What vagabonds are these I hear,
Fiddling, fluting, rhyming, ranting,
Piping, scraping, whining, canting?
Fiddling, fluting, rhyming, ranting,
Piping, scraping, whining, canting?
Richard Brinsley Sheridan
and when next--"
_Puff_. Dear sir, you needn't speak that speech, as the body
has walked off.
_Beef_. That's true, sir--then I'll join the fleet.
_Puff_. If you please. --[Exit BEEFEATER. ] Now, who comes on?
"_Enter_ GOVERNOR, _with his hair properly disordered_.
_Gov_. A hemisphere of evil planets reign! And every planet
sheds contagious frenzy! My Spanish prisoner is slain! my
daughter, Meeting the dead corse borne along, has gone Distract!
[_A loud flourish of trumpets_. ] But hark! I am summoned to
the fort: Perhaps the fleets have met! amazing crisis! O
Tilburina! from thy aged father's beard Thou'st pluck'd the few
brown hairs which time had left! [Exit. ]"
_Sneer_. Poor gentleman!
_Puff_. Yes--and no one to blame but his daughter!
_Dang_. And the planets--
_Puff_. True. --Now enter Tilburina!
_Sneer. _ Egad, the business comes on quick here.
_Puff. _ Yes, sir--now she comes in stark mad in white satin.
_Sneer. _ Why in white satin?
_Puff. _ O Lord, sir--when a heroine goes mad, she always
goes into white satin. --Don't she, Dangle?
_Dang. _ Always--it's a rule.
_Puff. _ Yes--here it is--[_Looking at the book_. ]
"Enter Tilburina stark mad in white satin, and her confidant
stark mad in white linen. "
"_Enter_ TILBURINA _and_ CONFIDANT, _mad, according
to custom_. "
_Sneer. _ But, what the deuce! is the confidant to be mad
too?
_Puff. _ To be sure she is: the confidant is always to do
whatever her mistress does; weep when she weeps, smile when she
smiles, go mad when she goes mad. --Now, Madam Confidant--but keep
your madness in the background, if you please.
"_Tilb. _ The wind whistles--the moon rises--see, They have
kill'd my squirrel in his cage: Is this a grasshopper? --Ha! no;
it is my Whiskerandos--you shall not keep him--I know you have
him in your pocket--An oyster may be cross'd in love! --who says
A whale's a bird? --Ha! did you call, my love? --He's here! he's
there! --He's everywhere! Ah me! he's nowhere! [_Exit_. ]"
_Puff. _ There, do you ever desire to see anybody madder than
that?
_Sneer. _ Never, while I live!
_Puff. _ You observed how she mangled the metre?
_Dang. _ Yes,--egad, it was the first thing made me suspect
she was out of her senses!
_Sneer. _ And pray what becomes of her?
_Puff. _ She is gone to throw herself into the sea, to be
sure--and that brings us at once to the scene of action, and so
to my catastrophe--my sea-fight, I mean.
_Sneer. _ What, you bring that in at last?
_Puff. _ Yes, yes--you know my play is called _The Spanish
Armada_; otherwise, egad, I have no occasion for the battle at
all. --Now then for my magnificence! --my battle! --my noise! --and
my procession! --You are all ready?
_Und. Promp_. [_Within. _] Yes, sir.
_Puff_. Is the Thames dressed?
"_Enter_ THAMES _with two_ ATTENDANTS. "
_Thames_. Here I am, sir.
_Puff_. Very well, indeed! --See, gentlemen, there's a river
for you! --This is blending a little of the masque with my
tragedy--a new fancy, you know--and very useful in my case; for
as there must be a procession, I suppose Thames, and all his
tributary rivers, to compliment Britannia with a fête in honour
of the victory.
_Sneer_. But pray, who are these gentlemen in green with
him?
_Puff_. Those? --those are his banks.
_Sneer_. His banks?
_Puff_. Yes, one crowned with alders, and the other with a
villa! --you take the allusions? --But hey! what the plague! --you
have got both your banks on one side. --Here, sir, come round. --
Ever while you live, Thames, go between your banks. --[_Bell
rings. _] There; so! now for't! --Stand aside, my dear
friends! --Away, Thames!
[_Exit_ THAMES _between his banks. _]
[_Flourish of drums, trumpets, cannon, &c. , &'c. Scene changes
to the sea--the fleets engage--the music plays--"Britons strike
home. "--Spanish fleet destroyed by fire-ships, &c. --English fleet
advances--music plays, "Rule Britannia. "--The procession of all
the English rivers, and their tributaries, with their emblems,
&c. , begins with Handel's water music, ends with a chorus to the
march in Judas' Maccabaeus. --During this scene,_ PUFF
_directs and applauds everything--then_
_Puff_. Well, pretty well--but not quite perfect. So, ladies
and gentlemen, if you please, we'll rehearse this piece again to-morrow.
[_Curtain drops. _]
THE DUENNA
_A COMIC OPERA_
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE, NOV. 21, 1775
DON FERDINAND _Mr. Mattocks_.
DON JEROME _Mr. Wilson_.
DON ANTONIO _Mr. Dubellamy_.
DON CARLOS _Mr. Leoni_.
ISAAC MENDOZA _Mr. Quick_.
FATHER PAUL _Mr. Mahon_.
FATHER FRANCIS _Mr. Fox_.
FATHER AUGUSTINE _Mr. Baker_.
LOPEZ _Mr. Wewitzer_.
DONNA LOUISA _Mrs. Mattocks_.
DONNA CLARA _Mrs. Cargill_.
THE DUENNA _Mrs. Green_.
Masqueraders, Friars, Porter, Maid, _and_ Servants.
SCENE--SEVILLE.
ACT I.
SCENE I. --_The Street before_ DON JEROME'S _House_.
_Enter_ LOPEZ, _with a dark lantern_.
_Lop_. Past three o'clock! --Soh! a notable hour for one of my regular
disposition, to be strolling like a bravo through the streets of
Seville! Well, of all services, to serve a young lover is the
hardest. --Not that I am an enemy to love; but my love and my master's
differ strangely. --Don Ferdinand is much too gallant to eat, drink, or
sleep:--now my love gives me an appetite--then I am fond of dreaming
of my mistress, and I love dearly to toast her. --This cannot be done
without good sleep and good liquor: hence my partiality to a feather-
bed and a bottle. What a pity, now, that I have not further time, for
reflections! but my master expects thee, honest Lopez, to secure his
retreat from Donna Clara's window, as I guess. --[_Music without_. ]
Hey! sure, I heard music! So, so! Who have we here? Oh, Don Antonio,
my master's friend, come from the masquerade, to serenade my young
mistress, Donna Louisa, I suppose: so! we shall have the old gentleman
up presently. --Lest he should miss his son, I had best lose no time in
getting to my post. [_Exit_. ]
_Enter_ DON ANTONIO, _with_ MASQUERADERS _and music_.
SONG. --_Don Ant_.
Tell me, my lute, can thy soft strain
So gently speak thy master's pain?
So softly sing, so humbly sigh,
That, though my sleeping love shall know
Who sings--who sighs below,
Her rosy slumbers shall not fly?
Thus, may some vision whisper more
Than ever I dare speak before.
_I. Mas_. Antonio, your mistress will never wake, while you sing so
dolefully; love, like a cradled infant, is lulled by a sad melody.
_Don Ant_. I do not wish to disturb her rest.
_I. Mas_. The reason is, because you know she does not regard you
enough to appear, if you awaked her.
_Don Ant_. Nay, then, I'll convince you. [_Sings_. ]
The breath of morn bids hence the night,
Unveil those beauteous eyes, my fair;
For till the dawn of love is there,
I feel no day, I own no light.
DONNA LOUISA--_replies from a window_.
Waking, I heard thy numbers chide,
Waking, the dawn did bless my sight;
'Tis Phoebus sure that woos, I cried,
Who speaks in song, who moves in light.
DON JEROME--_from a window_.
What vagabonds are these I hear,
Fiddling, fluting, rhyming, ranting,
Piping, scraping, whining, canting?
Fly, scurvy minstrels, fly!
TRIO.
_Don. Louisa_.
Nay, prithee, father, why so rough?
_Don Ant_.
An humble lover I.
_Don Jer_.
How durst you, daughter, lend an ear
To such deceitful stuff?
Quick, from the window fly!
_Don. Louisa_
Adieu, Antonio!
_Don Ant_
Must you go?
_Don. Louisa_. & _Don Ant_.
We soon, perhaps, may meet again.
For though hard fortune is our foe,
The God of love will fight for us.
_Don Jer_.
Reach me the blunderbuss.
_Don Ant_. & _Don. Louisa_.
The god of love, who knows our pain--
_Don Jer_.
Hence, or these slugs are through your brain.
[_Exeunt severally_. ]
SCENE II--_A Piazza_.
_Enter_ DON FERDINAND _and_ LOPEZ.
_Lop_. Truly, sir, I think that a little sleep once in a week or so---
_Don Ferd_. Peace, fool! don't mention sleep to me.
_Lop_. No, no, sir, I don't mention your lowbred, vulgar, sound sleep;
but I can't help thinking that a gentle slumber, or half an hour's
dozing, if it were only for the novelty of the thing----
_Don Ferd_. Peace, booby, I say! --Oh, Clara dear, cruel disturber of
my rest!
_Lop_. [_Aside_. ] And of mine too.
_Don Ferd_. 'Sdeath, to trifle with me at such a juncture as this! --
now to stand on punctilios! --Love me! I don't believe she ever did.
_Lop_. [_Aside_. ] Nor I either.
_Don Ferd_. Or is it, that her sex never know their desires for an
hour together?
_Lop_. [_Aside_. ] Ah, they know them oftener than they'll own them.
_Don Ferd_. Is there, in the world, so inconsistent a creature as
Clara?
_Lop_. [_Aside_. ] I could name one.
_Don Ferd_. Yes; the tame fool who submits to her caprice.
_Lop_. [_Aside_. ]I thought he couldn't miss it.
_Don Ferd_. Is she not capricious, teasing, tyrannical, obstinate,
perverse, absurd? ay, a wilderness of faults and follies; her looks
are scorn, and her very smiles--'Sdeath! I wish I hadn't mentioned her
smiles; for she does smile such beaming loveliness, such fascinating
brightness--Oh, death and madness! I shall die if I lose her.
_Lop_. [_Aside_. ] Oh, those damned smiles have undone all!
AIR--_Don Ferd_.
Could I her faults remember,
Forgetting every charm,
Soon would impartial reason
The tyrant love disarm:
But when enraged I number
Each failing of her mind,
Love still suggests each beauty,
And sees--while reason's blind.
_Lop_. Here comes Don Antonio, sir.
_Don Ferd_. Well, go you home--I shall be there presently.
_Lop_. Ah, those cursed smiles! [_Exit_. ]
_Enter_ DON ANTONIO.
_Don Ferd_. Antonio, Lopez tells me he left you chanting before our
door--was my father waked?
_Don Ant_. Yes, yes; he has a singular affection for music; so I left
him roaring at his barred window, like the print of Bajazet in the
cage. And what brings you out so early?
_Don Ferd_. I believe I told you, that to-morrow was the day fixed by
Don Pedro and Clara's unnatural step-mother, for her to enter a
convent, in order that her brat might possess her fortune: made
desperate by this, I procured a key to the door, and bribed Clara's
maid to leave it unbolted; at two this morning, I entered unperceived,
and stole to her chamber--I found her waking and weeping.
_Don Ant_. Happy Ferdinand!
_Don Ferd_. 'Sdeath! hear the conclusion. --I was rated as the most
confident ruffian, for daring to approach her room at that hour of the
night.
_Don Ant_. Ay, ay, this was at first.
_Don Ferd_. No such thing! she would not hear a word from me, but
threatened to raise her mother, if I did not instantly leave her.
_Don Ant_. Well, but at last?
_Don Ferd_. At last! why I was forced to leave the house as I came in.
_Don Ant_. And did you do nothing to offend her?
_Don Ferd_. Nothing, as I hope to be saved! --I believe, I might snatch
a dozen or two of kisses.
_Don Ant_. Was that all? well, I think, I never heard of such
assurance!
_Don Ferd_. Zounds! I tell you I behaved with the utmost respect.
_Don Ant_. O Lord! I don't mean you, but in her. But, hark ye,
Ferdinand, did you leave your key with them?
_Don Ferd_. Yes; the maid who saw me out, took it from the door.
_Don Ant_. Then, my life for it, her mistress elopes after you.
_Don Ferd_. Ay, to bless my rival, perhaps. I am in a humour to
suspect everybody. --You loved her once, and thought her an angel, as I
do now.
_Don Ant_. Yes, I loved her, till I found she wouldn't love me, and
then I discovered that she hadn't a good feature in her face.
AIR.
I ne'er could any lustre see
In eyes that would not look on me;
I ne'er saw nectar on a lip,
But where my own did hope to sip.
Has the maid who seeks my heart
Cheeks of rose, untouch'd by art?
I will own the colour true,
When yielding blushes aid their hue.
Is her hand so soft and pure?
I must press it, to be sure;
Nor can I be certain then,
Till it, grateful, press again.
Must I, with attentive eye,
Watch her heaving bosom sigh?
I will do so, when I see
That heaving bosom sigh for me.
Besides, Ferdinand, you have full security in my love for your sister;
help me there, and I can never disturb you with Clara.
_Don Ferd_. As far as I can, consistently with the honour of our
family, you know I will; but there must be no eloping.
_Don Ant_. And yet, now, you would carry off Clara?
_Don Ferd_. Ay, that's a different case! --we never mean that others
should act to our sisters and wives as we do to others'. --But, to-
morrow, Clara is to be forced into a convent.
_Don Ant_. Well, and am not I so unfortunately circumstanced? To-
morrow, your father forces Louisa to marry Isaac, the Portuguese--but
come with me, and we'll devise something I warrant.
_Don Ferd_. I must go home.
_Don Ant_. Well, adieu!
_Don Ferd_. But, Don Antonio, if you did not love my sister, you have
too much honour and friendship to supplant me with Clara--
AIR--_Don Ant_.
Friendship is the bond of reason;
But if beauty disapprove,
Heaven dissolves all other treason
In the heart that's true to love.
The faith which to my friend I swore,
As a civil oath I view;
But to the charms which I adore,
'Tis religion to be true. [_Exit_. ]
_Don Ferd_. There is always a levity in Antonio's manner of replying
to me on this subject that is very alarming. --'Sdeath, if Clara should
love him after all.
SONG.
Though cause for suspicion appears,
Yet proofs of her love, too, are strong;
I'm a wretch if I'm right in my fears,
And unworthy of bliss if I'm wrong.
What heart-breaking torments from jealousy flow,
Ah! none but the jealous--the jealous can know!
When blest with the smiles of my fair,
I know not how much I adore:
Those smiles let another but share,
And I wonder I prized them no more!
Then whence can I hope a relief from my woe,
When the falser she seems, still the fonder I grow? [_Exit_. ]
SCENE III. --_A Room in_ DON JEROME'S _House_.
_Enter_ DONNA LOUISA _and_ DUENNA.
_Don. Louisa_. But, my dear Margaret, my charming Duenna, do you think
we shall succeed?
_Duen_. I tell you again, I have no doubt on't; but it must be
instantly put to the trial. Everything is prepared in your room, and
for the rest we must trust to fortune.
_Don. Louisa_. My father's oath was, never to see me till I had
consented to----
_Duen_. 'Twas thus I overheard him say to his friend, Don Guzman,--_I
will demand of her to-morrow, once for all, whether she will consent
to marry Isaac Mendoza; if she hesitates, I will make a solemn oath
never to see or speak to her till she returns to her duty_. --These
were his words.
_Don. Louisa_. And on his known obstinate adherence to what he has
once said, you have formed this plan for my escape. --But have you
secured my maid in our interest?
_Duen_. She is a party in the whole; but remember, if we succeed, you
resign all right and title in little Isaac, the Jew, over to me.
_Don. Louisa_. That I do with all my soul; get him if you can, and I
shall wish you joy most heartily. He is twenty times as rich as my
poor Antonio.
AIR.
Thou canst not boast of fortune's store,
My love, while me they wealthy call:
But I was glad to find thee poor--
For with my heart I'd give thee all.
And then the grateful youth shall own
I loved him for himself alone.
But when his worth my hand shall gain,
No word or look of mine shall show
That I the smallest thought retain
Of what my bounty did bestow;
Yet still his grateful heart shall own
I loved him for himself alone.
_Duen_. I hear Don Jerome coming. --Quick, give me the last letter I
brought you from Antonio--you know that is to be the ground of my
dismission. --I must slip out to seal it up, as undelivered. [_Exit_.
_Puff_. Dear sir, you needn't speak that speech, as the body
has walked off.
_Beef_. That's true, sir--then I'll join the fleet.
_Puff_. If you please. --[Exit BEEFEATER. ] Now, who comes on?
"_Enter_ GOVERNOR, _with his hair properly disordered_.
_Gov_. A hemisphere of evil planets reign! And every planet
sheds contagious frenzy! My Spanish prisoner is slain! my
daughter, Meeting the dead corse borne along, has gone Distract!
[_A loud flourish of trumpets_. ] But hark! I am summoned to
the fort: Perhaps the fleets have met! amazing crisis! O
Tilburina! from thy aged father's beard Thou'st pluck'd the few
brown hairs which time had left! [Exit. ]"
_Sneer_. Poor gentleman!
_Puff_. Yes--and no one to blame but his daughter!
_Dang_. And the planets--
_Puff_. True. --Now enter Tilburina!
_Sneer. _ Egad, the business comes on quick here.
_Puff. _ Yes, sir--now she comes in stark mad in white satin.
_Sneer. _ Why in white satin?
_Puff. _ O Lord, sir--when a heroine goes mad, she always
goes into white satin. --Don't she, Dangle?
_Dang. _ Always--it's a rule.
_Puff. _ Yes--here it is--[_Looking at the book_. ]
"Enter Tilburina stark mad in white satin, and her confidant
stark mad in white linen. "
"_Enter_ TILBURINA _and_ CONFIDANT, _mad, according
to custom_. "
_Sneer. _ But, what the deuce! is the confidant to be mad
too?
_Puff. _ To be sure she is: the confidant is always to do
whatever her mistress does; weep when she weeps, smile when she
smiles, go mad when she goes mad. --Now, Madam Confidant--but keep
your madness in the background, if you please.
"_Tilb. _ The wind whistles--the moon rises--see, They have
kill'd my squirrel in his cage: Is this a grasshopper? --Ha! no;
it is my Whiskerandos--you shall not keep him--I know you have
him in your pocket--An oyster may be cross'd in love! --who says
A whale's a bird? --Ha! did you call, my love? --He's here! he's
there! --He's everywhere! Ah me! he's nowhere! [_Exit_. ]"
_Puff. _ There, do you ever desire to see anybody madder than
that?
_Sneer. _ Never, while I live!
_Puff. _ You observed how she mangled the metre?
_Dang. _ Yes,--egad, it was the first thing made me suspect
she was out of her senses!
_Sneer. _ And pray what becomes of her?
_Puff. _ She is gone to throw herself into the sea, to be
sure--and that brings us at once to the scene of action, and so
to my catastrophe--my sea-fight, I mean.
_Sneer. _ What, you bring that in at last?
_Puff. _ Yes, yes--you know my play is called _The Spanish
Armada_; otherwise, egad, I have no occasion for the battle at
all. --Now then for my magnificence! --my battle! --my noise! --and
my procession! --You are all ready?
_Und. Promp_. [_Within. _] Yes, sir.
_Puff_. Is the Thames dressed?
"_Enter_ THAMES _with two_ ATTENDANTS. "
_Thames_. Here I am, sir.
_Puff_. Very well, indeed! --See, gentlemen, there's a river
for you! --This is blending a little of the masque with my
tragedy--a new fancy, you know--and very useful in my case; for
as there must be a procession, I suppose Thames, and all his
tributary rivers, to compliment Britannia with a fête in honour
of the victory.
_Sneer_. But pray, who are these gentlemen in green with
him?
_Puff_. Those? --those are his banks.
_Sneer_. His banks?
_Puff_. Yes, one crowned with alders, and the other with a
villa! --you take the allusions? --But hey! what the plague! --you
have got both your banks on one side. --Here, sir, come round. --
Ever while you live, Thames, go between your banks. --[_Bell
rings. _] There; so! now for't! --Stand aside, my dear
friends! --Away, Thames!
[_Exit_ THAMES _between his banks. _]
[_Flourish of drums, trumpets, cannon, &c. , &'c. Scene changes
to the sea--the fleets engage--the music plays--"Britons strike
home. "--Spanish fleet destroyed by fire-ships, &c. --English fleet
advances--music plays, "Rule Britannia. "--The procession of all
the English rivers, and their tributaries, with their emblems,
&c. , begins with Handel's water music, ends with a chorus to the
march in Judas' Maccabaeus. --During this scene,_ PUFF
_directs and applauds everything--then_
_Puff_. Well, pretty well--but not quite perfect. So, ladies
and gentlemen, if you please, we'll rehearse this piece again to-morrow.
[_Curtain drops. _]
THE DUENNA
_A COMIC OPERA_
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE, NOV. 21, 1775
DON FERDINAND _Mr. Mattocks_.
DON JEROME _Mr. Wilson_.
DON ANTONIO _Mr. Dubellamy_.
DON CARLOS _Mr. Leoni_.
ISAAC MENDOZA _Mr. Quick_.
FATHER PAUL _Mr. Mahon_.
FATHER FRANCIS _Mr. Fox_.
FATHER AUGUSTINE _Mr. Baker_.
LOPEZ _Mr. Wewitzer_.
DONNA LOUISA _Mrs. Mattocks_.
DONNA CLARA _Mrs. Cargill_.
THE DUENNA _Mrs. Green_.
Masqueraders, Friars, Porter, Maid, _and_ Servants.
SCENE--SEVILLE.
ACT I.
SCENE I. --_The Street before_ DON JEROME'S _House_.
_Enter_ LOPEZ, _with a dark lantern_.
_Lop_. Past three o'clock! --Soh! a notable hour for one of my regular
disposition, to be strolling like a bravo through the streets of
Seville! Well, of all services, to serve a young lover is the
hardest. --Not that I am an enemy to love; but my love and my master's
differ strangely. --Don Ferdinand is much too gallant to eat, drink, or
sleep:--now my love gives me an appetite--then I am fond of dreaming
of my mistress, and I love dearly to toast her. --This cannot be done
without good sleep and good liquor: hence my partiality to a feather-
bed and a bottle. What a pity, now, that I have not further time, for
reflections! but my master expects thee, honest Lopez, to secure his
retreat from Donna Clara's window, as I guess. --[_Music without_. ]
Hey! sure, I heard music! So, so! Who have we here? Oh, Don Antonio,
my master's friend, come from the masquerade, to serenade my young
mistress, Donna Louisa, I suppose: so! we shall have the old gentleman
up presently. --Lest he should miss his son, I had best lose no time in
getting to my post. [_Exit_. ]
_Enter_ DON ANTONIO, _with_ MASQUERADERS _and music_.
SONG. --_Don Ant_.
Tell me, my lute, can thy soft strain
So gently speak thy master's pain?
So softly sing, so humbly sigh,
That, though my sleeping love shall know
Who sings--who sighs below,
Her rosy slumbers shall not fly?
Thus, may some vision whisper more
Than ever I dare speak before.
_I. Mas_. Antonio, your mistress will never wake, while you sing so
dolefully; love, like a cradled infant, is lulled by a sad melody.
_Don Ant_. I do not wish to disturb her rest.
_I. Mas_. The reason is, because you know she does not regard you
enough to appear, if you awaked her.
_Don Ant_. Nay, then, I'll convince you. [_Sings_. ]
The breath of morn bids hence the night,
Unveil those beauteous eyes, my fair;
For till the dawn of love is there,
I feel no day, I own no light.
DONNA LOUISA--_replies from a window_.
Waking, I heard thy numbers chide,
Waking, the dawn did bless my sight;
'Tis Phoebus sure that woos, I cried,
Who speaks in song, who moves in light.
DON JEROME--_from a window_.
What vagabonds are these I hear,
Fiddling, fluting, rhyming, ranting,
Piping, scraping, whining, canting?
Fly, scurvy minstrels, fly!
TRIO.
_Don. Louisa_.
Nay, prithee, father, why so rough?
_Don Ant_.
An humble lover I.
_Don Jer_.
How durst you, daughter, lend an ear
To such deceitful stuff?
Quick, from the window fly!
_Don. Louisa_
Adieu, Antonio!
_Don Ant_
Must you go?
_Don. Louisa_. & _Don Ant_.
We soon, perhaps, may meet again.
For though hard fortune is our foe,
The God of love will fight for us.
_Don Jer_.
Reach me the blunderbuss.
_Don Ant_. & _Don. Louisa_.
The god of love, who knows our pain--
_Don Jer_.
Hence, or these slugs are through your brain.
[_Exeunt severally_. ]
SCENE II--_A Piazza_.
_Enter_ DON FERDINAND _and_ LOPEZ.
_Lop_. Truly, sir, I think that a little sleep once in a week or so---
_Don Ferd_. Peace, fool! don't mention sleep to me.
_Lop_. No, no, sir, I don't mention your lowbred, vulgar, sound sleep;
but I can't help thinking that a gentle slumber, or half an hour's
dozing, if it were only for the novelty of the thing----
_Don Ferd_. Peace, booby, I say! --Oh, Clara dear, cruel disturber of
my rest!
_Lop_. [_Aside_. ] And of mine too.
_Don Ferd_. 'Sdeath, to trifle with me at such a juncture as this! --
now to stand on punctilios! --Love me! I don't believe she ever did.
_Lop_. [_Aside_. ] Nor I either.
_Don Ferd_. Or is it, that her sex never know their desires for an
hour together?
_Lop_. [_Aside_. ] Ah, they know them oftener than they'll own them.
_Don Ferd_. Is there, in the world, so inconsistent a creature as
Clara?
_Lop_. [_Aside_. ] I could name one.
_Don Ferd_. Yes; the tame fool who submits to her caprice.
_Lop_. [_Aside_. ]I thought he couldn't miss it.
_Don Ferd_. Is she not capricious, teasing, tyrannical, obstinate,
perverse, absurd? ay, a wilderness of faults and follies; her looks
are scorn, and her very smiles--'Sdeath! I wish I hadn't mentioned her
smiles; for she does smile such beaming loveliness, such fascinating
brightness--Oh, death and madness! I shall die if I lose her.
_Lop_. [_Aside_. ] Oh, those damned smiles have undone all!
AIR--_Don Ferd_.
Could I her faults remember,
Forgetting every charm,
Soon would impartial reason
The tyrant love disarm:
But when enraged I number
Each failing of her mind,
Love still suggests each beauty,
And sees--while reason's blind.
_Lop_. Here comes Don Antonio, sir.
_Don Ferd_. Well, go you home--I shall be there presently.
_Lop_. Ah, those cursed smiles! [_Exit_. ]
_Enter_ DON ANTONIO.
_Don Ferd_. Antonio, Lopez tells me he left you chanting before our
door--was my father waked?
_Don Ant_. Yes, yes; he has a singular affection for music; so I left
him roaring at his barred window, like the print of Bajazet in the
cage. And what brings you out so early?
_Don Ferd_. I believe I told you, that to-morrow was the day fixed by
Don Pedro and Clara's unnatural step-mother, for her to enter a
convent, in order that her brat might possess her fortune: made
desperate by this, I procured a key to the door, and bribed Clara's
maid to leave it unbolted; at two this morning, I entered unperceived,
and stole to her chamber--I found her waking and weeping.
_Don Ant_. Happy Ferdinand!
_Don Ferd_. 'Sdeath! hear the conclusion. --I was rated as the most
confident ruffian, for daring to approach her room at that hour of the
night.
_Don Ant_. Ay, ay, this was at first.
_Don Ferd_. No such thing! she would not hear a word from me, but
threatened to raise her mother, if I did not instantly leave her.
_Don Ant_. Well, but at last?
_Don Ferd_. At last! why I was forced to leave the house as I came in.
_Don Ant_. And did you do nothing to offend her?
_Don Ferd_. Nothing, as I hope to be saved! --I believe, I might snatch
a dozen or two of kisses.
_Don Ant_. Was that all? well, I think, I never heard of such
assurance!
_Don Ferd_. Zounds! I tell you I behaved with the utmost respect.
_Don Ant_. O Lord! I don't mean you, but in her. But, hark ye,
Ferdinand, did you leave your key with them?
_Don Ferd_. Yes; the maid who saw me out, took it from the door.
_Don Ant_. Then, my life for it, her mistress elopes after you.
_Don Ferd_. Ay, to bless my rival, perhaps. I am in a humour to
suspect everybody. --You loved her once, and thought her an angel, as I
do now.
_Don Ant_. Yes, I loved her, till I found she wouldn't love me, and
then I discovered that she hadn't a good feature in her face.
AIR.
I ne'er could any lustre see
In eyes that would not look on me;
I ne'er saw nectar on a lip,
But where my own did hope to sip.
Has the maid who seeks my heart
Cheeks of rose, untouch'd by art?
I will own the colour true,
When yielding blushes aid their hue.
Is her hand so soft and pure?
I must press it, to be sure;
Nor can I be certain then,
Till it, grateful, press again.
Must I, with attentive eye,
Watch her heaving bosom sigh?
I will do so, when I see
That heaving bosom sigh for me.
Besides, Ferdinand, you have full security in my love for your sister;
help me there, and I can never disturb you with Clara.
_Don Ferd_. As far as I can, consistently with the honour of our
family, you know I will; but there must be no eloping.
_Don Ant_. And yet, now, you would carry off Clara?
_Don Ferd_. Ay, that's a different case! --we never mean that others
should act to our sisters and wives as we do to others'. --But, to-
morrow, Clara is to be forced into a convent.
_Don Ant_. Well, and am not I so unfortunately circumstanced? To-
morrow, your father forces Louisa to marry Isaac, the Portuguese--but
come with me, and we'll devise something I warrant.
_Don Ferd_. I must go home.
_Don Ant_. Well, adieu!
_Don Ferd_. But, Don Antonio, if you did not love my sister, you have
too much honour and friendship to supplant me with Clara--
AIR--_Don Ant_.
Friendship is the bond of reason;
But if beauty disapprove,
Heaven dissolves all other treason
In the heart that's true to love.
The faith which to my friend I swore,
As a civil oath I view;
But to the charms which I adore,
'Tis religion to be true. [_Exit_. ]
_Don Ferd_. There is always a levity in Antonio's manner of replying
to me on this subject that is very alarming. --'Sdeath, if Clara should
love him after all.
SONG.
Though cause for suspicion appears,
Yet proofs of her love, too, are strong;
I'm a wretch if I'm right in my fears,
And unworthy of bliss if I'm wrong.
What heart-breaking torments from jealousy flow,
Ah! none but the jealous--the jealous can know!
When blest with the smiles of my fair,
I know not how much I adore:
Those smiles let another but share,
And I wonder I prized them no more!
Then whence can I hope a relief from my woe,
When the falser she seems, still the fonder I grow? [_Exit_. ]
SCENE III. --_A Room in_ DON JEROME'S _House_.
_Enter_ DONNA LOUISA _and_ DUENNA.
_Don. Louisa_. But, my dear Margaret, my charming Duenna, do you think
we shall succeed?
_Duen_. I tell you again, I have no doubt on't; but it must be
instantly put to the trial. Everything is prepared in your room, and
for the rest we must trust to fortune.
_Don. Louisa_. My father's oath was, never to see me till I had
consented to----
_Duen_. 'Twas thus I overheard him say to his friend, Don Guzman,--_I
will demand of her to-morrow, once for all, whether she will consent
to marry Isaac Mendoza; if she hesitates, I will make a solemn oath
never to see or speak to her till she returns to her duty_. --These
were his words.
_Don. Louisa_. And on his known obstinate adherence to what he has
once said, you have formed this plan for my escape. --But have you
secured my maid in our interest?
_Duen_. She is a party in the whole; but remember, if we succeed, you
resign all right and title in little Isaac, the Jew, over to me.
_Don. Louisa_. That I do with all my soul; get him if you can, and I
shall wish you joy most heartily. He is twenty times as rich as my
poor Antonio.
AIR.
Thou canst not boast of fortune's store,
My love, while me they wealthy call:
But I was glad to find thee poor--
For with my heart I'd give thee all.
And then the grateful youth shall own
I loved him for himself alone.
But when his worth my hand shall gain,
No word or look of mine shall show
That I the smallest thought retain
Of what my bounty did bestow;
Yet still his grateful heart shall own
I loved him for himself alone.
_Duen_. I hear Don Jerome coming. --Quick, give me the last letter I
brought you from Antonio--you know that is to be the ground of my
dismission. --I must slip out to seal it up, as undelivered. [_Exit_.
