No More Learning

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_. Be quiet, good nun; don't tease me! --By heavens, she leans
upon his arm, hangs fondly on it! O woman, woman!

_Don. Clar_. But, signor, who is it you want?

_Don Ferd_. Not you, not you, so prythee don't tease me. Yet pray
stay--gentle nun, was it not Donna Clara d'Almanza just parted from
you?

_Don. Clara_. Clara d'Almanza, signor, is not yet out of the garden.

_Don Ferd_. Ay, ay, I knew I was right! And pray is not that
gentleman, now at the porch with her, Antonio d'Ercilla?

_Don. Clara_. It is indeed, signor.

_Don Ferd_. So, so; but now one question more--can you inform me for
what purpose they have gone away?

_Don. Clara_. They are gone to be married, I believe.

_Don Ferd_. Very well--enough. Now if I don't mar their wedding!
[_Exit_. ]

_Don. Clara_. [_Unveils_. ] I thought jealousy had made lovers quick-
sighted, but it has made mine blind. Louisa's story accounts to me for
this error, and I am glad to find I have power enough over him to make
him so unhappy. But why should not I be present at his surprise when
undeceived? When he's through the porch, I'll follow him; and,
perhaps, Louisa shall not singly be a bride.

SONG.

Adieu, thou dreary pile, where never dies
The sullen echo of repentant sighs!
Ye sister mourners of each lonely cell
Inured to hymns and sorrow, fare ye well!
For happier scenes I fly this darksome grove,
To saints a prison, but a tomb to love! [_Exit_. ]




SCENE IV. --_A Court before the Priory_.

_Enter_ ISAAC, _crossing the stage_, DON ANTONIO _following_.


_Don Ant_. What, my friend Isaac!

_Isaac_. What, Antonio! wish me joy! I have Louisa safe.

_Don Ant_. Have you? I wish you joy with all my soul.

_Isaac_. Yes, I come here to procure a priest to marry us.

_Don Ant_. So, then, we are both on the same errand; I am come to look
for Father Paul.

_Isaac_. Ha! I'm glad on't--but, i'faith, he must tack me first; my
love is waiting.

_Don Ant_. So is mine--I left her in the porch.

_Isaac_. Ay, but I'm in haste to go back to Don Jerome.

_Don Ant_. And so am I too.

_Isaac_. Well, perhaps he'll save time, and marry us both together--or
I'll be your father, and you shall be mine. Come along--but you are
obliged to me for all this.

_Don Ant_. Yes, yes. [_Exeunt_. ]




SCENE V. --_A Room in the Priory_.

FATHER PAUL, FATHER FRANCIS, FATHER AUGUSTINE, _and other_ FRIARS,
_discovered at a table drinking_.


GLEE AND CHORUS.

This bottle's the sun of our table,
His beams are rosy wine
We, planets, that are not able
Without his help to shine.
Let mirth and glee abound!
You'll soon grow bright
With borrow'd light,
And shine as he goes round.

_Paul_. Brother Francis, toss the bottle about, and give me your
toast.

_Fran_. Have we drunk the Abbess of St. Ursuline?

_Paul_. Yes, yes; she was the last.

_Fran_. Then I'll give you the blue-eyed nun of St. Catherine's.

_Paul_. With all my heart. --[_Drinks_. ] Pray, brother Augustine, were
there any benefactions left in my absence?

_Aug_. Don Juan Corduba has left a hundred ducats, to remember him in
our masses.

_Paul_. Has he? let them be paid to our wine-merchant, and we'll
remember him in our cups, which will do just as well. Anything more?

_Aug_. Yes; Baptista, the rich miser, who died last week, has
bequeathed us a thousand pistoles, and the silver lamp he used in his
own chamber, to burn before the image of St. Anthony.

_Paul_. 'Twas well meant, but we'll employ his money better--
Baptista's bounty shall light the living, not the dead. St. Anthony is
not afraid to be left in the dark, though he was. --[_Knocking_. ] See
who's there.

[FATHER FRANCIS _goes to the door and opens it_. ]


_Enter_ PORTER.

_Port_. Here's one without, in pressing haste to speak with Father
Paul.

_Fran_. Brother Paul!

[FATHER PAUL _comes from behind a curtain with a glass of wine, and in
his hand a piece of cake_. ]

_Paul_. Here! how durst you, fellow, thus abruptly break in upon our
devotions?

_Port_. I thought they were finished.

_Paul_. No, they were not--were they, brother Francis?

_Fran_. Not by a bottle each.

_Paul_. But neither you nor your fellows mark how the hours go; no,
you mind nothing but the gratifying of your appetites; ye eat, and
swill, and sleep, and gourmandise, and thrive, while we are wasting in
mortification.

_Port_. We ask no more than nature craves.

_Paul_. 'Tis false, ye have more appetites than hairs! and your
flushed, sleek, and pampered appearance is the disgrace of our order--
out on't! If you are hungry, can't you be content with the wholesome
roots of the earth? and if you are dry, isn't there the crystal
spring? --[_Drinks_. ] Put this away,--[_Gives the glass_] and show me
where I am wanted. --[PORTER _drains the glass_. --PAUL, _going,
turns_. ] So you would have drunk it if there had been any left! Ah,
glutton! glutton! [_Exeunt_. ]




SCENE VI. --_The Court before the Priory_.

_Enter_ ISAAC _and_ DON ANTONIO.


_Isaac_. A plaguey while coming, this same father Paul. --He's detained
at vespers, I suppose, poor fellow.

_Don Ant_. No, here he comes.

_Enter_ FATHER PAUL.

Good father Paul, I crave your blessing.

_Isaac_. Yes, good father Paul, we are come to beg a favour.

_Paul_. What is it, pray?

_Isaac_. To marry us, good father Paul; and in truth thou dost look
like the priest of Hymen.

_Paul_. In short, I may be called so; for I deal in repentance and
mortification.

_Isaac_. No, no, thou seemest an officer of Hymen, because thy
presence speaks content and good humour.

_Paul_. Alas, my appearance is deceitful. Bloated I am, indeed! for
fasting is a windy recreation, and it hath swollen me like a bladder.

_Don Ant_. But thou hast a good fresh colour in thy face, father;
rosy, i'faith!

_Paul_. Yes, I have blushed for mankind, till the hue of my shame is
as fixed as their vices.

_Isaac_. Good man!

_Paul_. And I have laboured, too, but to what purpose? they continue
to sin under my very nose.