No More Learning

--_We shall
shortly throw ourselves at your feet, and I hope you will have a
blessing ready for one, who will then be your son-in-law_. ISAAC
MENDOZA.

A whim, hey? Why, the devil's in the girl, I think! This morning, she
would die sooner than have him, and before evening she runs away with
him! Well, well, my will's accomplished--let the motive be what it
will--and the Portuguese, sure, will never deny to fulfil the rest of
the article.


_Re-enter_ SERVANT, _with another letter_.

_Ser_. Sir, here's a man below, who says he brought this from my young
lady, Donna Louisa. [_Exit_. ]

_Don Jer_. How! yes, it's my daughter's hand, indeed! Lord, there was
no occasion for them both to write; well, let's see what she says--
[_Reads_. ]

_My dearest father,

How shall I entreat your pardon for the rash step I have taken--how
confess the motive? _--Pish! hasn't Isaac just told me the motive? --one
would think they weren't together when they wrote. --_If I have a
spirit too resentful of ill usage, I have also a heart as easily
affected by kindness_. --So, so, here the whole matter comes out; her
resentment for Antonio's ill usage has made her sensible of Isaac's
kindness--yes, yes, it is all plain enough. Well. _I am not married
yet, though with a man who, I am convinced, adores me_. --Yes, yes, I
dare say Isaac is very fond of her. _But I shall anxiously expect your
answer, in which, should I be so fortunate as to receive your consent,
you will make completely happy your ever affectionate daughter,_
LOUISA.

My consent! to be sure she shall have it! Egad, I was never better
pleased--I have fulfilled my resolution--I knew I should. Oh, there's
nothing like obstinacy! Lewis! [_Calls_. ]


_Re-enter_ SERVANT.

Let the man who brought the last letter, wait; and get me a pen and
ink below. --[_Exit_ SERVANT. ] I am impatient to set poor Louisa's
heart at rest. [_Calls_. ]Holloa! Lewis! Sancho!


_Enter_ SERVANTS.

See that there be a noble supper provided in the saloon to-night;
serve up my best wines, and let me have music, d'ye hear?

_Ser_. Yes, sir.

_Don Jer_. And order all my doors to be thrown open; admit all guests,
with masks or without masks. --[_Exeunt_ SERVANTS. ] I'faith, we'll have
a night of it! and I'll let them see how merry an old man can be.

SONG.

Oh, the days when I was young.
When I laugh'd in fortune's spite;
Talk'd of love the whole day long,
And with nectar crown'd the night!
Then it was, old Father Care,
Little reck'd I of thy frown;
Half thy malice youth could bear,
And the rest a bumper drown.

Truth, they say, lies in a well,
Why, I vow I ne'er could see;
Let the water-drinkers tell,
There it always lay for me.
For when sparkling wine went round,
Never saw I falsehood's mask;
But still honest truth I found
In the bottom of each flask.

True, at length my vigour's flown,
I have years to bring decay;
Few the locks that now I own,
And the few I have are grey.
Yet, old Jerome, thou mayst boast,
While thy spirits do not tire;
Still beneath thy age's frost
Glows a spark of youthful fire. [_Exit_. ]




SCENE II. --_The New Piazza_.

_Enter_ DON FERDINAND _and_ LOPEZ.


_Don Ferd_. What, could you gather no tidings of her? nor guess where
she was gone? O Clara! Clara!

_Lop_. In truth, sir, I could not. That she was run away from her
father, was in everybody's mouth; and that Don Guzman was in pursuit
of her, was also a very common report. Where she was gone, or what was
become of her, no one could take upon them to say.

_Don Ferd_. 'Sdeath and fury, you blockhead! she can't be out of
Seville.

_Lop_. So I said to myself, sir. 'Sdeath and fury, you blockhead, says
I, she can't be out of Seville. Then some said, she had hanged herself
for love; and others have it, Don Antonio had carried her off.

_Don Ferd_. 'Tis false, scoundrel! no one said that.

_Lop_. Then I misunderstood them, sir.

_Don Ferd_. Go, fool, get home! and never let me see you again till
you bring me news of her. --[_Exit_ LOPEZ. ] Oh, how my fondness for
this ungrateful girl has hurt my disposition.


_Enter_ ISAAC.

_Isaac_. So, I have her safe, and have only to find a priest to marry
us. Antonio now may marry Clara, or not, if he pleases.

_Don Ferd_. What! what was that you said of Clara?

_Isaac_. Oh, Ferdinand! my brother-in-law that shall be, who thought
of meeting you?

_Don Ferd_. But what of Clara?

_Isaac_. I'faith, you shall hear. This morning, as I was coming down,
I met a pretty damsel, who told me her name was Clara d'Almanza, and
begged my protection.

_Don Ferd_. How!

_Isaac_. She said she had eloped from her father, Don Guzman, but that
love for a young gentleman in Seville was the cause.

_Don Ferd_. Oh, Heavens! did she confess it?

_Isaac_. Oh, yes, she confessed at once. But then, says she, my lover
is not informed of my flight, nor suspects my intention.

_Don Ferd_. [_Aside_. ] Dear creature! no more I did indeed! Oh, I am
the happiest fellow! --[_Aloud_. ] Well, Isaac?

_Isaac_. Why then she entreated me to find him out for her, and bring
him to her.

_Don Ferd_. Good Heavens, how lucky! Well, come along, let's lose no
time. [_Pulling him_. ]

_Isaac_. Zooks! where are we to go?

_Don Ferd_. Why, did anything more pass?

_Isaac_. Anything more! yes; the end on't was, that I was moved with
her speeches, and complied with her desires.

_Don Ferd_. Well and where is she?

_Isaac_. Where is she? why, don't I tell you? I complied with her
request, and left her safe in the arms of her lover.

_Don Ferd_. 'Sdeath, you trifle with me! --I have never seen her.

_Isaac_. You! O Lud no! how the devil should you? 'Twas Antonio she
wanted; and with Antonio I left her.

_Don Ferd_. [_Aside_. ] Hell and madness! --[_Aloud_. ] What, Antonio
d'Ercilla?

_Isaac_. Ay, ay, the very man; and the best part of it was, he was shy
of taking her at first. He talked a good deal about honour, and
conscience, and deceiving some dear friend; but, Lord, we soon
overruled that!

_Don Ferd_. You did!

_Isaac_. Oh, yes, presently. --Such deceit! says he. --Pish! says the
lady, tricking is all fair in love. But then, my friend, says he. --
Psha! damn your friend, says I. So, poor wretch, he has no chance. --
No, no; he may hang himself as soon as he pleases.

_Don Ferd_. [_Aside_. ] I must go, or I shall betray myself.

_Isaac_. But stay, Ferdinand, you han't heard the best of the joke.

_Don Ferd_. Curse on your joke!

_Isaac_. Good lack! what's the matter now? I thought to have diverted
you.

_Don Ferd_. Be racked! tortured! damned!

_Isaac_. Why, sure you are not the poor devil of a lover, are you? --
I'faith, as sure as can be, he is! This is a better joke than t'other.
Ha! ha! ha!

_Don Ferd_. What! do you laugh? you vile, mischievous varlet! --
[_Collars him_. ] But that you're beneath my anger, I'd tear your heart
out! [_Throws him from him_. ]

_Isaac_. O mercy! here's usage for a brother-in-law!

_Don Ferd_. But, hark ye, rascal!
tell me directly where these false
friends are gone, or, by my soul----[_Draws_. ]

_Isaac_. For Heaven's sake, now, my dear brother-in-law, don't be in a
rage! I'll recollect as well as I can.

_Don Ferd_. Be quick, then!

_Isaac_. I will, I will! --but people's memories differ; some have a
treacherous memory: now mine is a cowardly memory--it takes to its
heels at sight of a drawn sword--it does i'faith; and I could as soon
fight as recollect.

_Don Ferd_. Zounds! tell me the truth, and I won't hurt you.

_Isaac_. No, no, I know you won't, my dear brother-in-law; but that
ill-looking thing there----

_Don Ferd_. What, then, you won't tell me?

_Isaac_. Yes, yes, I will; I'll tell you all, upon my soul! --but why
need you listen, sword in hand?

_Don Ferd_. Why, there. --[_Puts up_. ] Now.

_Isaac_. Why, then, I believe they are gone to--that is, my friend
Carlos told me he had left Donna Clara--dear Ferdinand, keep your
hands off--at the convent of St. Catherine.

_Don Ferd_. St. Catherine!

_Isaac_. Yes; and that Antonio was to come to her there.

_Don Ferd_. Is this the truth?

_Isaac_. It is indeed; and all I know, as I hope for life!

_Don Ferd_. Well, coward, take your life; 'tis that false,
dishonourable Antonio, who shall feel my vengeance.

_Isaac_. Ay, ay, kill him; cut his throat, and welcome.

_Don Ferd_. But, for Clara! infamy on her! she is not worth my
resentment.

_Isaac_. No more she is, my dear brother-in-law. I'faith I would not
be angry about her; she is not worth it, indeed.

_Don Ferd_. 'Tis false! she is worth the enmity of princes!

_Isaac_. True, true, so she is; and I pity you exceedingly for having
lost her.

_Don Ferd_. 'Sdeath, you rascal! how durst you talk of pitying me?

_Isaac_. Oh, dear brother-in-law, I beg pardon! I don't pity you in
the least, upon my soul!

_Don Ferd_. Get hence, fool, and provoke me no further; nothing but
your insignificance saves you!

_Isaac. [Aside_. ] I'faith, then, my insignificance is the best friend
I have. --[_Aloud_. ] I'm going, dear Ferdinand. --[_Aside_. ] What a
curst hot hot-headed bully it is! [_Exeunt severally_. ]




SCENE III. --_The Garden of the Convent_.

_Enter_ DONNA LOUISA _and_ DONNA CLARA.


_Don. Louisa_. And you really wish my brother may not find you out?

_Don. Clara_. Why else have I concealed myself under this disguise?

_Don. Louisa_. Why, perhaps because the dress becomes you: for you
certainly don't intend to be a nun for life.

_Don. Clara_. If, indeed, Ferdinand had not offended me so last night--

_Don. Louisa_. Come, come, it was his fear of losing you made him so
rash.

_Don. Clara_. Well, you may think me cruel, but I swear, if he were
here this instant, I believe I should forgive him.

SONG.

By him we love offended,
How soon our anger flies!
One day apart, 'tis ended;
Behold him, and it dies.

Last night, your roving brother,
Enraged, I bade depart;
And sure his rude presumption
Deserved to lose my heart.

Yet, were he now before met
In spite of injured pride,
I fear my eyes would pardon
Before my tongue could chide.

_Don. Louisa_. I protest, Clara, I shall begin to think you are
seriously resolved to enter on your probation.

_Don. Clara_. And, seriously, I very much doubt whether the character
of a nun would not become me best.

_Don. Louisa_. Why, to be sure, the character of a nun is a very
becoming one at a masquerade: but no pretty woman, in her senses, ever
thought of taking the veil for above a night.

_Don. Clara_. Yonder I see your Antonio is returned--I shall only
interrupt you; ah, Louisa, with what happy eagerness you turn to look
for him! [_Exit_. ]


_Enter_ DON ANTONIO.

_Don Ant_. Well, my Louisa, any news since I left you?

_Don. Louisa_. None. The messenger is not yet returned from my father.

_Don Ant_. Well, I confess, I do not perceive what we are to expect
from him.

_Don. Louisa_. I shall be easier, however, in having made the trial: I
do not doubt your sincerity, Antonio; but there is a chilling air
around poverty, that often kills affection, that was not nursed in it.
If we would make love our household god, we had best secure him a
comfortable roof.

SONG. --_Don Antonio_.

How oft, Louisa, hast thou told,
(Nor wilt thou the fond boast disown,)
Thou wouldst not lose Antonio's love
To reign the partner of a throne!
And by those lips that spoke so kind,
And by that hand I've press'd to mine,
To be the lord of wealth and power,
By heavens, I would not part with thine!

Then how, my soul, can we be poor,
Who own what kingdoms could not buy?
Of this true heart thou shalt be queen,
In serving thee, a monarch I.
Thus uncontroll'd, in mutual bliss,
I rich in love's exhaustless mine,
Do thou snatch treasures from my lips,
And I'll take kingdoms back from thine!


_Enter_ MAID _with a letter_.

_Don. Louisa_. My father's answer, I suppose.

_Don Ant_. My dearest Louisa, you may be assured that it contains
nothing but threats and reproaches.

_Don. Louisa_. Let us see, however. --[Reads. ] _Dearest daughter, make
your lover happy: you have my full consent to marry as your whim has
chosen, but be sure come home and sup with your affectionate father_.

_Don Ant_. You jest, Louisa!

_Don. Louisa_. [_Gives him the letter_. . ] Read! read!

_Don Ant_. 'Tis so, by heavens! Sure there must be some mistake; but
that's none of our business. --Now, Louisa, you have no excuse for
delay.

_Don. Louisa_. Shall we not then return and thank my father?

_Don Ant_. But first let the priest put it out of his power to recall
his word. --I'll fly to procure one.

_Don. Louisa_. Nay, if you part with me again, perhaps you may lose
me.

_Don Ant_. Come, then--there is a friar of a neighbouring convent is
my friend; you have already been diverted by the manners of a nunnery;
let us see whether there is less hypocrisy among the holy fathers.

_Don. Louisa_. I'm afraid not, Antonio--for in religion, as in
friendship, they who profess most are the least sincere. [_Exeunt_. ]


_Re-enter_ DONNA CLARA.

_Don. Clara_, So, yonder they go, as happy as a mutual and confessed
affection can make them, while I am left in solitude. Heigho! love may
perhaps excuse the rashness of an elopement from one's friend, but I
am sure nothing but the presence of the man we love can support it.
Ha! what do I see! Ferdinand, as I live! How could he gain admission?
By potent gold, I suppose, as Antonio did. How eager and disturbed he
seems! He shall not know me as yet. [_Lets down her veil_. ]


_Enter_ DON FERDINAND.

_Don Ferd_. Yes, those were certainly they--my information was right.
[_Going_. ]

_Don. Clara_. [_Stops him_. ] Pray, signor, what is your business here?

_Don Ferd_. No matter--no matter! Oh! they stop. --[_Looks out_. ] Yes,
that is the perfidious Clara indeed!

_Don. Clara_. So, a jealous error--I'm glad to see him so moved.
[_Aside_. ]

_Don Ferd_. Her disguise can't conceal her--no, no, I know her too
well.

_Don. Clara_. [_Aside_. ] Wonderful discernment! --[_Aloud_. ] But,
signor----

_Don Ferd_.