+Scene.+--_+Don Octavio's+ house._
_Enter +Don Octavio+ angrily, pushing +Diego+, and
+Porcia+ following._
+Don O.+ Villain, thou hast undone us! cursed villain!
Where was thy soul I had fear quite banish'd it,
And left thee not one grain of common sense?
+Por.+ Was there ever so fatal an accident?
+Don O.+ Why, traitor, didst thou not let me know it
As soon as we were come into the house?
+Diego.+ What would y' have done, if you had known it then?
+Don O.+ I would have sallied out and kill'd the rogue,
In whose pow'r thou hast put it to destroy us.
Can it be doubted but that long ere this
He has acquainted Henrique where we are,
From whose black rage we must immediately
Expect t' encounter all the worst extremes
Of malice, seconded by seeming justice?
For the unfortunate are still i' th' wrong.
Curse on all cowards! better far be serv'd
By fools and knaves: they make less dangerous faults.
+Diego.+ Am I in fault because I'm not a cat?
How could I tell i' th' dark whether that rascal
Were a knight-errant or a recreant knight?
I thought him one of us, and true to love.
Were it not for such accidents as these,
That mock man's forecast, sure, the Destinies
Had ne'er been plac'd amongst the deities.
+Don O.+ Peace, cowardly slave! having thus play'd the rogue,
Are you grown sententious? Did I not fear
To stain my sword with such base blood, I'd let
Thy soul out with it at a thousand wounds.
+Diego.+ Why, then, a thousand thanks to my base blood
For saving my good flesh. [_Aside._
+Don O.+ Pardon, my dearest mistress, this excess
Of passion in your presence.
+Por.+ What shall we do, Octavio? if we stay here,
We are undone for ever: my brother
Will be instantly upon us. Alas!
My own life I value not, Octavio,
When yours, my better life, such hazard runs;
But, O my honour! O my innocence!
Expos'd to scandal: there's my deepest sense.
+Don O.+ Though the complexion of your brother's malice
Resemble hell, it is not black enough
To cast a stain upon your virgin innocence.
Sure, two such diff'rent branches ne'er did spring
From the same stock. To me't seems very strange,
Our middle natures, form'd of flesh and blood,
Should have such depths of ill, such heights of good,
An angel sister and a devil brother!
+Por.+ He's my brother, and I know no defence
For injur'd innocence but innocence.
Fly, fly, Octavio! leave me to my fate.
+Don O.+ Your kindness, generous maid, confutes itself.
To save my life, you counsel me to fly,
Which is at once to bid me live and die.
+Por.+ What then, for heaven's sake, d' you resolve to do?
+Don O.+ I must resolve, and suddenly, but what,
I swear, I know not: there have been such turns
In my misfortunes, they have made me giddy.
+Por.+ You must determine; time wastes, Octavio.
+Don O.+ Madam, if I should lead you through the streets,
And chance to meet the officers of justice,
I not daring to avow my person,
For that unlucky accident you know of,
You might, I fear, by that means be in danger:
We must not venture't. Run, rascal, and fetch
A chair immediately.
+Diego.+ A pretty errand at this time o' th' night!
These chairmen are exceedingly well-natur'd;
Th' are likely to obey a servant's orders
After nine of [the] clock! [_Exit +Diego+._
+Don O.+ Ye pow'rs above, why do ye lay so great
A weight on human nature, and bestow
Such an unequal force to bear our loads?
After a long pursuit, through all those stories,
Which hell-bred malice or the pow'r of fate
Could ever raise t' oppress a noble love,
To be at length possess'd of a rich mine,
Where nature seem'd to have lodged all her treasure,
And in an instant have it ravish'd from me,
Is too rude a trial for my patience
To sustain: I cannot bear it.
+Por.+ My sense of this misfortune equals yours;
But yet I must conjure you to submit
To the decrees of those who rule above:
Such resignation may incline their justice
Th' impending mischief to divert; besides,
In human things there's such vicissitude,
Where hope should end we hardly can conclude.
+Don O.+ Weak hope the parent is of anxious care,
And more tormenting far than fix'd despair:
This makes us turn to new expedients,
That languish 'twixt desire and diffidence.
+Por.+ Fortune will blush for shame when she shall find
Her best-aim'd darts can never touch your mind.
+Don O.+ Ah, Porcia! though my mind be far above
The reach of fate, 'tis level unto love.
Urge it no more: I'll die a thousand deaths,
Ere I'll consent to part with you. [_Strikes his breast._
+Por.+ I shall be always yours; for though we're forc'd
To separate, yet we are not divorc'd.
+Don O.+ Whilst our souls act by organs of the sense,
'Twixt death and parting there's no difference.
+Por.+ Consult your reason, then you will comply,
Making a virtue of necessity.
+Don O.+ Ah, lovely maid! 'twas not allowed to Jove
To hold at once his reason and his love.
_Enter +Diego+._
+Diego.+ The chair is come, sir, just as I expected.
+Don O.+ Where is it?
+Diego.+ Even where it was: they are deeply engag'd
_A las Pintas_,[67] and will not leave their game,
They swear, for all the dons in Seville.
+Don O.+ A curse upon these rogues! I'll make 'em come,
Or make their hearts ache. [_+Don Octavio+ runs out._
+Diego.+ Madam, though I was never yet unkind
To my own person, I am so much troubled
At the disquiet my mistake has brought you,
That, could I do't conveniently, i' faith,
I would even cudgel myself.
+Por.+ Away, buffoon! is this a time for fooling?
_Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Sancho+._
+Don A.+ Where is my noble friend Octavio?
+Diego.+ Did you not meet him at the door, sir?
+Don A.+ No.
+Diego.+ He went out, sir, just as you came in.
+Don A.+ Madam, I might have gone to bed, but not
[_Addresses himself to +Porcia+._
To rest, without returning to inquire
Of yours and of my noble friend's condition,
And once more to offer you my service.
+Por.+ I take the boldness, in Octavio's absence,
To return his with my most humble thanks,
For your late generous assistance of us,
And for this new addition to our debt.
+Don A.+ Though I have not th' honour to be known t' you,
The service of your sex in their distresses
Is the first vow of those of our profession;
And my constant friendship for Octavio
Is of so old a date, that all occasions,
By which I may express the fervour of it,
Are most welcome to me.
_Enter +Flora+ in great haste._
+Flo.+ O madam, I am cut of breath with running.
+Por.+ What accident, Flora, brings you hither?
+Flo.+ A sad one, madam, and requiring haste,
To give you timely notice on't. Don Carlos,
Assisted by the light o' th' rising moon,
And by a mistake of some of your train,
Has trac'd you to this house, and in my hearing
Inform'd your brother of the place and manner
Of your retreat: who is now coming hither
Accompanied with the corregidor,
To seize on whomsoever shall be found
Within these walls, upon pretence of murder.
+Por.+ O cruel accident!
+Flo.+ Madam, make haste: get out of the backdoor,
Or you will certainly be met with.
+Por.+ How vile a creature am I now become!
For, though in my own innocence secure,
To the censorious world who, like false glasses,
Mingling their own irregular figures,
Misreflect the object, I shall appear
Some sinful woman, sold to infamy.
+Don A.+ Your own clear mind's the glass, which to yourself
Reflects yourself; and, trust me, madam,
W' are only happy then, when all our joys
Flow from ourselves, not from the people's voice.
+Flo.+ Madam, they'll instantly be here.
+Por.+ O, that Octavio should just now be absent!
But to expect till he return were madness.
+Don A.+ Y' have reason, madam; and, if you dare trust
Your person to the conduct of a stranger,
Upon my honour, lady, I'll secure you,
Or perish in th' attempt.
+Por.+ Generous sir, how shall a wretched maid,
Abandon'd by her fate to the pursuit
Of an inhuman brother, e'er be able
Either to merit or requite your favours?
+Don A.+ I am th' oblig'd, if rightly understood,
Being o'erpaid by th' joy of doing good.
+Por.+ Sir, I resign myself to your protection
With equal gratitude and confidence.
+Don A.+ Come, madam, we must lose no time--
Diego, find out your master presently,
And tell him that, the danger not allowing
Our stay till his return, I shall convey
His mistress safely to a nunnery.
+Por.+ And, Flora, stay you here to bring me word
What he resolves to do in this our desperate
Condition. [_Exit +Diego+._
+Flo.+ Madam, I shall.
+Don A.+ But stay--I swear I'd like to have committed
[_Going out, returns._
A foul mistake: the monastery gates
Will not be open'd at this time o' th' night
Without a strict inquiry into the cause;
Besides, 'tis possible that, once lodg'd there,
She may be out of my friend's pow'r or mine
Ever to get her thence, if it be known.
It must not be. I have thought better on't.
[_He pauses, and thinks._
I will convey you to my brother-in-law's,
A person of such quality and honour,
As may protect and serve you with his credit:
And there my wife may have the happiness
T' accompany you, and pay the offices,
Due to your virtue and distress'd condition:
And, going to a house that's so much mine,
Make account, madam, 'tis to your own home.
Sancho, stay you here to attend Octavio, [_Turning to +Sancho+._
And guide him the next way to my apartment:
Here is the key, I shall have little use on't,
Having Ernesto waiting for me there.
One word more, Sancho: let Octavio know
'Tis my advice, that he come in a chair.
He by that means may possibly escape
Examination, if he should be met with.
+Por.+ Flora, I pray, do you continue here,
And if by any accident Octavio
Should be hinder'd from coming after us,
Observe his motions well, and where he fixes;
Then return home, and I shall find some way
Of sending to you to inform myself.
+Flo.+ I shall not fail t' observe your orders, madam.
+Don A.+ Madam, I am ready to attend you.
+Por.+ Ah, cruel brother! ah, my dear Octavio!
How am I tortur'd betwixt love and hate!
+Don A.+ W' had better suffer than deserve our fate.
[_Exit +Don Antonio+ and +Porcia+._
+San.+ 'Tis no small compliment my master makes
Your lady and her gallant, at this time
O' th' night to quit his brother-in-law's, and leave
So fair a bride as Porcia all alone.
+Flo.+ What, is his mistress's name Porcia too?
+San.+ Yes; and if she has as fair a handmaid
As yourself, I shall soon forget my damsels
In the Low Countries.
+Flo.+ If your Low-Country damsels resemble us,
You would not be put to't to forget first.
But I believe that you are safe enough:
I have not heard such praises of their wit,
But that we may suppose they have good memories.
_Enter +Diego+._
+Diego.+ Is not my master yet return'd?
+Flo.+ No.
+Diego.+ Well, now have we an honourable cause
To wear the beadle's livery: faith, Flora,
If your tender sex had not been privileg'd
From this harsh discipline, how prettily
Would the beadle's crimson lace show upon
Your white back!
+Flo.+ 'Twon't do so well as on a darker ground:
'Twill suit much better with your tawny hide.
+San.+ I pray, camerade, is it the mode in Seville
To be whipp'd for company?
+Diego.+ O sir, a well-bred soldier will ne'er refuse
Such a civility to an old friend;
This is a new way of being a second,
To show your passive courage.
+San.+ We soldiers do not use to show our backs.
+Diego.+ Not to your enemies; but, sir, the beadle
Will prove your friend; for, your blood being heated
With riding post, the breathing of a vein
Is very requisite.
+San.+ Would t' heaven that I were i' the camp again:
There we are never stripp'd till we are dead.
_Enter +Don Octavio+, and the Chairmen appear at the door._
+Don O.+ Be sure you stir not thence, till I return.
[_To the Chairmen._
Sirrah, where's Porcia?
+Diego.+ She's fled away i' th' dark with a young man
Of your acquaintance.
+Don O.+ Rascal, leave your fooling.
+Diego.+ There's none i' th' case, sir: 'tis the wisest thing
She ever did; had she stay'd your return,
She would have fallen into those very clutches
In which you will immediately be gripp'd,
Unless you make more haste. Flora is come
With all the speed she could, to let you know
Th' are coming with the justice, to lay hold
Of all within this house; pray be quick, sir,
And save yourself. She's safe in a nunnery,
Conducted thither by Antonio.
+Don O.+ Peace, screech-owl! fire consume that tongue of thine!
What say'st thou, villain! in a nunnery?
Porcia in a nunnery? O heavens! nothing
But this was wanting to make me desperate.
What hope's there left ever to get her thence,
After such accidents as these made public?
Ah, Flora, is it true that my dear Porcia
Is gone into a nunnery?
+Flo.+ Once, sir, 'twas so resolv'd, and Diego sent
To give you notice on't; but afterwards,
He being gone, they chang'd their resolutions.
There's one can tell you more. [_Pointing to +Sancho+._
+San.+ My master bad me stay, to let you know
He has convey'd her to his own apartment
In his brother-in-law's house, a person
So eminent in quality and credit,
That the imagining him in her and your
Protection, sir, may much avail ye both:
Besides, she'll have the satisfaction there
Of being treated by my master's bride.
There he'll expect you, and advises you
To come in a chair, to avoid questioning,
In case of any encounter.
+Don O.+ I'll take his counsel: he's a generous friend.
Come, chairmen, away; pray, friend, do you guide us. [_To +Sancho+._
+Diego.+ Up with your burden, beasts, and fall forthwith
To your half-trot.
[_Exeunt. The chair is carried over the stage;
+Diego+, +Sancho+, and +Flora+ follow._
_A noise within._ Follow, follow, follow! _Enter +Don Carlos+,
the +Corregidor+, and +Sergeants+, pursuing +Sancho+,
+Flora+, and +Diego+._
+Diego.+ This is one of Don Cupid's pretty jests:
W' are struck upon a shelf before we could
Put out to sea.
+Don C.+ You find, sir, my conjecture's not ill-grounded.
[_To the +Corregidore+._
+Cor.+ What are you, sirrah?
+Diego.+ A living creature, very like a man:
Only I want a heart.
+Cor.+ Y' are pleasant, sir; pray heaven your mirth continue.
Who is that woman with the veil?
+Diego.+ Let her answer for herself, sh' has a tongue;
Set it but once agoing, and she'll tell
All that she knows, and more.
+Cor.+ Make her uncover her face.
[_One of the +Sergeants+ goes to lift up her veil._
+Don C.+ Hold, friend. Cousin, if it should be Porcia,
[_Turning to the +Corregidore+._
It were not fit to expose her here.
+Cor.+ 'Tis very well consider'd. Go you to her.
And speak to her in private. [_+Don Carlos+ goes towards +Flora+._
+Flo.+ 'Tis I, sir, Flora who, being commanded
By my lady----
+Don C.+ Speak softly, prythee, Flora, 'tis enough;
I understand the rest, and pity her:
Bid her sit still i' th' chair, I'll do my best
To save her from dishonour.
+Flo.+ He thinks 'tis Porcia there; a good mistake;
It may secure Octavio from the hands
Of this rude rabble. [_Aside._
They take you for my mistress, sir; sit still,
[_To +Don Octavio+ in the chair._
I'll follow the chair, and watch all occasions
To further your escape.
+Don C.+ We have found our wand'ring nymph, sir.
+Cor.+ Was it Porcia?
+Don C.+ No, sir, 'twas her waiting-woman, Flora, following the
chair, wherein they were conveying her lady to some other place.
+Cor.+ We arriv'd luckily: had we but stay'd a moment longer,
they had all been fled.
+Ser.+ Will you have us see, sir, who's i' th' chair?
+Cor.+ Forbear, fellow!
Her own folly is punishment enough [_To +Don Carlos+._
T' a woman of her quality, without
Our adding that of public shame.
+Don C.+ 'Twas happily thought on, when you oblig'd
Don Henrique to expect us at your house;
For had he come and found his sister here,
'T had been impossible to have restrain'd
His passion from some great extravagance.
+Cor.+ I could not think it fit to let him come;
For one of such a spirit would ne'er brook
The sight of these had done him these affronts
And's better that a business of this nature,
Especially 'twixt persons of such quality,
Should be compos'd, if it were possible,
By th' mediation of some chosen friends,
Than brought t' a public trial of the law;
Or, which is worse, some barbarous revenge.
+Don C.+ This fellow, if I am not much[68] mistaken,
[_Looking upon +Diego+._
Is Don Octavio's man.
+Cor.+ Who do you belong to, friend?
+Diego.+ To nobody, sir.
+Cor.+ Do not you serve?
+Diego.+ Yes, sir; but my master is not himself.
+Cor.+ Take his sword from him, sergeant.
[_The +Sergeant+ goes to lake away his sword._
+Diego.+ Diego, disarm'd by any other hand
Than by his own? Know, friend, it is a weapon
Of such dire execution, that I dare not
Give it up but to the hands of justice.
[_The +Corregidor+ receives the sword, and gives
it to the hands of his +Sergeants+._
Pray call for't, sir, as soon as you come home,
And hang't up in your hall, then underwrite,
This is bold Diego's sword. O, may it be
Ever from rust, as 'tis from slaughter, free!
+Cor.+ Thou art a fellow of a pleasant humour.
+Diego.+ Faith, sir, I never pain myself for love,
Or fame, or riches; nor do I pretend
To that great subtlety of sense, to feel
Before I'm hurt; and for the most part
I keep myself out of harm's way.
+Don C.+ The definition of a philosopher!
+Cor.+ Come, leave your fooling, sirrah. Where's your master?
+Diego.+ The only way to leave my fooling, sir,
Is to leave my master; for, without doubt,
Whoever has but the least grain of wit
Would never serve a lover militant:
He had better wait upon a mountebank,
And be run through the body twice a week
To recommend his balsam.
+Cor.+ This fellow is an original.
+Diego.+ But of so ill a hand, I am not worth
The hanging up, sir, in my master's room,
Amongst the worst of your collection.
_Enter +Sergeants+, with two Footmen and two Maid-servants._
+Ser.+ An't please your worship, we have search'd the house
From the cellars to the garrets, and these
Are all the living cattle we can find.
+Cor.+ Friends, take a special care of that same varlet
And the waiting-woman: we'll find a way
To make them tell the truth, I warrant you.
+Flo.+ O Diego! must we be prisoners together?
+Diego.+ Why, that's not so bad as the bands of wedlock, Flora.
+Cor.+ Come, let's away; but whither to convey her?
To her own house certainly were not fit,
Because of her incensed brother.
+Don C.+ If you approve on't, cousin, I'll carry her
To mine; for since we seek (if possible)
To compose the business, she will be there
With much more decency and satisfaction,
Being in a kinsman's house, and where she'll have
My sister to accompany her.
+Cor.+ This business cannot be in better hands
Than yours; and there I'll leave it, and bid you
Good night.
+Don C.+ Your servant, cousin; I wish you well at home.
You may be pleas'd to take your sergeants with you;
[_As the +Corregidor+ goes out_--
There are without two servants of Don Henrique's,
They'll be enough to guard our prisoners,
And with less notice.
+Cor.+ Come, sergeants, follow me.
+Don C.+ Well, ye may go about your business, friends.
[_To the Footmen and Maids._
I am glad we did not find Octavio here;
For, though I might justly pretend ignorance,
I would not have him suffer, though by chance. [_Exeunt Servants._
+San.+ Well, I am now sufficiently instructed,
And, since there is no notice ta'en of me,
I'll fairly steal away, and give my master
An account of this misfortune. [_Exit +Sancho+._
+Don C.+ Take up the chair, and follow me.
[_They take up the chair._
+Diego.+ A lovely dame they bear: 'tis true, she's something
Hairy about the chin, but that, they say, 's
A sign of strength. It tickles me to think
How like an ass he'll look when, op'ning the shell,
His worship finds within so rough a kernel. [_Exeunt._
_Scene changes to +Don Antonio's+ apartment in +Don Henrique's+
house. Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Porcia+._
+Don A.+ Madam, banish your fear: you are now safe
Within these walls: be pleas'd to remain here
Till I shall bring some lights, and acquaint Porcia
With th' honour she'll receive in entertaining
So fair a guest.
+Por.+ Who is't you say you will advertise, sir?
+Don A.+ My wife Porcia. Have but a little patience,
And she'll attend you, madam. [_Exit +Antonio+._
+Por.+ Is her name Porcia too? Pray heaven send her
A better fate than her distress'd name's-sake.
But whither am I brought? What house is this?
What with my fears and darkness of the night,
I have lost all my measures: I can't guess
What quarter of the town it is w' are in;
For, to avoid the meeting with my brother
And his revengeful train, we have been forc'd
To make so many turnings, I am giddy.
But, thanks to providence, I have this comfort,
That now I'm in a place out of his reach.
_Enter +Don Antonio+ with two lights, and sets them
on the table._
+Don A.+ Madam, my wife will suddenly attend you;
Pardon, I pray, my absence for a moment. [_Exit +Antonio+._
+Por.+ Now I begin to hope my sighs and tears
Have in some measure with just heaven prevail'd
At length to free me. But what do I see!
[_Looking about her, she starts._
Am I awake, or is it an illusion?
Bless me, is not this my brother's house? this,
The quarter joining to my own apartment?
There is no room for doubt; and my misfortunes
Are always certain and without redress.
Unerring powers, arbiters of fate,
Teach me my crimes, and how to expiate
Your wrath! Alas! I know not what I have done
To merit this continued persecution!
But how came I here I brought by Octavio's friend,
One on whose virtue I did so rely,
That I my brother's malice durst defy.
Can he betray me? sure, I'm in a dream.
But if Octavio--O vile suspicion!
Octavio false?--No, truth and he are one.
'Tis possible his friend may guilty be,
But to what end so base a treachery?
And if perfidious, how could he be his friend?
I am confounded with the various forms
Of my misfortunes, heighten'd still the more,
The less I can their hidden cause explore.
This only's evident, that I must fly
Immediately this fatal place. But why
Struggle I thus with fate, since, go or stay,
Death seems alike to wait me every way. [_She weeps._
_Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Camilla+._
+Cam.+ I wonder much what lady this can be
Antonio mentions. [_Aside._
+Don A.+ Pardon, I beseech you, madam, the liberty
Which I so early take; but I presume
Such is your generous tenderness to those
Whose spiteful fortunes, not their fault, has brought
Into distress, that you will think yourself
Oblig'd to him who gives you the occasion
T' exercise those virtues, which only visit
Others, but reside with you. This fair lady--
But she will best relate her own sad story,
Whilst I seek out Don Henrique, and engage him
T' employ his power and int'rest for her service.
[_Exit +Don Antonio+. Upon +Camilla's+ approach +Porcia+
takes the handkerchief from her eyes._
+Cam.+ Ha! what is that I see? Stay, stay, Antonio,
[_She runs after Antonio._
It is not fit Don Henrique--but he's gone,
And we are lost for ever!
+Por.+ O heavens! is this Antonio, the same man,
To whom I am betroth'd? then my destruction
Is inevitable.
+Cam.+ Are you an apparition, or are you
Porcia herself? speak; that when y' have said it thrice,
I may not yet believe you.
+Por.+ You well may doubt even what you see, Camilla,
Since my disasters are so new and strange,
They sever truth from credibility.
+Cam.+ How is it possible you should be here?
+Por.+ I know not how: only of this I'm sure,
I have not long to expect the dismal end
Of my sad tragedy; since 'tis evident,
The person that hath led me to this place,
This fatal place, is the abus'd Antonio,
Who has conspir'd with my unnatural brother
To take away my wretched life, and chose
This scene as fittest for their cruelty.
And thus, strange fate! (through ignorance betray'd)
I have sought protection from the same party
Whom I have injur'd, and have made my husband
The only confidant of his own affront:
Who, to accomplish his too just revenge,
As well upon my family as person,
Gives me up to be murder'd by my brother;
So, whilst I'm branded as a faithless bride,
He'll be detested as a parricide.
+Cam.+ Prodigious accident! but wert thou blind,
Not to know thine own house, unhappy Porcia?
+Por.+ Alas! how could I, in so dark a night,
In such confusion, and so full of fear?
Besides, he brought me in by the back-way,
Through his own quarter, where was neither light,
Nor any creature of the family.
+Cam.+ Although I cannot comprehend the steps
Of this your strange adventure, yet, dear cousin,
Your case, as I conceive, is not so desperate.
+Por.+ We easily persuade ourselves to hope
The things we wish. But, cousin, my condition
Will not admit self-flattery, and what
Can you propose to temper my despair?
+Cam.+ Don't you remember, how this afternoon
Antonio's man, finding me in your quarter
Without a veil, you having put on mine,
That he applied himself to me, and I,
By your command, assum'd your person?
+Por.+ Yes, very well.
+Cam.+ The master since has, by the man's mistake,
Been happily led into the same error:
I have not disabus'd him yet, in hopes
It might produce advantage to us both.
+Por.+ O, he has spoken with my brother since,
Who (sure) has undeceiv'd him long e'er this.
No, without doubt, they, having found themselves
Affronted both, have both conspir'd my death.
+Cam.+ How, cousin, can that be, if Don Antonio
Has engag'd himself in your protection,
And is Octavio's friend?
+Por.+ Cousin, if you impartially reflect
On the affront which I have done Antonio,
You will not wonder much if he recede
From the scarce-trodden path of rigid honour
To meet with his revenge, and to that end
Proceeds thus cautelously, still pretending
He knows not me, that he may disavow,
Both to Octavio and to all the world,
Th' infamy of betraying a poor maid
To loss of life and honour.
+Cam.+ Misfortunes make you rave: this vile suspicion
Is inconsistent with Antonio's fame.
You may as well believe that nature will
Reverse the order of the whole creation,
As that Antonio, a man whose soul
Is of so strong and perfect a complexion,
Should e'er descend to such a slavish sin. [_Spoken with heat._
And if we had the leisure, I could give you
Such reasons to convince you of your error,
That you would both acknowledge and repent it.
+Por.+ Alas! I had forgot her near concernments
For Antonio. [_Aside._] Pardon and pity me, Camilla;
My mind is so distracted by afflictions,
I know not what I should, or should not, fear.
+Cam.+ I pity thee with all my heart. But, cousin,
If Antonio, not knowing you nor your
Relations, should chance to find your brother,
And tell him unawares all that has pass'd,
And that h' has brought the distress'd party hither,
He'll presently imagine it is you,
And then, I fear, 'twill be impossible
(Though he should interpose with all his power)
To stop the torrent, or divert his rage
From breaking in, and executing on us
That horrid parricide which, though too late,
It may be he himself would execrate.
+Por.+ There's too much ground for what you fear, Camilla;
But if I could secure myself this night,
'Tis very possible that to-morrow
We might engage Antonio and your brother
To find out some expedient to relieve me.
+Cam.+ Were you only in pain for your security
This night, I know an easy remedy
For that.
+Por.+ Which way, my dearest?
+Cam.+ Why, what does hinder us from making use
On this occasion of the secret door,
By which, you know, you have so often pass'd
Into your house upon more pleasing errands?
By this we shall obtain these benefits--
[A] safety from your brother's present fury,
And time to try if Carlos and Antonio
May be engag'd to mediate in this business;
And I have cause to think you will not find
Antonio so implacable as you
Imagine.
+Por.+ I conceive you, cousin. Fool that I was,
To think a heart once conquer'd by your eyes
Should e'er become another virgin's prize!
_Enter +Don Antonio+._
+Don A.+ So late! a guest in's house, that's come so far
On such a business, and not yet come home!
There's something in't I cannot comprehend. [_Aside._
Madam, I han't as yet found out your brother,
But (sure) 'twill not be long ere he return;
Then I'll acquaint him with the accident
Has made his house this lady's sanctuary.
+Por.+ Here is a glimpse of comfort, for I see
He takes my cousin for Don Henrique's sister. [_Aside._
O bless'd mistake, so luckily continu'd!
+Cam.+ I am by his permission mistress here;
And since that I am pleas'd, sir, 'tis enough,
Without our troubling him with the account
Of her sad story.
+Don A.+ True, madam, as to her reception here;
But yet 'twere very fit he knew it too,
That we might serve ourselves of his advice
And credit for this lady's service.
_Enter +Don Henrique+._
+Don H.+ Though I did promise the corregidor
Not to stir from his house till his return,
Yet I could not obtain it of myself; [_Aside._
I'm so impatient to unfold the riddle
Of Don Antonio's seeing of my sister,
And entertaining her in her own lodgings.
I shall not now be long i' th' dark. O heavens! [_He sees her._
'Tis she herself, and Camilla with her.
Were all my servants mad, or all agreed
T' abuse me in affirming she was fled?
But Don Carlos, was he mad too to swear
That he had trac'd her to another house?
Certainly I or they must be possess'd,
Or some enchantment reigns within these walls.
+Don A.+ O, here comes Don Henrique: now I'll acquaint him
With your sad story, madam.
+Cam.+ I fear we are undone.
+Don A.+ Don Henrique!
+Por.+ I'm dead if he proceed, but how to hinder him----
+Don A.+ Here's a lady with your sister Porcia----
+Don H.+ Yes, sir, I see who 'tis.
+Don A.+ Since you know her, sir, you will the easier
Excuse my boldness.
+Don H.+ Boldness! in what, sir?
+Don A.+ To have been th' occasion of your finding her
Here with your sister at this time o' th' night.
+Don H.+ Lord, sir, what do you mean?
+Don A.+ There was in truth such a necessity in it,
That 'twill, I hope, excuse my humble suit to you
In her's and my behalf.
+Por.+ Now all comes out.
+Don H.+ I understand you, sir; she does desire
To pass this night with Porcia, to assist her
In th' ordering of her nuptial ceremonies.
Let her stay, a' God's name.
+Por.+ If he does not dissemble, my condition
Is not so desperate as I imagin'd. [_Aside._
+Don A.+ I hope you'll pardon this great liberty:
So early a confidence will need it, sir.
+Don H.+ 'Tis more than enough that you desire it;
Th' occasion, too, does justify her stay.
+Don A.+ 'Tis most true, sir, th' occasion did enforce me
Thus boldly to presume upon your friendship.
+Don H.+ Ha' done, for heaven's sake: is it a novelty,
Think you, for Porcia and her cousin-german
To pass a night together?
+Don A.+ Is she so near a kinswoman of his?
Strange inadvertence in her not to tell me
Her relation to him when I nam'd him first.
I'd made fine work on't, had I told him all. [_Aside._
+Don H.+ She knows I owe her many a good turn
Upon Octavio's score, and hope ere long
To be able to repay her to the full.
[_Looking on the ladies, and spoken aside, that
+Antonio+ might not hear him._
+Por.+ Can he declare his mind in plainer terms?
+Cam.+ I cannot tell which of us two he means:
These words may be applied to either of us;
But I begin to fear that he knows all.
+Don H.+ Since 'tis so late, pray give the ladies leave
To retire to their chambers. Go in, sister.
+Don A.+ My brother's words and his behaviour
Imply some mystery; but I must be silent
Till I discover more. [_Aside._
+Por.+ Let us be gone; w' are lost if we stay here.
I'm confident he counterfeits this calm
To cover his revenge, until Antonio
And the rest of the house are gone to bed.
+Cam.+ But we shall ne'er be able to get out,
Whilst they continue in the outward rooms.
+Por.+ Yes, by the garden door; but I'm afraid
'Tis shut.
+Cam.+ No, now I think on't, Flora went that way,
And left it open.
+Por.+ Come, let's be gone: I hope heaven will ordain
Ease by that door which first let in my pain.
[_Exeunt +Porcia+ and +Camilla+._
+Don A.+ I'll only make a step, sir, to my chamber,
And then return to you immediately.
+Don H.+ Pray, sir, give me leave to wait on you.
+Don A.+ I humbly thank you, sir; I know the way,
And shall not stay above a moment from you.
+Don H.+ What you please, sir; you command here.
+Don A.+ I'll now go see whether my servant Sancho
Has brought Octavio to my lodgings,
As I directed him. [_Exit +Don Antonio+._
+Don H.+ Heavens! was there ever so strange a mystery!
Don Carlos, he affirm'd that those we fought with
Had convey'd Porcia away; and when I come
To seek her in the house, I find her missing:
To second this, her waiting-woman Flora
Tells me that she went down, about that time,
Into the garden: Antonio, not long after,
Affirms that he both saw and entertain'd her
In her own apartment, where I now find her,
And Camilla with her. What can this be?
These, sure, are riddles to pose an Œdipus;
But if, by my own sense, I am assur'd
My honour safe, which was so much in doubt,
What matter is it how 'tis brought about?
FOOTNOTES:
[67] At cards. From _pinta_, a spot or mark.--_Sp._
Although _Pintas_ mean _cards_ generally, yet the word is applied to a
particular game in Spain, which we call _Basset_.--_Collier._
[68] _Much_ was omitted by previous editors.--_Collier._