_ Do you contradict
yourself
so soon?
Dryden - Complete
] Dear madam, for heaven's sake make haste into
the cloister; the duke pursues me on some ill design.
_Soph. _ [_To the_ DUKE. ] 'Tis not permitted, sir, for maids, once
entered into religion, to hold discourses here of worldly things.
_Duke. _ But my discourses are not worldly, madam;
I had a vision in the dead of night,
Which shewed me this fair virgin in my sleep,
And told me, that from her I should be taught
Where to bestow large alms, and great endowments,
On some near monastery.
_Soph. _ Stay, Lucretia;
The holy vision's will must be obeyed. [_Exeunt_ SOPHRONIA _and Nuns. _
_Luc. _ [_Aside. _] He does not know me, sure; and yet I fear religion
is the least of his business with me.
_Duke. _ I see, madam, beauty will be beauty in any habit;
Though, I confess, the splendour of a court
Were a much fitter scene for yours, than is
A cloistered privacy.
_Luc. _ [_counterfeiting her voice. _]
The world has no temptations for a mind
So fixed and raised above it;
This humble cell contains and bounds my wishes:
My charity gives you my prayers, and that's
All my converse with human kind.
_Duke. _ Since when, madam, have the world and you been upon these
equal terms of hostility? Time was, you have been better friends.
_Luc. _ No doubt I have been vain, and sinful; but the remembrance of
those days cannot be pleasant to me now, and therefore, if you please,
do not refresh their memory.
_Duke. _ Their memory! you speak as if they were ages past.
_Luc. _ You think me still what I was once--a vain, fond, giddy
creature: I see, sir, whither your discourses tend, and therefore take
my leave.
_Duke. _ Yes, madam, I know you see whither my discourses tend, and
therefore 'twill not be convenient that you should take your leave.
Disguise yourself no farther; you are known, as well as you knew me in
masquerade.
_Luc. _ I am not used enough to the world to interpret riddles;
therefore, once more, heaven keep you.
_Duke. _ This will not do; your voice, your mien, your stature, betray
you for the same I saw last night: you know the time and place.
_Luc. _ You were not in this chapel, and I am bound by vow to stir no
farther.
_Duke. _ But you had too much wit to keep that vow.
_Luc. _ If you persist, sir, in this raving madness, I can bring
witness of my innocence. [_Is going. _
_Duke. _ To save that labour, see if you know that hand, and let that
justify you. [_Shows her letter. _
_Luc. _ What do I see! my ruin is inevitable.
_Duke. _ You know you merit it:
You used me ill, and now are in my power.
_Luc. _ But you, I hope, are much too noble to
Destroy the fame of a poor silly woman?
_Duke. _ Then, in few words,--for I am bred a soldier,
And must speak plain,--it is your love I ask;
If you deny, this letter is produced;
You know the consequence.
_Luc. _ I hope I do not;
For though there are appearances against me,
Enough to give you hope I durst not shun you,
Yet, could you see my heart, 'tis a white virgin-tablet,
On which no characters of earthly love
Were ever writ: And, 'twixt the prince and me,
If there were any criminal affection,
May heaven this minute--
_Duke. _ Swear not; I believe you:
For, could I think my son had e'er enjoyed you,
I should not be his rival. Since he has not,
I may have so much kindness for myself,
To wish that happiness.
_Luc. _ You ask me what I must not grant,
Nor, if I loved you, would: you know my vow of chastity.
_Duke. _ Yet again that senseless argument?
The vows of chastity can ne'er be broken,
Where vows of secrecy are kept. Those I'll swear with you.
But 'tis enough at present, you know my resolution.
I would persuade, not force, you to my love;
And to that end I give you this night's respite.
Consider all, that you may fear or hope;
And think that on your grant, or your denial,
Depends a double welfare, yours and mine. [_Exit. _
_Luc. _ A double ruin, rather, if I grant;
For what can I expect from such a father,
When such a son betrays me! Could I think,
Of all mankind, that Frederick would be base?
And, with the vanity of vulgar souls,
Betray a virgin's fame? One, who esteemed him,
And I much fear did more than barely so--
But I dare note examine myself farther, for fear of confessing to my
own thoughts, a tenderness of which he is unworthy.
_Enter_ HIPPOLITA.
_Hip. _ I watched till your old gallant was gone, to bring you news of
your young one. A mischief on these old dry lovers! they are good for
nothing but tedious talking; well, yonder's the prince at the grate; I
hope I need say no more to you.
_Luc. _ I'll come when I've recovered myself a little. I am a wretched
creature, Hippolita! the letter I writ to the prince--
_Hip. _ I know it,--is fallen into his father's hands by accident. He's
as wretched as you too. Well, well, it shall be my part to bring you
together; and then, if two young people, that have opportunity, can be
wretched and melancholy--I'll go before, and meet Ascanio. [_Exit. _
_Luc. _ I am half unwilling to go, because I must be accessary to her
assignation with Ascanio; but, for once, I'll meet the prince in the
garden-walk: I am glad, however, that he is less criminal than I
thought him. [_Exeunt. _
SCENE IV. --_The Nunnery-Garden. _
HIPPOLITA, ASCANIO, _meeting_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA.
_Hip. _ I hear some walking this way. --Who goes there?
_Lau. _ We are the two new pensioners, Laura and Violetta.
_Hip. _ Go in, to your devotion: These undue hours of walking savour
too much of worldly thoughts.
_Lau. _ Let us retire to the arbour, where, by this time, I believe,
our friends are. --Good-night, sister.
_Hip. _ Good angels guard you. [_Exeunt_ LAU. _and_ VIO. ] Now, brother,
the coast is clear, and we have the garden to ourselves. Do you
remember how you threatened me? But that's all one, how good soever
the opportunity may be, so long as we two resolve to be virtuous.
_Asca. _ Speak for yourself, sister, for I am wickedly inclined. Yet, I
confess, I have some remorse when I consider you are in religion.
_Hip. _ We should do very well to consider that, both of us; for,
indeed, what should young people do, but think of goodness and
religion; especially when they love one another, and are alone too,
brother?
_Asca. _ A curse on't! here comes my lord, and Lucretia. We might have
accomplished all, and been repenting by this time; yet who the devil
would have thought they should have come so soon--Ah!
[_Sets his teeth. _
_Hip. _ Who the devil would have put it to the venture? This is always
the fault of you raw pages: You, that are too young, never use an
opportunity; and we, that are elder, can seldom get one. --Ah!
[_Sets her teeth. _
_Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ LUCRETIA.
_Luc. _ I believe, indeed, it troubled you to lose that letter.
_Fred. _ So much, madam, that I can never forgive myself that
negligence.
_Luc. _ Call it not so, 'twas but a casuality, though, I confess, the
consequence is dangerous; and therefore have not both of us reason to
defy love, when we see a little gallantry is able to produce so much
mischief?
_Fred. _ [_Aside. _] Now cannot I, for my heart, bring out one word
against this love.
_Luc. _ Come, you are mute upon a subject, that is both easy and
pleasant. A man in love is so ridiculous a creature--
_Fred. _ Especially to those that are not.
_Luc. _ True; for to those that are, he cannot be so: They are like the
citizens of Bethlehem, who never find out one another's madness,
because they are all tainted. But for such ancient fops, as, with
reverence, your father is, what reason can they have to be in love?
_Fred. _ Nay, your old fop's unpardonable, that's certain. But--
_Luc. _ But what? Come, laugh at him.
_Fred. _ But I consider he is my father, I can't laugh at him.
_Luc. _ But, if it were another, we should see how you would insult
over him.
_Fred. _ Ay, if it were another--And yet I don't know neither, 'tis no
part of good nature to insult: A man may be overtaken with a passion,
or so; I know it by myself.
_Luc. _ How, by yourself! You are not in love, I hope? --Oh that he
would confess first now! [_Aside. _
_Fred. _ But, if I were, I should be loth to be laughed at.
_Luc. _ Since you are not in love, you may the better counsel me: What
shall we do with this same troublesome father of yours?
_Fred. _ Any thing, but love him.
_Luc. _ But you know he has me at a bay; my letter is in his
possession, and he may produce it to my ruin: Therefore, if I did
allow him some little favour, to mollify him--
_Fred. _ How, madam? Would you allow him favours? I can never consent
to it: Not the least look or smile; they are all too precious, though
they were to save his life.
_Luc. _ What, not your father? Oh that he would confess he loved me
first! [_Aside. _
_Fred. _ What have I done? I shall betray myself, and confess my love
to be laughed at, by this hard-hearted woman. [_Aside. _] 'Tis true,
madam, I had forgot; he is, indeed, my father, and therefore you may
use him as kindly as you please.
_Luc. _ He's insensible: Now he enrages me. [_Aside. _] What if he
proposes to marry me? I am not yet professed, and 'twould be much to
my advantage.
_Fred. _ Marry you! I had rather die a thousand deaths, than suffer it.
_Luc. _ This begins to please me. [_Aside. _
But why should you be so much my enemy?
_Fred. _ Your enemy, madam! Why, do you desire it?
_Luc. _ Perhaps I do.
_Fred. _ Do it, madam, since it pleases you so well.
_Luc. _ But you had rather die, than suffer it.
_Fred. _ No, I have changed my mind: I'll live, and not be concerned at
it.
_Luc.
_ Do you contradict yourself so soon? Then know, sir, I did
intend to do it; and I am glad you have given me advice so agreeable
to my inclinations.
_Fred. _ Heaven! that you should not find it out! I delivered your
letter on purpose to my father, and 'twas my business, now, to come
and mediate for him.
_Luc. _ Pray, then, carry him the news of his good success. Adieu,
sweet prince!
_Fred. _ Adieu, dear madam.
_Asca. _ Hey day! what will this come to? They have cozened one another
into a quarrel; just like friends in fencing, a chance thrust comes,
and then they fall to it in earnest.
_Hip. _ You and I, brother, shall never meet upon even terms, if this
be not pieced. --Face about, madam; turn quickly to your man, or, by
all that's virtuous, I'll call the abbess.
_Asca. _ I must not be so bold with you, sir; but, if you please, you
may turn towards the lady: and, I suppose, you would be glad I durst
speak to you with more authority, to save the credit of your
willingness.
_Fred. _ Well, I'll shew her I dare stay, if it be but to confront her
malice.
_Luc. _ I am sure I have done nothing to be ashamed of, that I should
need to run away.
_Asca. _ Pray give me leave, sir, to ask you but one question; Why were
you so unwilling that she should be married to your father?
_Fred. _ Because then her friendship must wholly cease.
_Asca. _ But you may have her friendship, when she is married to him.
_Fred. _ What! when another has enjoyed her?
Asca. _Victoria, Victoria_! he loves you, madam; let him deny it, if
he can.
_Luc. _ Fye, fye, loves me, Ascanio! I hope he would not forswear
himself, when he has railed so much against it.
_Fred. _ I hope I may love your mind, madam; I may love spiritually.
_Hip. _ That's enough, that's enough: Let him love the mind without the
body, if he can.
_Asca. _ Ay, ay, when the love is once come so far, that spiritual mind
will never leave pulling, and pulling, till it has drawn the beastly
body after it.
_Fred. _ Well, madam, since I must confess it,--though I expect to be
laughed at, after my railing against love,--I do love you all over,
both soul and body.
_Asca. _ Lord, sir, what a tigress have you provoked! you may see she
takes it to the death, that you have made this declaration.
_Hip. _ I thought where all her anger was: Why do you not rail, madam?
Why do you not banish him? the prince expects it; he has dealt
honestly, he has told you his mind, and you may make your worst on't.
_Luc. _ Because he does expect it, I am resolved, I'll neither satisfy
him nor you: I will neither rail nor laugh: Let him make his worst of
that, now.
_Fred. _ If I understand you right, madam, I am happy beyond either my
deserts or expectation.
_Luc. _ You may give my words what interpretation you please, sir; I
shall not envy you their meaning in the kindest sense. But we are near
the jessamine walk, there we may talk with greater freedom, because
'tis farther from the house.
_Fred. _ I wait you, madam. [_Exeunt. _
SCENE V.
AURELIAN, _with a dark lanthorn. _ CAMILLO _and_ BENITO.
_Cam. _ So, we are safe got over into the nunnery-garden; for what's to
come, trust love and fortune.
_Aur. _ This must needs be the walk she mentioned; yet, to be sure,
I'll hold the lanthorn while you read the ticket.
_Cam. _ [Reads. ] _I prepared this ticket, hoping to see you in the
chapel: Come this evening over the garden wall, on the right hand,
next the Tiber. _
_Aur. _ We are right, I see.
Cam. _Bring only your discreet Benito with you, and I will meet you
attended by my faithful Beatrix. _
VIOLETTA.
_Ben. _ Discreet Benito! Did you hear, sir?
_Aur. _ Mortify thyself for that vain thought; and, without enquiring
into the mystery of these words, which I assure thee were not meant to
thee, plant thyself by that ladder without motion, to secure our
retreat; and be sure to make no noise.
_Ben. _ But, sir, in case that--
_Aur. _ Honest Benito, no more questions: _Basta_ is the word.
Remember, thou art only taken with us, because thou hast a certain
evil dæmon, who conducts thy actions, and would have been sure, by
some damned accident or other, to have brought thee hither to disturb
us.
_Cam. _ I hear whispering not far from us, and I think 'tis Violetta's
voice.
_Aur. _ [_To_ BEN. ] Retire to your post; avoid, good Satan.
[_Exit_ BEN.
_Enter_ LAURA, _with a dark lanthorn hid, and_ VIOLETTA.
_Cam. _ Ours is the honour of the field, madam; we are here before you.
_Vio. _ Softly, dear friend; I think I hear some walking in the garden.
_Cam. _ Rather, let us take this opportunity for your escape from
hence; all things are here in readiness.
_Vio. _ This is the second time we ever have met; let us discourse, and
know each other better first; that's the way to make sure of some love
beforehand; for, as the world goes, we know not how little we may have
when we are married.
_Cam. _ Losses of opportunity are fatal in war, you know, and love's a
kind of warfare.
_Vio. _ I shall keep you yet a while from close fighting.
_Cam. _ But, do you know what an hour in love is worth? 'Tis more
precious than an age of ordinary life; 'tis the very quintessence and
extract of it.
_Vio. _ I do not like your chemical preparation of love; yours is all
spirit, and will fly too soon; I must see it fixed, before I trust
you. But we are near the arbour: Now our out-guards are set, let us
retire a little, if you please; there we may walk more freely.
[_Exit. _
_Aur. _ [_To_ LAU. ] My lady's woman, methinks you are very reserved
to-night: Pray, advance into the lists; though I have seen your
countenance by day, I can endure to hear you talk by night. Be
cunning, and set your wit to show, which is your best commodity: It
will help the better to put off that drug, your face.
_Lau. _ The coarsest ware will serve such customers as you are: Let it
suffice, Mr Serving-man, that I have seen you too. Your face is the
original of the ugliest vizors about town; and for wit, I would advise
you to speak reverently of it, as a thing you are never like to
understand.
_Aur. _ Sure, Beatrix, you came lately from looking in your glass, and
that has given you a bad opinion of all faces; but since when am I
become so notorious a fool?
_Lau. _ Since yesterday; for t'other night you talked like a man of
sense: I think your wit comes to you, as the sight of owls does, only
in the dark.
_Aur. _ Why, when did you discourse by day with me?
_Lau. _ You have a short memory. This afternoon in the great street. Do
you remember when you talked with Laura?
_Aur. _ But what was that to Beatrix?
_Lau. _ [_Aside. _] 'Slife, I had forgot that I am Beatrix. But pray,
when did you find me out to be so ugly?
_Aur. _ This afternoon, in the chapel.
_Lau. _ That cannot be; for I well remember you were not there, Benito:
I saw none but Camillo, and his friend, the handsome stranger.
_Aur. _ [_Aside_] Curse on't, I have betrayed myself.
_Lau. _ I find you are an impostor: you are not the same Benito: your
language has nothing of the serving-man.
_Aur. _ And yours, methinks, has not much of the waiting-woman.
_Lau. _ My lady is abused, and betrayed by you: But I am resolved, I'll
discover who you are. [_Holds out a lanthorn to him. _] How! the
stranger?
_Aur. _ Nay, madam, if you are good at that, I'll match you there too.
[_Holds out his lanthorn. _] O prodigy! Is Beatrix turned to Laura?
_Lau. _ Now the question is, which of us two is the greatest cheat?
_Aur. _ That's hardly to be tried, at so short warning: Let's marry one
another, and then, twenty to one, in a twelvemonth we shall know.
_Lau. _ Marry! Are you at that so soon, signior? Benito and Beatrix, I
confess, had some acquaintance; but Aurelian and Laura are mere
strangers.
_Aur. _ That ground I have gotten as Benito, I am resolved I'll keep as
Aurelian. If you will take state upon you, I have treated you with
ceremony already; for I have wooed you by proxy.
_Lau. _ But you would not be contented to bed me so; or give me leave
to put the sword betwixt us.
_Aur. _ Yes, upon condition you'll remove it.
_Lau. _ Pray let our friends be judge of it; if you please, we'll find
them in the arbour.
_Aur. _ Content; I am then sure of the verdict, because the jury is
bribed already. [_Exeunt. _
SCENE VI.
BENITO _meeting_ FREDERICK, ASCANIO, LUCRETIA, _and_ HIPPOLITA.
_Ben. _ Knowing my own merits, as I do, 'tis not impossible, but some
of these harlotry nuns may love me. Oh, here's my master! now if I
could but put this into civil terms, so as to ask his leave, and not
displease him--
_Asca. _ I hear one talking, sir, just by us.
_Ben. _ I am stolen from my post, sir, but for one minute only, to
demand permission of you, since it is not in our articles, that if any
of these nuns should cast an eye, or so--
_Fred. _ 'Slife, we are betrayed; but I'll make this rascal sure.
[_Draws and runs at him. _
_Ben. _ Help! murder, murder! [_Runs off. _
_Enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO; LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA _after them. _
_Aur. _ That was Benito's voice: We are ruined.
_Cam. _ O, here they are, we must make our way.
[AUR. _and the Prince make a pass or two confusedly,
and fight off the stage. The Women shriek. _
_Asca.
the cloister; the duke pursues me on some ill design.
_Soph. _ [_To the_ DUKE. ] 'Tis not permitted, sir, for maids, once
entered into religion, to hold discourses here of worldly things.
_Duke. _ But my discourses are not worldly, madam;
I had a vision in the dead of night,
Which shewed me this fair virgin in my sleep,
And told me, that from her I should be taught
Where to bestow large alms, and great endowments,
On some near monastery.
_Soph. _ Stay, Lucretia;
The holy vision's will must be obeyed. [_Exeunt_ SOPHRONIA _and Nuns. _
_Luc. _ [_Aside. _] He does not know me, sure; and yet I fear religion
is the least of his business with me.
_Duke. _ I see, madam, beauty will be beauty in any habit;
Though, I confess, the splendour of a court
Were a much fitter scene for yours, than is
A cloistered privacy.
_Luc. _ [_counterfeiting her voice. _]
The world has no temptations for a mind
So fixed and raised above it;
This humble cell contains and bounds my wishes:
My charity gives you my prayers, and that's
All my converse with human kind.
_Duke. _ Since when, madam, have the world and you been upon these
equal terms of hostility? Time was, you have been better friends.
_Luc. _ No doubt I have been vain, and sinful; but the remembrance of
those days cannot be pleasant to me now, and therefore, if you please,
do not refresh their memory.
_Duke. _ Their memory! you speak as if they were ages past.
_Luc. _ You think me still what I was once--a vain, fond, giddy
creature: I see, sir, whither your discourses tend, and therefore take
my leave.
_Duke. _ Yes, madam, I know you see whither my discourses tend, and
therefore 'twill not be convenient that you should take your leave.
Disguise yourself no farther; you are known, as well as you knew me in
masquerade.
_Luc. _ I am not used enough to the world to interpret riddles;
therefore, once more, heaven keep you.
_Duke. _ This will not do; your voice, your mien, your stature, betray
you for the same I saw last night: you know the time and place.
_Luc. _ You were not in this chapel, and I am bound by vow to stir no
farther.
_Duke. _ But you had too much wit to keep that vow.
_Luc. _ If you persist, sir, in this raving madness, I can bring
witness of my innocence. [_Is going. _
_Duke. _ To save that labour, see if you know that hand, and let that
justify you. [_Shows her letter. _
_Luc. _ What do I see! my ruin is inevitable.
_Duke. _ You know you merit it:
You used me ill, and now are in my power.
_Luc. _ But you, I hope, are much too noble to
Destroy the fame of a poor silly woman?
_Duke. _ Then, in few words,--for I am bred a soldier,
And must speak plain,--it is your love I ask;
If you deny, this letter is produced;
You know the consequence.
_Luc. _ I hope I do not;
For though there are appearances against me,
Enough to give you hope I durst not shun you,
Yet, could you see my heart, 'tis a white virgin-tablet,
On which no characters of earthly love
Were ever writ: And, 'twixt the prince and me,
If there were any criminal affection,
May heaven this minute--
_Duke. _ Swear not; I believe you:
For, could I think my son had e'er enjoyed you,
I should not be his rival. Since he has not,
I may have so much kindness for myself,
To wish that happiness.
_Luc. _ You ask me what I must not grant,
Nor, if I loved you, would: you know my vow of chastity.
_Duke. _ Yet again that senseless argument?
The vows of chastity can ne'er be broken,
Where vows of secrecy are kept. Those I'll swear with you.
But 'tis enough at present, you know my resolution.
I would persuade, not force, you to my love;
And to that end I give you this night's respite.
Consider all, that you may fear or hope;
And think that on your grant, or your denial,
Depends a double welfare, yours and mine. [_Exit. _
_Luc. _ A double ruin, rather, if I grant;
For what can I expect from such a father,
When such a son betrays me! Could I think,
Of all mankind, that Frederick would be base?
And, with the vanity of vulgar souls,
Betray a virgin's fame? One, who esteemed him,
And I much fear did more than barely so--
But I dare note examine myself farther, for fear of confessing to my
own thoughts, a tenderness of which he is unworthy.
_Enter_ HIPPOLITA.
_Hip. _ I watched till your old gallant was gone, to bring you news of
your young one. A mischief on these old dry lovers! they are good for
nothing but tedious talking; well, yonder's the prince at the grate; I
hope I need say no more to you.
_Luc. _ I'll come when I've recovered myself a little. I am a wretched
creature, Hippolita! the letter I writ to the prince--
_Hip. _ I know it,--is fallen into his father's hands by accident. He's
as wretched as you too. Well, well, it shall be my part to bring you
together; and then, if two young people, that have opportunity, can be
wretched and melancholy--I'll go before, and meet Ascanio. [_Exit. _
_Luc. _ I am half unwilling to go, because I must be accessary to her
assignation with Ascanio; but, for once, I'll meet the prince in the
garden-walk: I am glad, however, that he is less criminal than I
thought him. [_Exeunt. _
SCENE IV. --_The Nunnery-Garden. _
HIPPOLITA, ASCANIO, _meeting_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA.
_Hip. _ I hear some walking this way. --Who goes there?
_Lau. _ We are the two new pensioners, Laura and Violetta.
_Hip. _ Go in, to your devotion: These undue hours of walking savour
too much of worldly thoughts.
_Lau. _ Let us retire to the arbour, where, by this time, I believe,
our friends are. --Good-night, sister.
_Hip. _ Good angels guard you. [_Exeunt_ LAU. _and_ VIO. ] Now, brother,
the coast is clear, and we have the garden to ourselves. Do you
remember how you threatened me? But that's all one, how good soever
the opportunity may be, so long as we two resolve to be virtuous.
_Asca. _ Speak for yourself, sister, for I am wickedly inclined. Yet, I
confess, I have some remorse when I consider you are in religion.
_Hip. _ We should do very well to consider that, both of us; for,
indeed, what should young people do, but think of goodness and
religion; especially when they love one another, and are alone too,
brother?
_Asca. _ A curse on't! here comes my lord, and Lucretia. We might have
accomplished all, and been repenting by this time; yet who the devil
would have thought they should have come so soon--Ah!
[_Sets his teeth. _
_Hip. _ Who the devil would have put it to the venture? This is always
the fault of you raw pages: You, that are too young, never use an
opportunity; and we, that are elder, can seldom get one. --Ah!
[_Sets her teeth. _
_Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ LUCRETIA.
_Luc. _ I believe, indeed, it troubled you to lose that letter.
_Fred. _ So much, madam, that I can never forgive myself that
negligence.
_Luc. _ Call it not so, 'twas but a casuality, though, I confess, the
consequence is dangerous; and therefore have not both of us reason to
defy love, when we see a little gallantry is able to produce so much
mischief?
_Fred. _ [_Aside. _] Now cannot I, for my heart, bring out one word
against this love.
_Luc. _ Come, you are mute upon a subject, that is both easy and
pleasant. A man in love is so ridiculous a creature--
_Fred. _ Especially to those that are not.
_Luc. _ True; for to those that are, he cannot be so: They are like the
citizens of Bethlehem, who never find out one another's madness,
because they are all tainted. But for such ancient fops, as, with
reverence, your father is, what reason can they have to be in love?
_Fred. _ Nay, your old fop's unpardonable, that's certain. But--
_Luc. _ But what? Come, laugh at him.
_Fred. _ But I consider he is my father, I can't laugh at him.
_Luc. _ But, if it were another, we should see how you would insult
over him.
_Fred. _ Ay, if it were another--And yet I don't know neither, 'tis no
part of good nature to insult: A man may be overtaken with a passion,
or so; I know it by myself.
_Luc. _ How, by yourself! You are not in love, I hope? --Oh that he
would confess first now! [_Aside. _
_Fred. _ But, if I were, I should be loth to be laughed at.
_Luc. _ Since you are not in love, you may the better counsel me: What
shall we do with this same troublesome father of yours?
_Fred. _ Any thing, but love him.
_Luc. _ But you know he has me at a bay; my letter is in his
possession, and he may produce it to my ruin: Therefore, if I did
allow him some little favour, to mollify him--
_Fred. _ How, madam? Would you allow him favours? I can never consent
to it: Not the least look or smile; they are all too precious, though
they were to save his life.
_Luc. _ What, not your father? Oh that he would confess he loved me
first! [_Aside. _
_Fred. _ What have I done? I shall betray myself, and confess my love
to be laughed at, by this hard-hearted woman. [_Aside. _] 'Tis true,
madam, I had forgot; he is, indeed, my father, and therefore you may
use him as kindly as you please.
_Luc. _ He's insensible: Now he enrages me. [_Aside. _] What if he
proposes to marry me? I am not yet professed, and 'twould be much to
my advantage.
_Fred. _ Marry you! I had rather die a thousand deaths, than suffer it.
_Luc. _ This begins to please me. [_Aside. _
But why should you be so much my enemy?
_Fred. _ Your enemy, madam! Why, do you desire it?
_Luc. _ Perhaps I do.
_Fred. _ Do it, madam, since it pleases you so well.
_Luc. _ But you had rather die, than suffer it.
_Fred. _ No, I have changed my mind: I'll live, and not be concerned at
it.
_Luc.
_ Do you contradict yourself so soon? Then know, sir, I did
intend to do it; and I am glad you have given me advice so agreeable
to my inclinations.
_Fred. _ Heaven! that you should not find it out! I delivered your
letter on purpose to my father, and 'twas my business, now, to come
and mediate for him.
_Luc. _ Pray, then, carry him the news of his good success. Adieu,
sweet prince!
_Fred. _ Adieu, dear madam.
_Asca. _ Hey day! what will this come to? They have cozened one another
into a quarrel; just like friends in fencing, a chance thrust comes,
and then they fall to it in earnest.
_Hip. _ You and I, brother, shall never meet upon even terms, if this
be not pieced. --Face about, madam; turn quickly to your man, or, by
all that's virtuous, I'll call the abbess.
_Asca. _ I must not be so bold with you, sir; but, if you please, you
may turn towards the lady: and, I suppose, you would be glad I durst
speak to you with more authority, to save the credit of your
willingness.
_Fred. _ Well, I'll shew her I dare stay, if it be but to confront her
malice.
_Luc. _ I am sure I have done nothing to be ashamed of, that I should
need to run away.
_Asca. _ Pray give me leave, sir, to ask you but one question; Why were
you so unwilling that she should be married to your father?
_Fred. _ Because then her friendship must wholly cease.
_Asca. _ But you may have her friendship, when she is married to him.
_Fred. _ What! when another has enjoyed her?
Asca. _Victoria, Victoria_! he loves you, madam; let him deny it, if
he can.
_Luc. _ Fye, fye, loves me, Ascanio! I hope he would not forswear
himself, when he has railed so much against it.
_Fred. _ I hope I may love your mind, madam; I may love spiritually.
_Hip. _ That's enough, that's enough: Let him love the mind without the
body, if he can.
_Asca. _ Ay, ay, when the love is once come so far, that spiritual mind
will never leave pulling, and pulling, till it has drawn the beastly
body after it.
_Fred. _ Well, madam, since I must confess it,--though I expect to be
laughed at, after my railing against love,--I do love you all over,
both soul and body.
_Asca. _ Lord, sir, what a tigress have you provoked! you may see she
takes it to the death, that you have made this declaration.
_Hip. _ I thought where all her anger was: Why do you not rail, madam?
Why do you not banish him? the prince expects it; he has dealt
honestly, he has told you his mind, and you may make your worst on't.
_Luc. _ Because he does expect it, I am resolved, I'll neither satisfy
him nor you: I will neither rail nor laugh: Let him make his worst of
that, now.
_Fred. _ If I understand you right, madam, I am happy beyond either my
deserts or expectation.
_Luc. _ You may give my words what interpretation you please, sir; I
shall not envy you their meaning in the kindest sense. But we are near
the jessamine walk, there we may talk with greater freedom, because
'tis farther from the house.
_Fred. _ I wait you, madam. [_Exeunt. _
SCENE V.
AURELIAN, _with a dark lanthorn. _ CAMILLO _and_ BENITO.
_Cam. _ So, we are safe got over into the nunnery-garden; for what's to
come, trust love and fortune.
_Aur. _ This must needs be the walk she mentioned; yet, to be sure,
I'll hold the lanthorn while you read the ticket.
_Cam. _ [Reads. ] _I prepared this ticket, hoping to see you in the
chapel: Come this evening over the garden wall, on the right hand,
next the Tiber. _
_Aur. _ We are right, I see.
Cam. _Bring only your discreet Benito with you, and I will meet you
attended by my faithful Beatrix. _
VIOLETTA.
_Ben. _ Discreet Benito! Did you hear, sir?
_Aur. _ Mortify thyself for that vain thought; and, without enquiring
into the mystery of these words, which I assure thee were not meant to
thee, plant thyself by that ladder without motion, to secure our
retreat; and be sure to make no noise.
_Ben. _ But, sir, in case that--
_Aur. _ Honest Benito, no more questions: _Basta_ is the word.
Remember, thou art only taken with us, because thou hast a certain
evil dæmon, who conducts thy actions, and would have been sure, by
some damned accident or other, to have brought thee hither to disturb
us.
_Cam. _ I hear whispering not far from us, and I think 'tis Violetta's
voice.
_Aur. _ [_To_ BEN. ] Retire to your post; avoid, good Satan.
[_Exit_ BEN.
_Enter_ LAURA, _with a dark lanthorn hid, and_ VIOLETTA.
_Cam. _ Ours is the honour of the field, madam; we are here before you.
_Vio. _ Softly, dear friend; I think I hear some walking in the garden.
_Cam. _ Rather, let us take this opportunity for your escape from
hence; all things are here in readiness.
_Vio. _ This is the second time we ever have met; let us discourse, and
know each other better first; that's the way to make sure of some love
beforehand; for, as the world goes, we know not how little we may have
when we are married.
_Cam. _ Losses of opportunity are fatal in war, you know, and love's a
kind of warfare.
_Vio. _ I shall keep you yet a while from close fighting.
_Cam. _ But, do you know what an hour in love is worth? 'Tis more
precious than an age of ordinary life; 'tis the very quintessence and
extract of it.
_Vio. _ I do not like your chemical preparation of love; yours is all
spirit, and will fly too soon; I must see it fixed, before I trust
you. But we are near the arbour: Now our out-guards are set, let us
retire a little, if you please; there we may walk more freely.
[_Exit. _
_Aur. _ [_To_ LAU. ] My lady's woman, methinks you are very reserved
to-night: Pray, advance into the lists; though I have seen your
countenance by day, I can endure to hear you talk by night. Be
cunning, and set your wit to show, which is your best commodity: It
will help the better to put off that drug, your face.
_Lau. _ The coarsest ware will serve such customers as you are: Let it
suffice, Mr Serving-man, that I have seen you too. Your face is the
original of the ugliest vizors about town; and for wit, I would advise
you to speak reverently of it, as a thing you are never like to
understand.
_Aur. _ Sure, Beatrix, you came lately from looking in your glass, and
that has given you a bad opinion of all faces; but since when am I
become so notorious a fool?
_Lau. _ Since yesterday; for t'other night you talked like a man of
sense: I think your wit comes to you, as the sight of owls does, only
in the dark.
_Aur. _ Why, when did you discourse by day with me?
_Lau. _ You have a short memory. This afternoon in the great street. Do
you remember when you talked with Laura?
_Aur. _ But what was that to Beatrix?
_Lau. _ [_Aside. _] 'Slife, I had forgot that I am Beatrix. But pray,
when did you find me out to be so ugly?
_Aur. _ This afternoon, in the chapel.
_Lau. _ That cannot be; for I well remember you were not there, Benito:
I saw none but Camillo, and his friend, the handsome stranger.
_Aur. _ [_Aside_] Curse on't, I have betrayed myself.
_Lau. _ I find you are an impostor: you are not the same Benito: your
language has nothing of the serving-man.
_Aur. _ And yours, methinks, has not much of the waiting-woman.
_Lau. _ My lady is abused, and betrayed by you: But I am resolved, I'll
discover who you are. [_Holds out a lanthorn to him. _] How! the
stranger?
_Aur. _ Nay, madam, if you are good at that, I'll match you there too.
[_Holds out his lanthorn. _] O prodigy! Is Beatrix turned to Laura?
_Lau. _ Now the question is, which of us two is the greatest cheat?
_Aur. _ That's hardly to be tried, at so short warning: Let's marry one
another, and then, twenty to one, in a twelvemonth we shall know.
_Lau. _ Marry! Are you at that so soon, signior? Benito and Beatrix, I
confess, had some acquaintance; but Aurelian and Laura are mere
strangers.
_Aur. _ That ground I have gotten as Benito, I am resolved I'll keep as
Aurelian. If you will take state upon you, I have treated you with
ceremony already; for I have wooed you by proxy.
_Lau. _ But you would not be contented to bed me so; or give me leave
to put the sword betwixt us.
_Aur. _ Yes, upon condition you'll remove it.
_Lau. _ Pray let our friends be judge of it; if you please, we'll find
them in the arbour.
_Aur. _ Content; I am then sure of the verdict, because the jury is
bribed already. [_Exeunt. _
SCENE VI.
BENITO _meeting_ FREDERICK, ASCANIO, LUCRETIA, _and_ HIPPOLITA.
_Ben. _ Knowing my own merits, as I do, 'tis not impossible, but some
of these harlotry nuns may love me. Oh, here's my master! now if I
could but put this into civil terms, so as to ask his leave, and not
displease him--
_Asca. _ I hear one talking, sir, just by us.
_Ben. _ I am stolen from my post, sir, but for one minute only, to
demand permission of you, since it is not in our articles, that if any
of these nuns should cast an eye, or so--
_Fred. _ 'Slife, we are betrayed; but I'll make this rascal sure.
[_Draws and runs at him. _
_Ben. _ Help! murder, murder! [_Runs off. _
_Enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO; LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA _after them. _
_Aur. _ That was Benito's voice: We are ruined.
_Cam. _ O, here they are, we must make our way.
[AUR. _and the Prince make a pass or two confusedly,
and fight off the stage. The Women shriek. _
_Asca.
