No More Learning

there's witchcraft in't. --He could not else Have gain'd their
hearts. --But see where they approach Some horrid purpose lowering
on their brows!
_Sir Walt_. Let us withdraw and mark them. [_They
withdraw_. ]"
_Sneer_. What is all this?
_Puff_. Ah! here has been more pruning! --but the fact is,
these two young ladies are also in love with Don Whiskerandos. --
Now, gentlemen, this scene goes entirely for what we call
situation and stage effect, by which the greatest applause may be
obtained, without the assistance of language, sentiment, or
character: pray mark!
"_Enter the two_ NIECES.
_1st Niece_. Ellena here! She is his scorn as much as I--
that is Some comfort still ! "
_Puff_. O dear, madam, you are not to say that to her face!
--Aside, ma'am, aside. --The whole scene is to be aside.
"_1st Niece_. She is his scorn as much as I--that is Some
comfort still. [_Aside_. ]
_2nd Niece_. I know he prizes not Pollina's love; But
Tilburina lords it o'er his heart. [_Aside_. ]
_1st Niece_. But see the proud destroyer of my peace.
Revenge is all the good I've left. [_Aside_. ]
_2nd Niece_. He comes, the false disturber of my quiet. Now
vengeance do thy worst. [_Aside_. ]
_Enter_ DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.
_Whisk_. O hateful liberty--if thus in vain I seek my
Tilburina!
_Both Nieces_. And ever shalt!
SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON _and_ SIR WALTER RALEIGH _come
forward_.
_Sir Christ. and Sir Walt_. Hold! we will avenge you.
_Whisk_. Hold _you_--or see your nieces bleed! [_The
two_ NIECES _draw their two daggers to strike_
WHISKERANDOS: _the two_ UNCLES _at the instant, with their
two swords drawn, catch their two_ NIECES' _arms, and turn
the points of their swords to_ WHISKERANDOS, _who
immediately draws two daggers, and holds them to the two_
NIECES' _bosoms_. ]"
_Puff. _ There's situation for you! there's an heroic group!
--You see the ladies can't stab Whiskerandos--he durst not strike
them, for fear of their uncles--the uncles durst not kill him,
because of their nieces. --I have them all at a dead lock! --for
every one of them is afraid to let go first.
_Sneer. _ Why, then they must stand there for ever!
_Puff. _ So they would, if I hadn't a very fine contrivance
for't. --Now mind--
"_Enter_ BEEFEATER, _with his halbert_.
_Beef. _ In the queen's name I charge you all to drop Your
swords and daggers!
[_They drop their swords and daggers_. "]
_Sneer. _ That is a contrivance indeed!
_Puff. _ Ay--in the queen's name.
_Sir Christ. _ Come, niece!
_Sir Walt. _ Come, niece! [_Exeunt with the two_
NIECES. ]
_Whisk. _ What's he, who bids us thus renounce our guard?
_Beef. _ Thou must do more--renounce thy love!
_Whisk. _ Thou liest--base Beefeater!
_Beef. _ Ha! hell! the lie! By Heaven thou'st roused the lion
in my heart! Off, yeoman's habit! --base disguise! off! off!
[_Discovers himself by throwing off his upper dress, and
appearing in a very fine waistcoat. _] Am I a Beefeater now? Or
beams my crest as terrible as when In Biscay's Bay I took thy
captive sloop? "
_Puff. _ There, egad! he comes out to be the very captain of
the privateer who had taken Whiskerandos prisoner--and was
himself an old lover of Tilburina's.
_Dang. _ Admirably managed, indeed!
_Puff. _ Now, stand out of their way.
"_Whisk. _ I thank thee, Fortune, that hast thus bestowed A
weapon to chastise this insolent. [_Takes up one of the
swords_. ]
_Beef. _ I take thy challenge, Spaniard, and I thank thee,
Fortune, too! [_Takes up the other sword_. ]"
_Dang. _ That's excellently contrived! --It seems as if the
two uncles had left their swords on purpose for them.
_Puff. _ No, egad, they could not help leaving them.
"_Whisk_. Vengeance and Tilburina!
_Beef_. Exactly so--
[_They fight--and after the usual number of wounds given_,
WHISKERANDOS _falls_. ]
_Whisk_. O cursed parry! --that last thrust in tierce Was
fatal. --Captain, thou hast fenced well! And Whiskerandos quits
this bustling scene For all eter--
_Beef_. --nity--he would have added, but stern death Cut
short his being, and the noun at once! "
_Puff_. Oh, my dear sir, you are too slow: now mind me. --
Sir, shall I trouble you to die again?
"_Whisk_. And Whiskerandos quits this bustling scene For all
eter--
_Beef_. --nity--he would have added,--"
_Puff_. No, sir--that's not it--once more, if you please.
_Whisk_. I wish, sir, you would practise this without me--I
can't stay dying here all night.
_Puff_. Very well; we'll go over it by-and-by. --[_Exit_
WHISKERANDOS. ] I must humour these gentlemen!
"_Beef_. Farewell, brave Spaniard! 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_.