No More Learning

_Don. Clara_. Surprised indeed! and I should certainly chide you most
horridly, only that I have just run away from mine.

_Don. Louisa_. My dear Clara! [_Embrace_. ]

_Don. Clara_. Dear sister truant! and whither are you going?

_Don. Louisa_. To find the man I love, to be sure; and, I presume, you
would have no aversion to meet with my brother?

_Don. Clara_. Indeed I should: he has behaved so ill to me, I don't
believe I shall ever forgive him.

AIR.

When sable night, each drooping plant restoring,
Wept o'er the flowers her breath did cheer,
As some sad widow o'er her babe deploring,
Wakes its beauty with a tear;
When all did sleep whose weary hearts did borrow
One hour from love and care to rest,
Lo! as I press'd my couch in silent sorrow,
My lover caught me to his breast!
He vow'd he came to save me
From those who would enslave me!
Then kneeling, Kisses stealing,
Endless faith he swore;
But soon I chid him thence,
For had his fond pretence
Obtain'd one favour then,
And he had press'd again,
I fear'd my treacherous heart might grant him more.

_Don. Louisa_. Well, for all this, I would have sent him to plead his
pardon, but that I would not yet awhile have him know of my flight.
And where do you hope to find protection?

_Don. Clara_. The Lady Abbess of the convent of St. Catherine is a
relation and kind friend of mine--I shall be secure with her, and you
had best go thither with me.

_Don. Louisa_. No; I am determined to find Antonio first; and, as I
live, here comes the very man I will employ to seek him for me.

_Don. Clara_. Who is he? he's a strange figure.

_Don. Louisa_. Yes; that sweet creature is the man whom my father has
fixed on for my husband.

_Don. Clara_. And will you speak to him? are you mad?

_Don. Louisa_. He is the fittest man in the world for my purpose; for,
though I was to have married him to-morrow, he is the only man in
Seville who, I am sure, never saw me in his life.

_Don. Clara_. And how do you know him?

_Don. Louisa_. He arrived but yesterday, and he was shown to me from
the window, as he visited my father.

_Don. Clara_. Well, I'll begone.

_Don. Louisa_. Hold, my dear Clara--a thought has struck me: will you
give me leave to borrow your name, as I see occasion?

_Don. Clara_. It will but disgrace you; but use it as you please: I
dare not stay. --[_Going_. ]--But, Louisa, if you should see your
brother, be sure you don't inform him that I have taken refuge with
the Dame Prior of the convent of St. Catherine, on the left hand side
of the piazza which leads to the church of St. Anthony.

_Don. Louisa_. Ha! ha! ha! I'll be very particular in my directions
where he may not find you. --[_Exeunt_ DONNA CLARA _and_ MAID. ]--So! My
swain, yonder, has, done admiring himself, and draws nearer.
[_Retires_. ]


_Enter_ ISAAC _and_ DON CARLOS.

_Isaac_. [_Looking in a pocket-glass_. ] I tell you, friend Carlos, I
will please myself in the habit of my chin.

_Don Car_. But, my dear friend, how can you think to please a lady
with such a face?

_Isaac_. Why, what's the matter with the face? I think it is a very
engaging face; and, I am sure, a lady must have very little taste who
could dislike my beard. --[_Sees_ DONNA LOUISA. ]--See now! I'll die if
here is not a little damsel struck with it already.

_Don. Louisa_. Signor, are you disposed to oblige a lady who greatly
wants your assistance? [_Unveils_. ]

_Isaac_. Egad, a very pretty black-eyed girl! she has certainly taken
a fancy to me, Carlos. First, ma'am, I must beg the favour of your
name.

_Don. Louisa_. [_Aside_. ] So! it's well I am provided. --[_Aloud_. ]--My
name, sir, is Donna Clara d'Almanza.

_Isaac_. What? Don Guzman's daughter? I'faith, I just now heard she
was missing.

_Don. Louisa_. But sure, sir, you have too much gallantry and honour
to betray me, whose fault is love?

_Isaac_. So! a passion for me! poor girl! Why, ma'am, as for betraying
you, I don't see how I could get anything by it; so, you may rely on
my honour; but as for your love, I am sorry your case is so desperate.

_Don. Louisa_. Why so, signor?

_Isaac_. Because I am positively engaged to another--an't I, Carlos?

_Don. Louisa_. Nay, but hear me.

_Isaac_. No, no; what should I hear for? It is impossible for me to
court you in an honourable way; and for anything else, if I were to
comply now, I suppose you have some ungrateful brother, or cousin, who
would want to cut my throat for my civility--so, truly, you had best
go home again.

_Don. Louisa_. [_Aside_. ] Odious wretch! --[_Aloud_. ]--But, good
signor, it is Antonio d'Ercilla, on whose account I have eloped.

_Isaac_. How! what! it is not with me, then, that you are in love?

_Don. Louisa_. No, indeed, it is not.

_Isaac_. Then you are a forward, impertinent simpleton! and I shall
certainly acquaint your father.

_Don. Louisa_. Is this your gallantry?

_Isaac_. Yet hold--Antonio d'Ercilla, did you say? egad, I may make
something of this--Antonio d'Ercilla?

_Don. Louisa_. Yes; and if ever you wish to prosper in love, you will
bring me to him.

_Isaac_. By St. Iago and I will too! --Carlos, this Antonio is one who
rivals me (as I have heard) with Louisa--now, if I could hamper him
with this girl, I should have the field to myself; hey, Carlos! A
lucky thought, isn't it?

_Don Car_. Yes, very good--very good!

_Isaac_. Ah! this little brain is never at a loss--cunning Isaac!
cunning rogue! Donna Clara, will you trust yourself awhile to my
friend's direction?

_Don. Louisa_. May I rely on you, good signor?

_Don. Car_. Lady, it is impossible I should deceive you.

AIR.

Had I a heart for falsehood framed,
I ne'er could injure you;
For though your tongue no promise claim'd,
Your charms would make me true.
To you no soul shall bear deceit,
No stranger offer wrong;
But friends in all the aged you'll meet,
And lovers in the young.

But when they learn that you have blest
Another with your heart,
They'll bid aspiring passion rest,
And act a brother's part:
Then, lady, dread not here deceit,
Nor fear to suffer wrong;
For friends in all the aged you'll meet,
And brothers in the young.

_Isaac_. Conduct the lady to my lodgings, Carlos; I must haste to Don
Jerome. Perhaps you know Louisa, ma'am. She's divinely handsome, isn't
she?

_Don. Louisa_. You must excuse me not joining with you.

_Isaac_. Why I have heard it on all hands.

_Don. Louisa_. Her father is uncommonly partial to her; but I believe
you will find she has rather a matronly air.

_Isaac_. Carlos, this is all envy. --You pretty girls never speak well
of one another. --[_To_ DON CARLOS. ] Hark ye, find out Antonio, and
I'll saddle him with this scrape, I warrant. Oh, 'twas the luckiest
thought! Donna Clara, your very obedient. Carlos, to your post.

DUET.

_Isaac_.
My mistress expects me, and I must go to her,
Or how can I hope for a smile?

_Don. Louisa_.
Soon may you return a prosperous wooer,
But think what I suffer the while.
Alone, and away from the man whom I love,
In strangers I'm forced to confide.

_Isaac_.
Dear lady, my friend you may trust, and he'll prove
Your servant, protector, and guide.

AIR.

_Don Car_.
Gentle maid, ah! why suspect me?
Let me serve thee--then reject me.
Canst thou trust, and I deceive thee?
Art thou sad, and shall I grieve thee?
Gentle maid, ah I why suspect me?
Let me serve thee--then reject me.

TRIO.

_Don. Louisa_.
Never mayst thou happy be,
If in aught thou'rt false to me.

_Isaac_.
Never may he happy be,
If in aught he's false to thee.

_Don Car_.
Never may I happy be,
If in aught I'm false to thee.

_Don. Louisa_.
Never mayst thou, &c.

_Isaac_.
Never may he, &c.

_Don Car_.
Never may I, &c. [_Exeunt_. ]




ACT II.

SCENE I. --_A Library in_ DON JEROME'S _House_.

_Enter_ DON JEROME _and_ ISAAC.


_Don Jer_. Ha! ha! ha! run away from her father! has she given him the
slip? Ha! ha! ha! poor Don Guzman!

_Isaac_. Ay; and I am to conduct her to Antonio; by which means you
see I shall hamper him so that he can give me no disturbance with your
daughter--this is a trap, isn't it? a nice stroke of cunning, hey?

_Don Jer_. Excellent! excellent I yes, yes, carry her to him, hamper
him by all means, ha! ha! ha! Poor Don Guzman! an old fool! imposed on
by a girl!

_Isaac_. Nay, they have the cunning of serpents, that's the truth
on't.

_Don Jer_. Psha! they are cunning only when they have fools to deal
with. Why don't my girl play me such a trick? Let her cunning over-
reach my caution, I say--hey, little Isaac!

_Isaac_. True, true; or let me see any of the sex make a fool of me! --
No, no, egad! little Solomon (as my aunt used to call me) understands
tricking a little too well.

_Don Jer_. Ay, but such a driveller as Don Guzman!

_Isaac_. And such a dupe as Antonio!

_Don Jer_. True; never were seen such a couple of credulous
simpletons! But come, 'tis time you should see my daughter--you must
carry on the siege by yourself, friend Isaac.

_Isaac_. Sir, you'll introduce----

_Don Jer_. No--I have sworn a solemn oath not to see or to speak to
her till she renounces her disobedience; win her to that, and she
gains a father and a husband at once.

_Isaac_. Gad, I shall never be able to deal with her alone; nothing
keeps me in such awe as perfect beauty--now there is something
consoling and encouraging in ugliness.

SONG

Give Isaac the nymph who no beauty can boast,
But health and good humour to make her his toast;
If straight, I don't mind whether slender or fat,
And six feet or four--we'll ne'er quarrel for that.

Whate'er her complexion, I vow I don't care;
If brown, it is lasting--more pleasing, if fair:
And though in her face I no dimples should see,
Let her smile--and each dell is a dimple to me.

Let her locks be the reddest that ever were seen,
And her eyes may be e'en any colour but green;
For in eyes, though so various in lustre and hue,
I swear I've no choice--only let her have two.

'Tis true I'd dispense with a throne on her back,
And white teeth, I own, are genteeler than black;
A little round chin too's a beauty, I've heard;
But I only desire she mayn't have a beard.

_Don Jer_. You will change your note, my friend, when you've seen
Louisa.

_Isaac_. Oh, Don Jerome, the honour of your alliance----

_Don Jer_. Ay, but her beauty will affect you--she is, though I say it
who am her father, a very prodigy. There you will see features with an
eye like mine--yes, i'faith, there is a kind of wicked sparkling--
sometimes of a roguish brightness, that shows her to be my own.

_Isaac_. Pretty rogue!

_Don Jer_. Then, when she smiles, you'll see a little dimple in one
cheek only; a beauty it is certainly, yet, you shall not say which is
prettiest, the cheek with the dimple, or the cheek without.

_Isaac_. Pretty rogue!

_Don Jer_. Then the roses on those cheeks are shaded with a sort of
velvet down, that gives a delicacy to the glow of health.

_Isaac_. Pretty rogue!

_Don Jer_. Her skin pure dimity, yet more fair, being spangled here
and there with a golden freckle.

_Isaac_. Charming pretty rogue! pray how is the tone of her voice?

_Don Jer_. Remarkably pleasing--but if you could prevail on her to
sing, you would be enchanted--she is a nightingale--a Virginia
nightingale! But come, come; her maid shall conduct you to her
antechamber.

_Isaac_. Well, egad, I'll pluck up resolution, and meet her frowns
intrepidly.

_Don Jer_. Ay! woo her briskly--win her, and give me a proof of your
address, my little Solomon.

_Isaac_. But hold--I expect my friend Carlos to call on me here. If he
comes, will you send him to me?

_Don Jer_. I will. Lauretta! --[_Calls_. ]--Come--she'll show you to the
room. What! do you droop? here's a mournful face to make love with!
[_Exeunt_. ]




SCENE II. --DONNA LOUISA'S _Dressing-Room_.

_Enter_ ISAAC _and_ MAID.


_Maid_. Sir, my mistress will wait on you presently.

[_Goes to the door_. ]

_Isaac_. When she's at leisure--don't hurry her. --[_Exit_ MAID. ]--I
wish I had ever practised a love-scene--I doubt I shall make a poor
figure--I couldn't be more afraid if I was going before the
Inquisition. So, the door opens--yes, she's coming--the very rustling
of her silk has a disdainful sound.


_Enter_ DUENNA _dressed_ as DONNA LOUISA.

Now dar'n't I look round, for the soul of me--her beauty will
certainly strike me dumb if I do. I wish she'd speak first.

_Duen_. Sir, I attend your pleasure.

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ] So! the ice is broke, and a pretty civil beginning
too! --[_Aloud_. ] Hem! madam--miss--I'm all attention.

_Duen_. Nay, sir, 'tis I who should listen, and you propose.

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ] Egad, this isn't so disdainful neither--I believe
I may venture to look. No--I dar'n't--one glance of those roguish
sparklers would fix me again.

_Duen_. You seem thoughtful, sir. Let me persuade you to sit down.

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ] So, so; she mollifies apace--she's struck with my
figure! this attitude has had its effect.

_Duen_. Come, sir, here's a chair.

_Isaac_. Madam, the greatness of your goodness overpowers me--that a
lady so lovely should deign to turn her beauteous eyes on me so.

[_She takes his hand, he turns and sees her_. ]

_Duen_. You seem surprised at my condescension.

_Isaac_. Why, yes, madam, I am a little surprised at it. --[_Aside_. ]
Zounds! this can never be Louisa--she's as old as my mother!

_Duen_. But former prepossessions give way to my father's commands.

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ] Her father! Yes, 'tis she then. --Lord, Lord; how
blind some parents are!

_Duen_. Signor Isaac!

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ] Truly, the little damsel was right--she has rather
a matronly air, indeed! ah! 'tis well my affections are fixed on her
fortune, and not her person.

_Duen_. Signor, won't you sit? [_She sits_. ]

_Isaac_. Pardon me, madam, I have scarce recovered my astonishment at
your condescension, madam. --[_Aside_. ] She has the devil's own
dimples, to be sure!

_Duen_. I do not wonder, sir, that you are surprised at my affability--
I own, signor, that I was vastly prepossessed against you, and, being
teased by my father, I did give some encouragement to Antonio; but
then, sir, you were described to me as quite a different person.

_Isaac_. Ay, and so you were to me, upon my soul, madam.

_Duen_. But when I saw you I was never more struck in my life.

_Isaac_. That was just my case, too, madam: I was struck all of a
heap, for my part.

_Duen_. Well, sir, I see our misapprehension has been mutual--you
expected to find me haughty and averse, and I was taught to believe
you a little black, snub-nosed fellow, without person, manners, or
address.

_Isaac_.