And ar'n't you ashamed of
yourself
not to know your own
sister?
sister?
Richard Brinsley Sheridan
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.
_Isaac_. Efecks, father, I should have guessed as much, for your nose
seems to be put to the blush more than any other part of your face.
_Paul_. Go, you're a wag.
_Don Ant_. But to the purpose, father--will you officiate for us?
_Paul_. To join young people thus clandestinely is not safe: and,
indeed, I have in my heart many weighty reasons against it.
_Don Ant_. And I have in my hand many weighty reasons for it. Isaac,
haven't you an argument or two in our favour about you?
_Isaac_. Yes, yes; here is a most unanswerable purse.
_Paul_. For shame! you make me angry: you forget who I am, and when
importunate people have forced their trash--ay, into this pocket here--
or into this--why, then the sin was theirs. --[_They put money into
his pockets_. ] Fie, now how you distress me! I would return it, but
that I must touch it that way, and so wrong my oath.
_Don Ant_. Now then, come with us.
_Isaac_. Ay, now give us our title to joy and rapture.
_Paul_. Well, when your hour of repentance comes, don't blame me.
_Don Ant_. [_Aside_. ] No bad caution to my friend Isaac. --[_Aloud_. ]
Well, well, father, do you do your part, and I'll abide the
consequences.
_Isaac_. Ay, and so will I.
_Enter_ DONNA LOUISA, _running_.
_Don. Louisa_. O Antonio, Ferdinand is at the porch, and inquiring for
us.
_Isaac_. Who? Don Ferdinand! he's not inquiring for me, I hope.
_Don Ant_. Fear not, my love; I'll soon pacify him.
_Isaac_. Egad, you won't. Antonio, take my advice, and run away; this
Ferdinand is the most unmerciful dog, and has the cursedest long
sword! and, upon my, soul, he comes on purpose to cut your throat.
_Don Ant_. Never fear, never fear.
_Isaac_. Well, you may stay if you will; but I'll get some one to
marry me: for by St. Iago, he shall never meet me again, while I am
master of a pair of heels. [_Runs out_. --DONNA LOUISA _lets down her
veil_. ]
_Enter_ DON FERDINAND.
_Don Ferd_. So, sir, I have met with you at last.
_Don Ant_. Well, sir.
_Don Ferd_. Base, treacherous man! whence can a false, deceitful soul,
like yours, borrow confidence, to look so steadily on the man you've
injured!
_Don Ant_. Ferdinand, you are too warm: 'tis true you find me on the
point of wedding one I loved beyond my life; but no argument of mine
prevailed on her to elope. --I scorn deceit, as much as you. By heaven
I knew not that she had left her father's till I saw her!
_Don Ferd_. What a mean excuse! You have wronged your friend, then,
for one, whose wanton forwardness anticipated your treachery--of this,
indeed, your Jew pander informed me; but let your conduct be
consistent, and since you have dared to do a wrong, follow me, and
show you have a spirit to avow it.
_Don. Louisa_. Antonio, I perceive his mistake--leave him to me.
_Paul_. Friend, you are rude, to interrupt the union of two willing
hearts.
_Don Ferd_. No, meddling priest! the hand he seeks is mine.
_Paul_. If so, I'll proceed no further. Lady, did you ever promise
this youth your hand? [_To_ DONNA LOUISA, _who shakes her head_. ]
_Don Ferd_. Clara, I thank you for your silence--I would not have
heard your tongue avow such falsity; be't your punishment to remember
that I have not reproached you.
_Enter_ DONNA CLARA, _veiled_.
_Don. Clara_. What mockery is this?
_Don Ferd_. Antonio, you are protected now, but we shall meet.
[_Going_, DONNA CLARA _holds one arm, and_ DONNA LOUISA _the other_. ]
DUET.
_Don. Louisa_.
Turn thee round, I pray thee,
Calm awhile thy rage.
_Don. Clara_.
I must help to stay thee,
And thy wrath assuage.
_Don. Louisa_.
Couldst thou not discover
One so dear to thee?
_Don. Clara_.
Canst thou be a lover,
And thus fly from me? [_Both unveil_. ]
_Don Ferd_. How's this? My sister! Clara, too--I'm confounded.
_Don. Louisa_. 'Tis even so, good brother.
_Paul_. How! what impiety? did the man want to marry his own sister?
_Don. Louisa_.
And ar'n't you ashamed of yourself not to know your own
sister?
_Don. Clara_. To drive away your own mistress----
_Don. Louisa_. Don't you see how jealousy blinds people?
_Don. Clara_. Ay, and will you ever be jealous again?
_Don Ferd_. Never--never! --You, sister, I know will forgive me--but
how, Clara, shall I presume----
_Don. Clara_. No, no; just now you told me not to tease you--"Who do
you want, good signor? " "Not you, not you! " Oh you blind wretch! but
swear never to be jealous again, and I'll forgive you.
_Don Ferd_. By all----
_Don. Clara_. There, that will do--you'll keep the oath just as well.
[_Gives her hand_. ]
_Don. Louisa_. But, brother, here is one to whom some apology is due.
_Don Ferd_. Antonio, I am ashamed to think----
_Don Ant_. Not a word of excuse, Ferdinand--I have not been in love
myself without learning that a lover's anger should never be resented.
But come--let us retire, with this good father, and we'll explain to
you the cause of this error.
GLEE AND CHORUS.
Oft does Hymen smile to hear
Wordy vows of feign'd regard;
Well, he knows when they're sincere,
Never slow to give reward
For his glory is to prove
Kind to those who wed for love. [_Exeunt_. ]
SCENE VII--_A Grand Saloon in_ DON JEROME'S _House_.
_Enter_ DON JEROME, LOPEZ, _and_ SERVANTS.
_Don Jer_. Be sure, now, let everything be in the best order--let all
my servants have on their merriest faces: but tell them to get as
little drunk as possible, till after supper. --[_Exeunt_ SERVANTS. ] So,
Lopez, where's your master? shan't we have him at supper?
_Lop_. Indeed, I believe not, sir--he's mad, I doubt! I'm sure he has
frighted me from him.
_Don Jer_. Ay, ay, he's after some wench, I suppose: a young rake!
Well, well, we'll be merry without him. [_Exit_ LOPEZ. ]
_Enter a_ SERVANT.
_Ser_. Sir, here is Signor Isaac. [_Exit_. ]
_Enter_ ISAAC.
_Don Jer_. So, my dear son-in-law--there, take my blessing and
forgiveness. But where's my daughter? where's Louisa?
_Isaac_. She's without, impatient for a blessing, but almost afraid to
enter.
_Don Jer_. Oh, fly and bring her in. --[_Exit_ ISAAC. ] Poor girl, I
long to see her pretty face.
_Isaac_. [_Without_. ] Come, my, charmer! my trembling angel!
_Re-enter_ ISAAC _with_ DUENNA; DON JEROME _runs to meet them; she
kneels_.
_Don Jer_. Come to my arms, my--[_Starts back_. ] Why, who the devil
have we here?
_Isaac_. Nay, Don Jerome, you promised her forgiveness; see how the
dear creature droops!
_Don Jer_. Droops indeed! Why, Gad take me, this is old Margaret! But
where's my daughter? where's Louisa?
_Isaac_. Why, here, before your eyes--nay, don't be abashed, my sweet
wife!
_Don Jer_. Wife with a vengeance! Why, zounds! you have not married
the Duenna!
_Duen_. [_Kneeling_. ] Oh, dear papa! you'll not disown me, sure!
_Don Jer_. Papa! papa! Why, zounds! your impudence is as great as your
ugliness!
_Isaac_. Rise, my charmer, go throw your snowy arms about his neck,
and convince him you are----
_Duen_. Oh, sir, forgive me! [_Embraces him_. ]
_Don Jer_. Help! murder!
_Enter_ SERVANTS.
_Ser_. What's the matter, sir?
_Don Jer_. Why, here, this damned Jew has brought an old harridan to
strangle me.
_Isaac_. Lord, it is his own daughter, and he is so hard-hearted he
won't forgive her!
_Enter_ DON ANTONIO _and_ DONNA LOUISA; _they kneel_.
_Don Jer_. Zounds and fury! what's here now? who sent for you, sir,
and who the devil are you?
_Don Ant_. This lady's husband, sir.
_Isaac_. Ay, that he is, I'll be sworn; for I left them with a priest,
and was to have given her away.
_Don Jer_. You were?
_Isaac_. Ay; that's my honest friend, Antonio; and that's the little
girl I told you I had hampered him with.
_Don Jer_. Why, you are either drunk or mad--this is my daughter.
_Isaac_. No, no; 'tis you are both drunk and mad, I think--here's your
daughter.
_Don Jer_. Hark ye, old iniquity! will you explain all this, or not?
_Duen_. Come then, Don Jerome, I will--though our habits might inform
you all. Look on your daughter, there, and on me.
_Isaac_. What's this I hear?
_Duen_. The truth is, that in your passion this morning you made a
small mistake; for you turned your daughter out of doors, and locked
up your humble servant.
_Isaac_. O Lud! O Lud! here's a pretty fellow, to turn his daughter
out of doors, instead of an old Duenna!
_Don Jer_. And, O Lud! O Lud! here's a pretty fellow, to marry an old
Duenna instead of my daughter! But how came the rest about?
_Duen_. I have only to add, that I remained in your daughter's place,
and had the good fortune to engage the affections of my sweet husband
here.
_Isaac_. Her husband! why, you old witch, do you think I'll be your
husband now? This is a trick, a cheat! and you ought all to be ashamed
of yourselves.
_Don Ant_. Hark ye, Isaac, do you dare to complain of tricking? Don
Jerome, I give you my word, this cunning Portuguese has brought all
this upon himself, by endeavouring to overreach you, by getting your
daughter's fortune, without making any settlement in return.
_Don Jer_. Overreach me!
_Don. Louisa_. 'Tis so, indeed, sir, and we can prove it to you.
_Don Jer_. Why, Gad, take me, it must be so, or he never could put up
with such a face as Margaret's--so, little Solomon, I wish you joy of
your wife, with all my soul.
_Don. Louisa_. Isaac, tricking is all fair in love--let you alone for
the plot!
_Don Ant_. A cunning dog, ar'n't you? A sly little villain, eh?
_Don. Louisa_. Roguish, perhaps; but keen, devilish keen!
_Don Jer_. Yes, yes; his aunt always called him little Solomon.
_Isaac_. Why, the plagues of Egypt upon you all! but do you think I'll
submit to such an imposition?
_Don Ant_. Isaac, one serious word--you'd better be content as you
are; for, believe me, you will find that, in the opinion of the world,
there is not a fairer subject for contempt and ridicule than a knave
become the dupe of his own art.
_Isaac_. I don't care--I'll not endure this. Don Jerome, 'tis you have
done this--you would be so cursed positive about the beauty of her you
locked up, and all the time I told you she was as old as my mother,
and as ugly as the devil.
_Duen_. Why, you little insignificant reptile! ----
_Don Jer_. That's right! --attack him, Margaret.
_Duen_. Dare such a thing as you pretend to talk of beauty? --A walking
rouleau? --a body that seems to owe all its consequence to the dropsy!
a pair of eyes like two dead beetles in a wad of brown dough! a beard
like an artichoke, with dry, shrivelled jaws that would disgrace the
mummy of a monkey?
_Don Jer_. Well done, Margaret!
_Duen_. But you shall know that I have a brother who wears a sword--
and, if you don't do me justice--
_Isaac_. Fire seize your brother, and you too! I'll fly to Jerusalem
to avoid you!
_Duen_. Fly where you will, I'll follow you.
_Don Jer_. Throw your snowy arms about him, Margaret. --[_Exeunt_ ISAAC
_and_ DUENNA. ] But, Louisa, are you really married to this modest
gentleman?
_Don.
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.
_Isaac_. Efecks, father, I should have guessed as much, for your nose
seems to be put to the blush more than any other part of your face.
_Paul_. Go, you're a wag.
_Don Ant_. But to the purpose, father--will you officiate for us?
_Paul_. To join young people thus clandestinely is not safe: and,
indeed, I have in my heart many weighty reasons against it.
_Don Ant_. And I have in my hand many weighty reasons for it. Isaac,
haven't you an argument or two in our favour about you?
_Isaac_. Yes, yes; here is a most unanswerable purse.
_Paul_. For shame! you make me angry: you forget who I am, and when
importunate people have forced their trash--ay, into this pocket here--
or into this--why, then the sin was theirs. --[_They put money into
his pockets_. ] Fie, now how you distress me! I would return it, but
that I must touch it that way, and so wrong my oath.
_Don Ant_. Now then, come with us.
_Isaac_. Ay, now give us our title to joy and rapture.
_Paul_. Well, when your hour of repentance comes, don't blame me.
_Don Ant_. [_Aside_. ] No bad caution to my friend Isaac. --[_Aloud_. ]
Well, well, father, do you do your part, and I'll abide the
consequences.
_Isaac_. Ay, and so will I.
_Enter_ DONNA LOUISA, _running_.
_Don. Louisa_. O Antonio, Ferdinand is at the porch, and inquiring for
us.
_Isaac_. Who? Don Ferdinand! he's not inquiring for me, I hope.
_Don Ant_. Fear not, my love; I'll soon pacify him.
_Isaac_. Egad, you won't. Antonio, take my advice, and run away; this
Ferdinand is the most unmerciful dog, and has the cursedest long
sword! and, upon my, soul, he comes on purpose to cut your throat.
_Don Ant_. Never fear, never fear.
_Isaac_. Well, you may stay if you will; but I'll get some one to
marry me: for by St. Iago, he shall never meet me again, while I am
master of a pair of heels. [_Runs out_. --DONNA LOUISA _lets down her
veil_. ]
_Enter_ DON FERDINAND.
_Don Ferd_. So, sir, I have met with you at last.
_Don Ant_. Well, sir.
_Don Ferd_. Base, treacherous man! whence can a false, deceitful soul,
like yours, borrow confidence, to look so steadily on the man you've
injured!
_Don Ant_. Ferdinand, you are too warm: 'tis true you find me on the
point of wedding one I loved beyond my life; but no argument of mine
prevailed on her to elope. --I scorn deceit, as much as you. By heaven
I knew not that she had left her father's till I saw her!
_Don Ferd_. What a mean excuse! You have wronged your friend, then,
for one, whose wanton forwardness anticipated your treachery--of this,
indeed, your Jew pander informed me; but let your conduct be
consistent, and since you have dared to do a wrong, follow me, and
show you have a spirit to avow it.
_Don. Louisa_. Antonio, I perceive his mistake--leave him to me.
_Paul_. Friend, you are rude, to interrupt the union of two willing
hearts.
_Don Ferd_. No, meddling priest! the hand he seeks is mine.
_Paul_. If so, I'll proceed no further. Lady, did you ever promise
this youth your hand? [_To_ DONNA LOUISA, _who shakes her head_. ]
_Don Ferd_. Clara, I thank you for your silence--I would not have
heard your tongue avow such falsity; be't your punishment to remember
that I have not reproached you.
_Enter_ DONNA CLARA, _veiled_.
_Don. Clara_. What mockery is this?
_Don Ferd_. Antonio, you are protected now, but we shall meet.
[_Going_, DONNA CLARA _holds one arm, and_ DONNA LOUISA _the other_. ]
DUET.
_Don. Louisa_.
Turn thee round, I pray thee,
Calm awhile thy rage.
_Don. Clara_.
I must help to stay thee,
And thy wrath assuage.
_Don. Louisa_.
Couldst thou not discover
One so dear to thee?
_Don. Clara_.
Canst thou be a lover,
And thus fly from me? [_Both unveil_. ]
_Don Ferd_. How's this? My sister! Clara, too--I'm confounded.
_Don. Louisa_. 'Tis even so, good brother.
_Paul_. How! what impiety? did the man want to marry his own sister?
_Don. Louisa_.
And ar'n't you ashamed of yourself not to know your own
sister?
_Don. Clara_. To drive away your own mistress----
_Don. Louisa_. Don't you see how jealousy blinds people?
_Don. Clara_. Ay, and will you ever be jealous again?
_Don Ferd_. Never--never! --You, sister, I know will forgive me--but
how, Clara, shall I presume----
_Don. Clara_. No, no; just now you told me not to tease you--"Who do
you want, good signor? " "Not you, not you! " Oh you blind wretch! but
swear never to be jealous again, and I'll forgive you.
_Don Ferd_. By all----
_Don. Clara_. There, that will do--you'll keep the oath just as well.
[_Gives her hand_. ]
_Don. Louisa_. But, brother, here is one to whom some apology is due.
_Don Ferd_. Antonio, I am ashamed to think----
_Don Ant_. Not a word of excuse, Ferdinand--I have not been in love
myself without learning that a lover's anger should never be resented.
But come--let us retire, with this good father, and we'll explain to
you the cause of this error.
GLEE AND CHORUS.
Oft does Hymen smile to hear
Wordy vows of feign'd regard;
Well, he knows when they're sincere,
Never slow to give reward
For his glory is to prove
Kind to those who wed for love. [_Exeunt_. ]
SCENE VII--_A Grand Saloon in_ DON JEROME'S _House_.
_Enter_ DON JEROME, LOPEZ, _and_ SERVANTS.
_Don Jer_. Be sure, now, let everything be in the best order--let all
my servants have on their merriest faces: but tell them to get as
little drunk as possible, till after supper. --[_Exeunt_ SERVANTS. ] So,
Lopez, where's your master? shan't we have him at supper?
_Lop_. Indeed, I believe not, sir--he's mad, I doubt! I'm sure he has
frighted me from him.
_Don Jer_. Ay, ay, he's after some wench, I suppose: a young rake!
Well, well, we'll be merry without him. [_Exit_ LOPEZ. ]
_Enter a_ SERVANT.
_Ser_. Sir, here is Signor Isaac. [_Exit_. ]
_Enter_ ISAAC.
_Don Jer_. So, my dear son-in-law--there, take my blessing and
forgiveness. But where's my daughter? where's Louisa?
_Isaac_. She's without, impatient for a blessing, but almost afraid to
enter.
_Don Jer_. Oh, fly and bring her in. --[_Exit_ ISAAC. ] Poor girl, I
long to see her pretty face.
_Isaac_. [_Without_. ] Come, my, charmer! my trembling angel!
_Re-enter_ ISAAC _with_ DUENNA; DON JEROME _runs to meet them; she
kneels_.
_Don Jer_. Come to my arms, my--[_Starts back_. ] Why, who the devil
have we here?
_Isaac_. Nay, Don Jerome, you promised her forgiveness; see how the
dear creature droops!
_Don Jer_. Droops indeed! Why, Gad take me, this is old Margaret! But
where's my daughter? where's Louisa?
_Isaac_. Why, here, before your eyes--nay, don't be abashed, my sweet
wife!
_Don Jer_. Wife with a vengeance! Why, zounds! you have not married
the Duenna!
_Duen_. [_Kneeling_. ] Oh, dear papa! you'll not disown me, sure!
_Don Jer_. Papa! papa! Why, zounds! your impudence is as great as your
ugliness!
_Isaac_. Rise, my charmer, go throw your snowy arms about his neck,
and convince him you are----
_Duen_. Oh, sir, forgive me! [_Embraces him_. ]
_Don Jer_. Help! murder!
_Enter_ SERVANTS.
_Ser_. What's the matter, sir?
_Don Jer_. Why, here, this damned Jew has brought an old harridan to
strangle me.
_Isaac_. Lord, it is his own daughter, and he is so hard-hearted he
won't forgive her!
_Enter_ DON ANTONIO _and_ DONNA LOUISA; _they kneel_.
_Don Jer_. Zounds and fury! what's here now? who sent for you, sir,
and who the devil are you?
_Don Ant_. This lady's husband, sir.
_Isaac_. Ay, that he is, I'll be sworn; for I left them with a priest,
and was to have given her away.
_Don Jer_. You were?
_Isaac_. Ay; that's my honest friend, Antonio; and that's the little
girl I told you I had hampered him with.
_Don Jer_. Why, you are either drunk or mad--this is my daughter.
_Isaac_. No, no; 'tis you are both drunk and mad, I think--here's your
daughter.
_Don Jer_. Hark ye, old iniquity! will you explain all this, or not?
_Duen_. Come then, Don Jerome, I will--though our habits might inform
you all. Look on your daughter, there, and on me.
_Isaac_. What's this I hear?
_Duen_. The truth is, that in your passion this morning you made a
small mistake; for you turned your daughter out of doors, and locked
up your humble servant.
_Isaac_. O Lud! O Lud! here's a pretty fellow, to turn his daughter
out of doors, instead of an old Duenna!
_Don Jer_. And, O Lud! O Lud! here's a pretty fellow, to marry an old
Duenna instead of my daughter! But how came the rest about?
_Duen_. I have only to add, that I remained in your daughter's place,
and had the good fortune to engage the affections of my sweet husband
here.
_Isaac_. Her husband! why, you old witch, do you think I'll be your
husband now? This is a trick, a cheat! and you ought all to be ashamed
of yourselves.
_Don Ant_. Hark ye, Isaac, do you dare to complain of tricking? Don
Jerome, I give you my word, this cunning Portuguese has brought all
this upon himself, by endeavouring to overreach you, by getting your
daughter's fortune, without making any settlement in return.
_Don Jer_. Overreach me!
_Don. Louisa_. 'Tis so, indeed, sir, and we can prove it to you.
_Don Jer_. Why, Gad, take me, it must be so, or he never could put up
with such a face as Margaret's--so, little Solomon, I wish you joy of
your wife, with all my soul.
_Don. Louisa_. Isaac, tricking is all fair in love--let you alone for
the plot!
_Don Ant_. A cunning dog, ar'n't you? A sly little villain, eh?
_Don. Louisa_. Roguish, perhaps; but keen, devilish keen!
_Don Jer_. Yes, yes; his aunt always called him little Solomon.
_Isaac_. Why, the plagues of Egypt upon you all! but do you think I'll
submit to such an imposition?
_Don Ant_. Isaac, one serious word--you'd better be content as you
are; for, believe me, you will find that, in the opinion of the world,
there is not a fairer subject for contempt and ridicule than a knave
become the dupe of his own art.
_Isaac_. I don't care--I'll not endure this. Don Jerome, 'tis you have
done this--you would be so cursed positive about the beauty of her you
locked up, and all the time I told you she was as old as my mother,
and as ugly as the devil.
_Duen_. Why, you little insignificant reptile! ----
_Don Jer_. That's right! --attack him, Margaret.
_Duen_. Dare such a thing as you pretend to talk of beauty? --A walking
rouleau? --a body that seems to owe all its consequence to the dropsy!
a pair of eyes like two dead beetles in a wad of brown dough! a beard
like an artichoke, with dry, shrivelled jaws that would disgrace the
mummy of a monkey?
_Don Jer_. Well done, Margaret!
_Duen_. But you shall know that I have a brother who wears a sword--
and, if you don't do me justice--
_Isaac_. Fire seize your brother, and you too! I'll fly to Jerusalem
to avoid you!
_Duen_. Fly where you will, I'll follow you.
_Don Jer_. Throw your snowy arms about him, Margaret. --[_Exeunt_ ISAAC
_and_ DUENNA. ] But, Louisa, are you really married to this modest
gentleman?
_Don.
