Opening…

Introduction

George Digby, Earl of Bristol, was the author of the following play. He was, as Mr. Walpole[1] observes, "a singular person, whose life was one contradiction. He wrote against Popery, and embraced it; he was a zealous opposer of the Court, and a sacrifice for it; was conscientiously converted in the midst of his prosecution of Lord Strafford, and was most unconscientiously a prosecutor of Lord Clarendon. With great parts, he always hurt himself and his friends; with romantic bravery, he was always an unsuccessful commander. He spoke for the Test Act, though a Roman Catholic; and addicted himself to astrology on the birthday of true philosophy." The histories of England abound with the adventures of this inconsistent and eccentric nobleman who, amongst his other pursuits, esteemed the drama not unworthy of his attention. Downes, the prompter,[2] asserts that he wrote two plays between the years 1662 and 1665, made out of the Spanish; one called "'Tis better than it was," and the other entitled "Worse and Worse." Whether either of these is the present performance cannot now be ascertained. It is, however, at least probable to be one of them with a new title.[3] The same writer says he also joined with Sir Samuel Tuke in the composition of "The Adventures of Five Hours." "Elvira" was printed in the year 1667, and Mr Walpole imagines that it occasioned our author being introduced into Sir John Suckling's Session of Poets, a conjecture which, however, will by no means correspond with the time in which Lord Bristol and Sir John Suckling are supposed to have written the respective works before mentioned. From the notice taken of him by Sir John Suckling as a poet, he seems to have been the author of some pieces which are now lost to the world.[4] After a life, which at different periods of it commanded both the respect and contempt of mankind, and not unfrequently the same sentiments at one time, he died, neither loved nor regretted by any party, in the year 1676.

[A MS. note in one of the former editions says: "A play of pure intrigue.--Style feeble and drawling.--Plot extremely complicated, and quite unintelligible without a most fixed attention, which, however, the play has not merit enough to excite. July 1819."]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] "Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors," ii. 25.

[2] "Roscius Anglicanus," 1708, p. 25.

[3] P. 22.

[4] It is not easy to find out why this inference is drawn, since Sir J. Suckling only mentions him by name, with three others comparatively little known.

"Sands with Townshend, for they kept no order; Digby and Shillingsworth a little further."

"Session of the Poets."--Collier. [But the Digby here mentioned was Sir Kenelm Digby, surely.]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

+Don Julio Rocca.+ +Don Pedro de Mendoça.+ +Don Fernando Solis+, in love with Donna Elvira. +Don Zancho de Moneçes+, in love with Donna Blanca. +Fabio+, servant to Don Fernando. +Fulvio+, servant to Don Pedro. +Chichon+, servant to Don Zancho. +A Page.+

+Donna Elvira+, a beautiful lady, Don Pedro's daughter. +Donna Blanca+, a lady of high spirit, Don Julio's sister. +Francisca+, Donna Blanca's woman.

Scene, Valencia.

ELVIRA; OR, THE WORST NOT ALWAYS TRUE.[5]

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Act I

The room in the inn.

_Enter +Don Fernando+, and at another door his servant +Fabio+, both in riding-clothes._

+Don F.+ Have you not been with him, Fabio, and given him The note?

+Fab.+ I found him newly got out of his bed; He seem'd much satisfied, though much surpris'd, With your arrival; and as soon as possibly He can get ready, he'll be with you here. He says he hopes some good occasion brings you To Valencia, and that he shall not be At quiet till he know it. 'Twas not fit For me, without your orders, to give him Any more light than what your ticket did.

+Don. F.+ 'Tis well: go now, and see if Donna Elvira Be stirring yet, for I would gladly have her A witness, even at first, to what shall pass Betwixt my friend and me in our concernments: If she be still asleep, Fabio, make bold To knock, and wake her; w' have no time to lose. O, here she comes. Wait you Don Julio. [Exit +Fabio+.

Enter +Donna Elvira+.

+Elv.+ Ah! can you think my cares and sleep consistent? Slumber and tears have sometimes met in dreams; But hearts, with such a weight as mine opprest, Find still the heaviest sleep too light a guest.

+Don F.+ Madam, though such least pity do deserve, Who by their own unsteadiness have drawn Misfortune on themselves, yet truly, Elvira, Such is my sense of yours and my compassion, To see a lady of your quality Brought to such sad extremes in what is dearest, As makes me even forget my own resentments, Granting to pity the whole place of love; And at that rate I'll serve you. Yet thus far You must allow the eruption of a heart So highly injur'd, as to tell you frankly, 'Tis to comply with my own principles Of honour now, without the least relation To former passion or to former favours.

+Elv.+ Those you have found a ready way to cancel; Your sullen silence, during all our journey, Might well have spar'd you these superfluous words; That had sufficiently instructed me What power mere appearances have had, Without examination, to destroy With an umbrageous nature all that love Was ever able on the solid'st grounds To found and to establish. Yet, methinks, A man that boasts such principles of honour, And of such force to sway him in his actions, In spite of all resentments, should reflect, That honour does oblige to a suspense, At least of judgment, when surprising chances, Yet uninquired into, tempt gallant men To prejudicial thoughts of those with whom They had settled friendship upon virtuous grounds. But 'tis from Heav'n, I see, and not from you, Elvira must expect her vindication; And until then submit to th' hardest fate That ever can befall a generous spirit-- Of being oblig'd by him that injures her.

+Don F.+ Nay, speak, Elvira, speak; you've me attentive: [With a kind of scornful accent. It were a wonder worthy of your wit To make me trust my ears before my eyes.

+Elv.+ Those are the witnesses, indeed, Fernando, To whose true testimony's false inference You owe my moderation and my silence, And that I leave it to the gods and time To make appear both to the world and you The maxim false, that still the worst proves true.

Enter +Fabio+.

+Fab.+ Don Julio is without.

+Don F.+ Wait on him in---- [Exit +Fabio+. And now, Elvira, If you'll be pleas'd to rest yourself awhile Within that closet, you may hear what passes Betwixt my friend and me, until such time As I by some discourse having prevented Too great surprise, you shall think fit t' appear. He is the man (as I have often told you During my happy days) for whom alone I have no reserves; and 'tis to his assistance That I must owe the means of serving you In the concernments of your safety and honour; And therefore, madam, 'twill be no offence, I hope, to trust him with the true occasion That brings me hither to employ his friendship; Observing that respect in the relation Which I shall always pay you.

+Elv.+ [Retiring as into the closet.] There needs no management in the relation. I am indifferent what others think, Since those who ought t' have thought the best have fail'd me: Sir, I obey, resign'd up to your conduct, Till mistress of my own. [Exit.

Enter +Don Julio+: +Don Fernando+ and he embrace.

+Don J.+ My joy to have my dear Fernando here So unexpectedly, as great as 'tis, Cannot make Julio insensible Of th' injury you have done him, t' have alighted, And pass'd a night within Valencia At any other place than at his house: Donna Blanca herself will scarce forgive it, When she shall know it.

+Don F.+ I hope she's well.

+Don J.+ She is so, thanks to heaven: But I must bid you expect a chiding from her.

+Don F.+ You both might well accuse me of a failure, Did not th' occasion of my coming hither Bring with it an excuse, alas! too just, As you will quickly find.

+Don J.+ Nay, then you raise disquiet; ease me quickly, By telling me what 'tis. Of this be sure: Heart, hand and fortune are entirely yours At all essays.

+Don. F.+ [After pausing awhile.] It is not new t' ye that I was a lover, Engaged in all the passion that e'er beauty, In height of its perfection, could produce; And that confirm'd by reason from her wit, Her quality and most unblemish'd conduct; Nor was there more to justify my love, Than to persuade my happiness in her Just correspondence to it, by all the ways Of honourable admission, that might serve To make esteem transcend the pitch of love.

+Don J.+ Of all this I have not only had knowledge, But great participation in your joys: Than which I thought nothing more permanent, Since founded on such virtue as Elvira's.

+Don F.+ Ah, Julio! how fond a creature is the man That founds his bliss upon a woman's firmness! Even that Elvira, when I thought myself Securest in my happiness, nothing wanting To make her mine, but those exterior forms, Without which men of honour, that pretend In way of marriage, would be loth to find Greater concession, where the love is greatest; As I was sitting with her, late at night, By usual admittance to her chamber, As two whose hearts in wedlock-bands were join'd, And seem'd above all other care, but how Best to disguise things to a wayward father, Till time and art might compass his consent; A sudden noise was heard in th' inner room, Belonging to her chamber: she starts up In manifest disorder, and runs in, Desiring me to stay till she had seen What caus'd it. I, impatient, follow, As fearing for her, had it been her father: My head no sooner was within the room, But straight I spied, behind a curtain shrinking, A goodly gallant, but not known to me.

+Don J.+ Heavens, what can this be?

+Don F.+ You will not think that there, and at that hour, I stay'd to ask his name. He ready as I To make his sword th' expresser of his mind, We soon determin'd what we sought: I hurt But slightly in the arm; he fell as slain, Run through the body: what Elvira did, My rage allow'd me not to mark: but straight I got away, more wounded to the heart Than he I left for dead.

+Don J.+ Prodigious accident! where can it end?

+Don F.+ I got safe home where, carefully conceal'd, I sought by Fabio's diligence to learn Who my slain rival was, and what became Of my unhappy mistress, and what course Don Pedro de Mendoça took to right The honour of his house.

+Don J.+ You long'd not more To know it then, than I do now.

+Don F.+ All could be learn'd was this: that my rival, Whom I thought dead, was likely to recover, And that he was a stranger lately come Up to the court, to follow some pretensions: His name he either learn'd not perfectly, Or did not well retain. As for Elvira, That none knew where she was; and that Don Pedro Had set a stop to prosecution In any public way, with what reserves Was not yet known.

+Don J.+ More and more intricate.

+Don F.+ I must now come to that you least look for. I had but few days pass'd in my concealment (Resentment and revenge still boiling in me) When late one evening, as I buried was In deepest thought, I suddenly was rous'd By a surprising apparition, Julio-- Elvira in my chamber, speaking to me With rare assurance thus:--Don Fernando, I come not here to justify myself, That were below Elvira towards one, Whose action in deserting me hath shown So disobligingly his rash judgment of me. I come to mind you of honour, not of love: Mine can protection seek from none but yours. I've hitherto been shelter'd from the fury Of my enrag'd father by my cousin Camilla: But that's no place, you easily may judge, For longer stay: I do expect from you To be convey'd where, free from violence And from new hazards of my wounded fame, I may attend my righting from the gods.

+Don J.+ Can guilt maintain such confidence in a maid? Yet how to think her innocent, I know not.

+Don F.+ 'Twere loss of time to dwell on circumstances, Either of my wonder or reply: in short, What I found honour dictated, I did. Within two hours, I put her in a coach, And, favour'd by the night, convey'd her safe Out of Madrid to Ocana, and thence In three days hither to Valencia, The only place where (by your generous aid) I could have hopes to settle and secure Her person and her honour. That once done, Farewell to Spain: I'll to the wars of Milan, And there soon put a noble end to cares.

+Don J.+ Let us first think how to dispose of her, Since here you say she is; that done (which presses), You will have time to weigh all other things.

+Don F.+ My thoughts can pitch upon no other way Decent or safe for her, but in a convent, If you have any abbess here to friend.

+Don J.+ I have an aunt, ruling the Ursulines, With whom I have full power; and she is wise, In case that course were to be fix'd upon. But that's not my opinion.

+Don F.+ What can Your reason be?

+Don J.+ Last remedies, in my judgment, Are not to be used, till easier have been tried. Had this strange accident been thoroughly Examined in all its circumstances, And that from thence she were convicted guilty, Nought else were to be thought on but a cloister; But, as things stand imperfectly discover'd, Although appearances condemn her strongly, I cannot yet conclude a person guilty Of what throughout so contradictory seems To the whole tenor of her former life, As well as to her quality and wit; And therefore let's avoid precipitation, Let my house be her shelter for awhile; You know my sister Blanca is discreet, And may be trusted; she shall there be serv'd By her and me with care and secrecy.

+Don F.+ The offer's kind, but nowise practicable, And might prove hazardous to Blanca's honour, When it should once break out (as needs it must) From servants seeing such a guest so treated.

+Don J.+ That, I confess, I know not how to answer: But, could Elvira's mind submit unto it, I could propose a course without objection.

+Don F.+ That she can soon resolve; what is it, Julio?

+Don J.+ A gentlewoman, who waited on my sister, Hath newly left her service for a husband, And it is known she means to take another: I have a ready way to recommend one-- By Violante, of whose love and mine You are not ignorant, since that ere this We had been married, had not kindred forc'd us To wait a dispensation for 't from Rome. Blanca (I am sure) will readily Embrace any occasion of obliging her.

+Don F.+ That were a right expedient indeed, Could but Elvira's spirit brook it.

Enter +Elvira+ as from the closet.

+Elv.+ You have ill measures of Elvira's spirit, Mistaken Don Fernando. Till Heaven's justice Shall her entirely to herself restore, The lowlier shape her fate shall hide her under, The more 'twill fit her humour. [+Don Julio+ starts back as it were amazed.

+Don J.+ [Aside.] O heavens! can guilt with such perfection dwell, And put on such assurance? It cannot be.

+Don J.+ [Addressing himself to her, and beginning; she holding out her hand and interrupting him.] Madam----

+Elv.+ Spare compliments, and let your actions speak: Those may oblige both him and me; your words Cannot comply with both.

+Don J.+ [Aside.] Did ever yet Such majesty with misery combine, But in this woman? [To her.] Madam, I obey, And, since you're pleas'd t' approve what I proposed, No moment shall be lost in th' execution.

[Exit +Julio+, +Fernando+ accompanying him, and +Fabio+.

+Elv.+ O, how unkindly have the heavens dealt With womankind above all other creatures! Our pleasure and our glory to have placed All on the brink of precipices, such As every breath can blow the least light of us Headlong into, past all hopes of redemption: Nor can our wit or virtue give exemption. 'Tis true, I lov'd; but justified therein By spotless thoughts and by the object's merit, I deem'd myself above the reach of malice; When in an instant, by another's folly, I am more lost than any by her[6] own. Accurs'd Don Zancho, what occasion E'er gave Elvira to thy mad intrusion? Unless disdain and scorn incentives are To make men's passions more irregular. Ah, matchless rigour of the Pow'rs above! Not only to submit our honour's fate Unto the vanity of those we love, But to the rashness even of those we hate. [Exit.

_Enter +Donna Blanca+ at one door, reading a paper, with great marks of passion and disturbance; and her waiting-woman +Francisca+ at another, observing her._

+Blan.+ Ah, the traitor!

+Fran.+ What can this mean? [Aside.

+Blan.+ Was this thy sweet pretension at Madrid, Drawn out in length, and hind'ring thy return? Thy fair pretence, thou shouldst have said, false man.

+Fran.+ For love's sake, madam, what can move you thus?

+Blan.+ For hate's sake, say, and for revenge, Francisca, And so thou may'st persuade me to discover My shame unto thee. Read, read that letter; 'Tis from your favourite Chichon.

[+Francisca+ takes the letter and reads it.

"Madam, to make good my engagements of concealing nothing from you during this absence of my master, I am bound to tell you that some ten days since, late at night, he was left for dead, run through the body by another unknown gallant, in the chamber of a famed beauty of the court. Whilst the danger continued, I thought it not fit to let you know either the accident or the occasion; which, now he is recovered, and thinking of his return to Valencia, I must no longer forbear. I hope you will have a care not to undo me for being more faithful to you than to the master you gave me.--Your creature,

"+Chichon.+"

+Blan.+ Have I not a worthy gallant, think you?

+Fran.+ Madam, this comes of being over-curious, And gaining servants to betray their masters. How quiet might you have slept, and never felt What pass'd with your Don Zancho at Madrid! His pale and dismal looks at his return, Though caus'd by loss of blood in the hot service Of other dames, might fairly have been thought Effects of care and want of sleep for you, And (taken so) have pass'd for new endearments. Who ever pry'd into another's letter, Or slyly hearken'd to another's whisper, But saw or heard somewhat that did not please him? 'Twas Eve's curiosity undid us all.

+Blan.+ Away with thy moralities,[7] dull creature! I'll make thee see, and false Don Zancho feel, That Blanca's not a dame to be so treated. But who are those I hear without? Whoe'er They be, they come at an unwelcome hour. [+Francisca+ looks out.

+Fran.+ Madam, it is a page of Violante's, Ushering [in] a handsome maid.

_Enter a Page with a letter, and +Elvira+. The Page presents the letter to +Blanca+; she addresses herself to +Elvira+, and she throws up her veil._

+Blan.+ This letter is in your behalf, fair maid, [Having read the letter. There's no denying such a recommender; But such a face as yours is needed none. Page, tell your lady as much: and you, Silvia, [Turning. (For so she says you are call'd) be confident Y'are fallen into the hands of one that knows How to be kind, more as your friend than mistress, If your demeanour and good-nature answer But what your looks do promise.

+Elv.+[8] Madam, it is the noble charity Of those you cast upon me, not mine own, To which I must acknowledge any advantage I ever can pretend to, more than what Fair Violante's meditation gives me.

+Blan.+ She's strangely handsome, and how well she speaks! [Aside to +Francisca+.

+Fran.+ So, so, methinks: you know new-comers, madam, Set still the best foot forward.

+Blan.+ And know as well, that you decaying stagers Are always jealous of new-comers, young And handsome.

+Fran.+ You may be as sharp upon me as you please; I know to what t' attribute your ill-humour.

+Blan.+ Francisca, entertain her: I'll go write To Violante, and then rest awhile, In hopes to ease the headache that hath seiz'd me; That done, sweet Silvia, we shall talk at leisure. [Exit +Blanca+.

+Fran.+ Sweet Silvia! kind epithets are for new faces. [Aside.

+Elv.+ Now comes the hard part of my task indeed, To act the fellow waiting-woman right. But, since the gods already have conform'd My mind to my condition, I do hope They'll teach me words and gestures suitable. [Aside. +Francisca+ embraces +Elvira+.

+Fran.+ Let me embrace thee, my sweet sister, and beg you To be no niggard of a little kindness: A very little serves, with such a face, To gain what heart you please.

+Elv.+ If it can help to gain me yours, I'll take it For the best office that it ever did me, And love it much the better.

+Fran.+ Make much on't then, for that 't has done already.

+Elv.+ If you will have me vain enough to think it, You must confirm it by the proof of being My kind instructor how to please my lady, For I am very raw in service.

+Fran.+ O, that I were so too, and had thy youth t' excuse it. But my experience, sister, shall be yours By free communication. Come, let's in, And rest us in my chamber; there I'll give you First handsel of the frankness of my nature. [Exeunt +Elvira+ and +Francisca+.

_Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ his man, in riding-habits._

+Don Z.+ I must confess, Chichon, the very smell Of sweet Valencia has e'en reviv'd my spirits. There's no such pleasure as to suck and breathe One's native air.

+Chi.+ Chiefly after being in so fair a way, As you, of never breathing any more!

+Don Z.+ Prythee, no more of that; since I have forgot it, Methinks thou easily may'st.

+Chi.+ Faith, hardly, sir, whilst still your ghastly face Doth bear such dismal memorandums of it, Apter to raise inquisitiveness in those Knowing nothing of the matter, than t' allay Remembrance in partakers.

+Don Z.+ Heaven shield us from Donna Blanca's queries! No matter for the rest.

+Chi.+ You would not wish to find her so unconcern'd; I'm sure you would not: faith, I long to hear Th' ingenious defeats, I make account, You are prepar'd to give to her suspicions.

+Don Z.+ Let me alone for that: but, on thy life, Be sure that nothing be screw'd out of thee, Neither by her nor by her sly Francisca.

+Chi.+ Be you, sir, sure, that from your true Chichon They'll know no more to-day, than yesterday They did; nor thence more to the world's end, Than what they did before we left Madrid.

+Don Z.+ Truly, Chichon, we needs must find the means To get a sight of her this very night: I die, if I should miss it.

+Chi.+ Last week left gasping for Elvira's love. And scarce reviv'd, when presently expiring For Blanca's again! I did not think Don Cupid Had been a merchant of such quick returns.

+Don Z.+ Thou art an ass, and want'st distinctiveness 'Twixt love and love: that was a love of sport To keep the serious one in breath.

+Chi.+ Faith, sir, I must confess my ignorance, That when I saw you grovelling in your blood, I thought your love had been in sober sadness.

+Don Z.+ Prythee, leave fooling, and let's carefully Gain the back way into my house unseen, That none may know of my return, till Blanca Find me at her feet. And be you industrious T' observe Don Julio's going forth this evening: Doubtless he'll keep his usual hours abroad At Violante's, since not married yet.

+Chi.+ I shall observe your orders punctually. [Exeunt.

Enter +Don Julio+, and knocks as at +Blanca's+ door.

+Don J.+ What, sister, at your siesta[9] already? if so, You must have patience to be wak'd out of it, For I have news to tell you.

Enter +Blanca+.

+Blan.+ No, brother, I was much more pleasingly Employ'd--in serving you; that is, making My court to Violante by receiving To wait upon me, in Lucilla's place, A gentlewoman of her recommending.

+Don J.+ Where is she? let me see her.

+Blan.+ 'Twere not safe: She is too handsome. You think now I jest? But, without raillery, she is so lovely, That, were not Violante very assur'd Of her own beauty and the strong ideas That still upholds within you, one might question Her wit to have set her in her gallant's way. But what's the news you mean?

+Don J.+ That our dear friend and kinsman, Don Fernando, Is come to town, and going for Italy: The secret of it doth so much import him, It forc'd him to forbear alighting here, And lodging with us, as he us'd to do; But yet he says, nothing shall hinder him From waiting on you in the dusk of th' evening: I hope you'll find wherewith to regale[10] him.

+Blan.+ As well as you have drain'd my cabinets Of late in presents to your mistress, some Perfumes will yet be found, such as at Rome Itself shall not disgrace Valencia.

+Don J.+ I know your humour, and that the best present Can be given you is to give you the occasion Of presenting; but I am come in now Only to advertise you, and must be gone; Yet not, I hope, without a sight of one So recommended and commended so.

+Blan.+ I should have thought you strangely chang'd in humour, Should you have gone away so uncuriously. Francisca, ho! [She knocks.

Enter +Francisca+.

+Fran.+ What please you, madam?

+Fran.+ Prythee, tell Silvia I would speak with her. [Exit +Francisca+. Well, clear your eyes, and say I have no skill, If she appears not t' ye exceeding handsome.

_Enter +Francisca+ with +Elvira+. +Don Julio+ salutes her._

+Don J.+ Welcome, fair maid, into this family, Where, whilst you take a servant's name upon you, To do my sister honour, you must allow Its master to be yours, and that by strongest ties, Knowing who plac'd you here, and having eyes.

+Elv.+ I wish my service, sir, to her and you May merit such a happy introduction.

+Don J.+ Farewell, sister, till anon: accompanied As now you are, I think you'll miss me little. [Exit +Julio+.

+Blan.+ I must confess, I ne'er could better spare you Than at this time, but not for any reason That you, I hope, can guess at. Francisca, you and Silvia may retire, [Exeunt +Elvira+ and +Francisca+. And entertain yourselves: I'll to my closet, And try to rest, or (rather) to vent freely My restless thoughts. O, the self-torturing part [Aside. To force complaisance from a jealous heart! [Exit.

FOOTNOTES:

[5] The errors Dodsley committed, and Reed allowed to remain, in the course of this play, were very numerous: it has been thought worth while to point out only a few of them in the notes.--Collier.

[6] The substitution of my for her, in opposition to the authority of the old copy, till now made this passage unintelligible.--Collier.

[7] In former editions misprinted--

"Away with thy formalities, dull creature!"--

which destroys all the spirit of the exclamation.--Collier.

[8] The old copy inserts in the margin opposite Elvira the words by the name of Silvia merely to show more distinctly that Elvira was to pass by that name, which is inserted before what she says.--Collier.

[9] The heat of the day, from noon forwards. So called from Hora Sexta, noonday, a time when the Spanish ladies retire to sleep.

[10] It is singular that in the old copy the author should here have inserted the Spanish verb regalar instead of the English one.--Collier.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

Act II

_Scene changes to the room in the inn. Enter +Don Julio+ and +Don Fernando+._

+Don J.+ Albricias,[11] friend, for the good news I bring you: All has fallen out as well as we could wish. As to Elvira's settling with my sister, So lucky a success in our first aims Concerning her, I trust, does bode good fortune Beyond our hopes; yet, in the farther progress Of this affair----

+Don F.+ There's no such thing in nature left as better, Julio; the worst proves always true with me. Yet prythee, tell, how does that noble beauty (Wherein high quality is so richly stamp'd) Comport her servile metamorphosis?

+Don J.+ As one whose body, as divine as 'tis, Seems bound to obey exactly such a mind, And gently take whate'er shape that imposes.

+Don F.+ Ah, let us mention her no more, my Julio! Ideas flow upon me too abstracted From her unfaithfulness, and may corrupt The firmest reason. Above all, be sure I do not see her so transform'd, lest that Transform me too: I'll rather pass with Blanca Both for unkind and rude, and leave Valencia Without seeing her.

+Don J.+ Leave that to me, Fernando; But if you intend the honour to my sister, It will be time: the night draws on apace.

+Don F.+ Come, let's begone then. [As they are going out, enter +Fabio+ hastily.

+Fab.+ Stay, sir, for heaven's sake, stay----

+Don F.+ Why, what's the matter?

+Fab.+ That will surprise you both, as much as me. Don Pedro de Mendoça is below, Newly alighted.

+Don F.+ Ha! What say'st thou, sirrah? Elvira's father?

+Fab.+ Sir, the very same; And he had scarcely set one foot to ground When he inquired, Where lives Don Julio Rocca?

+Don J.+ For my house, Fabio? It cannot be; I never knew the man.

+Don F.+ The thing does speak itself and my hard fate. What else can bring him hither but pursuit Of me and of his daughter, having learn'd The way we took? and what's so easy, Julio, Here at Valencia, as to know our friendship; And then of consequence, your house to be My likeliest retreat?

+Don J.+ 'Tis surely so; Let us apply our thoughts to best preventives.

+Don F.+ Whilst we retire into the inner room T' advise together, Fabio, be you sure (Since unknown to him) to observe his motions. [Exeunt omnes.

_Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+, as in the street near +Don Julio's+ house._

+Don Z.+ Newly gone out, say you? That is as lucky as we could have wish'd: And see but how invitingly the door Stands open still!

+Chi.+ An open door may lead to a face of wood; [Aside to +Don Zancho+. But mean you, sir, to go abruptly in Without more ceremony?

+Don Z.+ Surprise redoubles (fool) the joys of lovers. But stay, Chichon, let's walk aside awhile, Till yonder coach be past. [Exeunt.

_Scene changes to the room in the inn. Enter +Don Julio+ and +Don Fernando+._

+Don J.+ There's no safety in any other way. You must not stir from hence, until w' have got Some farther light what course he means to steer. Let Fabio be vigilant: I'll get home Down that back-stairs, and take such order there Not to be found, in case he come to inquire, As for this night at least shall break his measures; And in the morning we'll resolve together, Whether you ought to quit Valencia or no.

+Don F.+ Farewell, then, for to-night: I'll be alert. But see y' excuse me fairly to my cousin. [Exeunt.

_Scene changes to +Blanca's+ antechamber. Enter +Donna Blanca+ and +Francisca+._

+Blan.+ As well as Silvia pleases me, Francisca, I'm glad at present that she is not well, She would constrain me else: she has wit enough To descant on my humour, and from thence To make perhaps discoveries, not fit For such new-comers.

+Fran.+ If she has wit, she keep it to herself, At least from me: of pride and melancholy I see good store.

+Blan.+ Still envious and detracting?

Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+.

+Fran.+ See who comes there, madam, to stop your mouth!

[_+Donna Blanca+ casting an eye that way, and +Chichon+ clinging up close behind his master, and making a mouth._

+Chi.+ Sh' has spied us, and it thickens in the clear. I fear a storm: goes not your heart pit-a-pat? [To his master, aside.

+Blan.+ Ah, the bold traitor!--but I must dissemble, And give his impudence a little line, The better to confound him.

[Advancing to him, and as it were embracing him with an affected cheerfulness.

Welcome as unexpected, my Don Zancho.

+Don Z.+ Nay, then we are safe, Chichon. [Aside to +Chichon+. Incomparable maid! Heaven bless those eyes, From which I find a new life springing in me; Having so long been banish'd from their rays, How dark the court appear'd to me without them; Could it have kept me from their influence, As from their light, I had expir'd long since.

+Blan.+ Y' express your love now in so courtly a style, I fear you have acted it in earnest there, And but rehearse to me your country mistress.

+Don Z.+ Ah, let Chichon but tell you how he hath seen me During my absence from you.

+Chi.+ I vow I have seen him even dead for love. You might have found it in his very looks, Before you brought the blood into his cheeks.

+Blan.+ E'en dead (you say) for love! but say of whom?

+Don Z.+ Can Blanca ask a question so injurious, As well to her own perfections as my faith?

+Blan.+ I can hold no longer. [Aside to +Francisca+. My faithful lover, then it is not you---- [To him scornfully.

+Chi.+ She changes tone: I like not, faith, the key, The music will be jarring. [Aside to his master.

+Blan.+ 'Tis not then you, Don Zancho, who, having chang'd His suit at court into a love pretension, And his concurrents into a gallant rival, Fell by his hand, a bloody sacrifice At his fair mistress' feet: who was it, then?

[+Don Zancho+ stands awhile as amazed, with folded arms. +Chichon+ behind his master, holding up his hands, and making a pitiful face; +Francisca+ steals to him, and holding up her hand threateningly--

+Fran.+ A blab, Chichon, a pick-thank, peaching varlet! Ne'er think to look me in the face again. [Aside to +Chichon+.

+Chi.+ In what part shall I look thee, hast thou a worse? It is the devil has discover'd it-- Some witch dwells here: I've long suspected thee. [Aside to +Francisca+.

+Fran.+ I never more shall think thee worth my charms.

+Blan.+ What, struck dumb with guilt? perfidious man! That happens most to the most impudent, When once detected. Well, get thee hence, And see thou ne'er presum'st to come again Within these walls, or I shall let thee see 'Tis not at court alone, where hands are found To let such madmen blood.

[She turns as going away, and +Don Zancho+ holds her gently by the gown.

+Don Z.+ Give me but hearing, madam, and then if----

+Don J.+ What, ho! no lights below-stairs? [Aloud, as below.

+Fran.+ O heavens! madam, hear you not your brother? Into the chamber quickly, and let them Retire behind that hanging; there's a place, Where usually we throw neglected things. I'll take the lights and meet him: certainly His stay will not be long from Violante At this time of the night; besides, you know, He never was suspicious.

[_+Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ go behind the hanging, and +Donna Blanca+, retiring to her chamber, says--_

Capricious fate! must I who, whilst I lov'd him, Ne'er met with checking accident, fall now Into extremest hazards for a man, Whom I begin to hate? [Exit, and +Francisca+ at another door with the lights.

+Francisca+ re-enters with +Don Julio+.

+Don J.+ Where's my sister?

+Fran.+ In her chamber, sir, Not very well; she's taken with a megrim.

+Don J.+ Light me in to her.

[_Exit +Don Julio+, +Francisca+ lighting him with one of the lights. +Chichon+ peeping out from behind the hangings._

+Chi.+ If this be Cupid's prison, 'tis no sweet one. Here are no chains of roses; yet I think Y' had rather b' in 't than in Elvira's chamber, As gay and as perfum'd as 'twas.

+Don Z.+ Hold your peace, puppy; is this a time for fooling?

Enter +Francisca+, and +Chichon+ starts back.

+Fran.+ [Coming to the hanging.] Chichon, look out; you may, the coast is clear. [+Chichon+ looks out. Could I my lady's near concerns but sever From yours in this occasion, both of you Should dearly pay your falsehood.

+Chi.+ You are jealous too, I see; but help us out This once, and if you catch me here again, Let Chichon pay for all, faithful Chichon.

+Fran.+ Y' are both too lucky in the likelihood Of getting off so soon. Stay but a moment, Whilst I go down to see the wicket open, And see that there be nobody in the way. [Exit +Francisca+.

+Chi.+ It is a cunning drab, and knows her trade.

Re-enter +Francisca,+ and comes to the hanging.

+Fran.+ There's now some witch o' th' wing indeed, Chichon, Julio, that never till this night forbore To go to Violante's, ere he slept, And pass some hours there--Julio, who never Inquired after the shutting of a door, Hath lock'd the gate himself at 's coming in, And bid a servant wait below till midnight, With charge to say to any that should knock And ask for him, that he's gone sick to bed! What it can mean, I know not.

+Chi.+ I would I did not; but I have too true An almanac in my bones foretells a beating Far surer than foul weather. He has us, faith, Fast in Lob's-pound.[12] Heaven send him a light hand, To whom my fustigation shall belong: As for my master, he may have the honour To be rebuk'd at sharp.

+Fran.+ May terror rack this varlet; but for you, sir, Be not dismay'd, the hazard's not so great. Yonder balcony, at farther end o' th' room, Opens into the street, and the descent is Little beyond your height, hung by the arms: When Julio is asleep, I shall not fail To come and let you out; I keep the key. In the meanwhile, you must have patience.

+Chi.+ It were a nasty hole to stay in long. Did not my fear correct its evil savour. [Aside. Dame, you say well for him, with whom I think Y' have measur'd length, you speak so punctually Of his dimensions; but I see no care For me, your pretty, not your proper man, Who does abhor feats of activity. [To her.

+Fran.+ I'll help you--with a halter! [Exit +Francisca+, and +Chichon+ retires.

_Scene changes to +Blanca's+ Bed-chamber. Enter +Blanca+ and +Elvira+; and soon after +Francisca+, as in +Blanca's+ chamber, she sitting at her toilet undressing._

+Blan.+ My brother told me I should see him again, Before he went to rest.

+Fran.+ I think I hear him coming.

+Blan.+ He'll not stay long, I hope; for I am on thorns Till I know they are out. I' th' meanwhile, We must persuade Silvia to go to bed, Lest some odd chance should raise suspicion in her, Before I know her fitness for such trusts.

Enter +Don Julio+. +Elvira+ offers to unpin her gorget.

+Blan.+ I prythee, Silvia, leave, and get thee gone To bed: you ha'n't been well, nor are not yet; Your heavy eyes betray indisposition.

+Elv.+ Good madam, suffer me; 'twill make me well To do you service.

+Blan.+ Brother, I ask your help; [To Julio. Take Silvia hence, and see her in her chamber. This night she must be treated as a stranger, And you must do the honour of your house.

[+Julio+ goes to +Elvira+, and taking her by the hand, leads her away.

+Elv.+ Since you will not let me begin to serve, I will begin to obey. [Making a low curtsey.

+Fran.+ Quaint, in good faith! [Bridling.

+Don J.+ My sister's kinder than she thinks, to give me [To +Elvira+, as he leads her. This opportunity of telling Silvia How absolutely mistress in this place Elvira is. [+Francisca+ whispers all this while with +Blanca+.

+Elv.+ Good sir, forget that name. [Exeunt +Julio+ and +Elvira+.

+Blan.+ If that be so, what shall we do, Francisca? What way to get them out?

+Fran.+ It is a thing so unusual with him, It raises ominous thoughts, else I make sure To get them off as well as you can wish; But, if already awaken'd by suspicion, Nothing can then be sure.

+Blan.+ O, fear not that: what you have seen him do Of unaccustom'd, I dare say relates To quite another business.

+Fran.+ Then set your heart at rest from all disturbance Arising from this accident.

+Blan.+ If you are certain To get them off so clear from observation, 'Twill out of doubt be best: I'll tell my brother Don Zancho is return'd, and had call'd here This evening to have seen him; for my fears Sprang only from the hour and the surprise, Warm'd as he then had found me; since you know How little apt he is to jealousy.

+Fran.+ Madam, y' have reason; that will make all sure, In case he should be told of's being here; The time of's stay can hardly have been noted.

Enter +Don Julio+.

+Don J.+ As an obedient brother, I have perform'd What you commanded me.

+Blan.+ A hard injunction from a cruel sister, To wait upon a handsome maid to her chamber!

+Don J.+ You see I've not abused your indulgence By staying long; nor can I stay indeed With you, I must be abroad so early To-morrow morning; therefore, dear, good night.

+Blan.+ Stay, brother, stay; I had forgot to tell you [As he is going. Don Zancho de Moneçes is return'd, And call'd this evening here t' have kiss'd your hands. Francisca spake with him.

+Don J.+ I hope he's come successful in his suit: To-morrow I'll go see him. [Exit +Don Julio+.

+Blan.+ You see he's free from umbrage on that subject.

+Fran.+ I see all's well, and may he sleep profoundly-- The sooner, madam, you are abed the better.

+Blan.+ Would once my fears were over, that my rage Might have its course.

+Fran.+ I shall not stop it, But after it has had its full career 'Twill pause, I hope, and reason find an ear. [Exeunt.

_Scene changes to the room in the inn. Enter +Don Fernando+ and +Fabio+._

+Don F.+ Is he gone out?

+Fab.+ No, sir, not as yet; But seeing the servant he had sent abroad Newly return'd, I listen'd at his door, And heard him plainly give him this account-- That he had found Don Julio Rocca's house, And having knock'd a good while at the door, Answer was made him without opening it, Don Julio's not at home; whereat Don Pedro Impatient rose, and, calling for his cloak And sword, he swore he'd rather wait himself Till midnight at his door, than lose a night In such a pressing business.--This I thought Fit to acquaint you with, and that he spake Doubtfully of his returning to lodge here.

+Don F.+ You have done well, but must do better yet, In following him, and being sure to lose No circumstance of what he does.

+Fab.+ To dog him possibly might be observ'd, This moonlight, by his servant; but since, sir, We're certain whither he goes, my best course (I think) will be to go out the back-way, And place myself beforehand in some porch Near Julio's house, where I may see and hear What passes, and then do as I shall see cause.

+Don F.+ 'Tis not ill thought on; but how late soever Your return be, I shall expect to see you, Before we go to bed.

+Fab.+ I shall not fail. [Exeunt.

_Scene changes to +Donna Blanca's+ antechamber. Enter +Francisca+, and goes to the hanging where +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ are hid._

+Fran.+ Ho! trusty servant with his faithful master! Come out; the balcony's open, lose no time, Julio's abed, and fast asleep ere this-- There's nobody in the street, it is so light One may discover a mile; therefore be quick.

[_+Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ come out from behind the hanging, and follow her, as leading to the balcony._ [Exeunt.

[_And soon after +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ appear as in the balcony, and +Francisca's+ head as peeping out of the door into it._

_Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter +Fabio+ as in the street, and settling himself in a porch._

+Fab.+ Here is a porch, as if 'twere built on purpose. [+Fabio+, looking up, perceives them in the balcony.

Ha! here's a vision that I little dreamt of. Stand close, Fabio, and mum!

[_+Don Zancho+ gets over the balcony, and letting himself down at arm's length, leaps gently into the street. +Chichon+ offers at the like, but takes a fall as he lights, and (rising) counterfeits lameness. +Francisca+ retires, and locks the balcony._

+Chi.+ Curse on the drab, I think I've broke my leg.

+Fab.+ The moon has turn'd my brains, or I have seen That person somewhere, and that very lately-- [He pauses, scratching his head. But, sure, I'm mad to think it can be he.

[Exeunt +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+, as turning down the next street.

Enter +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+.

+Fab.+ O, now I see my men. [Retiring into the porch.

+Don P.+ This is the street, you say; which is the house?

+Fulv.+ That fair one, over against the monastery. Shall I go knock?

+Don P.+ What else? [+Fulvio+ knocks at +Don Julio's+ door, and nobody answers.

+Don P.+ Knock harder. [He knocks again, and one asks as from within, Who's there?

+Don P.+ A stranger, who must needs speak with Don Julio, Although unknown to him: my business presses.

+From within.+ Whoe'er you be, and whatsoe'er your business, You must have patience till to-morrow, sir. Don Julio went sick to bed, and I dare not Wake him.

+Don P.+ Fortune takes pleasure, sure, in disappointing, When men are press'd with most impatience; But, since there is no remedy, guide, Fulvio, Unto the lodging y' have provided for me; I hope 'tis near at hand.

+Fulv.+ Not above three doors from Don Julio's, There, where it makes the corner of the street. [Pointing.

+Fab.+ Here I must follow, till I've harbour'd them. [Exeunt; +Fabio+ stealing after them.

_Scene changes to a room in the inn. Enter +Don Fernando+ alone, as in his chamber._

+Don F.+ It cannot now be long, ere Fabio come, And 'twere in vain to go to bed before, For rest, I'm sure, I should not-- [He walks about the room pensively. Ah, my Elvira!--Mine? thou dost infect My very words with falsehood, when I name thee. Did ever mistress make a lover pay So dear as I for the short bliss she gave? What now I suffer in exchange of that, May make mankind afraid of joys excessive. But here he comes--

Enter +Fabio+.

Have you learn'd anything That's worth the knowing? [To +Fabio+.

+Fab.+ Two things I think considerable, sir: The one, that Julio hath found means to gain This night to cast your business in, without Admitting of Don Pedro, whose pressures Might have been troublesome, and urged you To hasty resolutions; whereas now You've time to take your measures. The other, sir, Is that Don Pedro lodges here no more, And consequently hath eas'd you of constraint, Whilst you rest here, and left the way more free For intercourse betwixt Don Julio and you. This more I must observe t' ye, that Don Pedro Took special care to have his lodging near Don Julio's house, whereby 'tis evident, That there he makes account his business lies.

+Don F.+ The news you bring me hath been worth your pains, And thanks t' ye for 't. I suppose that is all?

+Fab.+ Perhaps there's something else.

+Don F.+ Say, Fabio, what is't?

+Fab.+ Pray, sir, allow me This night to think, whether it be fit or no To tell it you; since 'tis a thing relates not, As I conceive, to you nor to your business; And yet, in the concernments of another, May trouble you.

+Don F.+ Be not o'erwise, I prythee. I will know What 'tis, since you have raised curiosity By such grimaces.

+Fab.+ You must be obey'd; but pray remember, sir, If afterwards I am call'd fool for my pains, Who made me so: but since I do not only Expect the fool, but ready to be thought A madman too, ere I have done my story, In this I will be wilful, not to tell it Till y' are abed, that I may run away-- So if you long to hear it, hasten thither. [Exit +Fabio+, as to the chamber within.

+Don F.+ Content, i'faith; you ask no great compliance. [Exit.

_Scene changes to the room in +Zancho's+ house. Enter +Don Zancho+; and +Chichon+, as at home, halting._

+Don Z.+ We're well come off from danger; would we were But half as well from Blanca's jealousy.

+Chi.+ Speak for yourself; I never came off worse. A pox upon your venery, it has made me Another Vulcan. [He halts about, grumbling.

+Don Z.+ Go, rest to-night, or grumble, as you please; But do not think limping will serve your turn To-morrow: faith, I'll make you stir your stumps. Think you a lover of my temper likely To sit down by it so?

+Chi.+ I'm sure I am only fit to sit down by it, Since I can hardly stand.

[He makes as if he would sit down, and +Don Zancho+ giving him a kick on the breech.

+Don Z.+ Coxcomb, come away.

+Chi.+ To-night's to-night: to-morrow's a new day.[13] [Exeunt.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] See an early note to "The Adventures of Five Hours" in the present volume.

[12] [i.e., In a snare. See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 200, where it is shown that the earlier phrase is Cob's pound.]

[13] [A common proverbial expression.]

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

Act III

_Enter +Don Fernando+ and +Fabio,+ as in the room in the inn._

+Don F.+ Are all things ready, Fabio, in case Don Julio, when he comes, conclude with me That I should be gone presently?

+Fab.+ Horses stand ready for you at the posthouse.

+Don F.+ 'Tis well; attend without. [Exit +Fabio+.

Enter +Don Julio+.

I see you sleep not in your friend's concerns, You are so early; and since so, the sooner We fix a resolution, certainly 'Twill be the better. 'Twas no small point gain'd, To frustrate for a night Don Pedro's aims, As Fabio tells me you have done; for he Ne'er quitted him an inch last night, until He had harboured him.

+Don J.+ What, has he left his lodging?

+Don F.+ That he has, And (which is more considerable) taken one Close by your house, which evidences clearly, Where his suspicions lie: that being so, I'm confident you'll be of my opinion For my dislodging from Valencia Immediately; for, Elvira being Already so well settled, nothing can So much endanger her discovery As my remaining longer in these parts.

+Don J.+ Were I but free as yesterday, Fernando, To think of nothing but Elvira and your Concernments, I must confess your absence From hence were to be wish'd: but, cousin, There's fallen out this very night a thing, Which shows how little I beholden am To fortune that, having so newly lent me The means of serving handsomely my friend, Calls back the debt already, and makes me As needing of your aid, as you of mine.

+Don. F.+ Ho! Fabio, forbid the horses presently. [+Fabio+ looks in. The least appearance, Julio, of my being [To +Julio+. Useful to you by staying puts an end To all deliberation for myself; Say, what's the accident? you have me ready.

+Don J.+ Such and of such a nature, my Fernando, That, as to be communicated to none But you (another self), so I am sure It will astonish you with the rehearsal. Ah! could you think it possible, that Blanca Should raise disturbance in the heart of Julio, As to the honour of his family?

+Don F.+ Heavens forbid!

+Don J.+ Never was brother so secure as I, Or so unalterable in his persuasion, Of having a sister of unmatch'd discretion; Nor e'er could less than evidence itself Have shaken such a confidence.

+Don F.+ For God's sake, Julio, Hold me no longer in such pain of mind. But, sure, we shall be better there within, Free from the noise of the street.

+Don J.+ You say well. [Exit +Julio+.

+Don F.+ [As he follows him, aside.] This is what Fabio told me he saw last night, Discovered by some accident to Julio; It can be nothing else. O women, women! [Exit +Fernando+.

Enter +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+, as in their new lodgings.

+Don P.+ I am glad you have lighted on so fit a place For all I intend, as this is, Fulvio. I shall repair the last night's disappointment By early care this morning: in the meanwhile, Fail not of your part in the discovery Where my enemy dwells, and i' th' observation Of all his motions; that's the important part.

+Fulv.+ Rely, sir, on my care and vigilance.

[Exeunt +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+.

_Enter +Don Julio+ and +Don Fernando+, as in the outward room of the inn._

+Don J.+ It is a quarter Always reserv'd to my own privacy. There lying unsuspected, if, whilst I Continue late abroad, under pretence Of being at Violante's, you keep watch Carefully within, he cannot 'scape us: So you be sure to observe punctually The sign agreed, and bolting of the doors, When he is once within.

+Don F.+ Since you have so resolv'd and laid your business, Dispose of me, and lead the way, whilst I Give Fabio his instruction what to do During my absence. [Exeunt +Fernando+ and +Julio+.

_Enter +Donna Blanca+ and +Francisca+, as in +Blanca's+ antechamber._

+Fran.+ Since the black cloud, that threaten'd you last night With such a storm, is luckily blown over Without a sprinkling, I hope, madam, you Will imitate the Fates, and grow serene From all those clouds which so much threaten'd others.

+Blan.+ Ah! Francisca, canst thou--

[She stops, seeing +Elvira+ coming.

Enter +Elvira+, with a fine basin of flowers.

But here's Silvia. O, the sharp thorns she brings me at this time, With flowers in her hand, by the constraint Her presence gives me! [Aside.

+Elv.+ Madam, I wish the 'ranging of these flowers May be to your mind; but alas, I fear I am too dull for works of fancy.

+Blan.+ 'Tis me you find too dull to relish them: Anon they may be welcomer.

+Elv.+ I'll wait that happy hour. [Aside.] She's in ill humour. [Exit +Elvira+.

+Blan.+ But tell me now, didst ever see, Francisca, So false and bold a creature? The impudence He had to clothe his treachery with new courtships, Provokes me most of all.

+Fran.+ Last night indeed, incens'd as you were, madam, I fain would know what air so soft and gentle He could have breath'd, would not have blown the flame Higher and higher; but methinks your pillow Should in so many hours have had some power T' allay and mollify: I then complied (He present) with your anger; but now, madam, You must allow me to speak reason t' you In his behalf, before you go too far, And put things in your passion past recal, Which, that once over, you would give your life To have again.

+Blan.+ Pray, think me not so tame.

+Fran.+ So tame, say you? I think you wild, I swear, To take so much to heart, what at the most Deserves but some such sparkling brisk resentment, As, once flash'd out in a few choleric words, Ought to expire in a next visit's coyness.

+Blan.+ Make you so slight of infidelity?

+Fran.+ Cupid forbid! I'd have men true to love; But I'd have women, too, true to themselves, And not rebuke their gallants by requiring More than the nature of frail flesh will bear. I'd have men true as steel; but steel, you know, (The purest and best-polish'd steel) will ply, Urg'd from its rectitude, forsooth; but then With a smart spring comes to its place again.

+Blan.+ Come, leave your fooling, and speak soberly.

+Fran.+ Why then, in sober sadness, you're i' th' wrong-- I do not say in being angry with him, And nettled at the thing--that's natural. We love no partners, even in what we know We cannot keep all to ourselves: but, madam, To think the worse of him for it: or resolve A breach of friendship for a slight excursion, That were a greater fault than his, who has For one excuse long absence; and in truth Another you'd be sorry he wanted--youth.

+Blan.+ You talk as if----

+Fran.+ [interrupting her.] Stay, madam, I beseech you, And let me make an end: I have not yet Touch'd the main point in his excuse, a suit At court, enough I trow for any dog-trick.

+Blan.+ How like a goose you talk! a court pretension! What has that to do, one way or other, With his faith to me?

+Fran.+ So one, displeased to find his crawfishes Shrivell'd within and empty, said to his cook (Who laid the fault upon the wane o' th' moon): What has the moon to do with crawfishes? Marry, she has, 'tis she that governs shell-fish; And 'tis as true, in courts that love rules business By as preposterous an influence.

+Blan.+ I prythee, make an end, or come to th' point.

+Fran.+ Why, then, I'll tell you: you may believe me (Having been train'd up in my youth, you know, In the best school to learn court mysteries, An aunt of mine being mother of the maids), Love holds the rudder, and steers in all courts. How oft, when great affairs perplex the brains Of mighty politicians to conjecture, From whence sprung such designs, such revolutions: Such exaltations, madam, such depressions, Against the rules of their mysterious art; And when, as in surprising works of nature, Reason's confounded, men cry those are secrets Of the high pow'rs above, that govern all Grave lookers on, stroking their beards, would say, What a transcendent fetch of state is this! These are the things that wisdom hides and hatches Under black cap of weighty jobbernowl; I mean Count Olivarez. All the while, We female Machiavels would smile to think, How closely lurking lay the nick of all Under our daughter Doll's white petticoat.

+Blan.+ All this, I grant you, may be true, and yet Ne'er make a jot for his excuse, Francisca. His suit had no relation to such matters.

+Fran.+ Whate'er the thing be, 'tis all one. D' you think Suits, be they what they will, can be obtain'd By such as pass for fops, as all young men Without a mistress or a confidant Are sure to do there? A sharp-pointed hat (Now that you see the gallants all flat-headed) Appears not so ridiculous as a younker Without a love-intrigue to introduce And sparkify him there. Madam, in short, Allow me once to be sententious: It is a thing that always was, and is, And ever will be, true to the world's end: That, as in courts of justice, none can carry On business well without a procurator, So none in princes' courts their suits make surer, Than those that work them by the best procurer.

+Blan.+ [Smiling a little.] Well, hast done, Francisca?

+Fran.+ Madam, I have.

+Blan.+ Then letting pass Thy fine reflections politic, now vented To shew thy skill in courts, I'll tell thee freely, I'm not transported in my jealousy So far beyond the bounds of reason, as Not to know well the difference betwixt Such escapades of youth, as only spring From warmth of blood or gales of vanity, And such engagements as do carry with them Dishonour unto those, whose quality And love leave little to the serious part, Once embark'd by them in a gallantry.

+Fran.+ I see the clouds disperse. There's no such art Of compassing one's ends with those above us, As that of working them into good humour By things brought in by the by. [Aside. Why, surely, madam, unless anger lend you Its spectacles to see things, I cannot think You judge Don Zancho's fault to be any other Than of the first kind, so well stated by you.

+Blan.+ Francisca, were I otherwise persuaded, I am not of an humour that could suffer Such parleys for him, much less intercession; But since, upon reflection, I find cause To think what he has done a sally only Of youth and vanity, when I shall find him Sufficiently mortified, I may pardon him.

+Fran.+ Heavens bless so sweet a temper! but, madam, Have a care, I beseech you, of one thing.

+Blan.+ What's that?

+Fran.+ That, whilst your pride of heart Prolongs his readmission, his despair Urge him not to some precipitate attempt That may expose your honour, safe as yet. You see what danger the last night's distemper Had like t' have brought you into: transported lovers, Like angels fallen from their bliss, grow devils.

+Blan.+ What, would you have me appear so flexible? Is't not enough I tell you I may pardon him in due time?

+Fran.+ Good madam, be advis'd: I do not press you For his sake, but your own. Trust my experience, To women nought's so fatal as suspense; Whose smartest actions ne'er did cast such blot On honour as this--shall I? shall I not?

+Blan.+ I'd rather die, than have him think me easy.

+Fran.+ Your spirit never can be liable To that suspicion. Madam, leave to me The conduct of this matter, I beseech you: If, ere you sleep, you do not see the gallant Sufficiently humbled at your feet, Ne'er trust Francisca more.

+Blan.+ You are so troublesome: do what you will. [+Blanca+ turns away, and exit as into her closet.

+Fran.+ What, gone away? I'll do what she would have, but dares not say. [Exit.

Enter +Don Julio+ and +Elvira+, as in +Blanca's+ chamber.

+Don J.+ Where's my sister, Silvia? [Looking about him.

+Elv.+ In her closet, sir: As yet not ready.

+Don J.+ And where's Francisca?

+Elv.+ She's with her, dressing her.

+Don J.+ Why then, Elvira, Let me not lose this opportunity Of telling you how sad a man I am To see you in this posture, and to assure you How gladly I would lay down life and fortune To serve you in Don Fernando's absence.

+Elv.+ Your generosity I make no doubt of: But is Fernando gone?

+Don J.+ I cannot say That he is gone; for he was not himself, With the thought of leaving you, and yet less Himself, whene'er he thought of staying near you; Tortur'd by two such contrary passions, As love and sharp resentment.

+Elv.+ He is gone then?---- [She pauses. Ah, generous Don Julio, [Putting her handkerchief to her eyes. You needs must be indulgent to a weakness Which, whilst that he was present, indignation, And a just sense of what I am, had pow'r To keep within myself; but now I find That check remov'd, nature will have its tribute, And you must pardon my withdrawing, where [She weeps. Such grief may pay it with unwitness'd tears. [Exit Elvira.

+Don J.+ Can a demeanour so compos'd, so noble, And yet so tender, want true innocence? It cannot be. It grieves my heart, I swear, T' have given her new affliction; but the secret Of Don Fernando's close concealment here Is so important, it necessitated My saying what I did, since secrets are Ever kept best by those that know them least.

Enter +Blanca+ and +Francisca+.

Now, high dissimulation play, thy part! [Aside. Good morrow, sister, have you rested well? And do you rise serene, as does the sun? Free from distemper, as the day from clouds? Your looks persuade it me, they are so clear And fresh this morning.

+Blan.+ The pleasure of seeing you puts life into them, Else they'd be dull enough, this ugly headache Having tormented me all night. You might Have heard me call Francisca up at midnight.

+Fran.+ That was well thought on, for 'tis possible He may have heard some noise. [Aside.

+Don J.+ How cunning she is! [Aside. Faith, now you put me in mind of it (I think) 'Twixt sleep and waking, I once heard some stirring.

+Blan.+ The worst of my indisposition is, That 'twill, I fear, hinder me again to-day From visiting Violante, to thank her For Silvia.

+Don J.+ I charge myself with all your compliments; For this whole afternoon, till late at night, I needs must pass with her, to make amends For yesterday's failings, caus'd, as you know, By Don Fernando's being in town.

+Blan.+ I must not hope to see you then again To-day, when once gone out?

+Don J.+ Hardly; unless to wait on Violante, In case she come to see you, as 'tis likely, When I shall tell her you are indispos'd: And so farewell. [Exit +Don Julio+.

+Blan.+ All's well, I see, Francisca, as to him: I wish my heart were but as much at rest In what concerns Don Zancho.

+Fran.+ It shall be Your own fault if it be not quickly so, As I'll order the matter.

+Blan.+ Take heed you make him not grow insolent, By discovering to him my facility.

+Fran.+ I'm too well vers'd to need instructions.

+Blan.+ I leave all t' you. But how does Silvia This morning?

+Fran.+ I think she has been crying, She looks so dull and moped.

+Blan.+ I'll in and see her. [Exeunt.

_Scene changes to +Don Zancho's+ house. Enter +Don Zancho+, and +Chichon+ limping._

+Don Z.+ What, not yet gone, thou lazy, trifling rascal?

+Chi.+ What juster excuse, sir, for not going, Than is a broken leg?

+Don Z.+ If you find not your own leg quickly, sirrah, I shall find you a wooden one.

+Chi.+ Be as angry as you will, sir, I'll not go Till I have made my conditions: the true time For servants to stand upon points is, when Their masters stand upon thorns.

+Don Z.+ What are they, owl's face?

+Chi.+ Assurance, sir, but of free air within, With fair retreat upon an even floor; And that it shall not be in a slut's power, After having kept me in a nasty place, To empty me out at window.

+Don Z.+ Prythee, Chichon, Ha' done, and miss not th' opportunity By fooling. Unless you take Francisca, Just as she comes from mass, this day is lost, And I lost with it.

+Chi.+ Come, I'll hobble to her. Expect a sorry account, but yet a true one; Truth always comes by the lame messenger. [Exeunt.

_Scene changes to a fine pleasant apartment. Enter +Don Julio+, and knocks, as at the door of his private apartment: +Fernando+ opens the door and lets him in._

+Don F.+ Y' have given me here a very pleasant prison: But what news, my Julio? Are things disposed For clearing of your doubts? My own concerns I cannot think on during your disquiet.

+Don. J.+ And I come now so strangely mov'd with yours, I scarce have sense or memory of my own. A heart of adamant could not be hinder'd, I think, from liquefaction into tears, To 've seen and heard Elvira, as I have done, Upon th' occasion of my telling her That you were gone. A sense so gallant and so tender both I never saw in woman.

+Don. F.+ Can that high heart descend to tenderness?

+Don J.+ Not whilst (you present) noble pride upheld it; But, nature once set free from that constraint, O, how pathetic was her very silence! And the restraint of tears in her swol'n eyes, More eloquent in grief than others' torrents. If she be guilty, all her sex are devils.

+Don. F.+ O, say no more; for were there room but left For self-deceit, I might be happy yet. Ah! evidence too cruel to deny me that! [A noise without.

+Don. J.+ But what can be the noise I hear without-- In the next room? [+Fernando+ peeps through the key-hole.

+Don F.+ 'Slife! I see Don Pedro, Elvira's father: there's no avoiding him; He'd not a' come up so, without being sure You are within.

+Don J.+ Farther put-off would be of little use, Since first or last he must be satisfied, Being come hither upon such an errand. The sooner now we see what 'tis he drives at, The sooner we shall take from thence our measures; I'll therefore go out to him, and be sure To entertain him still so near the door, That you may hear what passes.

+Don F.+ I shall be attentive, and expect the issue With much impatience. [Exit +Don Julio+.

_Scene changes to +Don Julio's+ antechamber. Enter +Don Pedro+ and his Servant, and +Don Julio+ and a Page._

+Don P.+ My business, sir, is to Don Julio Rocca; [Addressing himself to +Don Julio+. If you be he, I shall desire the favour Of some few words with you in private.

+Don J.+ Sir, I am he to serve you. Page, set chairs.

[_He points to the Page, and makes him set the chairs by the door where +Don Fernando+ is, and then the Page and +Don Pedro's+ man retire._ [They sit down.

+Don P.+ Having not the honour to be known t' you, sir, 'Tis fit this letter make my introduction: 'Tis from the Duke of Medina.

[_He gives +Don Julio+ the letter, which he receives with great respect; and going a little aside, reads it._

"Don Pedro de Mendoça, my kinsman and most particular friend, goes to Valencia in pursuit of one who hath highly injured his family, whose righting I am so much concerned in, as, could it have been done without too much publication of the thing, I would have accompanied him myself, but my presence will be needless in a place where you have power: I do therefore conjure you, and expect from your regard and kindness to me, that you employ it thoroughly in his behalf, and what service you shall do him, put it upon my account, whom you shall always find

"Your most affectionate cousin to serve you, +The Duke of Medina+."

+Don J.+ [giving the letter to +Don Pedro+, and he taking it.] Sir, it is fit you see how heartily The Duke hath recommended your concernments, Whose will's a law to me. [+Don Pedro+ having read it, and restoring it.

+Don P.+ He told me, indeed, how very sure he was Of your friendship and dependence. I am proud to find he makes So obliging use of it to my advantage.

+Don J.+ I do avow myself his creature, sir; Therefore the sooner you shall let me know In what I may be useful t' you, the sooner You'll see my readiness to serve you.

+Don P.+ Your personal reputation, sir, as well As your relation to the duke, assur'd me Beforehand of what I find; and therefore As hard a part as it is for a gentleman Of my blood and temper to become Relater of his own shame, unreveng'd On the author of it, I shall tell you in short: I live under an affront of th' highest nature To the honour of my family; and the person Who did it makes Valencia his retreat. 'Tis against him, Don Julio, That your assistance must support me here: I have already got some notice of him, And when I shall be ascertain'd, I'll repair Again unto you for your friendly aid, And for the present trouble you no farther. [+Don Pedro+ offers to rise, as going away.

+Don J.+ A little patience, I beseech you, sir. I have express'd my readiness, and be sure I am a man never to fail, where once I have engag'd my word; but, sir, withal You must consider with a fair reflection, That in this place are all my chief relations Of blood and friendship; and though neither shall Have power t' exempt me from the serving you In any just pretension, yet you know That men of honour ever ought to seek, How to comply with one duty without Violating another.

+Don P.+ I understand you, sir; and as 'tis that Which well becomes a person of your worth To have reflected on, so it becomes me To satisfy, before I engage you farther. Then give me leave to ask you, whether or no Don Zancho de Moneçes be of the number Of those, towards whom y'are under obligation Either of blood or friendship?

[+Don Julio+ showing some little surprise, but presently recovering.

+Don J.+ Don Zancho de Moneçes, say you?

+Don P.+ Sir, the same-- He startled at his name. [Aside.

+Don J.+ He is a person I have always liv'd In friendly correspondence with, without Any such tie upon me towards him, As ought to hinder my frank serving you.

+Don P.+ You have reviv'd me; and since I have now nam'd My enemy, I can conceal no longer The grounds on which he is so. That Don Zancho, About a fortnight since, was late at night Found in my house, run newly through the body, And welt'ring in his blood, ready to expire. I by the outcry brought upon the place, Surpris'd as you may imagine, and enrag'd, Was yet so far master of my passion, As to disdain the owing my revenge To an unknown hand, perhaps as guilty Towards me as was the sufferer. I made Him straight be carried to a surgeon, where I thought it generous to give him life, Then dead, that living I might give him death. Recover'd sooner than I thought, he fled, And with him, as I have reason to believe, My only daughter, who the very night Of the accident was missing. O, the curse Of men, to have their honours subjected To the extravagance of such vile creatures!

+Don J.+ [Sighing.] 'Tis our hard fate indeed.

+Don P.+ I presently employ'd all diligence To know what way he took, and having learn'd 'Twas towards this place, hither I have pursued him; Confirm'd in my pursuit by information Along the road, that an unknown gallant Had, with his servant, guarded all the way A conceal'd lady in a coach. And thus, sir, You have the story of my injury; Whereof I doubt not but your generous heart Will wed the just revenge.

+Don J.+ You may rely on't, sir, without reserves, To th' utmost of my power.

+Don P.+ May the gods reward you The life that you renew to these grey hairs! I'll take my leave at present, and return t' ye, As soon as from the diligences used I shall have clearer lights.

+Don J.+ Here you shall find me waiting your commands.

[Exit +Don Pedro+, +Don Julio+ waiting on him out.

_Scene changes. Enter +Don Julio+ and +Don Fernando+, as in the private apartment._

+Don J.+ I hope you overheard us?

+Don F.+ All distinctly, And with surprising joy at his mistake. Did ever bloodhound, in a hot pursuit, Run on so readily upon the change?

+Don J.+ I hope it bodes good fortune in the rest.

+Don F.+ Were e'er two friends engag'd in an adventure So intricate as we, and so capricious?

+Don J.+ Sure, never in this world: methinks it merits A special recapitulation. You, at the height of all your happiness, Supplanted with your mistress by a rival You neither knew nor dreamt of, evidence Anticipating jealousy.

+Don F.+ And when that rival, fallen by my sword In her own presence, is by miracle Revived, and fitter to serve her than I, That faithless mistress with the same assurance She could have done, had she been true as fair, And for my sake expos'd to fatal hazards, Flies to my arms for her protection.

+Don J.+ And whilst that you, refining point of honour, In spite of rage expose yourself to serve her, She asks and takes, with a vow'd indignation To be beholden t' ye, new obligations.

+Don F.+ I have recourse unto my only friend, To help me in protecting my false mistress, And he, at the same time, by highest powers [is] Impos'd upon to be her persecutor.

+Don J.+ Whilst the same friend, and by the selfsame pow'rs, Is urg'd to act in their revenge against The man, on whom you most desire to take it: And then, to heighten all beyond invention, That very friend is forc'd, even in that instant, To a dependence on your only aid, In his honour's nearest and most nice concerns.

+Don F.+ Heaven, sure, delights t' involve us in a kind Of labyrinth will pose itself t' unwind. [Exeunt.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

Act IV

_Scene changes to the room at +Don Zancho's+. Enter +Don Zancho+, and +Chichon+ at another door, halting still with a staff._

+Don Z.+ What, here again already! have you sped?

+Chi.+ Lame as I am, you see I've made good speed In my return, whate'er I've had in my errand.

+Don Z.+ Leave, fool, your quibbling, and deliver me From the disquiet of uncertainty.

+Chi.+ That's quickly done. Set, sir, your heart at rest From the vain hopes of ever seeing Blanca-- Now you are at ease, I trow?

+Don Z.+ You'll be at little, unless you leave your jesting With such edge-tools. Is banishment from her Matter of raillery? Say, sirrah, and say Quickly, what hopes?---- Prythee, if thou lov'st me, [Kindly. Hold me no longer in suspense, Chichon.

+Chi.+ Why, then, for fear--the devil a bit for love-- I'll tell you, sir, that luckily I met The drab Francisca at the capuchin's, Lodging behind her lady, I think on purpose; For I perceiv'd her eager sparrowhawk's eye, With her veil down (ne'er stirs a twinkling-while From its sly peeping-hole) had found me straight-- took my time i' th' nick, but she outnick'd me; For trudging on, her face another way, With such a voice, as some you have seen have had The trick to draw from caverns of their belly, And make one think it came from a mile off, She made me hear these words: _About twilight Fail not to pass by our door, and ask no more At this time, varlet._ And thus, sir, you see, That neither she nor I have been prolix, For this is all. You have leave to make your comment On a brief text.

+Don Z.+ As sweet methinks as short: such words imply Little less than a demi-assignation.

+Chi.+ All puddings have two ends,[14] and most short sayings Two handles to their meaning.

+Don Z.+ I'm sure I'll still lay hold upon the pleasing'st, Till it be wrested from me: i' th' meanwhile, If any visitants come this afternoon, Be sure to tell them I am gone abroad, That nothing else embark us at the time. You shall not go alone.

+Chi.+ I thank you for it-- I cannot go alone.

[Holding up his staff. Exeunt, +Chichon+ halting.

_Scene changes to +Don Julio's+ private apartment. Enter +Don Fernando+ and +Julio+._

+Don J.+ All things are rightly laid, for Violante Will pass the afternoon with Blanca, and then, I waiting on her home in th' evening, Blanca Will be secure from me till late at night. I shall be where I told you, in full view Of those two windows. If the gallant come Up the great stairs, he must pass through that room, And cannot 'scape your knowledge; if up the back one, You needs must see him passing through the entry, Close by that door. If this latter way, Be sure to set the candle in that window: [Pointing. If up the other, in that: and in either case, As soon as he's within, fail not to bolt, On th' inside, th' entry-door, and so he may Find no retreat that way, I coming up The other.

+Don F.+ Be assured I shall be punctual, As you direct. [Exeunt.

_Scene changes to +Don Pedro's+ lodging. Enter +Don Pedro+ and his servant +Fulvio+._

+Don P.+ Are you sure of what you say?

+Fulv.+ As sure, sir, As my own eyes can make me of what I saw. You cannot doubt my knowing him, since 'twas I (You may remember) fetch'd the surgeon to him, And saw his wounds dress'd more than once or twice. The tavern, where I was, looks into his garden, And there I left him walking to come tell you.

+Don P.+ We are well advanc'd then towards my just revenge. I found Don Julio as ready to comply With all the duke's desires as I could wish; And my great fear is over, that Don Zancho Might possibly have been some near relation Of his own: so that now, Fulvio, if you Keep but a careful eye upon his motions, And give me notice, he can hardly 'scape us.

+Fulv.+ Doubt not my diligence. [Exeunt.

_Scene changes to the garden. Enter +Blanca+ and +Francisca+ as in a fine garden with orange-trees and fountains._

+Blan.+ You must have your will; but know, Francisca, If you expose me to his vanity, I never shall forgive you.

+Fran.+ I tell you, madam, I will bring him t' ye So mortified, he shall an object be For pity, not for anger: you'll need employ Kindness to erect the poor dejected knight.

+Blan.+ It fell out luckily, that Violante Came hither; for, my brother now engag'd With her, we're safe till ten o'clock at least.

+Fran.+ But how shall we dispose of Silvia? It will be hard to 'scape her observation, For she has wit, and of the dangerous kind-- A melancholy wit. O the unlucky star, That leads a lady, engaged in love-intrigues, To take a new attendant near her person!

+Blan.+ 'Twas an unluckiness; but Violante Could not be denied, I having told her So often that I wanted one; besides, Who could have thought sh' had one ready at hand? But we must make the best on't for this night: 'Twill not be hard to busy her, till 't be late, In the perfuming-room. This near occasion Well o'er, I think it will not be amiss, Against another, to say somewhat to her, That may, in case she have perceiv'd anything, Persuade her she is not distrusted.

+Fran.+ Madam, take heed of that: whene'er you find It necessary to say anything, Be sure to say that, that she may think all. Take one rule more from my experience: Nothing so fatal as a confidence By halves in amorous transactions. But here she comes--

Enter +ELVIRA+.

+Blan.+ Come, Silvia, and take your part of this sweet place; This is a day indeed to taste its freshness.

+Elv.+ Madam, I needs must say, within a town I never saw so fine a one.

+Blan.+ In truth I think not many sweeter. Those fountains, Playing among the orange-trees and myrtles, Have a fine mix'd effect on all the senses, But think not, Silvia, to enjoy the pleasure Without contributing to make it more.

+Elv.+ How can I be so happy?

+Blan.+ Francisca tells me she has overheard you Warbling alone such notes unto yourself, As have not only a good voice betray'd, But skill to manage it.

+Elv.+ It is Francisca, That has betray'd a very ill one, madam.

+Blan.+ Under yon palm-tree's shade, there is a seat That yields to none in the advantages It lends to music: let's go sit down there. For this first time, one song shall satisfy.

+Elv.+ When you have heard that one, I shall not fear Your asking me another.

[They go and sit down under the palm-tree, and +Elvira+ sings.

+The Song.+

_See, O, see! How every tree, Every bower, Every flower, A new life gives to others' joys; Whilst that I, Grief-stricken, lie, Nor can meet With any sweet, But what faster mine destroys. What are all the senses' pleasures, When the mind has lost all measures?_

_Hear, O, hear! How sweet and clear The nightingale And waters'-fall In concert join for others' ears; Whilst to me For harmony Every air Echoes despair, And every drop provokes a tear. What are all the senses' pleasures, When the mind has lost all measures?_

+Blan.+ I thank you, Silvia; but I'll not allow One of your youth to nourish melancholy By tunes and words so flattering to that passion.

+Elv.+ The happiness of serving you may fit me In time for gayer things.

+Blan.+ I will not ask another for the present; Not for your reason, but because I'll be More moderate in my pleasures. Now, Silvia, I have a task to give you.

+Elv.+ Whate'er it be, 'twill be a pleasing one, Of your imposing.

+Blan.+ 'Tis to gather store of Fresh orange-flowers, and then carefully To shift the oils in the perfuming-room, As in the several ranges you shall see The old begin to wither. To do it well Will take you up some hours; but 'tis a work I oft perform myself; and that you may Be sure not to mistake, I'll go thither With you, and show you the manner of it.

+Elv.+ I hope I shall not fail, so well instructed. [Exeunt.

_Scene changes to the room at +Don Zancho's+. Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+._

+Chi.+ Y'are so impatient, sir, you will mar all: I tell you that 'tis yet too light by half, The sun is hardly set: pray fetch a turn Or two more in the garden, ere you go.

+Don Z.+ You must be governor, I see, to-night, You are so proud o' th' service you have done. Come away. [Exeunt.

_Scene changes to the garden again. +Elvira+ appears in the garden, as gathering flowers from the orange-trees, and then (with her apron full) going away, says_--

+Elv.+ The task enjoin'd me is a sweet one, truly, But I smell somewhat more in the imposal. So far I am happy yet in my misfortune, That I am lighted into a lady's service Of an obliging humour; but (most of all) One that, as kind as she is, I see 's as glad To leave me alone, as I to be it. Somewhat There is mysterious in her looks and conduct: Such motions just, such inequalities, Such flatteries to those I trusted least, Such pretty employments found to busy those I would be rid of, and such arts are these To single out her confidant (unnoted), I well remember would Elvira use, Whilst the unquiet joys of love possess'd her, How innocent soever. And, besides, Francisca's sitting up so late last night, And going up and down so warily, Whilst others slept, is evidence enough What god reigns here, as well as at the court. But I forget myself. Let descants cease, Who serves, though she observes, must hold her peace. [Exit +Elvira+.

_Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter +Don Zancho+, with his cloak over his face, and +Chichon+._

+Don Z.+ Advance, Chichon, I'll follow at a distance. 'Tis the right time--just light enough, you see, For warn'd expecters to know one another. I hope she will not fail you.

+Chi.+ She fail us! No sentinel perdu is half so alert As she in these occasions.

Enter +Francisca+ veiled, peeping as out of the portal of +Don Julio's+ house.

+Fran.+ There comes the varlet; and I'm much deceived, Or that's his master lagging at a distance-- I'll give them a go-by, cover'd with my veil. [She passes by them heedlessly.

+Chi.+ By that light, as little as 'tis, 'tis she: I'll to her.

+Don Z.+ And I'll stand close the while-- When you have broken the ice, I'll take my time.

[+Chichon+, going to +Francisca+, lays hold of her veil, and she turns about.

+Chi.+ What signifies a veil to hide my doxy, When every motion of a leg or wing Darts round perfuming and informing airs? Thou art the very cauliflower of women.

+Fran.+ And thou the very cabbage-stalk of men, That never stank to me, as does a blab.

+Chi.+ Curse on thee, hold thy tongue! Dost thou not see, Who stands against that wall?

+Fran.+ Away, sauce-box!

[_She, thrusting him off, goes on. +Don Zancho+ sets himself just in her way, and makes as if he would lie down in it._

+Don Z.+ Pass, trample on me, do, trample--but hear me!

+Fran.+ These shoes have been my lady's, and she'd ne'er Forgive it, should they do you so much honour. [Showing her foot. 'Tis thou hast caus'd all this. [Aside, turning to +Chichon+.

+Chi.+ Fire on thy tongue!

+Don Z.+ Ah, my Francisca, if there be no hopes Of pardon, nor of pity, yet at least Let Blanca, for her own sake, be so just As not to give me cruel death unheard: Do you your part at least, and do but give her This letter from me-- [He offers her a letter, and she starting back:

+Fran.+ Guarda! that's a thing She has forbidden with such menaces, I dare as well become another Porcia,[15] And eat red burning coals. I had much rather Consent that, now she's all alone at home, You should transportedly rush in upon her, As following me: so possibly you might Attain your end without exposing me Who, in that case, know how to act my part So smartly against you, as shall keep her clear From all suspicion. But I am to blame Thus to forget my duty: I'll stay no longer.

[_He stops her, and, pulling out a purse of money, puts it into her hand. +Francisca+ offers to restore the purse, but yet holding it fast._

+Don. Z.+ Spoke like an angel.

+Fran.+ This is, you know, superfluous with me, And shocks my humour; but anything from you! Be sure you follow boisterously.

[_She trudges away, and goes in hastily, as at +Julio's+ house, and +Don Zancho+ follows her in. +Chichon+ stops at the door._

+Chi.+ I'll bring you no ill-luck a second time. If for sport's sake you have projected me Another summersault from the balcony, Make your account that 'tis already done, Here you will find me halting in the street. [Exit +Chichon+.

_Scene changes to +Donna Blanca's+ antechamber. Enter +Blanca+._

+Blan.+ How true it is that nature cheats mankind, And makes us think ourselves the only tasters Of pure delight and bliss; when as indeed, Oppressing us with pains and griefs, she makes Deliv'rance from them pass for solid pleasure! Witness in me those images of joy, Wherewith she flatters now my expectation: What will its highest satisfaction be At most, but ease from what tormented me?

Enter +FRANCISCA+ hastily.

+Fran.+ It now imports you have affected rage As ready at hand as usually you have Anger in earnest. But, above all, be sure You discharge it smartly upon me; for here He presses at my heels.

_Enter +Don Zancho+, and goes to cast himself at +Donna Blanca's+ feet, and she starting back from him._

+Blan.+ What insolence is this? Think not, Francisca, That I am to be fool'd! This is your work: You shall not stay an hour within these walls-- By all that's good, you shall not!

+Fran.+ For heaven's sake, madam, be not so unjust [Whining. To an old servant, always full of duty. But can I govern madmen? Would y' have had me Make all the street take notice? There he attack'd me With such transportment, the whole town had rung on't, Had I not run away. Could I imagine A man so wild as to pursue me hither Into your presence?

+Blan.+ It is well, Don Zancho; [Severely and scornfully. Blanca may be thus used; but he that does it Shall find---- [She turns away as going out, he holds her by the sleeve.

+Don Z.+ Pardon this rudeness, madam, but a man Made desperate hath nothing more to manage. Hither I come to give you satisfaction, And if my reasons can't, my heart-blood shall; But you must hear me, or here see me dead.

+Blan.+ Since to be rid of him, Francisca, I see [Turning to +Francisca+.

I must the penance undergo of hearing him, Keep careful watch to prevent accidents.

+Fran.+ Madam, your closet will be much more proper For such a conference; for in case your brother Should come, Don Zancho has a safe retreat From thence down the back-stairs. I shall be sure To give you timely notice.

+Don Z.+ And I know perfectly the passage thorough Th' entry; I've come up more than once that way During my happy days.

+Blan.+ I think y' have reason; since I must have patience, Light us in thither.

[+Francisca+ takes the lights, and going before them, exeunt omnes.

_Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter +Don Julio+, as in the portal of his own house._

+Don J.+ The light was in the farther window; therefore He went up this way: now, if Fernando Have not forgot to bolt the entry-door, He cannot 'scape us, sure, whoe'er he be. 'Tis the only comfort, In such misfortunes, when a man hath means To right his honour, without other help Than such a friend as is another self, And that the shame's even from domestics hid, Until it be reveng'd.

[Exit +Don Julio+, as going into his own house.

_Enter +Chichon+, as coming out of the porch before +Don Julio's+ house._

+Chi.+ 'Slight! 'tis Don Julio that I saw go in! My master's like to pass his time but ill; I'll steal in after, and observe: although My courage cannot stead him, my wit may, As things may possibly fall out.

[Exit +Chichon+, as stealing after +Don Julio+ into his house.

_Scene changes to +Donna Blanca's+ closet. Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Donna Blanca+, as in her closet._

+Blan.+ As fine a story as may be! No, Don Zancho, I, Blanca Rocca, am not carta blanca,[16] Fit to receive whate'er impression Your art----

Enter +Francisca+ hastily.

+Fran.+ Your brother's in the hall already; Quick, quick, and let him find you in your chamber Before your glass, I have set it ready there, Whilst he retires the way it was resolv'd.

[Pointing to +Don Zancho+.

[+Francisca+ takes the candle, and exeunt she and +Donna Blanca+; +Don Zancho+, another way.

_Scene changes to +Donna Blanca's+ bed-chamber. Re-enter +Donna Blanca+ and +Francisca+, as in +Blanca's+ chamber, she newly seated at her toilet, and beginning to unpin._

Enter +Don Julio+.

+Don J.+ Blanca, I thought you had been abed ere this. Have you had company to entertain you, And keep you up beyond your usual hour?

+Blan.+ What company can I have, you abroad, At this time of the night?

+Don J.+ I fain would find out some such as might please you. [Ironically. Francisca, take a candle and light me in To Blanca's closet.

+Blan.+ Good brother, what's the matter? You were not wont to be so curious, As thus to pry into my privacies.

+Don J.+ That you shall know anon. Do as I bid you, Francisca.

[_+Francisca+ takes one of the candles, and going before him stumbles, and falling puts out the light. +Don Julio+, taking it up, lights it again at the other on the table, and going with it himself towards +Donna Blanca's+ closet._

These tropes are lost on me. [Exit.

+Fran.+ Let him go, now we have gain'd time enough.

+Blan.+ Thanks to thy timely fall!

+Fran.+ Persons employ'd In such trusts must have their wits about them. 'Tis clear that he suspects, but know--he cannot. When once you see all safe, 'twill then import you To play the tyrant over him, with reproaches For this his jealousy.

+Blan.+ Let me alone for that. But let us follow him in, that we may mark His whole demeanour. [Exeunt.

Enter +Don Zancho+ in disorder.

+Don Z.+ Curse on't, the entry-door's bolted within, What shall I do? [He pauses.] I must seek a way, Through the perfuming-room into the garden. [Exit.

_Enter +Don Julio+, with a candle in his hand, and passing hastily over the stage._

+Don J.+ He must be gone this way, there is no other; The entry-door was bolted.

Enter +Donna Blanca+ and +Francisca+, who pass over the stage, as if stealing after +Don Julio+.

+Fran.+ All's safe: he takes that way. Let him, a God's name, Follow his nose to the perfuming-room.

+Blan.+ He'll fright poor Silvia out of her wits; But I'll come to her succour with a peal Will ring him. [Exeunt +Donna Blanca+ and +Francisca+.

_Scene changes to the laboratory. Here is to open a curious scene of a laboratory in perspective, with a fountain in it, some stills, many shelves, with pots of porcelain and glasses, with pictures above them: the room paved with black and white marble, with a prospect through pillars at the end, discovering the full moon, and by its light a perspective of orange-trees, and towards that farther end +Elvira+ appears at a table, shifting flowers, her back turned._

Enter +Don Zancho+ hastily: +Elvira+ turning about, they both startle, and stand awhile as it were amazed.

+Don Z.+ O heavens! what is't I see? 'Tis mere illusion, Or 'tis the devil in that angel's form, Come here to finish by another hand The fatal work that she began upon me By Don Fernando's.

+Elv.+ Good gods! Don Zancho here! it cannot be! Or 'tis his ghost, come to revenge his death On its occasioner; for, were he alive, He could not but have more humanity Than (having been my ruin at Madrid, And robb'd me of my home and honour there) To envy me an obscure shelter here.

[_Whilst they amazed step back from one another, enter +Don Julio+, who, seeing +Don Zancho+ with his back towards him, drawing his sword, says_--

+Don J.+ Think not (whoe'er thou art), by flying thus From room to room, to 'scape my just revenge. Shouldst thou retire to th' centre of the earth, This sword should find thee there, and pierce thy heart.

[_Throwing down the candle, he makes towards +Don Zancho+; but upon his turning about towards him, he makes a little stop, and says_--

Nay then, if it be you, I'm happy yet In my misfortune, since the gods thus give me The means at once, and by the self-same stroke, To right my honour, and revenge my friend; And, by that action, fully to comply With what the Duke requires in the behalf Of wrong'd Don Pedro.

[_+Don Julio+ makes at +Don Zancho+: he draws, and they begin to fight; +Elvira+ crying out_, Help! help! _runs to part them, and they stop upon her interposing._

_Enter +Don Fernando+ hastily over the stage, as coming from the private apartment._

+Don F.+ I hear an outcry and [a] clattering of swords. My friend (engag'd) must find me by his side.

[Exit, and re-enters at another door.

[_As +Fernando+ comes to the door of the perfuming-room, seeing them at a stand, he stops and stands close._

+Don F.+ They are parleying: let's hear. [Aside.

[+Blanca+ and +Francisca+ passing over the stage.

+Blan.+ 'Twas Silvia's voice: my heart misgives me somewhat.

+Fran.+ 'Tis some new accident or some mistake; Don Zancho cannot but be safe long since.

+Blan.+ However let us in, and see.

[_Exeunt +Blanca+ and +Francisca+, and re-enter as at another door of the perfuming-room, and make a stand, as surprised with what they see._

+Blan.+ We are all undone, I fear.

+Fran.+ A little patience. [+Chichon+ stealing over the stage.

+Chi.+ The noise is towards the perfuming-room, I know the back-way to it through the garden.

[Exit +Chichon+, and re-enters at the farther end of the laboratory, and stands close.

+Don Z.+ Wit must repair the disadvantages I'm under here, and save my Blanca's honour. That once secur'd, there will be time enough To save Elvira's. [Aside.

[Whilst this passes, +Elvira+ holds +Julio+ by the arm, he striving to get from her.

Since, by this lady's interposing thus, You have thought fit our swords should pause awhile, It may (I think) consist enough with honour So far to seek your satisfaction, sir, As to remove mistakes. Know then, Don Julio, That, though I have presum'd upon your house, I have not wrong'd your honour: it is she, With whom you find me, that hath brought me hither; Her I have long ador'd, and, having got Intelligence that she was here conceal'd, My passion (I confess) transported me Beyond that circumspection and regard, Which men of quality use, and ought t' observe Towards one another's dwellings.

+Don J.+ Good gods, what an adventure's here! Yet all Is well, so Blanca's honour be but safe. [Aside. Sir, you surprise me much; can this be true? [To +Don Zancho+.

+Blan.+ Francisca, heard you that? had ever man So ready a wit in such an exigent? [Aside.

+Don J.+ [to +Elvira+.] What say you, madam?

+Fran.+ We're surer lost than ever, unless she Have wit and heart to take the thing upon her. [Aside. Madam, make signs to her, and earnestly. [To +Blanca+. [+Blanca+ makes earnest signs to +Elvira+.

+Fran.+ [aside to +Blanca+.] She looks this way, as if she comprehended Your meaning.

+Elv.+ I understand her, and I know as well What mischief I may bring upon myself; But let Elvira still do generously, And leave the rest to fate. [Aside.] Sir, since you press me, [To +Don Julio+. My humour ne'er could disavow a truth: Don Zancho's passion and transportments for me, Beyond all rules of temper and discretion, Have been the cause of all my sad misfortunes, And still I see must be the cause of more.

+Don J.+ Unhappy creature! how thou hast deceiv'd My prone persuasion of thy innocence!

+Don Z.+ If that suffice not, sir, you have this ready To give you satisfaction. [Holding out his sword.

+Don F.+ Hell and furies!--but I will yet contain Myself, and see how far my friend will drive it. [Aside.

+Don J.+ Stay, Don Zancho, And answer me one question. Is this night The first of your presuming thus to enter My house by stealth?

+Don Z.+ The query is malicious; But I must thorough, as I have begun. [Aside.

+Blan.+ [Aside to +Francisca+.] There was a question makes me tremble still.

+Don Z.+ No, sir, it is not: I'll keep nothing from you. Last night upon the same occasion----

+Don J.+ Hold! it suffices.

+Fran.+ [Aside hastily to +Blanca+.] All's safe, you see: for God's sake, let's away Ere Julio perceive us. Your presence here can serve for nothing, madam, But to beget new chances and suspicions.

[Exeunt +Blanca+ and +Francisca+. +Don Fernando+ rushes out, drawing his sword.

+Don F.+ Yes, it suffices, Julio, to make This hand strike surer than it did before.

+Elvira.+ Nothing was wanting to my misery, But his being here to overhear; but yet I must not suffer the same hand to kill him A second time, upon a greater error Than was the first.

[_Aside. +Don Fernando+ making at +Don Zancho+; +Elvira+ steps between, and +Julia+ also offers to stay him._

+Don F.+ [Striving to come at +Don Zancho+.] Strive to protect your gallant from me, do! Strive, but in vain: the gods themselves cannot! What, you, Don Julio, too?

[+Chichon+, _running out from the place where he lurked, strikes out both the lights with his hat._

+Chi.+ I have lov'd to see fighting; but at present I love to hinder seeing how to fight. Knights, brandish your blades, 'twill make fine work Among the gallipots! [Aloud. You have me by your side, sir, let them come; They are but two to two. [As to his master. Sir, follow me, I'll bring you to the door. [Aside to his master, and pulling him.

+Don Z.+ There's no dishonour in a wise retreat From disadvantages, to meet again One's enemy upon a fairer score. [+Chichon+ pushing his master before him out of door.

+Chi.+ [Aside to his master.] There 'tis; advance, sir, I'll make good the rear. [Exit +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+.

+Don J.+ Ho! who's without? bring lights. [He stamps.] They annot hear us, The room is so remote from all the rest.-- What a confusion's this! Recall, Fernando, Your usual temper, and let's leave this place, And that unhappy maid unto its darkness, To hide her blushes, since her shame it cannot.

[Exit +Don Julio+ groping, and drawing +Don Fernando+ with him.

+Elv.+ [Alone.] Darkness and horror welcome, since the gods Live in the dark themselves; for had they light Of what's done here below, they would afford Some ray to shine on injur'd innocence, And not, instead thereof, thus multiply Obscuring clouds upon it, such as the sun, Should he with all his beams illuminate Men's understandings, scarce could dissipate. I now begin to pardon thee, Fernando, Since what thou hast heard in this enchanted place Carries conviction in 't against my firmness, Above the pow'r of nature to suspend My condemnation: unless wrong'd virtue might Expect in thee a justice so refin'd, As ne'er was found in man to womankind. 'Tis now, I must confess, the lost Elvira Fit only for a cloister, where, secure In her own spotless mind, she may defy All censures, and without impiety Reproach her fate even to the deity. [Exit, groping her way.

FOOTNOTES:

[14] [The proverb is, Everything hath an end, and a pudding hath two.]

[15] [The wife of Brutus.]

[16] [i.e., A fool. See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 38.]

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