or two more in the garden, ere you go.

+Don Z.+ You must be governor, I see, to-night,

You are so proud o' th' service you have done.

Come away. [_Exeunt._

_Scene changes to the garden again. +Elvira+ appears in the

garden, as gathering flowers from the orange-trees, and

then (with her apron full) going away, says_--

+Elv.+ The task enjoin'd me is a sweet one, truly,

But I smell somewhat more in the imposal.

So far I am happy yet in my misfortune,

That I am lighted into a lady's service

Of an obliging humour; but (most of all)

One that, as kind as she is, I see 's as glad

To leave me alone, as I to be it. Somewhat

There is mysterious in her looks and conduct:

Such motions just, such inequalities,

Such flatteries to those I trusted least,

Such pretty employments found to busy those

I would be rid of, and such arts are these

To single out her confidant (unnoted),

I well remember would Elvira use,

Whilst the unquiet joys of love possess'd her,

How innocent soever. And, besides,

Francisca's sitting up so late last night,

And going up and down so warily,

Whilst others slept, is evidence enough

What god reigns here, as well as at the court.

But I forget myself. Let descants cease,

Who serves, though she observes, must hold her peace.

[_Exit +Elvira+._

_Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter +Don Zancho+,

with his cloak over his face, and +Chichon+._

+Don Z.+ Advance, Chichon, I'll follow at a distance.

'Tis the right time--just light enough, you see,

For warn'd expecters to know one another.

I hope she will not fail you.

+Chi.+ She fail us!

No sentinel _perdu_ is half so alert

As she in these occasions.

_Enter +Francisca+ veiled, peeping as out of the portal of +Don

Julio's+ house._

+Fran.+ There comes the varlet; and I'm much deceived,

Or that's his master lagging at a distance--

I'll give them a go-by, cover'd with my veil.

[_She passes by them heedlessly._

+Chi.+ By that light, as little as 'tis, 'tis she:

I'll to her.

+Don Z.+ And I'll stand close the while--

When you have broken the ice, I'll take my time.

[+Chichon+, _going to +Francisca+, lays hold of her veil, and

she turns about._

+Chi.+ What signifies a veil to hide my doxy,

When every motion of a leg or wing

Darts round perfuming and informing airs?

Thou art the very cauliflower of women.

+Fran.+ And thou the very cabbage-stalk of men,

That never stank to me, as does a blab.

+Chi.+ Curse on thee, hold thy tongue! Dost thou not see,

Who stands against that wall?

+Fran.+ Away, sauce-box!

[_She, thrusting him off, goes on. +Don Zancho+ sets

himself just in her way, and makes as if he would lie

down in it._

+Don Z.+ Pass, trample on me, do, trample--but hear me!

+Fran.+ These shoes have been my lady's, and she'd ne'er

Forgive it, should they do you so much honour. [_Showing her foot._

'Tis thou hast caus'd all this. [_Aside, turning to +Chichon+._

+Chi.+ Fire on thy tongue!

+Don Z.+ Ah, my Francisca, if there be no hopes

Of pardon, nor of pity, yet at least

Let Blanca, for her own sake, be so just

As not to give me cruel death unheard:

Do you your part at least, and do but give her

This letter from me--

[_He offers her a letter, and she starting back_:

+Fran.+ _Guarda!_ that's a thing

She has forbidden with such menaces,

I dare as well become another Porcia,[15]

And eat red burning coals. I had much rather

Consent that, now she's all alone at home,

You should transportedly rush in upon her,

As following me: so possibly you might

Attain your end without exposing me

Who, in that case, know how to act my part

So smartly against you, as shall keep her clear

From all suspicion. But I am to blame

Thus to forget my duty: I'll stay no longer.

[_He stops her, and, pulling out a purse of money, puts it

into her hand. +Francisca+ offers to restore the purse,

but yet holding it fast._

+Don. Z.+ Spoke like an angel.

+Fran.+ This is, you know, superfluous with me,

And shocks my humour; but anything from you!

Be sure you follow boisterously.

[_She trudges away, and goes in hastily, as at +Julio's+

house, and +Don Zancho+ follows her in. +Chichon+ stops

at the door._

+Chi.+ I'll bring you no ill-luck a second time.

If for sport's sake you have projected me

Another summersault from the balcony,

Make your account that 'tis already done,

Here you will find me halting in the street. [_Exit +Chichon+._

_Scene changes to +Donna Blanca's+ antechamber.

Enter +Blanca+._

+Blan.+ How true it is that nature cheats mankind,

And makes us think ourselves the only tasters

Of pure delight and bliss; when as indeed,

Oppressing us with pains and griefs, she makes

Deliv'rance from them pass for solid pleasure!

Witness in me those images of joy,

Wherewith she flatters now my expectation:

What will its highest satisfaction be

At most, but ease from what tormented me?

_Enter +FRANCISCA+ hastily._

+Fran.+ It now imports you have affected rage

As ready at hand as usually you have

Anger in earnest. But, above all, be sure

You discharge it smartly upon me; for here

He presses at my heels.

_Enter +Don Zancho+, and goes to cast himself at +Donna

Blanca's+ feet, and she starting back from him._

+Blan.+ What insolence is this? Think not, Francisca,

That I am to be fool'd! This is your work:

You shall not stay an hour within these walls--

By all that's good, you shall not!

+Fran.+ For heaven's sake, madam, be not so unjust [_Whining._

To an old servant, always full of duty.

But can I govern madmen? Would y' have had me

Make all the street take notice? There he attack'd me

With such transportment, the whole town had rung on't,

Had I not run away. Could I imagine

A man so wild as to pursue me hither

Into your presence?

+Blan.+ It is well, Don Zancho; [_Severely and scornfully._

Blanca may be thus used; but he that does it

Shall find----

[_She turns away as going out, he holds her by the sleeve._

+Don Z.+ Pardon this rudeness, madam, but a man

Made desperate hath nothing more to manage.

Hither I come to give you satisfaction,

And if my reasons can't, my heart-blood shall;

But you must hear me, or here see me dead.

+Blan.+ Since to be rid of him, Francisca, I see

[_Turning to +Francisca+._

I must the penance undergo of hearing him,

Keep careful watch to prevent accidents.

+Fran.+ Madam, your closet will be much more proper

For such a conference; for in case your brother

Should come, Don Zancho has a safe retreat

From thence down the back-stairs. I shall be sure

To give you timely notice.

+Don Z.+ And I know perfectly the passage thorough

Th' entry; I've come up more than once that way

During my happy days.

+Blan.+ I think y' have reason; since I must have patience,

Light us in thither.

[_+Francisca+ takes the lights, and going before

them, exeunt omnes._

_Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter +Don Julio+,

as in the portal of his own house._

+Don J.+ The light was in the farther window; therefore

He went up this way: now, if Fernando

Have not forgot to bolt the entry-door,

He cannot 'scape us, sure, whoe'er he be.

'Tis the only comfort,

In such misfortunes, when a man hath means

To right his honour, without other help

Than such a friend as is another self,

And that the shame's even from domestics hid,

Until it be reveng'd.

[_Exit +Don Julio+, as going into his own house._

_Enter +Chichon+, as coming out of the porch before

+Don Julio's+ house._

+Chi.+ 'Slight! 'tis Don Julio that I saw go in!

My master's like to pass his time but ill;

I'll steal in after, and observe: although

My courage cannot stead him, my wit may,

As things may possibly fall out.

[_Exit +Chichon+, as stealing after +Don Julio+

into his house._

_Scene changes to +Donna Blanca's+ closet. Enter +Don Zancho+

and +Donna Blanca+, as in her closet._

+Blan.+ As fine a story as may be! No, Don Zancho,

I, Blanca Rocca, am not carta blanca,[16]

Fit to receive whate'er impression

Your art----

_Enter +Francisca+ hastily._

+Fran.+ Your brother's in the hall already;

Quick, quick, and let him find you in your chamber

Before your glass, I have set it ready there,

Whilst he retires the way it was resolv'd.

[_Pointing to +Don Zancho+._

[_+Francisca+ takes the candle, and exeunt she and +Donna

Blanca+; +Don Zancho+, another way._

_Scene changes to +Donna Blanca's+ bed-chamber. Re-enter +Donna

Blanca+ and +Francisca+, as in +Blanca's+ chamber, she

newly seated at her toilet, and beginning to unpin._

_Enter +Don Julio+._

+Don J.+ Blanca, I thought you had been abed ere this.

Have you had company to entertain you,

And keep you up beyond your usual hour?

+Blan.+ What company can I have, you abroad,

At this time of the night?

+Don J.+ I fain would find out some such as might please you.

[_Ironically._

Francisca, take a candle and light me in

To Blanca's closet.

+Blan.+ Good brother, what's the matter?

You were not wont to be so curious,

As thus to pry into my privacies.

+Don J.+ That you shall know anon. Do as I bid you,

Francisca.

[_+Francisca+ takes one of the candles, and going before

him stumbles, and falling puts out the light. +Don

Julio+, taking it up, lights it again at the other on

the table, and going with it himself towards +Donna

Blanca's+ closet._

These tropes are lost on me. [_Exit._

+Fran.+ Let him go, now we have gain'd time

enough.

+Blan.+ Thanks to thy timely fall!

+Fran.+ Persons employ'd

In such trusts must have their wits about them.

'Tis clear that he suspects, but know--he cannot.

When once you see all safe, 'twill then import you

To play the tyrant over him, with reproaches

For this his jealousy.

+Blan.+ Let me alone for that.

But let us follow him in, that we may mark

His whole demeanour. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Don Zancho+ in disorder._

+Don Z.+ Curse on't, the entry-door's bolted within,

What shall I do? [_He pauses._] I must seek a way,

Through the perfuming-room into the garden. [_Exit._

_Enter +Don Julio+, with a candle in his hand, and

passing hastily over the stage._

+Don J.+ He must be gone this way, there is no other;

The entry-door was bolted.

_Enter +Donna Blanca+ and +Francisca+, who pass

over the stage, as if stealing after +Don Julio+._

+Fran.+ All's safe: he takes that way. Let him, a God's name,

Follow his nose to the perfuming-room.

+Blan.+ He'll fright poor Silvia out of her wits;

But I'll come to her succour with a peal

Will ring him. [_Exeunt +Donna Blanca+ and +Francisca+._

_Scene changes to the laboratory. Here is to open a curious

scene of a laboratory in perspective, with a fountain in

it, some stills, many shelves, with pots of porcelain and

glasses, with pictures above them: the room paved with

black and white marble, with a prospect through pillars

at the end, discovering the full moon, and by its light a

perspective of orange-trees, and towards that farther end

+Elvira+ appears at a table, shifting flowers, her back

turned._

_Enter +Don Zancho+ hastily: +Elvira+ turning about, they both

startle, and stand awhile as it were amazed._

+Don Z.+ O heavens! what is't I see? 'Tis mere illusion,

Or 'tis the devil in that angel's form,

Come here to finish by another hand

The fatal work that she began upon me

By Don Fernando's.

+Elv.+ Good gods! Don Zancho here! it cannot be!

Or 'tis his ghost, come to revenge his death

On its occasioner; for, were he alive,

He could not but have more humanity

Than (having been my ruin at Madrid,

And robb'd me of my home and honour there)

To envy me an obscure shelter here.

[_Whilst they amazed step back from one another, enter +Don

Julio+, who, seeing +Don Zancho+ with his back towards

him, drawing his sword, says_--

+Don J.+ Think not (whoe'er thou art), by flying thus

From room to room, to 'scape my just revenge.

Shouldst thou retire to th' centre of the earth,

This sword should find thee there, and pierce thy heart.

[_Throwing down the candle, he makes towards +Don Zancho+;

but upon his turning about towards him, he makes a

little stop, and says_--

Nay then, if it be you, I'm happy yet

In my misfortune, since the gods thus give me

The means at once, and by the self-same stroke,

To right my honour, and revenge my friend;

And, by that action, fully to comply

With what the Duke requires in the behalf

Of wrong'd Don Pedro.

[_+Don Julio+ makes at +Don Zancho+: he draws, and they

begin to fight; +Elvira+ crying out_, Help! help! _runs

to part them, and they stop upon her interposing._

_Enter +Don Fernando+ hastily over the stage, as

coming from the private apartment._

+Don F.+ I hear an outcry and [a] clattering of swords.

My friend (engag'd) must find me by his side.

[_Exit, and re-enters at another door._

[_As +Fernando+ comes to the door of the perfuming-room,

seeing them at a stand, he stops and stands close._

+Don F.+ They are parleying: let's hear. [_Aside._

[_+Blanca+ and +Francisca+ passing over the

stage._

+Blan.+ 'Twas Silvia's voice: my heart misgives me somewhat.

+Fran.+ 'Tis some new accident or some mistake;

Don Zancho cannot but be safe long since.

+Blan.+ However let us in, and see.

[_Exeunt +Blanca+ and +Francisca+, and re-enter as at

another door of the perfuming-room, and make a stand,

as surprised with what they see._

+Blan.+ We are all undone, I fear.

+Fran.+ A little patience. [_+Chichon+ stealing over the stage._

+Chi.+ The noise is towards the perfuming-room,

I know the back-way to it through the garden.

[_Exit +Chichon+, and re-enters at the farther end

of the laboratory, and stands close._

+Don Z.+ Wit must repair the disadvantages

I'm under here, and save my Blanca's honour.

That once secur'd, there will be time enough

To save Elvira's. [_Aside._

[_Whilst this passes, +Elvira+ holds +Julio+ by the

arm, he striving to get from her._

Since, by this lady's interposing thus,

You have thought fit our swords should pause awhile,

It may (I think) consist enough with honour

So far to seek your satisfaction, sir,

As to remove mistakes. Know then, Don Julio,

That, though I have presum'd upon your house,

I have not wrong'd your honour: it is she,

With whom you find me, that hath brought me hither;

Her I have long ador'd, and, having got

Intelligence that she was here conceal'd,

My passion (I confess) transported me

Beyond that circumspection and regard,

Which men of quality use, and ought t' observe

Towards one another's dwellings.

+Don J.+ Good gods, what an adventure's here!

Yet all

Is well, so Blanca's honour be but safe. [_Aside._

Sir, you surprise me much; can this be true?

[_To +Don Zancho+._

+Blan.+ Francisca, heard you that? had ever man

So ready a wit in such an exigent? [_Aside._

+Don J.+ [to +Elvira+.] What say you, madam?

+Fran.+ We're surer lost than ever, unless she

Have wit and heart to take the thing upon her. [_Aside._

Madam, make signs to her, and earnestly. [_To +Blanca+._

[_+Blanca+ makes earnest signs to +Elvira+._

+Fran.+ [_aside to +Blanca+._] She looks this way,

as if she comprehended

Your meaning.

+Elv.+ I understand her, and I know as well

What mischief I may bring upon myself;

But let Elvira still do generously,

And leave the rest to fate. [_Aside._] Sir, since you press me,

[_To +Don Julio+._

My humour ne'er could disavow a truth:

Don Zancho's passion and transportments for me,

Beyond all rules of temper and discretion,

Have been the cause of all my sad misfortunes,

And still I see must be the cause of more.

+Don J.+ Unhappy creature! how thou hast deceiv'd

My prone persuasion of thy innocence!

+Don Z.+ If that suffice not, sir, you have this ready

To give you satisfaction. [_Holding out his sword._

+Don F.+ Hell and furies!--but I will yet contain

Myself, and see how far my friend will drive it. [_Aside._

+Don J.+ Stay, Don Zancho,

And answer me one question. Is this night

The first of your presuming thus to enter

My house by stealth?

+Don Z.+ The query is malicious;

But I must thorough, as I have begun. [_Aside._

+Blan.+ [_Aside to +Francisca+._] There was a question

makes me tremble still.

+Don Z.+ No, sir, it is not: I'll keep nothing from you.

Last night upon the same occasion----

+Don J.+ Hold! it suffices.

+Fran.+ [_Aside hastily to +Blanca+._] All's safe, you see:

for God's sake, let's away

Ere Julio perceive us.

Your presence here can serve for nothing, madam,

But to beget new chances and suspicions.

[_Exeunt +Blanca+ and +Francisca+. +Don Fernando+

rushes out, drawing his sword._

+Don F.+ Yes, it suffices, Julio, to make

This hand strike surer than it did before.

+Elvira.+ Nothing was wanting to my misery,

But his being here to overhear; but yet

I must not suffer the same hand to kill him

A second time, upon a greater error

Than was the first.

[_Aside. +Don Fernando+ making at +Don Zancho+; +Elvira+

steps between, and +Julia+ also offers to stay him._

+Don F.+ [_Striving to come at +Don Zancho+._]

Strive to protect your gallant from me, do!

Strive, but in vain: the gods themselves cannot!

What, you, Don Julio, too?

[+Chichon+, _running out from the place where he lurked,

strikes out both the lights with his hat._

+Chi.+ I have lov'd to see fighting; but at present

I love to hinder seeing how to fight.

Knights, brandish your blades, 'twill make fine work

Among the gallipots! [_Aloud._

You have me by your side, sir, let them come;

They are but two to two. [_As to his master._

Sir, follow me, I'll bring you to the door.

[_Aside to his master, and pulling him._

+Don Z.+ There's no dishonour in a wise retreat

From disadvantages, to meet again

One's enemy upon a fairer score.

[_+Chichon+ pushing his master before him out of door._

+Chi.+ [_Aside to his master._] There 'tis; advance, sir,

I'll make good the rear.

[_Exit +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+._

+Don J.+ Ho! who's without? bring lights.

[_He stamps._] They annot hear us,

The room is so remote from all the rest.--

What a confusion's this! Recall, Fernando,

Your usual temper, and let's leave this place,

And that unhappy maid unto its darkness,

To hide her blushes, since her shame it cannot.

[_Exit +Don Julio+ groping, and drawing +Don

Fernando+ with him._

+Elv.+ [_Alone._] Darkness and horror welcome, since the gods

Live in the dark themselves; for had they light

Of what's done here below, they would afford

Some ray to shine on injur'd innocence,

And not, instead thereof, thus multiply

Obscuring clouds upon it, such as the sun,

Should he with all his beams illuminate

Men's understandings, scarce could dissipate.

I now begin to pardon thee, Fernando,

Since what thou hast heard in this enchanted place

Carries conviction in 't against my firmness,

Above the pow'r of nature to suspend

My condemnation: unless wrong'd virtue might

Expect in thee a justice so refin'd,

As ne'er was found in man to womankind.

'Tis now, I must confess, the lost Elvira

Fit only for a cloister, where, secure

In her own spotless mind, she may defy

All censures, and without impiety

Reproach her fate even to the deity. [_Exit, groping her way._

FOOTNOTES:

[14] [The proverb is, Everything hath an end, and a pudding hath two.]

[15] [The wife of Brutus.]

[16] [_i.e._, A fool. See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 38.]

ACT V.

_Enter +Don Julio+ talking to himself, and at another

door +Fernando+ who, perceiving it, stands close._

+Don J.+ Bless'd be the gods that yet my honour's safe

Amidst such strange perplexities, from which

Fortune and wit (I think) together join'd,

With all their strength, could hardly an issue find.

To temper, comfort, or to serve my friend

What argument? what means? how to assist

Don Pedro in his aims, and to comply

With what I owe the duke, I see as little;

And less conceive, how to behave myself,

As ought a gentleman towards a lady,

With whose protection he hath charg'd himself,

And brought her to his house on that assurance;

Whom to expose cannot consist with honour,

However she may have expos'd her own;

And (least of all) how to repair to Blanca

The injury I have done her, whose high spirit,

I fear, will be implacable. O heavens!

What a condition's mine?

[_He stands pausing, and startles, seeing +Don Fernando+._

_Enter +Don Fernando+._

+Don F.+ Pardon, dear cousin, if, to avoid one rudeness,

I have another unawares committed.

Whilst fearing t' interrupt, I have o'erheard;

Yet nothing, cousin, but the self-same things

My thoughts have been revolving all this night,

Concern'd for you, much more than for myself;

For I, upon reflection, find I am

Much easier than I was; by certainty

Freed from the sorest weight, perplexity.

In the first place you must forgive your friend

The high distemper of last night's transportments:

I hope you'll find me well recovered from them,

And that my morning resolutions are

Such as will make amends.

+Don J.+ Make no excuses, dear friend: such provocations

Surprising are above philosophy;

And 'tis no small experiment of yours,

If after them you can have brought yourself

So soon to fix a judgment what to do.

+Don F.+ I have fix'd on that, which I am sure will serve

All interests but my own, as heretofore

I understood my happiness; but now

I shall no longer place it in anything

Dependent on the wild caprice[17] of others.

No, Julio,

I will be happy even in spite of fate,

By carrying generosity up to th' height.

Elvira shall her dear bliss owe to me,

Not only by desisting, but by making

Her lov'd Don Zancho marry her: his refusal

Alone can make me kill him o'er again.

+Don J.+ Since that unhappy maid, with all her beauty

And that high quality, hath made herself

Unworthy of your marriage, certainly

None but Fernando ever could have pitch'd

Upon so noble a thought: but think withal,

What difficulties are likely to obstruct it!

+Don F.+ Say what occurs to you.

+Don J.+ Don Zancho is a man of wit and courage;

And though his passion out of doubt be great,

Since it hath made him do so wild an action,

As that of coming twice into my house

After so strange a manner; yet, Fernando,

You cannot but imagine such a one

Likely to have quite different reflections

Upon Elvira's conduct for a wife,

From what he has upon it for a mistress:

They are two notions very differing.

Besides, should the proposal but appear

In the least kind to spring from your desire,

Whose former commerce with her's not unknown,

It were the only way to drive him off

Past all recal. I think few have accepted

Wives recommended to them by their rival.

+Don F.+ In that y' have reason, I confess; but, Julio,

Think of the way; for marry her he must,

Or die, and by no other hand but mine.

+Don J.+ [_Pausing._] I am thinking of it, and, I hope, to purpose.[18]

What interposer can be found so fit

As Blanca in this business, since Don Zancho

Has long been her particular acquaintance?

And what can be more natural, than for her

To take to heart Elvira's chief concernment,

Whom he finds here retir'd in her misfortune,

As to her surest friends?

+Don F.+ Y' have lighted, cousin, on the only way;

And lose no time, I beg you.

+Don J.+ The least that may be; but you must consider

In what a predicament I am likely

To be with Blanca at present.

+Don F.+ I understand you (since the jealousy

You expressed of her); but 'tis to be hoped

The peace will not be long a-making.

+Don J.+ You little know her spirit, once inflam'd.

But as I'll lose no time, so I'll omit

No art to bring her to a temper fit

To hear and to advance the proposition.

+Don F.+ Heaven give you good success!

+Don J.+ [_Turning back to +Fernando+._]

I had forgot to tell you that I think

It will be necessary that, as soon

As I have weather'd Blanca's storm, I make

A visit to Don Pedro, to prevent

His coming hither to disorder us,

Before we have set [all] things right.

+Don F.+ 'Twas not ill thought on: and till you return

I shall keep close in your apartment;

For Blanca has not seen me, and Elvira

Has too great cares upon her to be curious. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Blanca+ and +Francisca+; +Blanca+ with a gay

air, as in her antechamber._

+Blan.+ Say, my Francisca, can romances equal

Our last night's adventure? was there ever

Such a come-off! Our sex has us'd to boast

Presence of mind in exigents of love;

But I believe none of us ever match'd

Don Zancho's readiness in an occasion

So sudden and so critical.

+Fran.+ Ever give me the man of ready parts.

+Blan.+ But prythee, whilst we give Don Zancho 's dues,

Let us be just, too, to poor Silvia's merit;

Was ever anything so generous

Or so obliging to a mistress!

+Fran.+ So it appears, madam, I must confess;

But the excess of it makes it suspicious.

+Blan.+ Fie, leave this humour of detracting still,

And call her to me, that I may embrace,

And thank her; that done, consider how

To bring her off, who's brought us off so well. [_Offers to go out._

_Enter +Don Julio+._

+Fran.+ Stay, I beseech you, and compose yourself

To act a part quite of another nature;

Here comes Don Julio, towards whom I hope

You'll tune yourself to a far differing key

From that of thanks and kindness.

+Blan.+ Let me alone for that: I'll play the dragon.

[_As +Don Julio+ advances, +Blanca+ turns from him with a

furious countenance, and flies out of the room, +Don

Julio+ following her._

+Don J.+ Dear sister, stay, and hear me.

+Blan.+ Detested brother, leave me.

[_She makes as if she were going, and he holds her._

+Don J.+ Hear me but, Blanca, and then vent your passion

Against a brother that condemns himself

As much as you can do; but hear me speak.

+Blan.+ Your actions, Julio, have spoke loud enough

To echo through the world your shame and mine.

Has all the tenor of my life been such,

With such exactness of unblemish'd conduct,

That malice might have stain'd the noonday sun

More easily than tarnish'd Blanca's honour,

And must that honour now be prostitute

By the caprice of an unworthy brother?

Should any other have invaded it,

Had not you righted her, she has a heart

Would have found ways to right herself; but you

Th' aggressor, what remedy but rage?

[_She flings from him and exit._

+Fran.+ She acts it rarely. [_Aside._

+Don. J.+ Was ever man so unfortunate as I? [_To +Francisca+._

I must confess she has reason, and the sense

She thus expresses of my fault becomes her;

But it must be your work, my dear Francisca,

To pacify. When once you shall but know

All that has pass'd these nights, I am certain

You'll say no human confidence could e'er

Be proof against such circumstances.

+Fran.+ Alas! my offices can signify

But little. But I'm sure the occasion

Gives me a sad heart. O my dear lady! [_As if she were crying._

+Don J.+ I love good-nature; but I prythee, leave,

And come in with me, that I may tell thee all. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+, as in his lodging._

+Don P.+ A' God's name, Fulvio, what has been thy meaning,

To make me sit up almost all last night

Expecting thee, when such impatience held me?

Thou wert not wont to be so negligent

In things of so great weight.

+Fulv.+ Nor have I been it now: 'tis overcare

Of your commands hath held me so long from you.

You know the orders that you gave me, sir,

To watch Don Zancho's motions? accordingly

I sat all day in my observing-place,

Till about twilight I saw him and 's man

Steal as it were abroad: I as warily

Dogg'd them from street to street, till, sir, at length

He made a stand up close against a wall,

Whilst that his servant entertain'd a woman

Close-veil'd, who was come out, I think, on purpose,

From an adjacent house; soon after, he

Accosted her himself. Their conference

Lasted but little; she made haste away

To th' house from whence she came, and he as much

To follow her in.

+Don P.+ Where was't? and why cam'st thou not presently,

To give me notice, as you were directed?

+Fulv.+ At that you will not wonder, when you know

Whose house he enter'd; but at this you'll wonder--

It was Don Julio's.

+Don P.+ [_Starting._] Ha! Don Julio's, say'st thou?-- [_He pauses._

But, now I think on't, 'tis no marvel, Fulvio,

Since newly come to town; for I remember

Don Julio told me, that Don Zancho and he

Had always liv'd in friendly correspondence.

+Fulv.+ Visits, sir, only of fair civility,

After long absence, are not usually

Begun by twilight in such cautious manner;

Nor usher'd in by female veil'd conductors.

But pray, sir, hear the rest.

+Don P.+ What can this be? [_Aside._] Say on then quickly.

[_To +Fulvio+._

+Fulv.+ I presently concluded with myself

That, since Don Julio was the friend on whose

Assistance you relied against Don Zancho,

You ne'er would think, sir, of attacking him,

As he came out from thence: I judg'd it, therefore,

My wisest course to stay, and mark the issue.

And stay I did, till it was after midnight;

About which time, walking from side to side,

That I might see both issues of the house,

It being as light almost as day, I saw

The gallant and his man leap from the wall

Of Julio's garden, and from thence in haste

Make home.

+Don P.+ 'Sdeath, man, thou dream'st! Don Zancho from Don Julio's

In that manner? Awake, fool, and speak sense.

+Fulv.+ I say but what I saw, as I see you.

+Don P.+ O, the devil! what, the same villain

Found the affronter of my friend too here

In the same kind! Give me my cloak and sword,

I must know the bottom of this. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Blanca+ and +Francisca+, as in her antechamber._

+Blan.+ I come from seeing and caressing Silvia;

But with most strange surprise at her comportment

Towards me.

+Fran.+ How, madam!

+Blan.+ My words and actions both expressing to her,

Not only highest gratitude and kindness,

But a solicitude in the concerns

Of her honour, equal to what she had shown

In mine, they were receiv'd with such a coldness,

With such an air of melancholy pride,

With half replies, and those not half to th' purpose,

As make me with amazement to conclude,

That either she has lost her understanding,

Or that there's somewhat in't we understand not.

+Fran.+ She is a maid of an odd composition;

And besides that, I needs must tell you, madam,

That having had my observation freer

Than you, perhaps, during last night's adventure,

I remark'd somewhat, both in her demeanour

And in Don Zancho's, makes me confident

They met not there strangers to one another,

As you imagine. But there's time enough

To think and talk of that: what presses now,

Is your right ordering of Don Julio:

You have begun as well as can be wish'd.

+Blan.+ Say, did I not do my part? [_Jollily._

+Fran.+ Beyond imagination;

But take heed now of overdoing it,

'Tis time to tack about to reconcilement,

And thought of drawing those advantages

From the embroilment, as may for the future

Secure you from like accidents.

+Blan.+ You say well; but how?

+Fran.+ The first step must atonement be between you,

Of which he hath so earnestly conjur'd me

To be an instrument that, you consenting

To give him a hearing through my mediation,

I am made for ever, and settled in the power

Of serving you by better cosening him:

Besides, he tells me, he hath that to say

And to propose unto you, as shall not only

Excuse him with you, but prevent all danger

Of prejudicial rumours, which might rise

From last night's accident.

+Blan.+ Agreed; let's in,

And play the second part. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+, as in his own

house._

+Don Z.+ Were we not born with cauls upon our heads?[19] [_Jollily._

Think'st thou, Chichon, to come off twice a-row

Thus rarely from such dangerous adventures?

+Chi.+ Rather, I think, with combs, so oft to venture.

+Don Z.+ Thou coxcomb, say, had I not my wits about me?

+Chi.+ 'Twere too uncomplaisant to deny that.

You know I love not to talk seriously,

But tell me now in earnest, are you satisfied

To have come off so? is there no qualm remaining

Upon your gentle heart for leaving i' th' suds

A poor distressed virgin? Who she is,

I neither know nor care; but I am sure,

Had generous Chichon, to save his life,

Play'd a sweet innocent lady such a trick,

He would have pass'd but for a recreant knight;

And much the more, she having shown herself

So gallant as, to save her lady's honour,

T' expose her own. Say, true Don Galor,[20] say,

Were your part found in a romance or play,

Whose character would it not dislustre?

+Don Z.+ How soon a fool's bolt's shot without distinction?

Of what's the mark! Thou censur'st without knowing,

Who th' exposed lady is. Know, then, Chichon,

And wonder! 'tis Elvira!--that Elvira

For whom I sighed like to have sigh'd my last,

On her score at Madrid--Don Pedro's daughter.

+Chi.+ You raise enchanted castles in the air;

But were it as you say, that makes the thing

More inexcusable. You had been to blame

T' have us'd a stranger so; but so t' have serv'd

A lady[21] you had once profess'd to love,

Raises the fault above all heightening.

+Don Z.+ Nay, then, I see I must once play the fool,

In answering a fool seriously.

The things thou say'st are heightenings indeed,

Not of my fault, but merit in the action,

Towards my Blanca; since, to save her honour,

I did not only sacrifice Elvira's,

But thus expose mine own. Time may recover

Elvira's fame, and mine this quickly shall.

[_Clapping his hand on his sword._

Here, take this letter, and employ your wit

In finding out the means with secrecy

To give it Don Fernando unobserv'd.

I shall not stir from home, till I've his answer.

+Chi.+ You found him, sir, a man of quick dispatch,

In your last business with him at Madrid! [_Exit +Don Zancho+._

How honourable 'tis to serve a Don!

What petty Basque on t' other side the mountains

Durst have aspir'd to the high dignity

Of carrying a cartel? A monsieur

Would sooner have put up a twinge by the nose,

Than sent a challenge by a serving-man. [_Exit._

_Enter +Blanca+ furiously, and, running to the cabinet, takes

out thence a stiletto; and +Francisca+ earnestly after her,

as in +Blanca's+ closet._

+Blan.+ Villains shall find I am not unprovided

Wrongs to revenge, that cannot be forgiven.

+Fran.+ I thought the strange constraint upon herself,

Wherewith she heard her brother, would serve in the end

But to make rage break out with greater fury;

Yet it is well she kept it in so long

As to get rid of him. [_Aside._

Good madam, moderate yourself a little.

+Blan.+ Preach temper to the damned souls in hell,

That they may teach the traitor moderation,

When I have sent him thither with his devil.

+Fran.+ I do confess the provocation such,

As more than justifies all these transportments;

And therefore I beseech you think not, madam,

In what I say, I can the least aim have

Of saving him from the extremest fury

Of your resentment, or preserving her,

Who has had the impudence to abuse you so,

Under pretence of serving. May they perish!

But let it be in such a way, as may not

Draw a more dismal ruin on yourself:

Let swift destruction seize them; yet let not,

Madam, your hand, but head dispense their fate.

What can the issue be of such an action,

As that of which I see that shining steel

And flaming eyes of yours the threat'ning comets?

I beg but the reflection of a moment!

[_+Blanca+ walking upon the stage with enraged gestures

pauses, at length sheathing and putting her stiletto in

her sleeve with a sober, composed, tone_:

+Blan.+ Francisca, I thank you for recalling me

Thus to myself: I will be temperate,

[_Aside._] But it shall be to make revenge the surer.

+Fran.+ Her tone nor gestures cannot cosen me,

They both seem to disguise a black design;

But I shall watch you: 'tis a half-gain'd cause

In fury's course to have begot a pause. [_Aside._

+Blan.+ Do what I bid you presently, Francisca.

Send to Don Zancho, and let him know from me,

I earnestly desire to speak with him.

+Fran.+ Lord, madam, what d'ye mean?

+Blan.+ To make the pleasing proposition to him,

As I told my brother I would. Say, am I not moderate?

But do without reply, what I command.

+Fran.+ Madam, I shall obey. But [_aside_] observe you so withal,

As to prevent the mischief, if I can. [_Exit +Francisca+._

+Blan.+ Ye gods, assist me in my just revenge,

Or you will make an atheist. My first work

Must be, before Don Zancho comes, to speak

With his sweet mistress; and with words and looks,

As false as hers have been, so to delude her

With hopes of what she wishes, that they both

May jointly fall my honour's sacrifice. [_Exit._

_Enter +Don Fernando+, as in +Don Julio's+

private apartment._

+Don F.+ Since generosity hath so far got

The mastery, as to have made me fix

Upon a resolution so unheard of,

I long to see it executed. But stay:

I think I hear Elvira's voice without,

And Blanca's too. Here curiosity

To overhear is pardonable.

[_He makes as if he hearkened, and then exit, as to

go where he may better hear._

_Enter +Elvira+ and +Blanca+ as in the antechamber,

and +Fernando+ peeping as from behind a door._

+Don F.+ Here not a word can 'scape me.

+Elv.+ Madam, you wrong my zeal in serving you,

Whilst you attribute to any other motive

My yesterday's behaviour.

+Blan.+ Such niceties, Elvira, are, out of season.

[_In a tone that may show what she says to be

forced._

I seek your satisfaction in a love,

Wherein it seems you have been long engag'd.

[_+Elvira+ looking round, and +Fernando+ starting back._

+Don F.+ I hope she did not see me. [_Aside._

+Elv.+ My satisfaction, say you, in my love?

Of whom, for heaven's sake? If you mean Don Zancho,

Y'are very far from guessing at my thoughts.

+Don F.+ By heaven, sh' has seen me, and plays the devil still.

[_Aside._

+Elv.+ By all that's good, I am far from loving him--

I say not worse [_aside_], because I know she loves him.

+Don F.+ Ah, Elvira! this is too much, yet not enough

To change in me a noble resolution. [_Aside._

[_A noise is heard, as of people coming up stairs._

+Blan.+ I hear some coming up stairs: should it be Don

Zancho, I am not yet ready for him.--

[_Aside._

I see we are likely to be interrupted here, [_To +Elvira+._

Elvira, we shall be better in my closet. [_Exit +Blanca+._

+Elvi.+ Madam, I'll follow you.

What can she mean? since that she needs must think

I know the passion she herself[22] has for him.

[_+Elvira+ having stayed awhile behind, as she is going

to follow +Blanca+, enter her father +Don Pedro+ and

+Fulvio+: she starts, and stands confounded; he, seeing

her, draws out his dagger, and makes at her._

+Don P.+ Vile stainer of my blood, have I here found thee?

[_+Elvira+ perceiving the door a little open, where +Don

Fernando+ is, flies thither, and gets in._

+Don F.+ This makes it clear she saw me.

[_Aside, as +Elvira+ thrusts in._

[_+Don Pedro+ seizes the door, before it be quite shut, and

they struggle, he to pull it open, and +Don Fernando+

to shut it: after some contest, +Don Fernando+ gets it

close, and bolts it within: +Don Pedro+, as an enraged

person, pulls and bounces at the door._

+Don P.+ In vain should mountains interpose between

Her and her punishment.

[_He bounces still, as to break down the door._

_Enter +Blanca+._

+Blan.+ What Bedlam have we here, and where's Elvira?

+Don P.+ You have one here will know how to revenge

Conspiracies t' affront him: and you, lady,

Whoe'er you are, that seem to take upon you,

Y' had best produce the wicked thing you've named,

Or by this steel-- [_+Blanca+ cries out._

+Blan.+ Ho! brother, brother! help against a madman!

_Enter +Don Julio+._

+Don J.+ Peace, Blanca, peace, you know not what you say:

Don Pedro is master here.

+Blan.+ I know not your Don Pedro; but I'm sure

One to be tied in chains could do no more,

That he has done.

+Don J.+ Have patience, sister: 'tis Elvira's father,

With cares enough upon him to justify

Any distemper.

+Blan.+ Precious! Elvira's father?--

Nay, then I leave you. [_+Blanca+ flings out of the room._

+Don F.+ O the unluckiness of his coming

So unseasonably! 'Twas to prevent that,

I went abroad to seek him. [_Aside._

+Don P.+ What's this, Don Julio? can a gentleman

Of blood and honour use another thus?

What, after such engagements to the Duke

And to myself to be my friend and helper,

To prove the shelter of my shame's chief author?

I do not wonder now Don Zancho himself

Should have been here at midnight.

+Don J.+ I am hard put to't: help, wit, to bring us off. [_Aside._

Be as distemper'd as you please, Don Pedro,

It shall not alter me! but yet methinks

It would not ill become your gravity,

To think a while, before you make a judgment,

And rashly frame injurious conclusions

From things, wherein a friend has merited from you.

Do but consider, and then say, what Julio

Could do of more advance to what you wish,

Than, having found your daughter, to have brought her

To his own house, where she might be with honour

Accompanied, and serv'd as such by Blanca,

Until such time as, things maturely weigh'd,

You should a final resolution take.

And since Don Zancho's being here last night,

I see 's no secret t' ye, methinks you ought

T' have been so just to me, as to believe

That, since I admitted him within these walls,

It was in order to the serving you.

+Don P.+ Noble Don Julio, you must pity have

Of an old man's distemper in affliction.

I see I was in the wrong; pray, pardon it.

+Don J.+ O, this is more than needs. And now, good sir,

If you'll be pleas'd to walk a turn or two

I' the garden, I'll there give you a full account

How I have laid things for your satisfaction.

+Don P.+ I'll wait on you.

+Don J.+ Go, sir, there lies your way;

And you, boy, fail not, when Don Zancho comes,

[_Turning to the Page._

To give me notice of it in the garden. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Don Zancho+, and passes over the stage with +Chichon+

after him: and enter +Francisca+, and pulling +Chichon+,

stays him._

+Fran.+ Stay, stay, Chichon, a word w' ye: it imports--

[_She whispers with him._

+Chi.+ I hope you are not in earnest.

+Fran.+ By my soul, I am--

There is no other way, but for us both

To get up the back-way, and there to watch

The time to interpose.

+Chi.+ Can she be such a fury? her looks are

All milk and honey.

+Fran.+ You cannot fancy anything so tragic,

But she is capable of executing,

When once provok'd in point of love and honour

Beyond her bounds of temper.

+Chi.+ Lead the way--

I'll have the pleasure to bold up the fright [_Aside._

She's in, since I am sure there is no danger,

Knowing, as I do, my master's mind towards Blanca:

Besides, 'tis to be hop'd, that these disorders

May produce somewhat that may put an end

To my master's quarrel, or afford me means

To give Fernando his letter. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Don Fernando+, +Elvira+ lying upon the couch

in the private apartment._

+Don. F.+ This last dissimulation moves me more

Than all the rest; but yet it must not alter

What honour hath inspir'd. See, how she lies,

And how, scarce brought to life from her dismay,

She resumes scorn, to have been sav'd by me!

But multiply what injuries thou wilt,

Perfidious maid, thou shalt not disappoint

Fernando of the glory that he aims at:

Of making thy proud heart, Elvira, owe

Its happiness to him. But I hear again [_He peeps_

A noise without--It is Don Zancho,

And I see Blanca coming towards him.

This falls out luckily, that I may hear

What passes; for certainly their meeting

Avowedly thus can be no other subject,

But what Don Julio has proposed to Blanca. [_Exit as to hearken._

_Enter +Don Julio+ and +Don Pedro+, as in the garden._

+Don J.+ That's all the remedy, that in these cases

The wisest can propose unto themselves:

His fortune's strait, 'tis true.

+Don P.+ That's what I least regard in this occasion,

So honour be but safe: the less they have,

The more will be her penance for her folly.

But should Don Zancho, upon any umbrage

From what has pass'd between them, prove so insolent

As to reject the marriage, then I trust--

+Don J.+ O, say no more of that: rely upon't,

Should he be guilty of that horrid outrage,

This sword should pierce his heart, though th' only friend

I have i' the world should interpose his own.

And, sir, to let you see my frank proceeding,

Come along with me; I'll bring you to a place

Where, jointly overhearing all that passes

'Twixt him and Blanca, should he play the villain,

His life may pay for't, ere he stir from thence.

+Don P+. May heaven repay such generous acts of friendship! [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Don Zoncho+, and +Fernando+ appears as behind

the door._

+Don Z.+ For her so suddenly and so avowedly

To send for me hither, is very strange:

What can it mean?

_Enter +Blanca+._

+Blan.+ Now lend me temper, Heaven, but for a moment,

Till calmly I have drawn him to pronounce

The sentence of his own too noble death

For such a traitor-- [_Aside._

I think you come not without some surprise,

[_To him with an affected cheerfulness._

Don Zancho, at my sending for you so:

But let's sit down, for I have much to say t' ye.

[_She takes him by the hand and seats him in one chair, and

she sits herself in the other close to him on his right

hand, and fumbles in her sleeve._

I'm so well plac'd I cannot miss the mark. [_Aside._

+Don Z.+ Good madam, what's the matter? for I see

Disorder in you: put me out of pain.

+Blan.+ That I shall quickly do: [_Aside._

Know then, Don Zancho,

In the first place, you must not interrupt me,

Whatever you shall hear; I'll take it ill else.

When I have done, then speak your mind at leisure.

I come not to argue, but conclude.

+Don Z.+ Your will's a law to me;

But whither tends all this? [_Aside._

+Blan.+ I do for once allow you to remember

All that has pass'd between us:

The folly of my love, the falsehood of yours;

That done, and never to be thought on more--

+Don Z.+ For Heaven's sake, madam--

+Blan.+ Break not the rule was set:

Know I instructed am in all your story,

And am so far grown mistress of myself,

That I, who th' other day could scarce o'ercome

The sense of a slight failure at Madrid,

Can here at home suffer indignities,

And tell you calmly and with unconcern'dness,

Be you Elvira's and Elvira yours.

I come to do a part you little look'd for

From Blanca's spirit: I must make the marriage.

All things are ready, and her father here.

Now you may speak, Don Zancho; but the thing

Admits of no delay.

+Don Z.+ But can this be in earnest? sure, it cannot.

What needs these trials of so firm a faith? [_Pausing awhile._

+Blan.+ Leave trifling; 'tis no longer time for tricks.

It is not in the pow'r of fate to alter

The resolution taken. [_+Don Zancho+ pauses._

+Don. F.+ She has put it home. [_Aside._

+Don Z.+ Madam, you use me hardly; this demeanour

Passes my skill, to judge from whence it springs.

You say it is not in the pow'r of fate

To change your resolutions; but I'm sure,

If they be such, 'twill less be in its pow'r

To alter mine: but yet, before I die,

You must be left without excuse by knowing

The truth of all.

+Don F.+ Here it imports indeed to be attentive. [_Aside._

+Don Z.+ Madam, 'tis true that, absent at Madrid,

The custom of the court and vanity

Embark'd me lightly in a gallantry

With the most fam'd of beauties there, Elvira:

Those and no other the true motives were

To all my first addresses, till her scorns,

Which should have stopp'd them, had engag'd me more,

And made a love in jest a point of honour.

I bore all her disdains without transportment,

Till, having gain'd her waiting-woman's kindness,

I learn'd from her that all Elvira's slightings

She would have thought had sprung from severe maxims

And preciousness of humour, were th' effects

Of deep engagement in another love

With a young gallant, Don Fernando Solis,

With whom the cruel dame was so far gone,

As to admit him almost[23] every night

Into her chamber.

+Don F.+ Bless'd gods, what do I hear? [_Aside._

+Don Z.+ [_continuing_] I, scarce believing the thing possible,

Urg'd my intelligencer to do for me

That which her lady for another did,

And to admit me to her chamber where,

By being eye-witness of her lady's actions,

I might transfer my entire love to herself.

She granted my request, and late one night,

Somewhat before the gallant's usual hour,

She brought me a back-way up to[24] her chamber,

Within Elvira's. My stay had not been long,

When, having found the truth of what she'd told me,

Converting rage into appearing kindness

To my informer, and expressing it

Uncautiously, we made a sudden noise,

With which Elvira alarm'd, and coming in,

Follow'd by Don Fernando, that fell out,

Which you have heard before.

[_+Don Julio+ beckoning +Don Pedro+ after him,

passing over one corner of the stage._

+Don J.+ By this time, I suppose, she will have made

The proposition to the full, and we

Shall come at the just time to hear his answer.

[_Exeunt +Don Pedro+ and +Don Julio+._

+Don Z.+ [_Continuing._] If since that hour I have ever seen

Or thought upon her, till last night's surprise,

May I for ever perish: and methinks

The use of that to your advantage

Might challenge from you a more just construction.

+Blan.+ I told you at first, I came not here to argue,

But to conclude. Say, will you marry her?

[_+Don Julio+ and +Don Pedro+ peep out as from

behind the hanging._

+Don J.+ W'are come, you see, just as we could have wish'd. [_Aside._

+Don P.+ His fate hangs on his lips. [_Aside._

+Don Z.+ You are mistress of your words and actions, madam,

And may use me as you please; but this hand

Shall sooner pierce this heart than e'er be given

In marriage to Elvira.

[_+Don Pedro+ and +Don Julio+ rush in with their swords and

daggers drawn, and +Don Zancho+ draws too._

+Don P.+ Then, villain, die! Heav'n is too weak to save thee

By any other means. [_+Don Fernando+ draws, and rushing out._

+Don F.+ But here is one that shall--

Or all by his side.

+Don P.+ O heavens! what's this?

Don Fernando Solis protecting him!

Nay, then the whole world conspires against my honour.

+Blan.+ For heaven's sake, gentlemen! [_+Blanca+ runs in between._

+Chi.+ Now, by my grandame's pantable,[25] 'tis pretty!

[_From behind._

I'll brush their coats, if once it come to fighting.

Fernando's of our side.

+Francisca+, _and +Chichon+ with a long broom,

run out also from behind the hanging._

+Don J.+ What frenzy's this, Fernando? was't not you

Engaged me to effect the marriage? Sure, w'are all

Bewitch'd.

+Don F.+ Stay, my Don Julio, stay,

And let Don Pedro have patience but to hear me--

'Tis true; but you know well upon what grounds:

Those are quite chang'd by my having overheard

All that hath pass'd; for my Elvira, Julio,

Proves spotless in her faith, as in her beauty,

And I the only guilty, to have doubted.

What have I then to do, but here to prostrate

Myself at her offended father's feet,

And beg his pardon? that obtain'd, t' implore

His help to gain me hers, as to a person

In whom respect for him hath always held

Proportion with my passion for his daughter.

+Don P.+ You know, Don Julio, when I spake with you,

The terms of estimation and respect,

Wherewith I mention'd t' ye this gentleman;

And, therefore, since in his address t' Elvira

There was no other fault, but making it

Unknown to me, and that I see his thoughts

Are truly noble, honour thus engaged,

That ought to be forgot, and I to think

Myself most happy in such a son-in-law.

But where's Elvira?

+Don F.+ She's there within, where I dare not appear

Before her, knowing now such guilt upon me.

If Blanca would employ her interest

And eloquence, perhaps she might prevail

To get her hither, when she shall have told her

What changes a few minutes' time have wrought.

+Blan.+ I never went on a more pleasing errand. [_Exit +Blanca+._

+Fran.+ I am struck dumb with wonder. [_Exit._

+Don F.+ Now Blanca is away, I'll take this time

To spare her blushes, Julio, and tell you,

Though I have broke one marriage for Don Zancho,

You needs must give me leave to make another;

To which, unless I'm very much deceiv'd,

You'll find on neither part repugnancy.

+Don J.+ I understand you; and I thank the gods

They did not make me understand the wrong,

Till they have made it none, since I observe

Don Zancho's looks joining in your desires.

+Don Z.+ A heart so full of love, as mine for Blanca,

Does best express itself when it speaks least.

_Enter +Donna Blanca+, +Donna Elvira+, and +Francisa.+ +Elvira+

casts herself at her father's feet._

+Elv.+ Now that the justice of the gods at length

Hath clear'd me from suspicions derogatory

To th' honour of your blood, I hope a cloister

May expiate my fault as to a father.

+Don P.+ Rise, child. The enclosure I condemn you to [_Raising her._

Is Don Fernando's arms: give him your hand.

+Elv.+ 'Tis yours, sir, to dispose of, I confess,

And if it be your will, I must submit;

But let him know, who could suspect Elvira,

She never could be his but by obedience.

+Don F.+ I am thunderstruck. [_+Elvira+ giving him her hand._

+Elv.+ Be not dismay'd, Fernando,

Since I profess this a mere act of duty;

Another duty may Elvira move

To reinflame on better grounds her love.

+Don J.+ [_ironically._] Blanca, I fear you'll hardly be persuaded

To give yours to Don Zancho; but a brother

For once may play the tyrant. Give it him:

It must be so. [_They join hands._

+Don F.+ I now renounce old maxims: having you,

Elvira, I am sure the very best proves true.

+Chi.+ Hold there, I beg you, sir: that will appear

By that time you have married been a year. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[17] Without any sufficient reason, and to the evident injury of the

metre, of which the author has nowhere been very careful, he here and

elsewhere preferred the Spanish word _capricho_, to the English word

_caprice_.--_Collier._

[18] Dodsley and Reed very absurdly gave this line to Don Fernando,

when it is evidently a reply by Don Julio to the request of his friend.

The old copy did not mislead the former editors.--_Collier._

[19] _Cauls_ are little membranes, found on some children, encompassing

the head, when born. The vulgar opinion has generally been, that every

person possessed of one of these _cauls_, whether originally belonging

to him, or obtained by purchase, would be fortunate, and escape

dangers. "Lampridius tells us, that the midwives sold _cauls_ at a good

price to the advocates and pleaders of his time; it being an opinion,

that while they had this about them, they should carry with them a

force of persuasion which no judge could withstand: the canons forbid

the use of it, because some witches and sorcerers, it seems, had abused

it."--See ["Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," 1870, iii., 139-42.]

Sir T. Brown ("Vulgar Errors," b. v., ch. 21) quotes "the life

of Antonius delivered by Spartianus" on the subject. The caul,

a "sillyhow" (as Sir T. Brown terms it), is still considered a

preservative against danger, and especially against drowning. Notices

of the sale of them used to be daily posted on the Royal Exchange, and

they are bought by captains of ships and others going to sea, and great

prices given for them. The _Times_ newspaper of March 17, 1827, has the

following advertisement:--"A child's caul, well worth £20, to be sold

for £14. Apply at Academy," &c.--_Collier._

[20] He calls him Sir Galor in reference to the character this knight

sustained in the old romances. He was sometimes known by other

names.--_Collier._ [More properly, Sir _Galaor_. He was a brother of

Amadis of Gaul.]

[21] [Old copy, _lady whom_, which injures the metre. The latter,

however, is not very regular or correct in this play.]

[22] _Herself_, omitted by Dodsley and Reed.--_Collier._

[23] _Almost_ omitted by Dodsley and Reed.--_Collier._

[24] [Old copy _into_.]

[25] Or _pantofle_. In "Damon and Pithias" [iv. 67,] we have seen it

called _pantacle_.--_Collier._

THE MARRIAGE NIGHT.

_Edition._

_The Marriage Night. Written by the Lord Viscount Fawkland._

_Scientia non habet Inimicum

Præter Ignorantiam._

_London. Printed by W. G. for R. Crofts at the Crown in

Chancery-Lane under Sergeants-Inne._ 1664. 4º.

The "Marriage Night" was excluded from the second and third editions

of Dodsley's collection. The punctuation of the old copy, and of the

reprint of 1744, is very corrupt; but the text itself seems to be

unusually free from errors.

DODSLEY'S PREFACE.

+Henry Cary+, +Viscount Falkland+, was the son of him who is commonly

called the Great Lord Falkland. He was a person very eminent for his

extraordinary parts and heroic spirit. When he was first elected to

serve in Parliament, some of the members opposed his admission, urging

that he had not sowed his wild oats. "Then it will be the best way,"

replied he, "to sow them in the House, where there are geese enough

to pick them up." He died in 1643, being cut off in the prime of his

years, as much missed when dead, says Langbaine, as beloved when

living. I am informed from very good hands, that it was he who wrote

the epilogue to Lord Rochester's "Valentinian." And I believe the same

person wrote the copy of verses, which is prefixed to Sandys' tragedy,

entitled, "Christ's Passion," translated, or rather imitated, from the

Latin of Hugo Grotius.

_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._

+The King.+

+De Bereo+, _a duke, brother to the king._

+De Castro+, }

+Dessandro+, } _counts, brothers._

+De Flame+, _a count._

+Pirez+, }

+Sampayo+, } _two lords._

+De Loome+, }

+La Gitterne+, } _attendants to the duke._

+Silliman+, _steward to the duchess._

Two Judges.

+Claudilla+, _a duchess._

+Cleara+, _sister to De Flame._

+Torguina+, }

+De Prate+, } _ladies to the duchess._

Attendants.

_Scene, Castile._

THE MARRIAGE NIGHT.

ACTUS PRIMUS, SCENA PRIMA.

_Enter +Pirez+ and +Sampayo+._

+Pir.+ Is't possible?

Dessandro quit from his command o' th' citadel?

So sharply too? Brushing times, my lord!

Pray, by virtue of what offence?

+Samp.+ It may be treason to ask their wisdoms that;

But the huge mountebank, the vulgar rout,

Quarrel'd with's religion; 'cause 'tis not in the

Smallest print: and the king----was to say nothing.

+Pir.+ Good King! I could wish something;

And heartily, if I durst: Well, from grave hypocrisy

And beardless wisdom, good heaven deliver us!

Nothing in his great father's memory to hold him

Worthy of his place.

+Samp.+ That makes him taste it

To the extremity of sense and anger.

+Pir.+ Let us but slight some gull; or his gay dress,

Whose clothes and folly are his sense of honour;

How will it conjure up his blood, and bend his brow?

And can Dessandro want a just and valiant anger

To feel the merits of so brave a father,

And his own too (kept at a noble height)

Rendered disgraced and sullied? He may believe

H' has deserv'd better, both in himself and father:

But how does his resolution take it?

+Samp.+ As fire and air compress'd when (struggling) they

Break forth in thunders; or the vexed wind, amongst

A grove of trees, spending his scorn and rage.

+Pir.+ Men of his soul and constitution cannot

Play with their passions, and stroke 'em tame,

When so provok'd. The duke!

_Enter +Duke De Bereo+, passing over the stage, +De Castro+

whispering with him, +De Loome+, +La Gitterne+, and other

Attendants._

+Duke.+ Let him be confident of me, in something

More worthy of himself than the command

H' has lost; and bid him use my promise.

+De C.+ We are the creatures

Of your favour; and but own our lives

T' acknowledge it. [_Exeunt._

+Pir.+ Here's state embroidery!

But pray'e, what holiday things be they that spread

So in his train? I don't remember I left

Such faces in the court.

+Samp.+ The first of them

Stalks in a knighthood, like a boy

In a Dutch burgher's doublet; and 'tis as much

Too wide for him; he has travell'd, and speaks languages,

As a barber's boy plays o' th' gittern; and those gay clouts, sir,

Came out of's father's shop.

+Pir.+ His remnants.

The other? That looks like the age to come,

Which must be worse than this.

+Samp.+ His fortune and industry

Has preferr'd him to be barber and pimp;

Two men's places, till of late our noblemen,

Growing frugal, do find one may do

Both the employments.

+Pir.+ It is both thriving and genteel.

+Samp.+ Genteel indeed; for they have produc'd knights,

And made statesmen of broken citizens with the help

Of a wife. But he, whose youth and sorrow shows him

Like a fair day, set in a cloudy evening is----

+Pir.+ The Lord de Castro--I know him: and methinks

Some sparks of his father, great Velasco's, character

Shines in this young man through all the darkness

Of his fate.

+Samp.+ That name alone has glory enough

To make him a brave presage to us.

The duke's father's character was deriv'd,

And circled in himself; and a full age

Of men shall rarely show another of

So much great and balanc'd man in't.

+Pir.+ They are all court-fancies; pageants of state:

And want allowance both of brain and soul,

To make their blood and titles weight

+Samp.+ He was strangely

Shuffled to the block.

+Pir.+ That blow did bleed Castile too weak,

And left us in a faint and sickly pang.

+Samp.+ The pulse, sir, of Castile beats in another temper,

Than when you left it.

+Pir.+ I find it: The city wears a cap, and looks

As if all were not right there.

+Samp.+ Except their wives.

+Pir.+ The court, methinks, has strangely chang'd

Complexion too.

+Samp.+ Those that deride us say the clergy

Has catch'd the falling-sickness: the court, a deep

Consumption; and that the commons have the spleen.

+Pir.+ I know not what disease the court has; but the Lords

Look as if they had oversat themselves at play,

And lost odds, so scurvily--

+Samp.+ How does your lordship find

The ladies?

+Pir.+ I ha' not been amongst 'em yet

To take up my arrears: only had the court-happiness

To kiss her hand, who in herself contracts them all

For grace and lustre, the widow-duchess Claudilla.

+Samp.+ Why, there my admiration leaves you; I grant her

A brave and courtly girl; has trim and dazzle,

Enough of white and red, to attract the eye,

Like an indifferent copy, flourish'd with golden trails.

But place your judgment nearer, it retreats,

And cries you mercy for the mistake. At distance,

She is a goodly landskip.

+Pir.+ Alas, her blooming beauties

Yet languish and pine o'er her husband's hearse,

Like roses scatter'd from the morning's brow

Into the day's parch'd lap.

+Samp.+ Their spring will shine again; grow glorious

And fruitful in the arms of her De Flame;

It is my hearty wish to their affections;

That count does bear an honour'd character

From all that know him.

+Pir.+ A brave young man; and one that is more honour

To his title, than it to him. But when

Must their hymeneal tapers flame, and she

Offer her turtle pantings at the altar,

Purpling the morn with blushes, as she goes;

And scatter such bright rays, as the sun may

Dress his beams with for that day's glory?

+Samp.+ After

He has deliver'd his sister to Dessandro's hand,

He will not defer those minutes long; and he thinks himself

Behind in some expression of their friendship,

Until the knot meet there.

+Pir.+ Cleara is a lady

Of a sweet and honour'd fame.

+Samp.+ All other of her sex

Are dull and sullied imitations, pale glimmerings,

Set by her. Whate'er the modest fictions

Of sweet'ned pens has meant, she is their moral.

+Pir.+ You speak like one that knows what virtue is,

And can love it.

_Enter +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+ to them._

+Des.+ I thank the duke; he has a right soul.

But, prythee, no more of these sad consolations;

They hang upon my heart like pond'rous weights

At trembling wires; or like the dull labourings

Of that clock, which groan'd out our dear father's

Fatal minute.

+De C.+ I have done.

+Des.+ I could chide this tame and phlegmy vapour

From my blood. Our passions melt into soft

Murmurs, like hollow springs:

The manhood of cold hinds would not be tempted

To this sense, but leap with rage into their eyes;

Brother, it would; and wake 'em into tempests.

A wretched fly would show its spleen.

+De C.+ This anger will but show men, where you bleed,

And keep the wound still green.

+Des.+ The scar will stick for ever.

O, the dark hypocrisy and juggling of our times!

Great men are slaves to slaves; and we are theirs:

The law's a tame wolf cowards and fools

May stroke with giving hands: while he shall

Couchant lie, and wag the tail; but show

His fangs at you and I. A noble wish

Is dangerous: is't not, my lord?

+Pir.+ What, Dessandro?

+Des.+ The vulgar's a kennel of black-mouth'd dogs,

That worry men's deserts and fame: my curse

Fester in their temples!

+De C.+ Prythee, Dessandro, collect these scatter'd thoughts.

+Des.+ I'll hollow them through all the world, and say't

Again. Worth and honour now are crimes, and giants

'Gainst the state. My lords, shall's be merry,

And talk something the hangman may thank

Us for?

+Pir.+ Treason? I vow, Dessandro, I speak the worst

_Ex tempore_ of any man living.

+Samp.+ I could mutter it well enough; but I'm to marry

A city widow, and buy a place at court.

+Pir.+ When I have sold my land, we'll venture on

A merry catch, and ever subscribe your servant,

Noble Dessandro.

+Des.+ I shall find a time and place to pay your lordship

The accompt of my engagements.

+De C.+ Brother, my attendance calls me to the king;

I'll wait upon your lordship, if y'are for the court.

+Pir.+ Your lordship's servant thither. [_Exeunt._

+Des.+ So streams divide, and ruffle by their banks.

My brother's of a safe contracted bosom:

Can strangle his labouring rages in their thought;

When they do tug like poisons at my breast,

Until I give them air. But I'll observe,

And creep into men's souls: hug my dear anger

To myself, until it gnaw my entrails through,

That men may court my patience and discourse,

As now they shun it.

And when black night has stretch'd her gloomy limbs,

And laid her head upon some mountain-top,

Bound up in foggy mists, then keep my haunts

By some dull-groaning stream, with screeching owls

And bats; there pay my broken thoughts

Unto thy ghost, Velasco!----

Echo shall wake, and midnight, to help me curse their souls

That thrust thee to thy grave; whilst I will hang

About night's neck, until the moon do wake

To rescue her.

_Enter the +Duke+._

+Duke.+ Dessandro,

You must not be angry my power came short

Of my desires to serve you: we'll try some other way.

You see by what engines the times move;

The king refers all to his council; and though

They do not tie his hands, they hold 'em by a strange

Courtesy. I'm but a single looker-on: perhaps

They may take notice of me for his brother;

That is, when they please, too; but this

Came nearest to me; upon the engagement of my honour

To deny my friend, and one, whose single faith

Had been enough for all the kingdom's safety--

The holding of such a trifle as the citadel.

+Des.+ It has recompens'd me in part to know, where

That close annoy lay which wounded me i' th' dark:

I shall now collect myself against it; and know,

My lord, where my poor life and powers are

To be prostrate. Could I enlarge them to my wish,

They might appear, sir, to your highness' use.

+Duke.+ I know how far you can, bravest man;

Your worth has taken fire here, where I will

Preserve it in a noble flame.

My greatest thirst of fame is my expression

To men of your merit, who cannot want

A friend, whilst I have power to be one:

But I am scanted and weak'ned in my desires,

Else fam'd Velasco had not yet slept in his dust

To please the common hangman; nor men of glorious

Parts live shrouded in obscure homes, like

Pamphlets out of date.

+Des.+ You are the patron of our honoured actions,

And all their glory meets and circles in

Your fame.

+Duke.+ I will disengage you from this forc'd compliment:

It keeps me at too great a distance from that

Bosom, where I would lodge a friend, Dessandro:

I must take't unkindly too, that in the scroll

Of all your friends I stand dash'd out, a stranger

To your joys.

+Des.+ My lord!

+Duke.+ But you shall not steal the day so: I'll be

One at the ceremony, though the bride tell me

In a blush, I came unwish'd-for.

+Des.+ 'Tis but the busy voice that, like the nightmare,

Rides men, and can find strange shapes and prodigies

I'th' clouds. I must confess, Cleara has the

Engagement of all her virtues and a brother's on me.

When it concerns me nearer, it must not be a secret

To your highness, to whom all that's deriv'd

To my poor life and fortune is a just debt.

+Duke.+ You know the way unto a friend--if you can think

I have power enough to make me so.

+Des.+ Sir, I was only showed to the world to be talk'd on:

Fortune (I thank her) has given me many knacks

To play with in her mood, but taken 'em away again scurvily,

To tell me I was not born to any real purpose;

And I wish nothing she can give me.

+Duke.+ She will acknowledge her mistake, and put

On her smiles to court your merits.

La Gitterne, is the king come from's sport? [_+La Gitterne+ waits._

+La G.+ He dines abroad, my lord.

+Duke.+ Colonel, this day you shall bestow on me:

I owe the Duchess Claudilla a visit;

Make ready straight; we'll spend a dinner-time

There, and the afternoon at tennis. [_Exeunt._

+A Song.+

_That done, +Claudilla+ and +De Flame+ discovered sitting in a

rich couch; at each end a lady waiting._

+De F.+ This does but find our melancholy out,

And cast it in a minute's trance; when one

Soft accent from Claudilla's voice leaves nought

That's earth about me. My soul's in her Elysium,

And every sense immortal, dilated into joys:

Heaven becomes attentive, and the soft winds

Put on their perfum'd wings to hover near those lips.

That blush does show the sparkles of some incensed thought!

My poor expressions rob ye; but I appeal

To this white hand for pardon.

+Claud.+ Sir, my thoughts are all acknowledgments of that delight

I hear and see you with, what dress soe'er you please

To send your courtship in to try 'em;

We have outliv'd those arts and common charms,

And need not seek our hearts in scatter'd flames;

As those, whose lesson yet is at the hand or eye;

Our hearts have read Love's deep divinity

And all his amorous volumes over; we must write

Stories of our love, my lord.

+De F.+ And chaste ones, madam:

How glorious the frontispiece would show

With great Claudilla's name, tried in a true

Love's knot to her De Flame's! Though the

Great distance of your shining attributes both

Of blood and virtue, consider'd in the poverty of mine,

Would draw squint eyes and envy to my stars;

But speak your name great as the example of your

Goodness, and make it worth the imitation

Of all noble minds, that shall but read your love

And sweetness, which (most excellent of your sex)

Condescended unto me, who else had

Languish'd in a heap of ashes.

+Claud.+ My lord, you have found an easy way into

My heart, and won me from myself, ere I

Could call my thoughts [forth] to resistance;

Such strength brought your deserts! But now

I hope, nay, can be confident (best sir), they are

Treasured in a breast, whose virtues will

Preserve them with themselves.

+De F.+ O madam!

+Claud.+ It may be, some discourse that, when first

I entertain'd your love, I had not yet given

The world and my dead husband's earth a full

Accompt of sorrow, or paid his memory

A year's just rent of tears: but I appeal

To my own heart; and you, my lord, can say----

+De F.+ Your heart has been but too severe unto itself;

And I can say I have not seen a beam break

From those eyes, but through dark clouds and showers;

Or like the sun, drench'd in the swelling main;

Nor a look with the least comfort of a smile in't.

Nay, divinest madam, now you do but chide

Heaven in your tears, and cannot raise the dead.

+Claud.+ True, sir.

+De F.+ Tears are but shallow murmurs of our grief.

I envy not his grave a tear, but owe all

Noble mention to't; yet, madam, I did hope

You had discharg'd the smart and cruelty of grief

From your soft breast, and would call your beauties

[Back] to their natural springs.

Look on yourself, rare lady, in this change:

With what high flame and rapture it becomes you:

So breaks the morning forth of a crystal cloud,

And so the sun ascends his glittering chair,

And from his burnish'd locks shakes day about.

The summer puts not on more delights and various

Glory, than shines in bright Claudilla;

And shall the grave exhaust their pride

And youth?

_Enter +Torguina+._

+Tor.+ Madam, the king's brother gives you a visit.

+De F.+ Who's with him?

+Tor.+ The colonel your lordship calls friend.

+De F.+ Dessandro?

+Claud.+ Let's meet 'em, sir. [_Exeunt._

ACTUS SECUNDUS, SCENA PRIMA.

_Enter the +Duke+, +Duchess+, +Cleara+, +De Flame+,

+Dessandra+, Attendants._

+Duke.+ I'm in arrears yet unto your grace.

+Claud.+ A widow's entertainment, sir, you please to honour.

+Duke.+ I wish the hours but short, that bring the night

You are to lose that name in; and then, to what

Length your own desires would spin 'em,

Widow! Madam, there's disconsonancy in

The name, methinks. Claudilla widow!

Duchess, and still widow (like a cypress

Cast o'er a bed of lilies) darkens your other titles:

'Tis a weed in your garden, and will spoil the youth

And beauty it grows nigh: a word of mortality

Or a _memento mori_ to all young ladies,

And a passing-bell to old ones. Indeed, it is

A mere privation; and all widows are in

The state of outlaws, till married again.

+Claud.+ Your highness holds a merry opinion of us

Poor widows.

+De F.+ I say virgins are the ore: widows,

The gold tried and refin'd.

+Duke.+ A fair young lady and widow is

A rich piece of stuff rumpled: an old one's

A blotting-paper a man shall never

Write anything on--she sinks so.

Dessandro, your comment.

+De F.+ Friend, you are dull o' th' sudden.

+Cle.+ He is not well.

+Claud.+ Not well, sir?

+Des.+ Not well, madam.

+Duke.+ Dull! Shall's to tennis? I have some pistolets

Will pay your borrow'd time, Dessandro.

+Des.+ Your pardon, sir: I am unfit to wait on you.

My life hangs in a dew upon me;

And I have drunk poison.

+De F.+ Ha!

A physician with all speed! Dessandro!

+Cle.+ Dear sir!

+Des.+ Cleara! Lend me thy hand: so--

I'm struck upon a rock. [_Swoons._

+Cle.+ He's dead; I shall not overtake him.

+Duke.+ Look to the lady.

+Claud.+ He swells like a stopp'd torrent or a teeming cloud;

Have I no servants there? [_Carry him off._

+De F.+ What a sudden storm is fallen?

+Duke.+ How fares the lady?

+Claud.+ Madam!

+Cle.+ As you are tender-natur'd, let no hand

Close his eyes but mine: I am come back

Thus far to take my farewell on his cold lip. [_+De Flame+ returns._

+De F.+ Sister, let thy warm blood flow back:

Thy Dessandro lives, my girl!

+Cle.+ O, may I not see him?

+De F.+ You shall. [_Exeunt._

Duke. Give me leave to make this opportunity happy

On your hand. How! Not vouchsafe it? [_+Duchess+ goes off._

What a tyranny shot from her scornful eye!

Where have I lost myself and her?

There's a cross and peevish genius haunts my hopes;

A black and envious cloud; and I must get above it.

Not kiss your hand? Is your blood surfeited? I'll quit

This scorn; indeed I will, coy madam!

Thou, that are lord of my proud horoscope;

Great soul of mysteries, kindle my brain

With thy immortal fires!

That if I fall, my name may rise divine:

So Cæsar's glory set, and so set mine! [_Exit._

_Enter +Silliman+, a bottle tied in a riband to his

pocket._

+Sil.+ Brave canary, intelligent canary,

That does refresh our weak and mortal bodies!

I will have thee canonis'd Saint Canary at

My own charge, and call my eldest son

Canary. Yet for a man to love thee at

His own cost is damnable, very damnable;

And I defy it.

And Siss is the blithest lass in our town,

For she sells ale by the pound and the dozen;

Ale! Hang ale!

_Enter a +Messenger+._

+Mes.+ By your worship's leave, I would speak with

Signior Silliman, the Duchess's steward, an't like ye.

+Sil.+ Wou'd you speak with Signior Silliman, an't like ye?

+Mes.+ Please God and your worship, an't like ye.

+Sil.+ In what language wou'd you speak with him, hum?

+Mes.+ Yes, verily, I would speak with him, an't like ye.

+Sil.+ At what posture?

+Mes.+ Marry, from a friend, an't like ye.

+Sil.+ Very good, my friend. Didst ever say thy [_Drinks._

Prayers in the canary tongue?

+Mes.+ My prayers, an't like ye? Your worship's dispos'd

To be merry: I have a wife and seven small

Children, an't like ye, to wind and turn as they say,

Simple as your worship sees me here, an't like ye.

+Sil.+ Pox o' wives; I'll not give a gazet for thy wife;

She's tough, and too much powder'd. Fetch me

Thy daughter, thy youngest daughter, sirrah!

If the creature be a virgin, and desirable:

Look ye! there's money to buy her clean linen.

I'll have a bath of rich canary and Venus' milk;

Where we will bathe and swim together, like

So many swans, and then be call'd Signior

Jupiter Sillimano. But is she man's meat?

I have a tender appetite, and can scarcely digest

One in her teens.

+Mes.+ Does your worship think I wou'd be a Judas, an't like ye?

She's as neat a girl, and as tight at her business

As the back of your hand, an't like ye; but heaven

Bless ye, and cry ye mercy, if you be his worship,

Here's a letter from the Lady de Prate, an't like ye.

+Sil.+ The Lady de Prate (mark me, sirrah) is a

Noble lady; we say so---- [_Reads a letter._

_I never knew what bondage was till now;

I fear the gilded heart you sent me was

Enchanted_--(O, O)--_I long to see you_--

(Hum--hum)--_therefore let me have the happiness

To know the place and time_--(even so)--_as

You love her, that blushes to write this_----

Yes, yes, I'll enchant ye! I'll time and place ye!

Surely, there's something more about me, than I can

Perceive. Grant that I may bear my fate

Discreetly! _I never knew what bondage was_ [_Reads.

Till now_. Well; 'tis heaven's goodness! For what am I,

Silly wretch, to such a lady, as she that writes so

Pitifully unto me? It wou'd overcome e'en a heart

Of flint: Good gentlewoman! [_Weeps.

As you love her, that blushes to write this_-- [_Reads._

Hum--yes, yes; she knows I love her: it

Will work--I can't contain my good-nature. [_Drinks and weeps._

_Enter +La Gitterne+ and +De Loome+._

+De L.+ Here he is; and stands like a map of

Sundry countries. [_Aside._

+La G.+ One wou'd take him for some foreign beast,

And that fellow to show him. How the gander

Ruffles and prunes himself, as if he would

Tread the goose by him!

+De L.+ 'Tis a pure goat!

+La G.+ And will clamber a pyramid in scent of's female.

+De L.+ The wenches swear, he kisses like a giant still;

And will ride his heats as cleanly as a dieted

Gelding. Let's fall in. Signior Silliman!

My best wishes kiss your hand.

+La G.+ Continue me worthy of the title of your servant, sir.

+Sil.+ I am very glad to see you well; and hope you are

In good health and sound, gentlemen.

+La G.+ And when shall's draw cuts again for a

Wench, signior, ha?

+Sil.+ Your pleasure [is] to say so.

+De L.+ The slave's rose-drunk, o' my life.

+Sil.+ Please you to take notice of my worthy friend here.

+De L.+ Your admirer, sir. [_Salutes +Messenger+._

+La G.+ Slave to your sedan, sir.

+Mes.+ God bless the good duchess, and all that love the

King, I say, gentlemen, an't like ye.

+De L.+ Pray, sir, what news abroad, or at court?

+Mes.+ News, quotha! Indeed, sir, the truth is I am a

Shoemaker by my trade; my name is Latchet,

And I work to some ladies in the house here,

Though I say't myself; and yet the times were

Never harder, nor leather dearer.

+De L.+ This winter will make amends;

You shall have horsehides cheap, horsehides dog-cheap.

+Latch.+ Cheap, quotha! Why, sir, I'll tell you, (for you

Look like a very honest gentleman), I am put to

Find a pike myself; and must, the parish swears,

Or lose all the shoes in my shop.

+De L.+ 'Tis very brave! Why, you look like a champion;

And have a face the parish may confide in.

+Latch.+ Fide, quotha! sir; be judge yourself, if ever

You knew the like. I have been at the trade

This forty years, off and on; and those children's

Shoes, I have sold for sixpence or a groat upon some

Occasion, we now sell for twelvepence, as they say.

+De L.+ Then the misery is, you get the more.

+Latch.+ More, quotha! Pray, sir, a word. You are a

Courtier, if I may be so bold. They say we must

All be fain to shut up shop, and mortgage

Our wives to the soldiers. D'ye hear any

Such talk, sir?

+De L.+ Some buzzing: but the blades will not accept 'em

Without special articles and a flock of money and

Plate, to keep the babies they shall beget valiant.

+Latch.+ Valiant, quoth-a! Truly, sir, I'll tell ye,

On the truth of a poor man, my Lady de Prate's foot

Is but of the sixes: and yet we pay five pistoles

A dicker.

+Sil.+ My lady's foot but o' the sixes? you lie, sirrah!

By Saint Hugh! there's never a lady i' th' land has a

Prettier foot and leg; if you ha' not spoil'd 'em

With your calf's-skin, sirrah.

+La G.+ Why, the sixes is a good handsome size for a lady.

+Latch.+ Lady, quotha! my life for her's, there's few ladies

I' the court go more upright, nor pay better:

I'll say that.

+Sil.+ You say that? foh! I scorn to wear an inch

Of leather thy nasty flesh shall handle.

+De L.+ O, your worthy friend, signior; and an elder in's parish;

A pikeman too for the republic. Come, come,

He shall be shoemaker to us all. Canst trust?

+Latch.+ Trust, quotha! My name's Latchet, sir. I

Serv'd eleven years to my vocation, before I

Could be free, and have drunk many a good bowl

Of beer i' th' duchess's cellar since that.

+De L.+ I like a man can answer so punctually

To a thing.

+Latch.+ Thing, quotha! it is our trade, sir.

+De L.+ Spoke like the warden of the company! [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Claudilla+, and +Dessandro+ in a

nightgown._

+Claud.+ I am at extremity of wonder.

+Des.+ The story may deserve it, lady; when you shall

Cast your thoughts upon the man it treats on;

The circumstances and progress of my love:

Nay, it may raise your anger higher than your wonder;

And work the modest pantings of your breast

Into a hectic rage. I saw this tempest

Gather'd in a cloud, dismal and black, ready to break

Its womb in storms upon me; and I have cast

My soul on every frown and horror you can arm

Your passion with. I have held conflict with the wilder

Guilt and tremblings of my blood to rescue it; but

Heaven and my angry fate has thrown me grovelling

At your feet; and I want soul to break the charm.

+Claud.+ This is a strange mystery, to betray my virtue

With your own; and I shall sin to hear it.

+Des.+ If pity be a sin, lock up those beauties

From the view of men; or they will damn all the

Eyes that look upon you.

+Claud.+ Has your blood lost all the virtue it should inherit?

And think you by this treacherous siege to take

My honour in? Let me shun you, or you will

Talk me leprous.

+Des.+ Do, madam.

Tear up the wounds your eyes have made----

I'll keep them bleeding sacrifices to your cruelty.

And when cold Death has cast his gloomy shade

O'er this dust, perhaps you may bestow one gentle

Sigh to hallow it: when you shall know

The height of my desires was but to die worthy

Of your pardon, without the ambition of a bolder thought:

And still had scorch'd and smother'd here without

A tongue, only to beg your mercy to my grave.

+Claud.+ Play not yourself into a shame will rūst your brightest

Worths, and hide your dust in curses and black fame:

I now shall think your valour flatter'd, that can

Sink it to such effeminate and lovesick crafts,

For our stale women to mollify the usher with.

Dessandro has a fame, high and active as the voice

It flies on; and could you wander from your

Religious self in such a dream as this?

Cleara's virtue has an interest near your heart,

Should wake you to your first man again.

+Des.+ Cleara still is here in the first sculpture of

Her virtues; and I their honourer.

+Claud.+ No more!----

My grief and shame are passionate, to find

So much bad man got near your heart; and shows

This sick complexion in your honour, more

Tainted than the face of your imposture.----

You have play'd the excellent counterfeit, and your skill

Does make you proud: you cannot blush-- [_Exit._

+Des.+ She's gone;--

A star shot from her eye, and light'ned through

My blood. I must provide for thunder and

Thy revenge, De Flame, as horrid as thought can

Shape it.

_Enter +Cleara+._

+Cle.+ Sir!

+Des.+ Proud love, I'll meet thee with burning sighs

And bleeding turtles at thy shrine. [_Aside._

+Cle.+ This is too bold a hazard for your health,

Which yet sits wan and troubled on your cheek.

+Des.+ Madam!

+Cle.+ Indeed, I'll chide ye. [_Aside._

+Des.+ O, cry ye mercy!

Some retired meditations.

+Cle.+ I shall observe 'em;

Let me but leave you with the joy to know

I stand not in the hazard of that frown.

+Des.+ We'll kiss next time.

+Cle.+ Sir!

+Des.+ Or never.

+Cle.+ Ha! d'ye know me?

+Des.+ So well, methinks we should not part so soon:

Our hearts have been more ceremonious, and hung

In panting sighs upon our lips, to bid adieu.

One kiss must now sum up all; and seal their

General release. I know Cleara more constant

To her virtue and brave mind, than to ask heaven

Idle questions. 'Tis fate, not will. [_Exit._

+Cle.+ So.

I feel thy marble hand lie here: 'Tis cold, and heavy!

How my poor heart throbs under it, and struggles to

Find air! not one kind sigh lend thee a gale

For yonder haven! It's gone! quite vanish'd!

Beshrew me, it was a most horrible apparition!

I wou'd not see it again

In such a cruel look for all my hopes;

Yet it held me gently by the hand, and left a warm farewell there,

As my Dessandro us'd. As my Dessandro, said I?

O, how fain my hopes would mock my apprehension;

And that my sorrow!----

I'll woo thy pity with my groans, kind earth!

And lay my throbbing breast to thine!

Until I am dissolv'd into a spring,

Whose murmurs shall eternally repeat

This minute's story.

_Enter +De Flame+._

+De F.+ Ha!

Cleara, drown'd in her own tears? Sister! Cleara!

+Cle.+ I had a gentle slumber; and all the world

(Methought) was in a midnight calm.

+De F.+ Dear girl,

Clear up those sad eyes and my cold doubts.

Prythee, tell me, is our Dessandro dead?

+Cle.+ Heaven defend!

+De F.+ No! what then, in all the volumes of black destiny

And nature, can throw you into this posture?

Unkind Cleara, why dost dissemble it? I see him

Breathless on thy cheek, and lost.

+Cle.+ Lost for ever.

+De F.+ My fears did prompt me so. For ever!

There's horror and amazement in the thought.

See, Cleara, my eyes can overtake thee.

Gone at so short a farewell, friend? Death,

Thou art the murderer of all our joys and hopes.

+Cle.+ Sir, Dessandro's well, very well; we parted

Even but now.

+De F.+ What!

+Cle.+ O brother, I have lost a jewel that he gave me;

I shall vex my eyes out.

+De F.+ Beshrew this serious folly; you have vex'd my

Blood into a sullen fit.

+Cle.+ You shall not chide me;

Tell me, didst ever in thy life meet with a grief

That made thy poor heart sick, and did divide

Thy sleeps and hours into groans and sighs?

+De F.+ Never, [I] thank my indifferent fate.

+Cle.+ Nor in the legend of some injur'd maid,

That made thine eye to pause, and with a tear

Bedew it?

+De F.+ I cannot untie riddled knots, Cleara.

+Cle.+ Come, I'll but dry mine eyes, and tell you a story,

That shall deserve a groan. [_Exeunt._

ACTUS TERTIUS. SCENA PRIMA.

_Enter +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+._

+Des.+ Tush! they had only tongue

And malice; and that great zeal they

Seem'd to owe to Rome was unto themselves

And their own estates. What were they but wranglers

In schools and law? and studied words to make men

Guilty. They liv'd at ease; and slept in purples and

Warm furs; but bold-minded Catiline threat'ned

Their wise sleeps.

+De C.+ There was too much attempt and fact in't.

+Des.+ 'Twas fact then to look sour on a gownman:

They were mere citizens, jealous of their wives

And daughters--that condemn'd 'em too!

De Castro, there's a lethargy in our blood:

We sleep and dream away our lives. If such

Wore purple for well-talking, what shall he merit,

That cures the wounds and smart his country groans with?

+De C.+ The people shall enshrine his name with reverence;

And fill their temples with his statues. 'Tis

The great end we are all born to.

+Des.+ Which can't be, whilst by-respect shall closely

Wound the bosom of our laws and freedom:

For what was't less, that took our father's life?

+De C.+ In whose blow the heads of all brave men were

Threat'ned.

+Des.+ Then, if we dare not do a general good,

Yet let us secure our own dear lives and honours.

+De C.+ The State is full of dangerous whispers.

+Des.+ There's an imposthume swells it.

+De C.+ Wou'd 'twere lanc'd!

+Des.+ Spoken with the soul of Cassius! We have the cure,

And may do it with a little stir. But then

We must deal like true physicians of state;

And where we find it ulcer'd (though in ourselves,

Friends and allies), not lay soft effeminate hands on't.

Nature has made us nearest to ourselves:

And I would pay the last warm drop of blood

From all these veins, to see the hopes and honours of our blood

(That's now benighted in our father's fate)

Dawn on De Castro's youth again.

+De C.+ No, Dessandro; these hopes are lost upon a high

And angry sea; and I must see fools and stale

Parasites (whose progeny ne'er bled one drop, nor had

A valiant thought to serve their country) begin

A spurious issue on my birthright, that will on tiptoes,

Collossus-like, bestride us, and grasp our fate.

+Des.+ Take me into thy bosom, brave man; we meet

Like amorous streams, and as we ought;

Our honour, life and fortunes have but one heart.

Give me thy hand, De Castro. This sword [_Draws._

Our father hath oft made glorious in the blood

Of De Castro's foes; and I'll not doubt,

How much it prompts thy valiant soul.

O brother, tears, and some sad discourse,

Is all that we have paid him yet. Strangers

Can be far braver in their sense unto his fame.

The tears we ought to shed ought to be blood, De Castro!

Blood, warm from their veins, that made us weep

In streams, and mingle it with the dust of vulgar

Feet, as they did his. Swear by all the glorious acts

Of our great ancestry, their hallowed urns,

Our father's injur'd memory, and all

The hopes and honour we derive from them,

To pay his blood a sad account in some

Revenge, worthy his ghost and our bold hands.

+De C.+ All which religiously I vow to.

+Des.+ And I. So now we are brothers by as strong

Divinity as nature. I'll not break open the

Design, till we shall hear't confirm'd by higher warrant:

Anon meet at the Duchess-Dowager's.

+De C.+ Claudilla's?

+Des.+ Yes; where you shall hear something worthy the

Encouragement of our father's spirit in thee.

I am now to wait upon the duke: he

That keeps us what we are.

+De C.+ The duke!----I have the game in view,

And now discern what I must pay him for my place.

+Des.+ You are full of thoughts, my lord!

+De C.+ Brother, our lives are on the cast; but 'tis not that

Does interpose 'em. There's something in my fears

Still presents Cleara. Take heed, Dessandro;

A virgin's tears leave sad and fatal prints.

+Des.+ Your wishes are a brother's; but those dreams

Chill not my sleeps. Think on that concerns us

Near, and be active.

+De C.+ I shall not fail ye. Farewell! [_Exit +De Castro+._

_Enter +Pirez+._

+Pir.+ Colonel Dessandro!

+Des.+ Your lordship's pardon: Which way walk you?

+Pir.+ As you please to dispose me; my business

Now designs it so: 'Tis there, in short.

[_Gives a paper, which +Dessandro+ reads._

I love this gallant mastery of a man's self:

I look'd his temper would have flam'd about my ears.

Not a sparkle in his brow, nor the least change of blood.

Strange! I have seen him ruffl'd into a storm,

And all fury: now, not a frown nor smile!

+Des.+ De Flame? Well,

My lord, this is a down-flat challenge.

+Pir.+ I brought it for one.

+Des.+ I accept it, with thanks to your lordship, and shall be

Ready to serve you in any power I have.

+Pir.+ 'Tis not worth it, colonel.

+Des.+ The Lord de Flame's angry, it seems, that Fortune should

Give me right without his hand in't; he has turn'd his style

High and strangely on me: But I shall coolly respite

That, till we have room to argue it. That he is

Far more worthy his expectations in the duchess, I can

Confess: that's no assent, sir, to my quarrel, nor yet

A law to her. For those, whom her thoughts please

To think most worthy, are so to her.

+Pir.+ But does not bind the opinion of another.

+Des.+ Nor that opinion her freedom.

+Pir.+ Yet there be rules in virtue, from which all noble

Judgments should take their level, even in love itself.

+Des.+ If it be thought she's too partial in her grace

To me, I shall dispute it, as 'tis question'd.

+Pir.+ I come not to add exceptions, or to make any.

+Des.+ I stand not in so cheap a rank, but that her

Favour may make my services as meritorious

As his lordship's, and can engage as much blood and

Fame for't.

+Pir.+ You know him of a noble breast, and one

That will not flatter weak pretences into truths;

Nor let 'em work with such impressions on his soul,

Did not his honour bleed in't. Sir, I come,

As one that ever honour'd your great parts,

And wish that you could think on't o'er again.

Think how black you must expect that morn to rise

Upon your wishes, when you lead her to the altar;

Where the faint lights with blue and ghastly flames

Will receive ye; and all the things of holy ceremony

Present pale glimmerings to your eyes, to fright your bride

Back unto her first vows. And then, methinks,

Each tear and groan the fair Cleara sends

To overtake ye, should show a speaking fury

To untwine your trembling hands.

+Des.+ No; nor all the squadrons hell can spare

To aid them--though her brother led them on,

And you brought up the rear!

+Pir.+ Sir!

+Des.+ Pish! the meanest thought Claudilla

Pleases to bestow here (under this humble guard)

Must be without the affright (my lord) of all the

Dangers in his muster, stare they like giants

On me, and in armies. As for Cleara,

If she held flattering glasses to her thoughts

Which render'd 'em wide and airy, they must not forfeit

Me. You may deserve her better. I'll not start, sir,

A scruple from his demands and yours. Expect it,

And so farewell. [_Going off._

+Pir.+ Farewell.----The time?

+Des.+ I shall think on't.

+Pir.+ Shall? It must not so tamely be thought on.

+Des.+ How?

+Pir.+ I spoke it, sir.

+Des.+ Are you sent to own the quarrel?

+Pir.+ No; but look on't with so much soul, as I think't

An honour to wear a sword in't.

+Des.+ Go, go hang it in your mistress's chamber!

It stinks, sir, of perfume.

+Pir.+ It may, sir (for destiny has many ways to the wood[26]),

Cut your throat; and then I'll give't your footboy.

+Des.+ My throat, Pirez! that saucy thought has

Ruin'd thee. [_Fight._

_Enter +Sampayo+ and +De Loome+._

+Samp.+ Hold, hold, colonel.

+De L.+ My lord, y'are hurt. [_To +Pirez+._

+Pir.+ I must owe him this for't.

+Des.+ Canst talk yet?

+Samp.+ Command your passion; see how the common herd

Come gazing in. Do not become their talk

And wonder. Noble Dessandro! put up, my lord!

Thank ye. [_They part._

+De L.+ Sir, my lord duke sent me to tell you

He expects your company.

+Des.+ I wait on him. [_To +Pirez+._] Bid the ladies tear

Their clean smocks to wrap you in.

+Pir.+ Insolent man! [_Offers to fight._

+Samp.+ Again! [_Exeunt._

_Enter three +Townsmen+, as the Watch._

+1st T.+ Was not I about to tell you so? They

would be afraid of true men, when we came.

+2d T.+ By'r lady; but that mun not serve their

turns; for we must know flatly which was plantan

and which defendam,[27] or we shall discharge but a

sorry conscience to the king's justice.

+1st T.+ I'll take my oath upon the corporal Bible,

I saw two glittering swords run a tilt, and two to

that, if need be.

+2d T.+ Neighbours, I cannot tell; we are old

men, or should be at least; some of us have lived

threescore years and upwards in a parish, as they

say; I name nobody; and therefore it is good to be

sure, and make all our tales _bonum fidrum_: for we

are not all one man's children. And yet, if I be

not mistaken, I am sure I saw three more, and

glittering ones indeed, as you call them. God bless

every good man and woman from the like! They

e'en yearned my heart; and yet, by my fay, I am

a hundred and two, come the time.

+3d T.+ You talk like sucking infants. Neighbours,

I'll be sworn, if I were to take my oath before

the best man living, high or low, there was

twenty drawn swords, little and great. I'm sure,

I might ha' seen 'em, like a fool, had I been worth

my head, but my little boy Jack did.

+1st T.+ La, there; and that same's a murrain

wise boy, if you mark him, and will see a thing, I

warrant you, as soon as the wisest of us all, were

he twice as old again.

+3d T.+ I could ha' seen too at his bigness, for all

I'm lame now, God help us! You remember the

Powder Plot?

+2d T.+ Powder Plot, quotha! I shall not forget

it, while the world stands.

+1st T.+ Nor I, were I to die a thousand deaths.

+3d T.+ That very day was I working in our garret.

+2d T.+ Say you so?

+1st T.+ Nay, neighbours, beshrew me, this may

be true; for I have known this man here able to

do as tight a day's work by noon, as the tallest

fellow the king keeps (God bless him!) take him

from top to toe.

+3d T.+ All's one for that. Mark me! there has

not been a glass window there time out of mind:

since I came nor after; and I tell you truly (I'm

a false liar else) I smelt the powder as hot as if it

had been done the next day.

+1st T.+ See, see, the wind! the wind, neighbours,

is much; God bless us!

+3d T.+ Go to; I am no made fool, though a born

fool, my masters. True, the wind may be something,

as you say. But if there had not been

something else, I would not give a fart for't. I did

not work at court with a master-carpenter for

nothing, my boys; and see the king's grace fasting

and full, as I did, to a hairsbreadth, as they

say. Let me alone for casting my cards, give me but

ground enough; and yet I can neither write nor

read, heaven make me thankful!

+2d T.+ Heaven make us all thankful! I have seen

the king too in my prime, and gave him a beck

upon his milk-white steed; as near as one should

say, what's this? and all his royal lords and ladies

sporting.

+1st T.+ Ay, ay, those were the days (peace be

with 'em!) a poor man's tale might be heard at court.

There are some lords and ladies now were lousy then.

+3d T.+ Go thy ways, by the rood! Nay, he'll have

his old talk, for all the world, up and down.

+1st T.+ It was ever my condition; I care not who

knows it; and yet I never scathed the least sucking

child that begs his bread; but little does

another man know where the king's shoe wrings

him, but those that wear it, as my mother would

often say; and she lived long enough to know it.

+3d T.+ Nay, that's certain; the king's but a man,

as we three are; no more is the queen, if you go

to that. Did you never hear of my uncle's observations?

He's but a poor knave (as they call him),

but such a knave as cares neither for king nor

kæsar, the least on 'em.

+1st T.+ Then he may be hanged, neighbour Palmer.

+3d T.+ If he be, he's not the first that has been

hanged for treason, I hope. [_Exeunt._

_Enter the +Duke+ and +Claudilla+._

+Duke.+ That frown was shot with pretty tyranny

From your brow; but this kiss shall sacrifice

Me to my Claudilla's bosom.

+Claud.+ You'll sully your honour in't; widows

are but rumpled stuff.

+Duke.+ That again! By all my hopes and by

thyself, the next and greatest--

+Claud.+ Your brother's crown's betwixt us.

+Duke.+ I did [that] but to sharp De Flame into some

Expression of his wit and love.

+Claud.+ Alas! he sighs all.

+Duke.+ And, like some crude chaplain, spits most

Of his mind.

+Claud.+ Yet the tame dove can tire me sometimes

With penn'd speeches, when we're alone, and flatter.

I'm resolv'd to bestow him on my woman.

+Duke.+ Now he can come to hand. Ha, ha, thinking men never

love heartily, unless they be dank powder.

+Claud.+ His courtship is like thick embroidery upon

Slight stuff. I must confess, I never

Lov'd the man, only as a rich gown out of

Fashion, for a day's change sometimes at home,

When I take physic.

+Duke.+ You may wear him as you please, and to what

Purpose; his honest nature was meant you so;

But Dessandro is the man of men (I must confess),

That I could wish most near you now.

+Claud.+ Dessandro!

+Duke.+ And suddenly, before your honour blush too palpably:

I have discovered him and his devotions.

+Claud.+ Then your brains were in his plot.

+Duke.+ 'Twas his own.

+Claud.+ Stol'n from some romance or play! but

For De Flame----

+Duke.+ One wheel will move another to the period.

+Claud.+ Methinks, his soft and easy spirit should be

The fitter engine, and more pliant to your aim.

+Duke.+ He has too much of Venus in his mixture; all his

Desires would be at home still in the circle of those

Eyes: the other is all fire, and thinks that fame

Too cheap, that's found so near; and there will

Want such men abroad.

+Claud.+ But where's my honour, duke?

+Duke.+ Lock'd in my heart and cares: the king must die,

Claudilla, to smoothe the way, and lift us to our wishes.

+Claud.+ That still is talk'd on.

+Duke.+ His last glass is now turn'd, and runs apace.

He gives thee to Dessandro, and is your guest; and

That night receives eternal thanks for't. Then

(My fair) Dessandro cannot want lustre and honour for

Your bed, nor thy commands, what all Castile can give.

+Claud.+ I understand not, sir.

+Duke.+ Thou shalt in time. O my Claudilla! my best and nearest

Joy, our loves have been entire as a flame: one centre

To our thoughts and wishes; and crown our bosoms with

Delight and safety. But they are come.

_Enter +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+._

+Claud.+ I have not known so little of his fame

To be a stranger to his worth. Sir, I honour it:

Nor am I so proud and dark in my opinion,

To think I stand upon myself, but stoop in

Honour to one of his deserts and blood. This is

The way, my lord, I ever summ'd up man, and set

His titles down but for cyphers.

+De C.+ Observe. [_Aside._

+Duke.+ Which will most clearly show his merits, and heighten

Them in value to you; for, madam, look on him

In the spring of his deserts; and you'll say, titles

Are but narrow spheres; and if honoured actions

Be the soul and breath, he's then above them,

And stands in the first rank of men.

+Des.+ I shall want life to pay this debt. [_Aside._

+Claud.+ But, with your grace's favour, I must be tender here:

For I stand a tall mark to voice and censure;

And need not tell your highness, with what strong

Expectation the Count de Flame hath long

Time visited me.

+Duke.+ If you will stand engaged, madam,

I am silent.

+Claud.+ No, sir--but----

+Duke.+ You expect honour and fortune to your bed:

I know Castile owns not a subject (I'll not

Except myself; and had I another's freedom, I should

Not speak my wishes in a second person) that

Looks not with ambition on you: but, madam, weigh

Them all; take but off their grains of fortune,

He shall hoist them into the air; and to my

Wish he's come. Dessandro, your name was

Mentioned--happily, I hope. Let me present

His value to your grace's hand; and to a sister,

Madam, I would say, her bosom.

+De C.+ You purchase our poor lives too highly, sir.

+Duke.+ I would have rich jewels set to their worth;

And shall be proud to give any advantage unto his.

The Duchess shall not slight me in't: I will be

Heard against the proudest courtship that shall

Charm her. Come, my lord, what sport will you

Win some ducats at?

+De C.+ I will lose some at any your grace pleases.

+Duke.+ My brother has got a fortunate hand of late

'Gainst all the court: I cannot rise at even terms

From him.

+De C.+ I saw him draw deep from your grace last night.

+Duke.+ Two thousand ducats; but I expect 'em

with interest again.

+Des.+ I cannot pawn myself to the unworthy ends

Of flattery and compliment; but this honour

Outbids the value of a thousand lives:

What this poor glimpse of expression can show me in;

Saints are not more unfeigned in their prayers,

Than I to serve you.

+Claud.+ I shall not doubt, how much I may be indebted

To your noble wishes; but let me add, sir, he that

Lays out for me without my warrant, shall scarcely

Put it on my account for thanks--much less, debt.

+Des.+ Not good devotions!

+Claud.+ Them I desire, and shall repay.

+Des.+ Then pay back mine.

+Claud.+ I'm not to learn my prayers, sir.

+Des.+ Teach me yours, that I may turn the virtue

Of their charms back to your bosom.

+Claud.+ Colonel, mine would hardly please you;

I never pray for wars.

+Duke.+ You have back-friends, my lord?

+De C.+ That some malignant cloud does interpose

The king's cheerful favour, I am most sensible.

+Duke.+ It wou'd spread to me too, if they durst.

+De C.+ Had they but so much virtue left, they durst

Own their names by, I should make pale envy blush.

+Duke.+ Come, we'll to cards, and leave them to parl. [_Exeunt._

+Des.+ Madam, but mean it in a smile.

+Claud.+ What!

+Des.+ Love.

+Claud.+ Fie!

+Des.+ Yet stay; the air has busy wings. But give

The thought consent, and I will take it in soft

Whispers from your lip.

+Claud.+ You will?

+Des.+ I feel it creep in flames through all my blood!

_Enter +De Flame+._

+Claud.+ Sir, the Count de Flame!

+Des.+ With a black evening in his face!

+De F.+ O my faithful Achilles, I came

To give you joy!

+Claud.+ Who! me, sir?

+De F.+ My virtuous friend and you.

+Claud.+ Of what?

+De F.+ Of your entertainment under him. Y' have a brave commander,

And he a--I cannot be angry enough to tell you what.

+Claud.+ I begin to doubt his wits; he looks so ghastly.

+De F.+ Yes, I see a devil in those eyes, that makes my hair

Stare upward. False woman, my love durst scarce

Doubt before, what now I find and tremble at.

But heaven has wrath in ambush and scorpion-stings!

+Claud.+ For what, my lord?

+De F.+ Duchess, thy perjury and warm engagements

To this, this huge impostor!

+Claud.+ Sir, he has crack'd his brains with poetry;

Pray, forgive him----

+Des.+ Count, you know what privilege this roof can give

You on my anger, or else I should make your frenzy

Tongueless. Don't requite it barbarously on her,

That gives you leave to live by it. Gather your

Scatter'd wits up; go home, sir, and repent.

+De F.+ Privilege!

I'll meet thee in a ring of flames, or on the tempest

Of some billow, upon whose back the raging north wind strides:

Yet I'd not ha' thee lose one spark of thy full man in noise

And air; that when next we greet, I may find thee worthy

My revenge. This frailty now protects thee.

+Claud.+ Uncivil man, know the way back, or I shall

Let that justice loose upon you you deserve.

+De F.+ Your centaur there, you mean; he must

Stare bigger to move a hair of mine.

+Claud.+ You sha' not stir, sir; as you love me, do not:

Let him die mad.

+De F.+ Do kiss him, and clap his cheek.

+Claud.+ And circle him in my arms from your pale envy.

Does that make you foam? Look ye-- [_Kisses +Dessandro+._

+De F.+ He shall not blossom there.

+Claud.+ He shall, though thou dost bribe the Furies

With thy soul.

+Des.+ Madam, your commands will hold me, till I scorch away!

I am in flames and torment, and there's not so much

Mercy under heaven, but your own, would let him use

That tongue a minute longer. Thou has seen this

Sword reeking from hilt to point, and sweating

Showers of blood o'er thy head; whilst I bestrid thy

Life, and rescu'd it 'gainst many gallant foes:

And durst thou tempt it to thine own throat now?

Prythee, begone; and let us meet no more.

There's something in thy youth I still can love,

And will forget to call thee to account for this.

Be wise unto thyself, and ask this lady pardon.

+De F.+ O my blood! Must I bear this! I am

More cold than marble, sure!

+Claud.+ Within there! Where's his grace?

_Enter +Servant+._

+Serv.+ At cards, madam.

+De F.+ O, cry you mercy! your bak'd meats sha' not cool for me;

I only wish that they may choke ye. That paper, sir,

I sent, wou'd be worth your noble answer.

+Des.+ 'Tis there again, and has stopp'd the use I took it for.

+De F.+ Ha! I'll make thy name a boy's play,

And kill thee on the threshold of thy door.

+Des.+ Go, go, take your rest! When you are

Recovered, I may own you.

+De F.+ Thou hast not blood enough to answer this. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Pirez+ and +Sampayo+._

+Samp.+ You tell me strange ones.

+Pir.+ But true ones.

+Samp.+ Nice windings!

+Pir.+ This duke can strangely back his purposes,

Where they like him. 'Tis a fair lift

To Dessandro's fortune; his stars shin'd.

+Samp.+ True; she has a spacious fortune; but I shall

Tell your lordship what perhaps you know not.

+Pir.+ You may.

+Samp.+ She has no blood. From her first, an honest

Tradesman's wife, who left her very rich and

Handsome, the duke (as he still keeps a

Kennel for that purpose) had her presented

To him for his game; remov'd her from the

Cuckoo's nest into another sphere; but with all

Caution and private sleight; and you must

Imagine, now she spreads a larger wing;

Stirs not abroad, but studded like the night

With flames; and at length becomes the court's

Discourse and wonder; but still keeps[28] the

Country her retiring place.

+Pir.+ Unknown!

+Samp.+ Or unsuspected, as the duke's instruments dealt it;

And the young Henrique being in those parts

With our king's brother for sport, casually (as 'twas plotted)

Visits her house, falls in love, and marries her. This

Is the epitome.

+Pir.+ I hope the Duke Bereo had no dull hand in't.

+Samp.+ 'Tis thought (only by me, sir,) [he] keeps his

Acquaintance to this day.

+ Pir.+ It must be fatally answer'd somewhere;

Heaven has a justice.

+Samp.+ The preparation makes huge noise.

+Pir.+ 'Tis well the king's a guest; their triumph

Might miscarry else.

+Samp.+ The king gives her in church. Methinks

The Count de Flame must needs be all a-flame at it:

And I believe, sir, your affront bleeds freshly in him.

+Pir.+ It must be put to an account somewhere.

+Samp.+ To return his challenge and honour with such a scorn

Must work such a spirit to high extremes.

+Pir.+ The saddest story is his sister.

+Samp.+ A rose new-blown, and flung aside to wither in

Her sweets! Poor innocence! that has much chang'd

My opinion of Dessandro.

+Pir.+ His resolution and ambition are like vast trees,

Whose spreading tops hide their own roots

From the kind sun.

+Samp.+ Let out unto so vast a pride, as shades all his natural

Virtues, or makes 'em grow up rank and sour.

The event will tell us all.

+Pir.+ I wish it without blood. Your lordship's for the solemnity?

+Samp.+ My attendance ties me to his majesty's person.

+Pir.+ My best wishes to your lordship. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[26] [The common saying is, "There are more ways to the wood than one."]

[27] [Plaintiff and defendant.]

[28] [Old copy, _kept_.]

ACTUS QUARTUS, SCENA PRIMA.

_Loud Music._

_Enter the +King+, +Cardinal+, +Duke+, +Duchess+, +Dessandro+,

+De Castro+, +Sampayo+, ladies bearing up her train,

voices, lutes: they pass over._

_Manent +De Loome+ and +La Gitterne+._

+De L.+ So by this time the confines ring

Of our great solemnity.

+La G.+ She became his hand bravely, and with so skilful a brow,

As if the first fruits of her honour were to be gathered yet.

+De L.+ Our duke will lick his lips at this night's sport.

+La G.+ And wind her up for him, 'twill go hard else.

+De L.+ That shall not hinder our sport, I hope.

+La G.+ Expect the steward and his bottles; I'll warrant you.

+De L.+ The ladies too! we shall not tickle heartily else.

+La G.+ Where are the great ones bedded?

+De L.+ I' th' old place.

+La G.+ I' th' corner lobby?

_Enter +De Flame+ and +Cleara+ disguised._

+De F.+ You belong to the Duke de Bereo, sir?

+De L.+ Who told you so?

+De F.+ A friend that wou'd commend me with a poor suit

Unto you, sir, if you be Signior de Loome.

+De L.+ But this is no year for suit, sir.

+De F.+ Mine brings thanks ready-told, sir; look ye:

All double pistoles, signior.

+De L.+ Sir, I shall try my power, and be ready in any

Service t' ye, for my friend's sake.

+De F.+ D' ye know who 'tis?

+De L.+ Hum! no matter; I'll undertake your business.

+De F.+ Sir, can you please to pardon some light gold?

+De L.+ You shall find me a gentleman in anything for my friend's sake.

+De F.+ Nay, sir, it weighs a hundred pound at all, peradventures.

+De L.+ And I'll tell you one thing of myself, sir, more than

Perhaps my friend rememb'red: I am very honest, where

I take; and every man is not to be trusted in matters

Of such consequence. A very fair purse, I assure you!

+De F.+ Nest and birds are all your own.

+De L.+ Your business is done, believ't, sir; please you to kiss

The king's hand into the bargain?

+De F.+ At fitter opportunity, let me be ambitious of your

Offer: but I shall woo your courtesy to be only a

Looker on now.

+De L.+ Anything, sir, you can make worthy your request. Nay--I

hope, you do not wish me [to] forfeit good manners--as I'm

virtuous. [_Compliment for the door._

+De F.+ I am a stranger to the way.

Gentlemen, know yourselves, I beseech you.

+La G.+ To obey you, signior.

+De L.+ Sir, you need not speak on't to this man:

He's but my lord's barber. Since you command it so--

[_Exeunt +De Loome+ and +La Gitterne+._

+De F.+ Light, light, revenge! heave up thy gloomy tapers!

That thou may'st see thy smeared altar shine

In blood. Come, my Cleara! my better soul!

Whose gallant mind will leave thy name

In the first place of women, and raise thee temples.

Bravest of thy sex, I could expire on thy cheek,

And pay thee reverence, my most excellent sister.

+Cle.+ Just heaven and your brave virtue (my dearest brother)

Has waken'd my dull breast and trembling sex:

I do not feel one pale or coward thought;

But all [are] high and active to my wish.

+De F.+ I see it lovely in thy brow: like the gleaming

Dawnings of the morn, when day first kindles;

Yet our presage is fair.

_Enter +Duke+, whispering with +De Castro+._

+Cle.+ The Duke!

+De F.+ Now, innocence, guard thyself! the wolf is up:

See, how mischief teems and quickens on their brow:

Some black thing is spawning: night must be midwife to't:

If we stay, my poniard will break loose. [_Exeunt._

+Duke.+ Who's that?

+De C.+ Some of the duchess's servants, I believe, sir.

+Duke.+ Your hand will lay a new foundation to a kingdom;

And I am busy how to divide it with thee, when

We can call it ours.

+De C.+ 'Tis his last night with mankind; the poison, sir,

Will do't so subtlely: whilst he but holds the

Knife, the least warmth attracts, and so dispreads

Itself through his blood and spirits. Not any

Struggling for't with nature; his life steals from

Him in a gentle slumber.

+Duke.+ Grow in my bosom, till you spread to the first honours

Of your wish. My fortune is too narrow for your

Merits, to whom I owe it and all my power, brave friend. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Steward+, +Butler+, +Cook+, and +Maids+._

+Stew.+ Come, my masters: the great ones shall not

Have all to themselves: we'll have a civil

Bout or two to get us a stomach to bedward,

My sweethearts.

+Cook.+ Noble master steward!

+But.+ Brave master steward!

+Cook.+ The fire of my respects shall ne'er go out unto you.

+But.+ Nor mine be quench'd.

+Stew.+ Here, cook, here's a bit for you to lick your lips at:

And here's a clean napery for you, butler. [_Gives each a wench._

Take it. [_A dance._

+Stew.+ So, so; I am almost spent; every man to his function.

[_Exeunt._

_Enter +King+, +Cardinal+, +Dessandro+, +Duke+,

+Duchess+, attendants._

+King.+ The night begins to frown at our uncivil stay;

And Hymen's tapers do burn out apace:

Good night; you shall not stir a foot, Dessandro.

+Duke.+ All the wishes of a bridal bed crown

your wishes and embraces!

+Card.+ And all the blessings of true joy.

+Duke.+ To bed, to bed! [_Exeunt._

_Enter +De Loome+, +De Flame+, and +Cleara+._

+De L.+ You are as melancholy as [the] day, when sun sets:

I hope you do not doubt my promise?

+De F.+ No.

+De L.+ Ye sha' not: I'll not leave you, till the grant be yours.

Be confidant; and that's more than a courtier is bound

To by his oath. Sir, where are you? Why, you were

Living but e'en now; could speak--had sense, too:

Ha' you seen anything against nature or stomach?

Hum! sweetheart, has thy master any fits o' th' mother [_To +Cleara+._

Or falling-sickness? Pretty knave! 'tis pity

This face was made for breeches.

+De F.+ Ha!

+De L.+ I am glad you are come to yourself again.

+De F.+ You are pleasant.

+De L.+ I would ha' you so: I have provided some mirth

And good company for you. Please you, but spare an

Idle hour from your sleep, we'll allow't again in

The total of your business (I must not lose his

Money). If you can smile, you shall not want a

Subject: Besides, we shall have the wit of a

Handsome lady or two, and hear their voices.

_Enter +Steward+, and a man with bottles._

Look ye, sir, here's the _imprimis_ of the house:

Master steward himself, whose company may be worth

Your observation. Signior Silliman, this gentleman

Is a friend of my lord duke's: pray, let him know he's welcome.

+Stew.+ I am but the duchess's poor steward, sir, but my

Place is at your command, sir. You shall not have

Me claim kindred of her for all that; yet

Sir Thomas de Loome here can say something,

If he please, sir.

+De F.+ Thank ye, sir.

+Stew.+ Look ye, Sir Thomas, I never fail; here be the

Perquisites of life and good company. There's that

Will elevate voices. Come, disburthen thyself in

That lobby, my honest rational camel!

Is this gentleman dumb? He can say nothing but

_Thank you, sir._

+De L.+ I fear he's planetstruck.

+Stew.+ 'Tis great pity; yet he makes very gentle signs.

+De F.+ I'm got into a dark and slippery labyrinth, and

Grope but by a spark; whilst every pause is fatal.

No. It had miscarried; and the king's presence

Was a sacred guard: now, to break in upon them were

To betray our lives to nothing. Sure, heaven will not

Lose the glory of such a justice, and by a hand so

Justly engaged.

_Enter +La Gitterne+, +Torguina+, and +La Prate+._

+De L.+ The ladies! Good girls, this deserves a double

Thanks. Here's a gentleman, whose merits may

Invite him to your acquaintance, ladies.

+Tor.+ I shall ever study that due honour, by all the

Ambitiousness of your humble servant, sir.

+La P.+ You may please to pardon her, whose demerits

Make her modest in her expressions to honour

You, noble sir.

+De F.+ You engage a poor life to your virtue.

+De L.+ What, ladies, have you put 'em together

for a brave boy to-night?

+La P.+ That's as the dice run, sir.

+La G.+ The colonel will find a piece of service on't to-night.

+La P.+ If he put her to the worst, 'twill be worth her pardon,

being so tried a soldier.

+Tor.+ If his valour should be shortbreath'd, a retreat may be

honourable sometimes.

+La P.+ If he fight not flat coward, and make it in policy.

+Tor.+ Sir, we have read over Aristotle's _Politics_ and

Polybius to that purpose.

+La P.+ Who calls policy the very breath of all war.

+Tor.+ And so, by your ladyship's good licence, in all

battalions, leaguers, skirmishes, sieges, invasions, parleys,

treaties, truces, and other cessations.

+De F.+ Excellent ladies!

+De L.+ For the theoric.

+La P.+ We can say something to the practic too, signior.

+Tor.+ Both concerning your postures and motions, as

Which may be necessary for service: her ladyship has

Written a small tract for her private experience,

To show how they may be reduced, and a man

Exercis'd with far less trouble, but with as much

Activity and proportion of comfort.

+La P.+ For body and service, madam?

+Tor.+ I mean so: I warrant you this gentleman

Understands me.

+De F.+ And will not your goodness bestow it on the public?

It would rank your name amongst the illustrious

Benefactors of the general cause.

+La P.+ I know not what I may, sir, when the press is fit

For a woman of quality. Is this gentleman a soldier?

+De F.+ That ambition has grown with me from the

Cradle, madam.

+La P.+ I shall render myself with more endearment to

Your worth, and ever subscribe to soldiers as the bravest men.

+De L.+ The duchess, I hope, will be of your opinion;

But, madam, had I the use of that key for an

Hour or two, I would take some notes in shorthand

Behind the hangings.

+La P.+ You wou'd?

+De L.+ Yes, indeed, my precious wit, I shou'd.

+De F.+ That key!

+Tor.+ Signior, pleaseth you to think our humble

Invitation worthy the grant of your society.

+De F.+ I could wish the trouble of ten lives more, to be

Accepted in your command, fairest of ladies,

+La P.+ Were all our days multiplied into years, and

Those years to lives, 'twere but a span of time

To study our thanks in.---- _Exeunt._

_Manent +Silliman+ and +La Prate+._

+Sil.+ Madam! lady!

_I never knew what bandage was until now:

I fear the golden heart you sent me was

Enchanted: I long to see you._----

+La P.+ What d'ye mean, sir?

+Sil.+ Ha, ha, ha! hum! nothing, madam, but there

Be them that love a good nature with all their heart;

That have four hundred pounds a year, and money

In their purse to be knighted, if need be.

+La P.+ Wit and opportunity assist me!

The thing will make an excellent husband for the

Times; and four hundred pounds a year is a

Considerable fortune to boot. I must take him at

His bond, or perhaps die in the list of stale chambermaids:

A court-plague for a misspent youth and service.

+Sil.+ I am a gentleman already, else the heralds took my

Money for nothing: and methinks, madam, you

And I might----

+La P.+ What, signior?

+Sil.+ Be as wise as our forefathers.

+La P.+ You and I?

+Sil.+ Yes, what say ye to _you and I_? Is not _you and I_

Good Spanish? Why, madam, I am able to warm

My own sheets, and get children without the help of

A doctor; and can kiss as warm and close:

And you shall swear my breath is sweet.

+La P.+ Y'are merry, sir, beyond my apprehension.

+Sil.+ Pardon me, lady, if I be: I mean no harm,

I protest.

+La P.+ Very witty!

+Sil.+ I am what I am: but I was never beholden to any

Living thing for thus much wit: I might

Have been an arrant younger brother, but for my mother----

Thereby hangs a tale, madam, and yet I cou'd ha' danc'd

My cinque pace in Greek at a dozen. Alpha,

Beta, Gamma, Delta, cost me five shillings:

Can you believe me, lady? By this light, you shall

Wear this diamond! There; sha't, sha't ha't:

Sha't, sha't, sha't ha't.

+La P.+ There is such sorcery in your words!

+Sil.+ No, no, no; troth, love me: come, thou shalt;

By this----nay, never sigh, my dear; they are

All orient, sweet wench: Thou art worth all Spain

For a good disposition----

+La P.+ You will undo me, master steward.

+Sil.+ Pish! who? I undo thee? my life! thou dost wrong

Me: canst find in thy heart to think so? away, away.

+La P.+ But is this profession honourable, sir?

+Sil.+ I scorn to deal upon dishonourable terms. Do I

Kiss like a man that would propound dishonourable

Conditions?

+La P.+ Men are so nice and cunning!

+Sil.+ Do'st think me a Jew; swear me to anything.

+La P.+ Well, you have taken a poor heart at

advantage; and make me blush to confess it.

+Sil.+ Kiss me; here's my hand, till death us do part:

Thine more than mine own, Signior Bouche

Ouverte Sillimano: seal'd and deliver'd; but

I hope, lady, there is no quit rent to be paid out of this copyhold.

+La P.+ Not for your life, sir.

+Sil.+ Lawful possession then, and thou'rt mine own. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +De Flame+ and +Cleara+._

+De F.+ So, let 'em drench their souls in laughter: kindle

Thy noble heart into a flame, my sister!

Fate cannot give nor we ask more unto

Our cause: all things conspire and prompt us to't.

Just and divine revenge!

I'll strew thy midnight haunts with cypress wreaths,

And wear thee in rich medals. Propitious goddess!

This night thy wan and meagre cheek shall blush,

And smile with warm and wanton blood. Night grows heavy-ey'd,

And drops her slumbering head in her dark bosom:

And now their rage and lust will make them ripe

To bleed. Let us embrace, and interchange

A sigh or two, Cleara: whate'er become of me,

Thou wilt wear chaplets in Elysium.

+Cle.+ My hopes and joys are yours, dear sir, and heaven,

I hope, will not divide them.

[_Unlocks the door, and discovers them._

+De F.+ See, what a modest blush

Sleep has cast o'er their guilt!

+Cle.+ Here is a look

Tyrants would bashfully gaze at, and fear

To think it mortal. Glorious hypocrisy!

Virtue is at wonder in herself, and looks pale,

To own what she has given.

+De F.+ I should mock heaven's justice, to let 'em dream

Their souls away in such a calm: we'll startle

Them into horror of their sin, and then

Let 'em see the vengeance they deserve.

+Cle.+ Ye chaster powers, to whom I and my virginity

Groan, may every drop breathe incense to your justice?

Whilst thus I break their springs open. [_Stabs +Claudilla+._

+Claud.+ O Dessandro! O, whose hand's that?

+Cle.+ Cleara's, Cleara's! carry that name in thy last breath

Down to the shades of lust and perjury.

+De F.+ So quick and brave, Cleara?

+Claud.+ O! [_Expirat._

+Des.+ Cleara! madam, madam! your sleeps are troubled----

Who's there? De Flame!

+De F.+ Raise not thy voice an accent: if thou dost, by my

eternal hopes and soul! this strikes it back unto thy heart.

See'st thou revenge sit pale upon the point? 'Tis steeled with

virgin's curses, and shall fly like lightning through thy

blood; and it is a justice thy vast pride hath lost thee to.

+Des.+ O, what hast thou done?

A deed that flinty Scythians and curl'd Ethiops

Would hide their eyes from.

+De F.+ Our revenge shall wear a glorious title. Know'st

Thou that injur'd face? It is Cleara's, injur'd Cleara's.

+Des.+ Cleara!

+De F.+ What see'st thou on that brow?

+Des.+ Murder!

+De F.+ Horror and guilt unto thy soul.

+Des.+ I'll not be tamely butcher'd, coward. Without there!

Help, help, help!

+De F.+ Whirlwinds and earthquakes cannot do it.

Think on thy sin.

+Cle.+ Thy perjury.

+De F.+ Thy lust. [_+Cleara+ stabs at him._

+Des.+ Cleara! O, thou hast a skilful hand in

Murder. Help, help! murder!

+De F.+ So falls a wretched statue from its haughty station,

when Fate would make it ominous and fright a state. What a

thick cloud steams from his tainted blood! The air shrinks

back, and with dull wings fans it from heaven.

_Enter +De Loome+, +La Gitterne+, +Torguina+, &c._

+Tor.+ Murder, murder! 'twas his voice.

+De L.+ It was his voice.

+Tor.+ The key?

+La G.+ Gone!

+Tor.+ Cut from my side! I'm betray'd!

+De L.+ Look, search the room: where's the stranger?

+La G.+ The door is fast. [_Knocks._

+De F.+ You may come in: make up your wonder there. [_Opens the door._

+Tor.+ My lady murder'd!

+De L.+ You have astonish'd heaven.

+Tor.+ And pull'd eternal curses on your head.

+De F.+ They'll fall like brittle shafts upon my shield.

+Cle.+ Unjust Dessandro! yet on thy lip I'll

Tender my last vows, that the world may tell

I loved thee dead--and this--and this----

[_Kisses him, then stabs herself._

+De F.+ Hold, hold that cruel hand! Cleara! sister!

+De L.+ Cleara! This is a horrid scene, my lord.

+De F.+ 'Twould not be worth my name, did it not strike

Amazement through your souls, and leave a paleness

On his cheek that hears it. But here, here I

Could melt, transfuse my brains through my sad eyes,

Till they wept blood, and dropp'd their jelly forth:

She was a jewel too rich for our dull orb.

_Enter more servants._

You need not multiply your fears; I am

Too proud of my revenge to start from it:

Let the law frown, and fall in tempests on me.

Cowards repent,

When valiant blood ne'er pales at the event. [_Exeunt._

ACTUS QUINTUS, SCENA PRIMA.

_Enter +Pirez+ and +De Loome+._

+De L.+ A sad court indeed, my lord.

+Pir.+ As sad a kingdom! Where the news is spread, men that

hear it stand struck, as if their own passing-bells did call

unto them.

+De L.+ Kings' glasses are as brittle as their meanest

subjects', their footings as slippery and uncertain. He was a

brave prince, and his life will be memorable in Castile.

+Pir.+ His death is much admired for the sudden strangeness of

it. What opinion give the physicians on't?

+De L.+ They've a hard name for't, if I could think on't.

+Pir.+ Not suspicion of poison?

+De L.+ How, my lord! by whom would you suspect it?

+Pir.+ Nay, I dare suspect none, nor don't; but such quirks of

state I have read of in the days of old.

+De L.+ I never saw him discount a day with more content and

freedom; his very thoughts were hearty.

+Pir.+ 'Twas a fatal one, and will give a sad discourse to our

posterity, and leave it on record in bleeding characters.

+De L.+ The count's resolution had too much blood and cruelty

in't.

+Pir.+ Dessandro urged as much as mortal sense could groan with.

+De L.+ I now call to mind, still as he spake and glanced upon

Cleara's face, I had strange startlings in me.

+Pir.+ As the times have.

+De. L.+ The times, my lord? for what?

+Pir.+ The king's death, sir.

+De L.+ Why, my lord, the times are not of the worst presage,

though that may cloud them a little.

+Pir.+ I am no Booker, sir, nor Lilly to prognosticate what

seven years may travail with; but I could wish the price of

knaves may fall.

+De L.+ Your lordship's virtues command not a more humble and

observant creature. [_Exit._

+Pir.+ This fellow must be muzzled.

_Enter +Sampayo+._

+Samp.+ Who's that?

+Pir.+ The duke's thing, his trifle-broker.

+Sano.+ The king's now.

+Pir.+ Castile did never hear more news, I fear.

+Samp.+ We shall now see the fine turns and games of the state.

+Pir.+ When fools and knaves chase trump.

+Samp.+ Now heads and points will be the sport.

+Pir.+ The king will have the heads then, I believe.

+Samp.+ Observe 'em.

+Pir.+ So near?

_Enter +Bereo+, nobles soliciting him with papers._

+All.+ Heavens bless your majesty! Heavens keep your majesty!

[_Within._

Please you hear your most faithful subjects?

+Duke.+ Who are they, that bark so?

+De L.+ A rout of porters, prentices, and sailors' wives,

with such a spawn, who are modest petitioners your majesty

would give 'em leave to govern you in some matters of state,

and humbly pray to be admitted of your privy council. Here's

another, sir, from the most reverend bags of the city to

purchase all the churches of your majesty for warehouses; and

this, sir, from the corporation of weavers, cobblers, and

feltmakers: that you would please to give 'em leave to fire all

universities and schools of learning, that the profane might

better see the truth.

+Duke.+ No more. Their stinking breath will stifle me! Keep

back their clamour. Wealth and ease have made the rascals

wanton, and profane their allegiance. My lord [_De Castro

kneels_], you need not kneel in a cause, that equally concerns

us with you; and the groans of your brother's wounds echo

unto our sleeps. Our honour and the laws bleed in them, until

a justice stop their issues, which our own care shall take a

speedy account of. Sampayo! [_Whispers._

+Samp.+ I shall, my lord. [_Exit._

+Duke.+ O my lords, we are circled in a tide of grief,

Where every billow threatens a grave: but in your loves

Our hope takes new life, which we as zealously

Shall sacrifice again to you and yours.

Let me be beholden t' you for a minute's conference

With my own sad thoughts. [_Exeunt._

So take breath, my hopes.

Whilst we with pride look upon the world behind us,

And then survey the glory of our progress

And success, the print of every step is glorious,

And methinks we stand like Rome herself, in midst

Of all her triumphs, when her threat'ned head

Lean'd on the spangled breast of heaven, and

Jostled with the gods; from whose imperious frown

The world took all her laws and dooms. Yet her

Vast story shall look pale to mine; and time

Begin his great example here.

Castile, thou now shalt blush for thy neglect:

I'll print thy scorns on thy own brow, till my revenge

Look lovely as did Rome's, in her bright flames,

To Nero; and Nature shall repent, that she

Mistook the man Fortune meant thine. Then up,

My soul, and from thy glorious stand see

Thy proud hopes and wishes court thee! Thou hast

Been bashful yet, and hid in blushes. Make

Room for thy more spacious thoughts, and let

The petty world know this: all things

Depend upon the breath of gods and kings. [_Exit._

_Enter two +Officers+._

+1st Off.+ There, there! Lay that in the place; so, so; here,

help to spread this carpet. Quick, quick!

+2d Off.+ Will our new king be here to give the forked herd an

oration?

+1st Off.+ An halter! Thou dost so fumble! But what's the

general voice of the king's death? Here's the mourning for that

bar.

+2d Off.+ Marry, some think he died against his will; and

others, that his brother--Where stands this?--will bury him

very royally----

+1st Off.+ Hum! and others think if thou wert hanged, when

'tis thy due, there would be quickly a knave less. Despatch,

despatch! I hear them coming.

_Enter +Judges+, the two Ladies, +DE LOOME+, +LA GITTERNE+, and

others. +De Flame+ stands at the bar._

+Off.+ Pray, by your leave; make way; give back there! For

shame, sir; you press so hard upon the judges, they scarce have

liberty to breathe. Clear the bar; peace!

+1st Judge.+ My lord, here's none but knows you, and I believe

do grieve to see you stand thus, and for a fact of such a

bloody nature. A gentleman of your fair hopes and fortunes,

blood and spirit, and other excellent parts, all cast upon

untimely hazards by such an act (as indeed I know not how to

name it). You needs must, therefore, be worthy our grief; and

I presume you are not now to know the laws and customs of this

your country, with what religious care they look unto the

safety of our lives and our estates, and with what strictness

on perpetrations of such a dye----

+2d Judge.+ Especially, where innocent blood is shed; and

therefore we, being but the tongues of the law (my lord), may

hope you will interpret the justice of it clearly from our

mouths.

+De F.+ Please you, most reverend lords, is there aught else

but this I am to stand accused for?

+2d Judge.+ Not that we know.

+De F.+ Then, my good lords, you need not labour much to find

out circumstances to condemn me; nor do I wish or think, my

lords, to satisfy the law by talking in my own defence. Nor

will I brand myself with such a fear, much less hope, as to

bespeak a melting tear. That were to wish the act undone, and

rob my justice of a glory I would be torn to atoms for. No,

I come to meet the law; and if your wisdoms can contract the

spacious volumes of it into one doom, I shall not startle, or

divide my breast. My resolution was above it, when first I

undertook to be my own law and judge.

+1st Judge.+ I grieve to hear this language from you: it takes

much from the man that you have seemed, my lord; stain not your

noble and religious fame with such an atheism.

+2d Judge.+ Look back into the deed, my lord. See, what a tide

of blood pursues you, and breaks upon your soul in angry seas.

+De F.+ Look back to our fame, grave lords, the blood and

honour of our family; nor think it my vainglory to urge it

here, since the cause does. There has not yet, in all the ages

it hath served the state, one stain fallen on our escutcheon;

and although, my lords, these honours are derived to us in

a vast circle of time and blood, the passage must be still

through our veins, and so are treasured here as heat in fire;

so as the least taint in us reflects a blush on the first

virtue of our great ancestors. And what has man called sacred

but his honour? That dwells not in the smiles of Fortune; nor

can she place the fool or coward in that rank. And can your

wisdoms think ours so cheap, as to become the scorn of such?

+2d Judge.+ My lord, 'twould better satisfy all those that know

you to hear your grief than passion.

+De F.+ O, cry ye mercy! He was your lordship's kinsman; yet I

will add, he basely did betray a love and innocence more noble

than a thousand of their lives. Poor Cleara! perjured his

faith and honour, and quite dissolved their holy ties in the

lascivious arms of her, whose name shall not take honour from

my breath.

+2d Judge.+ We spend time; pray, give those ladies leave to

speak.

_Enter +De Castro+._

+De C.+ My lords, the king is come to sit amongst ye.

+Off.+ Stand back there, ho! you, Goodman Roundhead, you'd best

breathe in the king's face: pull back your horns, sir!--D' you

mutter? Take that, and crowd further. The rogues are as hollow

as a vault, and sound like one with a blow.

_Enter +Bereo+, +De Castro+, attendants; at the other

door, the +King+ himself._

[_Within._] The king, the king! Whoo?

+1st Judge.+ What's the matter?

+Duke.+ De Castro, is this a mask or apparition?

+King.+ Seize on the traitor!

+Duke.+ Ha!

+King.+ Hence, monstrous thing!

+Duke.+ Traitor!

+King.+ Yes; and a foul one. My lords, suspend

Your wonder. We thank ye. Prodigy to thy blood,

We have given you leave to wanton in your guilt

And see at what mighty impiety it would reach;

To fasten you the surer in your toil.

Take your places. Durst thou derive the glory

Of our grandsires to thyself, whilst with unnatural hands

Thou tear'st their graves up; mingling blood and shame

With their bless'd dust? Have we not shar'd our kingdom with thee:

Let thee into our heart nearer than nature,

If possible? And could all this beget

No better thanks than poison? The very thought

Unnerves my joints.

+Duke.+ Treason? Who dares avow it, sir,

Or charge the least stain upon my loyal bosom,

And make it good? I challenge all mankind,

And envy from the nether hells; 'tis but

Some engine to betray me to you.

+De C.+ I did but quit a sin,

Which would have betray'd us both eternally,

And bore so sad a shape of horror,

As it affrighted all within me, and, like a frenzy,

Held me, till I had purged it from my bosom.

+Duke.+ Had thy revenge no other way but this,

To undermine the virtue of nature against itself?

My lords, there's forgery in't, poison, and treason!

It did amaze my innocence. Sounds, that my blood

Do shiver at. And did not I see his father's treason

Blush yet upon his brow, I should not think

Castile infected with the thought.

+1st Judge.+ My Lord De Castro,

What proof or circumstance have you to urge

This clearer to his highness?

+Duke.+ Grave patriots of the law,

Give me your leave in this, that would blemish

The honour of my fame for ever. Let him produce but any

That may accuse me to your reverend judgments,

And Bereo will lay down his head to the block.

But I know your wisdoms will discern a plot in't:

And how far he stands incompetent against me

In faith and honour.

+King.+ What say you, my lord?

+De C.+ Sir, what I have told your Majesty--my life

Shall make good on my torture: my brother being dead,

Heaven only and my conscience can clear it:

And to quit my innocence of malice, your own conscience

Must tell you, my lord, that when first you used my brother

To ensnare me, and press'd it in the duchess's garden,

How much I argued to divert you; but then--

+Duke.+ My lords, I desire justice and reparation

On the villain.

+2d Judge.+ My Lord. De Castro,

The king has pleased to give us your relation,

In which (though the least tenderness cannot be

Impertinent to his sacred safety) there's nothing

That can raise the law to any argument, which may reach

The Duke, scarce as a peer, which looks upon him

As the second man in whom all our safeties and hopes are stor'd:

Not to be touch'd with every jealousy,

But at a high and reverend form of proof.

+Duke.+ Let me appeal unto yourself, dread sir;

Which of my actions or services of state

Can be suspected? And do you not perceive

That where his father left, his treason would begin?

+De C.+ Help me, dear truth, or else I shall suffer

For my loyalty. Great sir, be pleased----

+Duke.+ That most judicious judge has well observ'd,

There is an envy in his soul would reach

From you to your succession, and leave the character

Of his father's treason on it in blood and ruin.

Wretched man, trust me, I grieve for thy slidefrom piety;

And when I look upon the love and pity

I have cast away on such a thing, I repent

My easy faith. Good heaven! what will men fall to?

+King.+ Take the Count unto the citadel, and let none

Be admitted to him upon peril-- [_Exeunt with +De Castro+._

Brother, they were no easy insinuations

That did engage our fears to this: but such

As nam'd a higher proof and circumstance.

And, we confess, it struck our nature with some passionate strugglings:

Not that the wish of our ambition is fix'd here,

And would revive a term of years

To rob ye of one minute's glorious trouble:

Yet, my lord, if our laws take care

To preserve the meanest subject's life, our own

Ought not to be look'd on with less providence:

And fears are happy cautions many times.

But mine retire.

Let our desires meet, and reconcile me to your arms---- [_Embrace._

His merit shall find the justice it has scandall'd,

If it stand guilty.

+Duke.+ If, my lord? Can yet that scruple stay behind?

_Returns with +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+. A physician and chirurgeon, &c._

+De C.+ See, royal sir, I have met a miracle, [_They kneel._

That heaven has preserv'd and sent to guard your

Sacred highness and the truth.

+De F.+ Dessandro risen from the dead?

+King.+ Dessandro!

+Des.+ The vilest wretch alive, who throws himself

At your feet in tears of blood, and so much

Horrid guilt as calls for all the wrath of

This and the other world: not daring to

Lift my hopes to any pardon. O sir!

'Twas he (back'd by that bad Prince and other giddy

Hopes) that would have seduc'd my brother to

That act against your sacred life.

+King.+ Would it went no further? Duke de Bereo,

Can now your brow change colour?

+Duke.+ 'Tis all imposture.

+King.+ Fie, fie; don't glory against heaven, that hath

Left thy sin to subterfuge.

+Duke.+ You would not fright me from myself?

+King.+ Well; our guard!

+Doct.+ May it please-- [_Kneels._

+King.+ Rise, What would you say, sir?

+Doct.+ Under your gracious licence this. We found our

princely lady and the lady Cleara cold in their clodded gore:

this Colonel so spent in expense of blood, as we could not

say alive; for that half spark of heat left in his veins was

then e'en going out. Our care having preserved and kindled it

to life again, after his shattered faculties could pant and

breathe, he called for pen and ink, and caused us to write what

is there contained. [_Gives a paper._

+Des.+ Of too much truth; and I blush for those few

Drops of blood I have left to expiate.

+Duke.+ I am betrayed and lost!

Could'st be in love with that saint life, for one

Poor minute's smile, to betray it to ignominy and law?

I could trample on thy skull, until thy reeking

Brain sparkled about the dust. See how busily

They contract their dusky brows! Consult things

Safely, and let some reverend statute be ordained

In honour of all cowards. [_Aside._] De Castro! for this good

Service know, 'twas I that laid thy father's head

Upon the block: complotted with the Portuguese

To make him guilty to the King: and envying that

He spread with so much shadow in the state, by a close

Faction rend'red him odious to the people: an engine,

I knew could not fail. I hurried thee to the Duchess's

Wanton bed, Dessandro, knowing De Flame's high

Blood would quit the debt I owed thee----

+Des.+ He's proud all mischief can call him patron.

+Duke.+ Nor had I shar'd the pleasure of a kiss to you

Or him, but that our purpose needs would have it so.

+De F.+ Sir!

+Duke.+ The language is plain and true.

+De F.+ Then Claudilla was your court-mistress, Duke?--

'Twere profanation to say whore!

+Duke.+ Young lord, I can forgive that language

In a suffering man.

+De F.+ Forgive it!

+Duke.+ Forgive it; and had De Flame himself

Enjoy'd her bed, and reap'd the scattered minutes

Of our love, he must have found another gloss more

Safe and honourable.

+De F.+ Must! What saw you in me did promise

So tame a thing, as to feed on your high scraps?

Glorious mischief!

+Des.+ My lord, I beg your mercy; and to deserve it

Will weep the remnant of this unworthy life

Unto Cleara's name.

+De F.+ All mankind has my peaceful wish, but this

Black speckled serpent, whose load doth make

The earth to groan and sweat.

+Duke.+ My fair Claudilla, methinks I see thee

Lovely in that ghastly trim of death, while

Yet thy soul was struggling through thy cruel

Wounds.

+De F.+ The day begins to frown and creep into

Eternal night: we'll bed together in one grave, Cleara.

Castile shall hide us in a golden heap, and name me

With her patriots for taking this foul monster

From her bosom.

+Duke.+ I'll find thee in the myrtle groves below,

And leave a story that shall tell the world,

How much I lov'd thee. [_They stab each other._

+King.+ Desperate atheists!

+Duke.+ You were beforehand, sir.

+De F.+ You've overtaken me: the world is hid in a

Cloud, and shrinks to chaos. O, whither

Must I wander in this mist? So, so--

I feel thee glide away, and leave me sunk

Upon a quicksand. [_Expirat._

+King.+ What a thirst of blood burnt up their hearts,

That they must quench it in their own?

+Duke.+ Hast thou not air enough, my panting soul?

O, what a stitch is coming! [_Expirat._

+King.+ Wou'd thou had'st better lov'd thyself and us:

For while thou priz'd the honour of that blood,

We priz'd thee with it. O ambition!

The grandame of all sin, that strikes at stars

With an undaunted brow, whilst thus thy feet

Slide to the nether hell! Like some vast stream,

That takes into its womb all springs that neighbour by it,

And would proudly carry all their currents in its own:

Swells o'er its banks, and wantons like a tyrant.

Take hence the sight: it stirs our indignation.

[_Exeunt cum corporibus._

+Omnes.+ Long live the great and good King of Castile!

+King.+ We thank ye, and just heaven which hath (unto wonder)

Unknotted all these mischiefs, and kept us safe:

And because we do not love to use the laws

In their extremity, or execute with blood,

Where we can moderate without; but chiefly,

Dessandro, to endear ye more to heaven

In your acknowledgment, we do enjoin you

To some religious house of Orders, there

By an humble life to expiate your guilt.

+Des.+ Upon my knees I do acknowledge

Your God-like mercy.

+King.+ De Castro

Our thanks shall make your loyalty

Exemplary to all times: nor wish we to live longer

Than to gain the faith of all; that we may find

Ourself and title most secure, and greatest

In your loves; which gives us more

Than giddy fortune can----

+This is our fate, and to the wise is known;

All goods without us are, not (sure) our own.+

In tenui labor est; at tenuis non gloria.

THE ADVENTURES OF FIVE HOURS.

_EDITIONS._

_The Adventures of Five Hours. A Tragi-Comedy._--Non ego

Ventosæ Plebis suffragia venor. _Horat. Fʳ. 21º, 1662.

Imprimatur, John Birkenhead. London. Printed for Henry

Herringman, at the Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New

Exchange, 1663. fol.[29]_

_The Adventures of Five Houres: a Tragi-Comedy. As it is acted

at His Royal Highness the Duke of York's Theatre. The third

impression. Revised and corrected by the author, Sir Samuel

Tuke, Kt. and Bart._ Nonumque prematur in Annum. _Horat. de

Art Poet. London: Printed by T. N. for Henry Herringman, at

the sign of the Blew Anchor, on the Lower Walk of the New

Exchange._ 1671. 4º.[30]

FOOTNOTES:

[29] The title of the copy of 1664 is precisely the same as that of the

first edition. It is in 4to.

[30] There was a fourth impression in 1704.

PREFACE.

Sir Samuel Tuke, of Temple Cressy, in the county of Essex, was a

colonel of horse in the king's army, and served against the Parliament,

as long as the affairs of his master had any prospect of success. He

was very active in that rising in the county of Essex which ended

fatally to some of the chief actors in it. From the prologue to the

present play, spoken at court, it appears that he intended to retire

from business soon after the Restoration, but was diverted from that

design for some time by his Majesty's recommending him to adapt a

Spanish play[31] to the English stage, which he executed with some

degree of success. On the 31st March,[32] 1664, he was created a

baronet. He married Mary, the daughter of Edward Sheldon, a lady who

was one of the dressers to Queen Mary, and probably a Roman Catholic,

of which persuasion our author seems also to have been.[33] He died

at Somerset House, on the 26th of January 1673, and was buried in the

vault under the chapel there. Langbaine, by mistake, says he was alive

at the time he (Langbaine) published his "Lives of the Dramatic Poets."

Sir Samuel did not escape the censure of his brother poets.[34] One of

them, speaking of Cowley, says he

Writ verses unjustly in praise of Sam Tuke.[35]

And in the same poem--

Sam Tuke sat, and formally smiled at the rest;

But Apollo, who well did his vanity know,

Call'd him to the bar to put him to the test,

But his muse was so stiff, she scarcely could go.

She pleaded her age, desir'd a reward;

It seems in her age she doated on praise:

But Apollo resolv'd that such a bold bard

Should never be grac'd with a per'wig of bays.

There is some reason for assigning to Sir Samuel Take part authorship

of "Pompey the Great," which is generally supposed to have been

translated by Waller, Lord Dorset, Sir C. Sedley, and Godolphin, and

printed in 1664. At the end of an edition of Sir John Denham's poems,

"printed by J. M. for H. Herringman," 1684, is a catalogue of other

works published by the same bookseller, and among them this entry:--"By

Samuel Tuke, and several persons of honour. Pompey."

Sir Samuel was one of the first members of the Royal Society, and wrote

a history of the ordering and generation of green Colchester oysters,

printed in Spratt's "History," p. 307.

FOOTNOTES:

[31] [By Calderon. It is supposed that the Earl of Bristol, author of

"Elvira," assisted Tuke.--See Halliwell's "Dictionary of Old Plays,"

1860, in v. Halliwell there quotes a passage from Evelyn's "Diary,"

where Evelyn, by a slip of the pen, speaks of Sir _George_ Tuke, an

oversight which is left uncorrected.]

[32] Heylin's "Help to History."

[33] Wood's "Ath.," vol. ii. p. 802.

[34] Dryden's "Miscellanies," vol. ii. p. 92.

[35] These were prefixed to the edition of "The Adventures of Five

Hours," printed the year after the author was made a baronet, but

without bearing on the title any mark of his advancement. He is there

called only Colonel Tuke.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

HENRY HOWARD

OF NORFOLK.[36]

Since it is your pleasure, Noble Sir, that I should hold my fortune

from you, like those tenants, who pay some inconsiderable trifle

in lieu of a valuable rent, I humbly offer you this poem, in

acknowledgment of my tenure: and I am well pleas'd with this occasion

to publish my sense of your favours, since it seems to me a kind of

ingratitude to be thankful in private.

It was bred upon the terrace-walks in your garden at Albury; and if I

mistake not, it resembles the place where it was brought up: the plot

is delightful, the elevations natural, the ascents easy, without any

great embellishments of art.

I designed the character of Antonio, as a copy of your steady virtue;

if it appear to those, who have the honour to know you, short of the

original, I take leave to inform them, that you have not sat to me

long; 'tis possible hereafter I may gratify my country, for their

civility to this essay, with something more worthy of your patronage

and their indulgence.

In the interim, I make it my glory to avow that, had Fortune been just

to me, she could not have recompensed the loyal industry of my life

with a more illustrious title than that which you have been pleased to

confer upon me, of Your Friend. To which (as in gratitude I am bound) I

subjoin that of

Your most humble servant,

S. TUKE.

FOOTNOTES:

[36] This dedication, and the prologue and epilogue which follow, are

only found in the first and second edition.--_Collier._

THE FIRST SCENE IS THE CITY OF SEVILLE.

_The +Prologue+ enters with a play-bill in his hand, and

reads_--This day, being the 15th of December, shall

be acted a new play, never play'd before, call'd _The

Adventures of Five Hours._

A NEW PLAY.

Th' are i' the right, for I dare boldly say,

The English stage ne'er had so new a play;

The dress, the author, and the scenes are new.

This ye have seen before ye'll say; 'tis true;

But tell me, gentlemen, who ever saw

A deep intrigue confin'd to five hours' law?

Such as for close contrivance yields to none:

A modest man may praise what's not his own.

'Tis true, the dress is his, which he submits

To those who are, and those who would be wits;

Ne'er spare him, gentlemen; for to speak truth,

He has a per'lous cens'rer been in's youth;

And now grown bald with age, doating on praise,

He thinks to get a periwig of bays.

Teach him what 'tis, in this discerning age,

To bring his heavy genius on the stage;

Where you have seen such nimble wits appear,

That pass'd so soon, one scarce could say th'were here.

Yet, after our discoveries of late

Of their designs, who would subvert the state,

You'll wonder much, if it should prove his lot

To take all England with a Spanish plot;

But if, through his ill conduct or hard fate,

This foreign plot (like that of eighty-eight)

Should suffer shipwreck in your narrow seas,

You'll give your modern poet his writ of ease;

For, by th' example of the King of Spain,

He resolves ne'er to trouble you again.

THE PROLOGUE AT COURT.

HE ADDRESSES HIMSELF TO THE PIT.

[Sidenote: This refers to the author's purpose of retirement, at that

time when his Majesty recommended this plot to him.]

As to a dying lamp one drop of oil

Gives a new blaze, and makes it live awhile;

So th' author, seeing his decaying light,

And therefore thinking to retire from sight,

Was hindered by a ray from the upper sphere,

Just at that time he thought to disappear.

He chanced to hear his Majesty once say,

He lik'd this plot; he stay'd, and writ the play:

So should obsequious subjects catch the minds

Of princes, as your seamen do the winds.

If this attempt then shows more zeal than light,

'T may teach you to obey, though not to write.

[Sidenote: He looking up, and seeing the King, starts.

He kneels. He rises.]

Ah! he is there himself. Pardon my sight,

My eyes were dazzled with excess of light;

Even so the sun, who all things else displays,

Is hid from us i' the glory of his rays.

Will you vouchsafe your presence? You, that were given

To be our Atlas, and support our heaven?

Will you, dread sir, your precious moments lose

To grace the first endeavours of our muse?

This with your character most aptly suits,

Even heaven itself is pleas'd with the first-fruits.

PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.

Having been desired by a lady, who has more than ordinary favour for

this play, though in other things very judicious, to make a song, and

insert it in that scene where you may now read it, I found it more

difficult to disobey the commands of this excellent person, than to

obtain of myself to write any more upon subjects of this nature.

This occasioned the revising of this piece, upon which I had not cast

my eyes since it was first printed; and finding there some very obvious

faults (with respect to their judgments who have been pleased to

applaud it), I could not well imagine how they came to escape my last

hand; unless poetic rage, or (in a more humble phrase) heat of fancy,

will not at the same time admit the calm temper of judgment; or that,

being importuned by those for whose benefit this play was intended, I

was even forced to expose it before it was fit to be seen in such good

company.

This refers only to the dress, for certainly the plot needs no apology;

it was taken out of Don Pedro Calderon,[37] a celebrated Spanish

author, the nation of the world who are the happiest in the force

and delicacy of their inventions, and recommended to me by his sacred

majesty as an excellent design, whose judgment is no more to be doubted

than his commands to be disobeyed. And therefore it might be a great

presumption in me to enter my sentiments with his royal suffrage; but

as secretaries of state subscribe their names to the mandates of their

prince, so at the bottom of the leaf I take the boldness to sign my

opinion, that this is incomparably the best plot that I ever met with.

And yet, if I may be allowed to do myself justice, I might acquaint the

readers that there are several alterations in the copy which do not

disgrace the original.

I confess, 'tis something new that trifles of this nature should have a

second edition; but if in truth this essay be at present more correct,

I have then found an easy way to gratify their civility who have been

pleased to indulge the errors in the former impressions.

If they who have formerly seen or read this play should not perceive

the amendments, then I have touched the point, since the chiefest art

in writing is the concealing of art; and they who discover 'em, and

are pleased with them, are indebted only to themselves for their new

satisfaction, since their former favour to our negligent Muses has

occasioned their appearing again in a more studied dress; and certainly

those labours are not ungrateful with which the writers and readers are

both pleased.

And since I am upon the subject of novelties, I take the boldness to

advertise the reader that, though it be unusual, I have in a distinct

column prefixed the several characters of the most eminent persons in

the play, that, being acquainted with them at his first setting out, he

may the better judge how they are carried on in the whole composition.

For, plays being moral pictures, their chiefest perfections consist in

the force and congruity of passions and humours, which are the features

and complexion of our minds; and I cannot choose but hope that he will

approve the ingenuity of this design, though possibly he may dislike

the painting.

As for those who have been so angry with this innocent piece, not

guilty of so much as that current wit--obscenity and profaneness--these

are to let them know that, though the author converses with but few,

he writes to all; and aiming as well at the delight as profit of his

readers, if there be any amongst them who are pleased to enter their

haggard muses at so mean a quarry, they may freely use their poetic

licence, for he pretends not to any royalty on the mount of Parnassus;

and I dare answer for him, that he will sing no more till he comes into

that choir where there is room enough for all; and such, he presumes,

is the good-breeding of these critics, that they will not be so

unmannerly as to crowd him there.

+Farewell.+

FOOTNOTES:

[37] [Don Pedro Calderon della Barca appears to have been born at

Madrid, of a good family, in 1601. Like Lope de Vega, his contemporary,

he signalised his dramatic genius at a very early date, producing his

"Carro del Cielo" at the age of thirteen. He devoted the better part of

his life to the military profession, but afterwards took holy orders,

and became a canon of Toledo. He is supposed to have died in 1681. His

plays were printed at Madrid between 1683 and 1691, in 9 vols. 4º; but

the best edition, according to Brunet, is that published at Madrid,

1760-63, 11 vols. 4º. Some of Calderon's dramas were never printed, and

have perished.]

PROLOGUE.

SPOKEN BY MR BETTERTON.[38]

If we could hit on't, gallants, there are due

Certain respects from writers and from you:

Which, well observ'd, would celebrate this age,

And both support and vindicate the stage.

If there were only candour on your part,

And on the poets', judgment, fancy, art;

If they remember that their audience

Are persons of the most exalted sense;

And you consider well the just respect

Due to their poems, when they are correct;

Our two houses then may have the fate

To help to form the manners of the state:

For there are crimes arraign'd a' th' poets' bar,

Which cannot be redress'd at Westminster.

Our ancient bards their morals did dispense

In numbers, to insinuate the sense,

Knowing that harmony affects the soul,

And who our passions charm, our wills control.

This our well-meaning author had in view,

And, though but faintly executed, you

Indulg'd th' attempt with such benevolence,

That he has been uneasy ever since;

For though his vanity you gratified,

The obligation did provoke his pride.

But he has now compounded with ambition

For that more solid greatness, self-fruition;

And, going to embrace a civil death,

He's loth to die indebted to your breath.

Therefore he would be even w' you, but wants force;

The stream will rise no higher than the source.

And they, who treat such judges, should excel;

Here 'tis to do ill, to do only well.

He has, as other writers have, good-will,

And only wants (like those) nature and skill;

But, since he cannot reach the envied height,

H' has cast some grains in this to mend the weight;

And, being to part w' you, prays you to accept

This revived piece as legacy or debt.

FOOTNOTES:

[38] This prologue first appeared in the edition of 1671, after the

revival of the play.--_Collier._

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

+PERSONS.+ +RELATIONS.+ +CHARACTERS.+

+Don Henrique+, _In love with Camilla, Choleric, jealous,

but rejected. revengeful._

+Don Carlos+, _Near kinsman to Don A well-natured, moral

Henrique. gentleman._

+Don Octavio+, _In love with Porcia, A valiant and

but feigning to be in accomplished cavalier.

love with Camilla._

+Don Antonio+, _Contracted to Porcia A soldier, haughty, and

by proxy, before he saw of exact honour.

her._

+Porcia+, _Sister to Don Henrique. Ingenious, constant,

and severely virtuous._

+Camilla+, _Sister to Don Carlos. Susceptible of love,

but cautious of her

honour._

+Diego+, _Servant to Octavio, A great coward, and a

bred a scholar. pleasant droll._

+Flora+, _Waiting-woman to Porcia. Witty, contriving,

and faithful to her

mistress._

+Ernesto+, } _Servants to Don

+Sancho+, } Antonio._

+Silvio+, }

+Geraldo+, }

+Pedro+, } _Servants to Don

+Bernardino+, } Henrique._

+Jago+, }

_The Corregidor and

Attendants._[39]

_The Scene, Seville._

THE ADVENTURES OF FIVE HOURS.[40]

ACT I.

+Scene+--_Don Antonio's house._

_Enter +Don Henrique+._

+Don H.+ How happy are the men of easy phlegm,

Born on the confines of indifference:

Holding from nature the securest tenure,

The peaceful empire o'er themselves; which we,

Th' unhappy men of fire, without the aids

Of mighty reason or almighty grace,

Are all our lives contending for in vain,

'Tis evident, that solid happiness

Is founded on the conquest of our passions;

But since they are the favourites of sense,

Self-love bribes reason still in their defence:

Thus in a calm I reason; but when cross'd,

The pilot quits the helm, and I am toss'd.

_Enter +Silvio+._

+Sil.+ Sir, Don Carlos is without.

+Don H.+ Wait on him in.

_Enter +Don Carlos+._

+Don C.+ Cousin, methinks this day hath longer seem'd

Than usual; since 'tis so far advanc'd

Without our seeing one another.

+Don H.+ If I had not been hinder'd by some business,

I should, ere this, have seen you, t' have told you

Some pleasing news I lately have receiv'd:

You have so often borne with my distempers,

'Tis fit that once, at least, you should partake

Of my good-humour.

+Don C.+ What cause soever has produc'd this change,

I heartily rejoice in the effect;

And may it long continue.

+Don H.+ I can inform you by experience now,

How great a satisfaction 'tis to find

A heart and head eas'd of a weighty care;

For a gentleman of my warm temper,

Jealous of the honour of his family,

(As yet ne'er blemish'd) to be fairly freed

From the tuition of an orphan sister,

Rich, beautiful and young.

+Don C.+ You know, Don Henrique, for these thirteen years,

That I have been with the like province charg'd:

An only sister, by our parents' will

(When they were call'd from all[41] their cares below)

Committed to my trust, much more expos'd

To the great world than yours; and, sir, unless

Nearness of blood deceive me, short of few

In those perfections which invite the gallants:

Yet, thanks to my temper, cousin, as well

As to her virtue, I have seen her grow,

Even from her childhood to her dangerous age,

Without the least disturbance to my rest;

And when with equal justice I reflect

On the great modesty and circumspection

Of lovely Porcia, I conclude that you

Might well have slept as undisturb'd as I.

+Don H.+ Sir, I complain not of my sister's conduct;

But you know well, young maids are so expos'd

To the invasion of audacious men,

And to the malice of their envious sex,

You must confess the confines of their fame

Are never safe till guarded by a husband.

'Tis true, discreet relations ought to use

Preventions of all kinds; but, dear Carlos,

The blemish once receiv'd, no wash is good

For stains of honour but th' offender's blood.

+Don C.+ Y' are too severe a judge of points of honour.

+Don H.+ And therefore, having not long since receiv'd

The news that Don Antonio de Mendoza

Is likely to be here this night from Flanders,

To whom my sister, by th' intervention

O' th' Marquis d'Olivera, is contracted,

I will not close these eyes, till I have seen

Her and my cares safe lodg'd within his arms.

+Don C.+ I find your travels, cousin, have not cur'd you

Of that innate severity to women,

Urg'd justly as a national reproach

To all of us abroad. The rest o' th' world

Lament that tender sex amongst us here,

Born only to be honourable prisoners;

The greater quality, the closer kept:

Which cruelty is reveng'd upon ourselves,

Whilst, by immuring those whom most we love,

We sing, and sigh only to iron gates.

As cruel is that overcautious custom

By proxy to contract parties unknown

To one another; this is only fit

For sovereign princes, whose high qualities

Will not allow of previous interviews:

They sacrifice their love to public good,

Consulting interest of state and blood;

A custom which as yet I never knew

Us'd amongst persons of a lower rank

Without a sequel of sad accidents.

Sir, understand me right; I speak not this

By way of prophecy: I am no stranger

To Don Antonio's reputation,

Which I believe so just, I no way doubt

Your sister's being happy in him.

+Don H.+ Don Carlos, let us quit this argument:

I am now going to our noble friend

And kinsman, the corregidor, to see

If he'll oblige us with his company

At my sister's wedding. Will you come along?

+Don C.+ Most willingly, as soon as I have brought

My sister hither, who has given this evening

To her cousin Porcia.

+Don H.+ I have business, cousin, by the way;

I'll go before, and wait you i' th' Piazza.

Your servant, sir.

[_+Don Henrique+ waits on him to the door. Exit +Don Carlos+._

+Don H.+ This kinsman is my bosom friend; and yet,

Of all men living, I must hide from him

My deep resentments of his sister's scorn.

That cruel maid, to wound me to the heart,

Then close her ears against my just complaints!

But though as yet I cannot heal my wound,

I may by my revenge upon my rival

Divert the pain; and I will drive it home.

There's in revenge a balm which will appease

The present grief, till[42] time cure the disease.

[_Exit +Don Henrique+._

_Enter +Porcia+._

+Por.+ My heart is so oppress'd with fear and grief,

That it must break, unless it finds relief;

The man I love is forc'd to fly my sight,

And like a Parthian[43] kills me in his flight:

One, whom I never saw, I must embrace,

Or else destroy the honour of my race.

A brother's care, more cruel than his hate:

O, how perplex'd are the intrigues of fate!

_Enter +Don Carlos+_ and +Camilla+.

+Don C.+ Cousin, I thought my sister's company

Would not displease you, whilst I wait upon

Your brother in a visit.

+Por.+ Sir, you oblige me with a welcome favour.

I rather should have styl'd it charity

To bring a friend to her, whose cruel fate

Has robb'd her of herself. [_Aside._

+Cam.+ Methinks, 'tis pity that a wall should make

The houses two of friends so entirely one

As you and I, and our two brothers, are.

+Por.+ If it be true that lovers live much more

There where they love than where they breathe, I'm sure

No walls can sever us: we're still together.

+Don C.+ Were I not much engag'd, I would not quit

So sweet a conversation; but, sister,

At my return I'll wait upon you home.

+Por.+ For this night, cousin, pray let her be mine,

I beg it of you both.

+Don C.+ You may command; we are both yours. [_Exit +Don Carlos+._

[_+Porcia+ throws herself on +Camilla's+ neck._

Where, freely breathing out my grief, I might

Some mitigation from thy pity find!

But since there's no true pity without pain,

Why should I ease by thy affliction gain?

+Cam.+ Ah, Porcia! if compassion suffering be,

And to condole be pain, my destiny

Will full revenge in the same kind afford,

Should I but my unequall'd griefs relate,

And you but equally participate.

+Por.+ If yours, as mine, from love-disasters rise,

Our fates are more allied than families.

+Cam.+ What to our sex and blooming age can prove

An anguish worthy of our sighs but love?

+Por.+ 'Tis true, Camilla, were your fate like mine,

Hopeless to hold, unable to resign.

+Cam.+ Let's tell our stories, then we soon shall see

Which of us two excels in misery.

+Por.+ Cousin, agreed.

+Cam.+ Do you begin then.

+Por.+ You know, Camilla, best how generously,

How long, and how discreetly, Don Octavio

Has serv'd me; and what trials of his faith

And fervour I did make, ere I allow'd him

The least hope to sustain his noble love.

Cousin, all this you know: 'twas in your house

We had our interviews, where you were pleas'd

To suffer feign'd addresses to yourself,

To cover from my watchful brother's eyes

The passion which Octavio had for me.

+Cam.+ My memory in this needs no refreshing.

+Por.+ And how one evening (O that fatal hour!)

My brother, passing by Don Carlos' house

With his great friend and confidant, Don Pedro,

Did chance to see th' unfortunate Octavio

In your balcony entertaining me:

Whom not believing there he took for you;

My back being towards him, and both dress'd alike.

Enraged with jealousy, this cruel man

(To whom all moderation is unknown)

Resolves to stamp all your neglects of him

In's suppos'd rival, poor Octavio's, heart.

They take their stand i' th' corner of our street;

And after some little time Octavio,

Free from suspicion as design of ill,

Retires: they assault him, and in's own defence

He kills Don Pedro, and is forc'd to fly.

My brother cruelly pursues him still

With such insatiate thirst after revenge,

That nothing but Octavio's blood can quench:

Covering his ill-nature and suspicion

With the resentment of Don Pedro's death.

+Cam.+ Is this the sum of your sad story, Porcia?

Is this all?

+Por.+ No, no, Camilla, 'tis the prologue only:

The tragedy will follow. This brother,

To whose impetuous will my deceas'd parents

(May their souls rest in peace!) having condemn'd

Me and my fortune, treats me like a slave:

So far from suffering me to make my choice,

That he denounces death if I refuse;

And now, to frustrate all my hopes at once,

Has very lately made me sign a contract

To one in Flanders whom I never saw,[44]

And is this night (they say) expected here.

+Cam.+ Is such a rigour possible, dear Porcia?

+Por.+ Was ever misery like mine, Camilla?

Reduc'd to such extremes, past all relief?

If I acquaint my brother with my love

T' Octavio, the man whom he most hates,

I must expect the worst effects of fury:

If I endeavour to forget Octavio,

Even that attempt renews his memory,

And heightens my disquiet: if I refuse

To marry, I am lost: if I obey,

I cast Octavio and myself away.

Two such extremes of ill no choice admit.

Each seems the worst; on which rock shall I split?

Since, if I marry, I cannot survive,

And not to marry were to die alive.

+Cam.+ Your story, I confess, is strangely moving;

Yet if you could my fortune weigh with yours

In scales of equal sensibility,

You would not change your sufferings for mine.

+Por.+ What can there be in Nature more afflicting,

Than to be torn from th' object of my love,

And forc'd t' embrace a man whom I must hate?

+Cam.+ Have you not known that object of your love,

And entertain'd the person you esteem?

Have you not heard, and answer'd to his sighs?

Has he not borne his part in all your cares?

Do you not live and reign within his heart?

+Por.+ I doubt no more his faith than my hard fate.

+Cam.+ Tell me, dearest Porcia--if I love one,

Whom I shall never see: suff'ring as much

Without the means of e'er expressing it,

As what I suffer is above expression;

If all my sighs wander in fleeting air,

And ne'er can reach his ears for whom they're form'd;

If all my passion, all my killing cares,

Must be for ever to their cause unknown;

If their sad weight must sink me to my grave

Without one groan, that he can ever hear,

Or the least hope that I should e'er obtain

Ease by's pity or cure by his disdain--

If this the state of my misfortune be

(As heaven, that has decreed it, knows it is)

Say, dearest Porcia, do you envy me?

+Por.+ What overcruel laws of decency

Have struck you dumb? Have you misplac'd your love?

On such a party as you dare not own?

+Cam.+ No, no, the cause is worthy of th' effect:

For though I had no passion for this person,

I were ungrateful if I should not give

The first place in my heart to such high merit.

+Por.+ If he had been so happy to deserve

Your love, why are not you so just to let

Him know it?

+Cam.+ 'Tis impossible. Ah, that dismal word

Clearly states the difference of our fortunes!

You in your first adventure have been cross'd,

But I, before I can set out, am lost.

+Por.+ Pray, make me comprehend this mystery.

+Cam.+ It is t' open my wounds afresh, dear Porcia;

But you must be obey'd---- [_After a little pause._

His excellence the Conde d'Oniate,

Being sent ambassador to th' emperor,

We, having the honour to be near allied

To's lady, went with him. My brother

Was desir'd by her to make that journey:

Whose tenderness for me not suffering him

To let me stay behind, I was engag'd,

And treated by th' ambassadress my cousin

With more respect than I could ever merit.

+Por.+ She is a lady fam'd for great civility.

+Cam.+ We had not pass'd much time i' th' emperor's court,

When my dear brother unexpectedly

By urgent business was call'd back to Seville.

In our return (passing too near a garrison

Of th' enemy's) our convoy was surpris'd

And routed by a party of their horse----

+Por.+ Camilla, you begin to raise my fears.

+Cam.+ We, being pris'ners, were hurried straight away

To th' enemy's quarters, where my ill fate

Made me appear too pleasing to the eyes

Of their commander, who at first approach

Pretends to parley in a lover's style,

Protesting that my face had chang'd our fortunes,

And him my captive made: but finding soon,

How little he advanc'd in his design

By flattery and his feign'd submission,

He shifts his person, calls me his prisoner,

And swears my virgin treasure was his prize:

But yet protests he had much rather owe it

To my indulgence than his own good-fortune.

And so, through storms and calms, the villain still

Pursues his course to his accursed end;

But finding me inflexible to his threats

As well as fawnings, he resolves to use

The last and uncontrolled argument

Of impious men in power--force.

+Por.+ Ah, poor Camilla! where was your dear[45] brother

At a time of such distress?

+Cam.+ My brother? he, alas! was long before

Borne away from me in the first encounter;

Where having certainly behav'd himself

As well became his nation and his name,

Remain'd sore wounded in another house.

+Por.+ Prythee, make haste to free me from this fright.

+Cam.+ The brute approaches, and by violence

Endeavours to accomplish his intent:

I invocate my guardian angel, and resist,

But with unequal force, though rage supplied

Those spirits which my fear had put to flight.

At length, grown faint with crying out and striving,

I spied a dagger by the villain's side,

Which snatching boldly out, as my last refuge,

With his own arms I wound the savage beast:

He at the stroke unseiz'd me, and gave back.

So guilt produces cowardice. Then I,

The dagger pointing to my breast, cried out,

Villain, keep off, for, if thou dost persist,

I'll be myself both sacrifice and priest:

I boldly now defy thy lust and hate;

She, that dares choose to die, may brave her fate!

+Por.+ O, how I love and envy thee at once!

[_+Porcia+ starts to her, and kisses her._

Go on, brave maid.

+Cam.+ Immediately the drums and trumpets sound,

Pistols go off, and a great cry, _To arms,

To arms!_ The lustful satyr flies. I stand,

Fix'd with amazement to the marble floor,

Holding my guardian dagger up aloft,

As if the ravisher had threaten'd still.

+Por.+ I fancy thee, Camilla, in that brave posture,

Like a noble statue which I remember

To have seen of the enraged Juno,

When she had robb'd Jove of his thunderbolt.

+Cam.+ Freed from this fright, my spirits flow'd so fast

To the forsaken channels of my heart,

That they, who by their orderly access

Would have supported life, by throngs oppress:

O'ercharg'd with joy, I fell into a swoon,

And that, which happen'd during this interval,[46]

Is not within the circle of my knowledge.

+Por.+ Y' have rais'd me to a mighty expectation:

Will the adventure answer it, Camilla?

+Cam.+ At my return to life, op'ning my eyes,

Think, dearest Porcia, how I was astonish'd

To find there, kneeling by my side, a man

Of a most noble form, who bowing to me:

Madam (says he) y' are welcome to the world:

Pardon, I pray, the boldness of a stranger,

Who humbly sues t' you to continue in it:

Or, if you needs will leave us, stay at least

Until I have reveng'd your wrongs, and then

I'll wait upon you to the other world;

For, you withdrawn, this will a desert seem,

And life a torment.

+Por.+ High gallantry, cousin, for the first address!

+Cam.+ 'Twas so surprising, that my confusion

Check'd my reply; but I suppose my looks

Did speak the grateful language of my heart;

For I perceiv'd an air of joy enlighten

His manly face; but, O, how soon 'twas clouded

By fresh alarms! we heard the soldiers cry,

Where's Antonio? the enemy is rallied,

And coming on to give a second charge!

He started up, and with a mien that mark'd

The conflict 'twixt his honour and his love,

Madam (says he) the soul was never yet

With such convulsion from the body torn,

As I from you; but it must ne'er be said

That Don Antonio de Mendoza

Follows those in dangers whom he ought to lead.

Thus the vanquish'd conqueror disappear'd,

Leaving that image stamp'd upon my heart

To which I all the joys must sacrifice

Of the poor remnant of my wretched life;

If properly to live I may be said,

When all my hopes of seeing him are dead.

[_She puts her handkerchief to her eyes._

+Por.+ Though you have kept this part of your adventure

Still from me--

+Cam.+ And from everybody living.

+Por.+ I have observ'd the signs of smother'd grief:

I've often seen those lovely eyes much swoll'n.

Those are true tears, Camilla, which are stol'n.

But what said you was his name, Camilla?

+Cam.+ Antonio de Mendoza.

+Por.+ O heavens! Antonio de Mendoza!

_Enter +Don Henrique+._

+Don H.+ I'm pleased to find you speaking of your husband.

+Cam.+ What's that I hear? her husband! [_Aside._

+Don H.+ Have you the letter ready I desir'd you

To write to him? I'll send a servant with it

To meet him on the way; 'twill show respect.

+Por.+ You know my obedience, brother.

+Don H.+ 'Tis well, sister.

_Enter +Silvio+._

+Sil.+ Sir, here's a servant of Don Antonio

Newly alighted at the gate: he's come

Post from his master, charg'd with letters for you.

+Don H.+ I could not have receiv'd more welcome news.

Go, bring him in. Sister, you may withdraw.

[_Exeunt +Porcia+ and +Camilla+._

_Enter +Ernesto+ and +Silvio+._

+Ern.+ Sir, Don Antonio kisses your hands,

And sends me to present this letter to you.

[_He gives a letter to +Don Henrique+. +Don Henrique+ opens

it, and, having read it to himself, says_--

+Don H.+ I'm glad to find by's letter he's in health;

Yet methinks, friend, he writes but doubtfully

Of's being here this night, as I expected.

+Ern.+ His letter, I suppose, sir, speaks his purpose.

+Don H.+ I'll answer't, and despatch you presently:

In the meanwhile, go: make him welcome, Silvio.

[_Exeunt +Silvio+ and +Ernesto+._

I would to heaven he were arriv'd; I grow

Each minute more impatient. As bodies

Near the centre move with more violence,

So when we approach the ends of our designs,

Our expectations are the more intense,

And our fears greater of all cross-events. [_Exit +Don Henrique+._

_Enter +Silvio+, +Ernesto+, +Geraldo+, +Pedro+, +Bernardino+,

+Jago+, with some cups of chocolate._

+Sil.+ Methinks, camerade, a sup of chocolate

Is not amiss after a tedious journey--

Your master's health, sir. [_He drinks._

+Ern.+ I'll do you reason, sir.[47]

+Sil.+ Pray, how long is't, brother, since you left Spain?

+Ern.+ 'Tis now five years and upwards since I went

From Seville with my master into Flanders,

The king's fencing-school, where all his subjects

Given to fighting are taught the use of arms,

And notably kept in breath.

+Sil.+ Your master, I am sure, has got the fame

To be a per'lous man in that rough trade.

+Ern.+ He's a brave soldier, envy must confess it.

+Ped.+ It seems so, faith, since merely by the force

Of his great reputation he can take

Our bright young mistress in without a siege.

+Ern.+ If I mistake not, she will be reveng'd

On him ere long, and take him too by th' force

Of her rare wit and beauty.

+Ped.+ Sh' has a fair

Portion, sir, of both, I dare assure you.

+Sil.+ But prythee, brother, instruct us a little;

Tell us, what kind of country is this Holland,

That's so much talk'd of, and so much fought for?

+Ern.+ Why, friend, 'tis a huge ship at anchor, fraught

With a sort of creatures made up of turf

And butter.

+Ped.+ Pray, sir, what do they drink in that country?

'Tis said, there's neither fountains there

Nor vines.

+Ern.+ This is the butler, sure, by his apt question. [_Aside._

Friend, they drink there a certain muddy liquor,

Made of that grain with which you feed your mules.

+Ped.+ What, barley? can that juice quench their thirst?

+Ern.+ You'd scarce believe it could, did you but see

How oft they drink.

+Ped.+ But methinks that should make them drunk, camerade?

+Ern.+ Indeed most strangers are of that opinion;

But they themselves believe it not, because

They are so often.

+Ger.+ A nation, sure, of walking tuns, the world

Has not the like.

+Ern.+ Pardon me, friend, there is but a great ditch

Betwixt them and such another nation;

If these good fellows would but join, and drink

That dry, i' faith they might shake hands.

+Ger.+ Prythee, friend, can these Dutch Borachios[48] fight?

+Ern.+ They can do even as well, for they can pay

Those that can fight.

+Sil.+ But where, I pray, sir, do they get their money?

+Ern.+ O sir, they have a thriving mystery;

They cheat their neighbouring princes of their trade,

And then they buy their subjects for their soldiers.

+Sil.+ Methinks our armies should beat these butter-boxes.

Out of the world.

+Ern.+ Trust me, brother, they'll sooner beat our armies

Out of their country: why, ready money, friend,

Will do much more in camps, as well as courts,

Than a ready wit, I dare assure you.

+Ger.+ Methinks, camerade, our king should have more money

Than these Dutch swabbers; he's master o' th' Indies,

Where money grows.

+Ern.+ But they have herrings which, I assure you,

Are worth our master's mines.

+Ger.+ Herrings! why, what a devil, do they grow

In their country?

+Ern.+ No, faith, they fish 'em on the English coast,

And fetch their salt from France; then they pickle 'em,

And sell 'em all o'er the world.

+Ger.+ 'Slife, these rascals live by cookery!

+Ern.+ This is the coddled cook, I've found him out. [_Aside._

+Ber.+ What kind of beds, sir, have they i' that country?

+Ern.+ This, I dare swear, 's the groom o' th' chamber. [_Aside._

Sir, they have certain niches in their walls,[49]

Where they climb up o' nights; and there they stew

In their own grease till morning.

+Jago.+ Pray, sir, give me leave to ask you one question:

What manner of women have they in that country?

+Ern.+ The gentleman-usher, upon my life! [_Aside._

Pray excuse me, sir: we gentlemen-soldiers

Value ourselves upon our civility

To that soft sex; and in good faith they are

The softest of that sex I ever met with.

+Jago.+ Does any of our Spaniards ever marry

With'em?

+Ern.+ Yes, some lean families, that have a mind

To lard their progeny.

+Sil.+ What, a' God's name, could come into the heads

Of this people to make them rebel?

+Ern.+ Why, religion; that came into their heads

A' God's name.

+Ger.+ But what a devil made the noblemen

Rebel? they never mind religion.

+Ern.+ Why, that which made the devil himself rebel--

Ambition.

+Sil.+ This is a pleasant fellow. [_Aside._

I find you gentlemen-soldiers want no wit.

+Ern.+ When we're well paid, sir, but that's so seldom,

I find that gentleman wants wit that is

A soldier. Your company's very good,

But I have business which requires despatch.

+Ped.+ Will you not mend your draught before you go?

+Ern.+ I thank you, sir, I have done very well.

+All.+ Your servant, your servant, &c. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Camilla+, +Porcia+, +Flora+._

+Por.+ Was e'er disaster like to mine, Camilla?

+Cam.+ Was e'er misfortune, Porcia, like to mine?

+Por.+ That I must never see Octavio more?

+Cam.+ That I again must Don Antonio see,

Yet never see him mine?

+Por.+ I, to be married to the man I hate!

+Cam.+ And I, to have the man I love torn from me!

+Por.+ I am, by robbing of my friend, undone!

+Cam.+ I, for not hind'ring of the theft, am lost!

+Por.+ Ye powers, who these entangled fortunes give,

Instruct us how to die or[50] I how to live. [_She weeps._

+Cam.+ Cousin, when we should act, then to complain

Is childishly to beat the air in vain.

These descants on our griefs only perplex;

Let's seek the remedy. You know, our sex

This honour bears from men, in exigents

Of love never to want expedients.

+Por.+ You have awaken'd me, give me your veil:

[_+Porcia+ takes off +Camilla's+ veil, and puts it on herself._

Quickly, dear cousin, quickly; and you, Flora,

Run presently, and see whether my brother

Be settled to despatch Antonio's man. [_Exit +Flora+._

+Cam.+ What mean you, Porcia?

+Por.+ If once my brother be set down to write,

I may securely reckon one hour mine;

For he is so extravagantly jealous,

That he distrusts the sense of his own words,

And will weigh a subscription to a scruple,

Lest he should wrong his family by his style:

Therefore, I'll serve myself of[51] this occasion

To see Octavio, and to let him know

That all our hopes are ready to expire,

Unless he finds some prompt expedient

For our relief.

+Cam.+ Pray, how and where d' you hope to speak with him?

+Por.+ At his own house, where he lies yet conceal'd:

'Tis not far off, and I will venture thither.

+Cam.+ D' you know the way?

+Por.+ Not very well; but Flora's a good guide.

_Enter +Flora+ hastily._

+Flo.+ O madam! he's coming already.

+Por.+ Ah, spiteful destiny! Come, let's retire

Into my chamber, cousin. [_Exeunt +Porcia+ and +Camilla+._

_Enter +Don Henrique+ and +Ernesto+._

+Don H.+ If you desire to see her, friend, you may.

+Ern.+ I should be glad to acquaint my master, sir,

That I have had the honour to see his bride.

+Don H.+ Where's your lady, Flora?

+Flo.+ She's in her chamber, sir.

+Don H.+ Tell her, Antonio's man attends her here,

To do his duty to her ere he goes. [_Exit +Flora+._

Stay here: you'll find her with a kinswoman,

In her home dress without a veil; but you

Are privileg'd by your relation for this access:

I'll go despatch my letter. [_Exit +Henrique+._

_Enter +Camilla+, +Porcia+, and +Flora+. +Ernesto+ addresses

himself to +Camilla+, seeing her without a veil._

+Ern.+ Madam, I have been bold to beg the honour

Of seeing your ladyship, to make myself

More welcome to my lord at my return.

+Por.+ A rare mistake! further it, dear Camilla!

Who knows what good this error may produce? [_Aside._

+Cam.+ Friend, in what state left you your lord and mine?

+Ern.+ As happy as the hopes of being yours

Could make him, madam.

+Cam.+ I would the master were as easily deceiv'd. [_Aside._

I pray present my humble service to him;

And let him know that I am very glad

He has pass'd his journey so successfully--

Give him the letter, Flora.[52] Farewell, friend.

[_Exeunt +Camilla+, +Porcia+, and +Flora+._

+Ern.+ Now, by my life, she is a lovely lady;

My master will be ravish'd with her form.

I hope this blind bargain, made by proxy,

May prove as happy a marriage as those

Made after th' old fashion, chiefly for love,

And that this unseen beauty may have charms

To bring him back to his right wits again

From his wild ravings on an unknown dame,

Whom, as he fancies (once upon a time)

He recover'd from a trance, that's to say

From a sound sleep, which makes him dream e'er since.

I'll hasten to him with this pleasing news. [_Exit +Ernesto+._

+Cam.+ My melancholy could hardly hinder me

From laughing at the formal fool's mistake.

But, tell me, did not I present your person

With rare assurance? The way for both to thrive

Is to make me your representative.

+Por.+ Most willingly; and I am confident,

When you your charms shall to his heart apply,

You all your rivals safely may defy.

+Cam.+ I wish I could be vain enough to hope it.

But, cousin, my despairs are so extreme,

I can't be flatter'd, though but in a dream.

+Flo.+ Madam, do we go, or what do you resolve on?

+Por.+ I must resolve, but know not what to choose.

+Cam.+ Cousin, take heed, I am afraid you venture

Too much: your brother cannot tarry long,

And if at his return he finds you missing----

+Por.+ Y' have reason; th' opportunity is lost.

What is't o'clock, Flora?

+Flo.+ I think, near seven, for the clock struck six

Just as Camilla enter'd the chamber.

+Por.+ Quick then, Flora, fetch your veil; you shall carry

My tablets to Octavio; there he'll find

The hour and place where I would have him meet. [_Exit +Flora+._

+Cam.+ 'Tis well resolv'd; but where do you design

Your meeting.

+Por.+ In the remotest part of all the garden,

Which answers, as you know, to my apartment;

And Flora has the key of the back-door.

+Cam.+ As the case stands, you choose the fittest place.

[_+Flora+ returns veiled._

+Por.+ Cousin, I beg your patience whilst I write.

[_+Porcia+ writes in her tablets._

+Cam.+ You, Mistress Flora, by this accident

May chance to see your faithful lover Diego.

+Flo.+ He is a faithful lover of himself--[53]

Without a rival, madam.

+Cam.+ Damsel, your words and thoughts hardly agree;

For could we see his image in your heart,

'Twould be a fairer far than e'er his glass

Reflected.

+Flo.+ Madam, I am not yet so very old,

That I should doat.

+Cam.+ Nor yet so very young but you may love:

Dotage and love are cousin-germans, Flora.

+Flo.+ Yes, when we love and are not lov'd again; [_Smiling._

For else I think they're not so near akin.

+Cam.+ I have touch'd a nettle, and stung myself. [_Aside._

+Por.+ Make all the haste you can, pray, Flora.

+Flo.+ Madam, I'll fly.

Should I not play my part, I were to blame,

Since all my fortune's betted on her game. [_Aside._

Madam, has Octavio the other key

Belonging to the tablets?

+Por.+ Yes, yes; I pray, make haste. [_Exit +Flora+._

+Cam.+ Cousin, pray, call for Mirabel, and let her

Divert us with a song.

+Por.+ Who waits there?

Page, bid Mirabel come in, and Floridor

With his lute, and send in somebody with chairs.

+Cam.+ Pray, cousin, let her sing her newest air.

+Por.+ What you please.

+Cam.+ Tell me, prythee, whose composition was it?

+Por.+ Guess, and I'll tell you true. [_They bring in chairs._

+Cam.+ Octavio's?

+Por.+ Y' are i' th' right.

_Enter +Mirabel+ and +Floridor+._

+Por.+ Mirabel, sing "Mistaken Kindness."

+The Song.+[54]

_Can Luciamira so mistake,

To persuade me to fly?

'Tis cruel-kind for my own sake

To counsel me to die;

Like those faint souls, who cheat themselves of breath,

And die for fear of death._

_Since love's the principle of life,

And you the object lov'd,

Let's, Luciamira, end this strife,

I cease to be remov'd.

We know not what they do are gone from hence,

But here we love by sense._

_If the Platonics, who would prove

Souls without bodies love,

Had, with respect, well understood,

The passions i' the blood,

Th' had suffer'd bodies to have had their part

And seated love i' the heart._

[_Exeunt +Mirabel+ and +Floridor+._

+Por.+ What discord there's in music, when the heart,

Untun'd by trouble, cannot bear a part!

+Cam.+ In vain we seek content in outward things;

'Tis only from within where quiet springs. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[39] In this list of characters three very unimportant personages,

Mirabel, Floridor, and a Page, are omitted.--_Collier._

[40] This play, in the third edition from which it is here printed,

received some additions and improvements. The first performance of

it was at court; and on its appearance on the stage at the Duke's

Theatre it met with great applause, and was acted thirteen nights

successively. Echard, in the preface to his translation of Terence,

gives it this general character, that it "is one of the pleasantest

stories that ever appeared upon our stage, and has as much variety of

plots and intrigues, without anything being precipitated, improper or

unnatural, as to the main action." In the year 1767, Mr Hull made some

alterations in it, with which it was acted at Covent Garden Theatre

about nine nights, under the title of "The Perplexities." To the second

edition were prefixed complimentary verses by James Long, J. Evelyn, A.

Cowley Jasper Nedham, M.D., Lod. Carlile, Chr. Wase, William Joyner,

and one copy signed Melpomene. In Sir Wm. Davenant's Works, p. 339, is

a prologue written by him, addressed to the Lord Chancellor, on the

acting of this play at the Inner Temple.

[41] Till now the measure was spoiled by the omission of the word

_all_. The four editions read the line as it now stands. The play has

been hitherto very carelessly printed, and a few of the errors are

pointed out in the notes.--_Collier._ [But it must be added that even

Mr Collier left the text and (more particularly) the punctuation in so

corrupt a state, that many passages were unintelligible.]

[42] [Former edits., _and_.]

[43] Prior has adopted this image--

"So when the Parthian turn'd his steed,

And from the hostile camp withdrew,

He backward sent the fatal reed,

Secure of conquest as he flew."

--Poems, i. 40, edit. 1778.

[44] This speech is very much altered from the first and second

editions, where it stands that Don Henrique has already married Porcia

"By proxy

To one in Flanders."

--_Collier._

[45] This word was omitted by Reed and Dodsley.--_Collier._

[46] The author has not been very strict in the observance of his metre

in any part of the play, and in this respect the changes he made in the

third edition were sometimes injurious. Thus in the two earlier copies

this line, which would have read very well if _in_ had been substituted

for _during_, is given as follows--

"And what was done in this parenthesis."

It was a point gained, however, to get rid of the figure.--_Collier._

[47] [I'll pledge you. See Nares, edit. 1859, p. 216.]

[48] [Literally a bottle. See Halliwell in _v._]

[49] [Cupboard beds, similar to those still used throughout Holland

among the humbler classes.]

[50] [Former edits., _and_.]

[51] [Former edits., _on_.]

[52] This is hardly intelligible, as it stands here and in the third

edition. In the two earlier copies, Porcia says to Flora on entering--

"If thou lov'st me, get him away quickly

Before my brother come, and give him this.

[_She gives +Flora+ a letter_."

--_Collier._ [There does not appear to be any obscurity here. In a

subsequent scene, Ernesto delivers the letter handed to him by Flora

from Camilla, whom he mistakes for Porcia.]

[53] [_Of himself_ seems to be used here in the sense of by himself,

_per se_, standing alone.]

[54] The song, and its introduction, were new in the copy of

1671.--_Collier._