Act I
+Scene+--Don Antonio's house.
Enter +Don Henrique+.
+Don H.+ How happy are the men of easy phlegm, Born on the confines of indifference: Holding from nature the securest tenure, The peaceful empire o'er themselves; which we, Th' unhappy men of fire, without the aids Of mighty reason or almighty grace, Are all our lives contending for in vain, 'Tis evident, that solid happiness Is founded on the conquest of our passions; But since they are the favourites of sense, Self-love bribes reason still in their defence: Thus in a calm I reason; but when cross'd, The pilot quits the helm, and I am toss'd.
Enter +Silvio+.
+Sil.+ Sir, Don Carlos is without.
+Don H.+ Wait on him in.
Enter +Don Carlos+.
+Don C.+ Cousin, methinks this day hath longer seem'd Than usual; since 'tis so far advanc'd Without our seeing one another.
+Don H.+ If I had not been hinder'd by some business, I should, ere this, have seen you, t' have told you Some pleasing news I lately have receiv'd: You have so often borne with my distempers, 'Tis fit that once, at least, you should partake Of my good-humour.
+Don C.+ What cause soever has produc'd this change, I heartily rejoice in the effect; And may it long continue.
+Don H.+ I can inform you by experience now, How great a satisfaction 'tis to find A heart and head eas'd of a weighty care; For a gentleman of my warm temper, Jealous of the honour of his family, (As yet ne'er blemish'd) to be fairly freed From the tuition of an orphan sister, Rich, beautiful and young.
+Don C.+ You know, Don Henrique, for these thirteen years, That I have been with the like province charg'd: An only sister, by our parents' will (When they were call'd from all[41] their cares below) Committed to my trust, much more expos'd To the great world than yours; and, sir, unless Nearness of blood deceive me, short of few In those perfections which invite the gallants: Yet, thanks to my temper, cousin, as well As to her virtue, I have seen her grow, Even from her childhood to her dangerous age, Without the least disturbance to my rest; And when with equal justice I reflect On the great modesty and circumspection Of lovely Porcia, I conclude that you Might well have slept as undisturb'd as I.
+Don H.+ Sir, I complain not of my sister's conduct; But you know well, young maids are so expos'd To the invasion of audacious men, And to the malice of their envious sex, You must confess the confines of their fame Are never safe till guarded by a husband. 'Tis true, discreet relations ought to use Preventions of all kinds; but, dear Carlos, The blemish once receiv'd, no wash is good For stains of honour but th' offender's blood.
+Don C.+ Y' are too severe a judge of points of honour.
+Don H.+ And therefore, having not long since receiv'd The news that Don Antonio de Mendoza Is likely to be here this night from Flanders, To whom my sister, by th' intervention O' th' Marquis d'Olivera, is contracted, I will not close these eyes, till I have seen Her and my cares safe lodg'd within his arms.
+Don C.+ I find your travels, cousin, have not cur'd you Of that innate severity to women, Urg'd justly as a national reproach To all of us abroad. The rest o' th' world Lament that tender sex amongst us here, Born only to be honourable prisoners; The greater quality, the closer kept: Which cruelty is reveng'd upon ourselves, Whilst, by immuring those whom most we love, We sing, and sigh only to iron gates. As cruel is that overcautious custom By proxy to contract parties unknown To one another; this is only fit For sovereign princes, whose high qualities Will not allow of previous interviews: They sacrifice their love to public good, Consulting interest of state and blood; A custom which as yet I never knew Us'd amongst persons of a lower rank Without a sequel of sad accidents. Sir, understand me right; I speak not this By way of prophecy: I am no stranger To Don Antonio's reputation, Which I believe so just, I no way doubt Your sister's being happy in him.
+Don H.+ Don Carlos, let us quit this argument: I am now going to our noble friend And kinsman, the corregidor, to see If he'll oblige us with his company At my sister's wedding. Will you come along?
+Don C.+ Most willingly, as soon as I have brought My sister hither, who has given this evening To her cousin Porcia.
+Don H.+ I have business, cousin, by the way; I'll go before, and wait you i' th' Piazza. Your servant, sir. [+Don Henrique+ waits on him to the door. Exit +Don Carlos+.
+Don H.+ This kinsman is my bosom friend; and yet, Of all men living, I must hide from him My deep resentments of his sister's scorn. That cruel maid, to wound me to the heart, Then close her ears against my just complaints! But though as yet I cannot heal my wound, I may by my revenge upon my rival Divert the pain; and I will drive it home. There's in revenge a balm which will appease The present grief, till[42] time cure the disease. [Exit +Don Henrique+.
Enter +Porcia+.
+Por.+ My heart is so oppress'd with fear and grief, That it must break, unless it finds relief; The man I love is forc'd to fly my sight, And like a Parthian[43] kills me in his flight: One, whom I never saw, I must embrace, Or else destroy the honour of my race. A brother's care, more cruel than his hate: O, how perplex'd are the intrigues of fate!
Enter +Don Carlos+ and +Camilla+.
+Don C.+ Cousin, I thought my sister's company Would not displease you, whilst I wait upon Your brother in a visit.
+Por.+ Sir, you oblige me with a welcome favour. I rather should have styl'd it charity To bring a friend to her, whose cruel fate Has robb'd her of herself. [Aside.
+Cam.+ Methinks, 'tis pity that a wall should make The houses two of friends so entirely one As you and I, and our two brothers, are.
+Por.+ If it be true that lovers live much more There where they love than where they breathe, I'm sure No walls can sever us: we're still together.
+Don C.+ Were I not much engag'd, I would not quit So sweet a conversation; but, sister, At my return I'll wait upon you home.
+Por.+ For this night, cousin, pray let her be mine, I beg it of you both.
+Don C.+ You may command; we are both yours. [Exit +Don Carlos+. [+Porcia+ throws herself on +Camilla's+ neck. Where, freely breathing out my grief, I might Some mitigation from thy pity find! But since there's no true pity without pain, Why should I ease by thy affliction gain?
+Cam.+ Ah, Porcia! if compassion suffering be, And to condole be pain, my destiny Will full revenge in the same kind afford, Should I but my unequall'd griefs relate, And you but equally participate.
+Por.+ If yours, as mine, from love-disasters rise, Our fates are more allied than families.
+Cam.+ What to our sex and blooming age can prove An anguish worthy of our sighs but love?
+Por.+ 'Tis true, Camilla, were your fate like mine, Hopeless to hold, unable to resign.
+Cam.+ Let's tell our stories, then we soon shall see Which of us two excels in misery.
+Por.+ Cousin, agreed.
+Cam.+ Do you begin then.
+Por.+ You know, Camilla, best how generously, How long, and how discreetly, Don Octavio Has serv'd me; and what trials of his faith And fervour I did make, ere I allow'd him The least hope to sustain his noble love. Cousin, all this you know: 'twas in your house We had our interviews, where you were pleas'd To suffer feign'd addresses to yourself, To cover from my watchful brother's eyes The passion which Octavio had for me.
+Cam.+ My memory in this needs no refreshing.
+Por.+ And how one evening (O that fatal hour!) My brother, passing by Don Carlos' house With his great friend and confidant, Don Pedro, Did chance to see th' unfortunate Octavio In your balcony entertaining me: Whom not believing there he took for you; My back being towards him, and both dress'd alike. Enraged with jealousy, this cruel man (To whom all moderation is unknown) Resolves to stamp all your neglects of him In's suppos'd rival, poor Octavio's, heart. They take their stand i' th' corner of our street; And after some little time Octavio, Free from suspicion as design of ill, Retires: they assault him, and in's own defence He kills Don Pedro, and is forc'd to fly. My brother cruelly pursues him still With such insatiate thirst after revenge, That nothing but Octavio's blood can quench: Covering his ill-nature and suspicion With the resentment of Don Pedro's death.
+Cam.+ Is this the sum of your sad story, Porcia? Is this all?
+Por.+ No, no, Camilla, 'tis the prologue only: The tragedy will follow. This brother, To whose impetuous will my deceas'd parents (May their souls rest in peace!) having condemn'd Me and my fortune, treats me like a slave: So far from suffering me to make my choice, That he denounces death if I refuse; And now, to frustrate all my hopes at once, Has very lately made me sign a contract To one in Flanders whom I never saw,[44] And is this night (they say) expected here.
+Cam.+ Is such a rigour possible, dear Porcia?
+Por.+ Was ever misery like mine, Camilla? Reduc'd to such extremes, past all relief? If I acquaint my brother with my love T' Octavio, the man whom he most hates, I must expect the worst effects of fury: If I endeavour to forget Octavio, Even that attempt renews his memory, And heightens my disquiet: if I refuse To marry, I am lost: if I obey, I cast Octavio and myself away. Two such extremes of ill no choice admit. Each seems the worst; on which rock shall I split? Since, if I marry, I cannot survive, And not to marry were to die alive.
+Cam.+ Your story, I confess, is strangely moving; Yet if you could my fortune weigh with yours In scales of equal sensibility, You would not change your sufferings for mine.
+Por.+ What can there be in Nature more afflicting, Than to be torn from th' object of my love, And forc'd t' embrace a man whom I must hate?
+Cam.+ Have you not known that object of your love, And entertain'd the person you esteem? Have you not heard, and answer'd to his sighs? Has he not borne his part in all your cares? Do you not live and reign within his heart?
+Por.+ I doubt no more his faith than my hard fate.
+Cam.+ Tell me, dearest Porcia--if I love one, Whom I shall never see: suff'ring as much Without the means of e'er expressing it, As what I suffer is above expression; If all my sighs wander in fleeting air, And ne'er can reach his ears for whom they're form'd; If all my passion, all my killing cares, Must be for ever to their cause unknown; If their sad weight must sink me to my grave Without one groan, that he can ever hear, Or the least hope that I should e'er obtain Ease by's pity or cure by his disdain-- If this the state of my misfortune be (As heaven, that has decreed it, knows it is) Say, dearest Porcia, do you envy me?
+Por.+ What overcruel laws of decency Have struck you dumb? Have you misplac'd your love? On such a party as you dare not own?
+Cam.+ No, no, the cause is worthy of th' effect: For though I had no passion for this person, I were ungrateful if I should not give The first place in my heart to such high merit.
+Por.+ If he had been so happy to deserve Your love, why are not you so just to let Him know it?
+Cam.+ 'Tis impossible. Ah, that dismal word Clearly states the difference of our fortunes! You in your first adventure have been cross'd, But I, before I can set out, am lost.
+Por.+ Pray, make me comprehend this mystery.
+Cam.+ It is t' open my wounds afresh, dear Porcia; But you must be obey'd---- [After a little pause. His excellence the Conde d'Oniate, Being sent ambassador to th' emperor, We, having the honour to be near allied To's lady, went with him. My brother Was desir'd by her to make that journey: Whose tenderness for me not suffering him To let me stay behind, I was engag'd, And treated by th' ambassadress my cousin With more respect than I could ever merit.
+Por.+ She is a lady fam'd for great civility.
+Cam.+ We had not pass'd much time i' th' emperor's court, When my dear brother unexpectedly By urgent business was call'd back to Seville. In our return (passing too near a garrison Of th' enemy's) our convoy was surpris'd And routed by a party of their horse----
+Por.+ Camilla, you begin to raise my fears.
+Cam.+ We, being pris'ners, were hurried straight away To th' enemy's quarters, where my ill fate Made me appear too pleasing to the eyes Of their commander, who at first approach Pretends to parley in a lover's style, Protesting that my face had chang'd our fortunes, And him my captive made: but finding soon, How little he advanc'd in his design By flattery and his feign'd submission, He shifts his person, calls me his prisoner, And swears my virgin treasure was his prize: But yet protests he had much rather owe it To my indulgence than his own good-fortune. And so, through storms and calms, the villain still Pursues his course to his accursed end; But finding me inflexible to his threats As well as fawnings, he resolves to use The last and uncontrolled argument Of impious men in power--force.
+Por.+ Ah, poor Camilla! where was your dear[45] brother At a time of such distress?
+Cam.+ My brother? he, alas! was long before Borne away from me in the first encounter; Where having certainly behav'd himself As well became his nation and his name, Remain'd sore wounded in another house.
+Por.+ Prythee, make haste to free me from this fright.
+Cam.+ The brute approaches, and by violence Endeavours to accomplish his intent: I invocate my guardian angel, and resist, But with unequal force, though rage supplied Those spirits which my fear had put to flight. At length, grown faint with crying out and striving, I spied a dagger by the villain's side, Which snatching boldly out, as my last refuge, With his own arms I wound the savage beast: He at the stroke unseiz'd me, and gave back. So guilt produces cowardice. Then I, The dagger pointing to my breast, cried out, Villain, keep off, for, if thou dost persist, I'll be myself both sacrifice and priest: I boldly now defy thy lust and hate; She, that dares choose to die, may brave her fate!
+Por.+ O, how I love and envy thee at once! [+Porcia+ starts to her, and kisses her. Go on, brave maid.
+Cam.+ Immediately the drums and trumpets sound, Pistols go off, and a great cry, _To arms, To arms!_ The lustful satyr flies. I stand, Fix'd with amazement to the marble floor, Holding my guardian dagger up aloft, As if the ravisher had threaten'd still.
+Por.+ I fancy thee, Camilla, in that brave posture, Like a noble statue which I remember To have seen of the enraged Juno, When she had robb'd Jove of his thunderbolt.
+Cam.+ Freed from this fright, my spirits flow'd so fast To the forsaken channels of my heart, That they, who by their orderly access Would have supported life, by throngs oppress: O'ercharg'd with joy, I fell into a swoon, And that, which happen'd during this interval,[46] Is not within the circle of my knowledge.
+Por.+ Y' have rais'd me to a mighty expectation: Will the adventure answer it, Camilla?
+Cam.+ At my return to life, op'ning my eyes, Think, dearest Porcia, how I was astonish'd To find there, kneeling by my side, a man Of a most noble form, who bowing to me: Madam (says he) y' are welcome to the world: Pardon, I pray, the boldness of a stranger, Who humbly sues t' you to continue in it: Or, if you needs will leave us, stay at least Until I have reveng'd your wrongs, and then I'll wait upon you to the other world; For, you withdrawn, this will a desert seem, And life a torment.
+Por.+ High gallantry, cousin, for the first address!
+Cam.+ 'Twas so surprising, that my confusion Check'd my reply; but I suppose my looks Did speak the grateful language of my heart; For I perceiv'd an air of joy enlighten His manly face; but, O, how soon 'twas clouded By fresh alarms! we heard the soldiers cry, Where's Antonio? the enemy is rallied, And coming on to give a second charge! He started up, and with a mien that mark'd The conflict 'twixt his honour and his love, Madam (says he) the soul was never yet With such convulsion from the body torn, As I from you; but it must ne'er be said That Don Antonio de Mendoza Follows those in dangers whom he ought to lead. Thus the vanquish'd conqueror disappear'd, Leaving that image stamp'd upon my heart To which I all the joys must sacrifice Of the poor remnant of my wretched life; If properly to live I may be said, When all my hopes of seeing him are dead. [She puts her handkerchief to her eyes.
+Por.+ Though you have kept this part of your adventure Still from me--
+Cam.+ And from everybody living.
+Por.+ I have observ'd the signs of smother'd grief: I've often seen those lovely eyes much swoll'n. Those are true tears, Camilla, which are stol'n. But what said you was his name, Camilla?
+Cam.+ Antonio de Mendoza.
+Por.+ O heavens! Antonio de Mendoza!
Enter +Don Henrique+.
+Don H.+ I'm pleased to find you speaking of your husband.
+Cam.+ What's that I hear? her husband! [Aside.
+Don H.+ Have you the letter ready I desir'd you To write to him? I'll send a servant with it To meet him on the way; 'twill show respect.
+Por.+ You know my obedience, brother.
+Don H.+ 'Tis well, sister.
Enter +Silvio+.
+Sil.+ Sir, here's a servant of Don Antonio Newly alighted at the gate: he's come Post from his master, charg'd with letters for you.
+Don H.+ I could not have receiv'd more welcome news. Go, bring him in. Sister, you may withdraw.
[Exeunt +Porcia+ and +Camilla+.
Enter +Ernesto+ and +Silvio+.
+Ern.+ Sir, Don Antonio kisses your hands, And sends me to present this letter to you.
[_He gives a letter to +Don Henrique+. +Don Henrique+ opens it, and, having read it to himself, says_--
+Don H.+ I'm glad to find by's letter he's in health; Yet methinks, friend, he writes but doubtfully Of's being here this night, as I expected.
+Ern.+ His letter, I suppose, sir, speaks his purpose.
+Don H.+ I'll answer't, and despatch you presently: In the meanwhile, go: make him welcome, Silvio. [Exeunt +Silvio+ and +Ernesto+. I would to heaven he were arriv'd; I grow Each minute more impatient. As bodies Near the centre move with more violence, So when we approach the ends of our designs, Our expectations are the more intense, And our fears greater of all cross-events. [Exit +Don Henrique+.
Enter +Silvio+, +Ernesto+, +Geraldo+, +Pedro+, +Bernardino+, +Jago+, with some cups of chocolate.
+Sil.+ Methinks, camerade, a sup of chocolate Is not amiss after a tedious journey-- Your master's health, sir. [He drinks.
+Ern.+ I'll do you reason, sir.[47]
+Sil.+ Pray, how long is't, brother, since you left Spain?
+Ern.+ 'Tis now five years and upwards since I went From Seville with my master into Flanders, The king's fencing-school, where all his subjects Given to fighting are taught the use of arms, And notably kept in breath.
+Sil.+ Your master, I am sure, has got the fame To be a per'lous man in that rough trade.
+Ern.+ He's a brave soldier, envy must confess it.
+Ped.+ It seems so, faith, since merely by the force Of his great reputation he can take Our bright young mistress in without a siege.
+Ern.+ If I mistake not, she will be reveng'd On him ere long, and take him too by th' force Of her rare wit and beauty.
+Ped.+ Sh' has a fair Portion, sir, of both, I dare assure you.
+Sil.+ But prythee, brother, instruct us a little; Tell us, what kind of country is this Holland, That's so much talk'd of, and so much fought for?
+Ern.+ Why, friend, 'tis a huge ship at anchor, fraught With a sort of creatures made up of turf And butter.
+Ped.+ Pray, sir, what do they drink in that country? 'Tis said, there's neither fountains there Nor vines.
+Ern.+ This is the butler, sure, by his apt question. [Aside. Friend, they drink there a certain muddy liquor, Made of that grain with which you feed your mules.
+Ped.+ What, barley? can that juice quench their thirst?
+Ern.+ You'd scarce believe it could, did you but see How oft they drink.
+Ped.+ But methinks that should make them drunk, camerade?
+Ern.+ Indeed most strangers are of that opinion; But they themselves believe it not, because They are so often.
+Ger.+ A nation, sure, of walking tuns, the world Has not the like.
+Ern.+ Pardon me, friend, there is but a great ditch Betwixt them and such another nation; If these good fellows would but join, and drink That dry, i' faith they might shake hands.
+Ger.+ Prythee, friend, can these Dutch Borachios[48] fight?
+Ern.+ They can do even as well, for they can pay Those that can fight.
+Sil.+ But where, I pray, sir, do they get their money?
+Ern.+ O sir, they have a thriving mystery; They cheat their neighbouring princes of their trade, And then they buy their subjects for their soldiers.
+Sil.+ Methinks our armies should beat these butter-boxes. Out of the world.
+Ern.+ Trust me, brother, they'll sooner beat our armies Out of their country: why, ready money, friend, Will do much more in camps, as well as courts, Than a ready wit, I dare assure you.
+Ger.+ Methinks, camerade, our king should have more money Than these Dutch swabbers; he's master o' th' Indies, Where money grows.
+Ern.+ But they have herrings which, I assure you, Are worth our master's mines.
+Ger.+ Herrings! why, what a devil, do they grow In their country?
+Ern.+ No, faith, they fish 'em on the English coast, And fetch their salt from France; then they pickle 'em, And sell 'em all o'er the world.
+Ger.+ 'Slife, these rascals live by cookery!
+Ern.+ This is the coddled cook, I've found him out. [Aside.
+Ber.+ What kind of beds, sir, have they i' that country?
+Ern.+ This, I dare swear, 's the groom o' th' chamber. [Aside. Sir, they have certain niches in their walls,[49] Where they climb up o' nights; and there they stew In their own grease till morning.
+Jago.+ Pray, sir, give me leave to ask you one question: What manner of women have they in that country?
+Ern.+ The gentleman-usher, upon my life! [Aside. Pray excuse me, sir: we gentlemen-soldiers Value ourselves upon our civility To that soft sex; and in good faith they are The softest of that sex I ever met with.
+Jago.+ Does any of our Spaniards ever marry With'em?
+Ern.+ Yes, some lean families, that have a mind To lard their progeny.
+Sil.+ What, a' God's name, could come into the heads Of this people to make them rebel?
+Ern.+ Why, religion; that came into their heads A' God's name.
+Ger.+ But what a devil made the noblemen Rebel? they never mind religion.
+Ern.+ Why, that which made the devil himself rebel-- Ambition.
+Sil.+ This is a pleasant fellow. [Aside. I find you gentlemen-soldiers want no wit.
+Ern.+ When we're well paid, sir, but that's so seldom, I find that gentleman wants wit that is A soldier. Your company's very good, But I have business which requires despatch.
+Ped.+ Will you not mend your draught before you go?
+Ern.+ I thank you, sir, I have done very well.
+All.+ Your servant, your servant, &c. [Exeunt.
Enter +Camilla+, +Porcia+, +Flora+.
+Por.+ Was e'er disaster like to mine, Camilla?
+Cam.+ Was e'er misfortune, Porcia, like to mine?
+Por.+ That I must never see Octavio more?
+Cam.+ That I again must Don Antonio see, Yet never see him mine?
+Por.+ I, to be married to the man I hate!
+Cam.+ And I, to have the man I love torn from me!
+Por.+ I am, by robbing of my friend, undone!
+Cam.+ I, for not hind'ring of the theft, am lost!
+Por.+ Ye powers, who these entangled fortunes give, Instruct us how to die or[50] I how to live. [She weeps.
+Cam.+ Cousin, when we should act, then to complain Is childishly to beat the air in vain. These descants on our griefs only perplex; Let's seek the remedy. You know, our sex This honour bears from men, in exigents Of love never to want expedients.
+Por.+ You have awaken'd me, give me your veil: [+Porcia+ takes off +Camilla's+ veil, and puts it on herself. Quickly, dear cousin, quickly; and you, Flora, Run presently, and see whether my brother Be settled to despatch Antonio's man. [Exit +Flora+.
+Cam.+ What mean you, Porcia?
+Por.+ If once my brother be set down to write, I may securely reckon one hour mine; For he is so extravagantly jealous, That he distrusts the sense of his own words, And will weigh a subscription to a scruple, Lest he should wrong his family by his style: Therefore, I'll serve myself of[51] this occasion To see Octavio, and to let him know That all our hopes are ready to expire, Unless he finds some prompt expedient For our relief.
+Cam.+ Pray, how and where d' you hope to speak with him?
+Por.+ At his own house, where he lies yet conceal'd: 'Tis not far off, and I will venture thither.
+Cam.+ D' you know the way?
+Por.+ Not very well; but Flora's a good guide.
Enter +Flora+ hastily.
+Flo.+ O madam! he's coming already.
+Por.+ Ah, spiteful destiny! Come, let's retire Into my chamber, cousin. [Exeunt +Porcia+ and +Camilla+.
Enter +Don Henrique+ and +Ernesto+.
+Don H.+ If you desire to see her, friend, you may.
+Ern.+ I should be glad to acquaint my master, sir, That I have had the honour to see his bride.
+Don H.+ Where's your lady, Flora?
+Flo.+ She's in her chamber, sir.
+Don H.+ Tell her, Antonio's man attends her here, To do his duty to her ere he goes. [Exit +Flora+. Stay here: you'll find her with a kinswoman, In her home dress without a veil; but you Are privileg'd by your relation for this access: I'll go despatch my letter. [Exit +Henrique+.
_Enter +Camilla+, +Porcia+, and +Flora+. +Ernesto+ addresses himself to +Camilla+, seeing her without a veil._
+Ern.+ Madam, I have been bold to beg the honour Of seeing your ladyship, to make myself More welcome to my lord at my return.
+Por.+ A rare mistake! further it, dear Camilla! Who knows what good this error may produce? [Aside.
+Cam.+ Friend, in what state left you your lord and mine?
+Ern.+ As happy as the hopes of being yours Could make him, madam.
+Cam.+ I would the master were as easily deceiv'd. [Aside. I pray present my humble service to him; And let him know that I am very glad He has pass'd his journey so successfully-- Give him the letter, Flora.[52] Farewell, friend. [Exeunt +Camilla+, +Porcia+, and +Flora+.
+Ern.+ Now, by my life, she is a lovely lady; My master will be ravish'd with her form. I hope this blind bargain, made by proxy, May prove as happy a marriage as those Made after th' old fashion, chiefly for love, And that this unseen beauty may have charms To bring him back to his right wits again From his wild ravings on an unknown dame, Whom, as he fancies (once upon a time) He recover'd from a trance, that's to say From a sound sleep, which makes him dream e'er since. I'll hasten to him with this pleasing news. [Exit +Ernesto+.
+Cam.+ My melancholy could hardly hinder me From laughing at the formal fool's mistake. But, tell me, did not I present your person With rare assurance? The way for both to thrive Is to make me your representative.
+Por.+ Most willingly; and I am confident, When you your charms shall to his heart apply, You all your rivals safely may defy.
+Cam.+ I wish I could be vain enough to hope it. But, cousin, my despairs are so extreme, I can't be flatter'd, though but in a dream.
+Flo.+ Madam, do we go, or what do you resolve on?
+Por.+ I must resolve, but know not what to choose.
+Cam.+ Cousin, take heed, I am afraid you venture Too much: your brother cannot tarry long, And if at his return he finds you missing----
+Por.+ Y' have reason; th' opportunity is lost. What is't o'clock, Flora?
+Flo.+ I think, near seven, for the clock struck six Just as Camilla enter'd the chamber.
+Por.+ Quick then, Flora, fetch your veil; you shall carry My tablets to Octavio; there he'll find The hour and place where I would have him meet. [Exit +Flora+.
+Cam.+ 'Tis well resolv'd; but where do you design Your meeting.
+Por.+ In the remotest part of all the garden, Which answers, as you know, to my apartment; And Flora has the key of the back-door.
+Cam.+ As the case stands, you choose the fittest place. [+Flora+ returns veiled.
+Por.+ Cousin, I beg your patience whilst I write. [+Porcia+ writes in her tablets.
+Cam.+ You, Mistress Flora, by this accident May chance to see your faithful lover Diego.
+Flo.+ He is a faithful lover of himself--[53] Without a rival, madam.
+Cam.+ Damsel, your words and thoughts hardly agree; For could we see his image in your heart, 'Twould be a fairer far than e'er his glass Reflected.
+Flo.+ Madam, I am not yet so very old, That I should doat.
+Cam.+ Nor yet so very young but you may love: Dotage and love are cousin-germans, Flora.
+Flo.+ Yes, when we love and are not lov'd again; [Smiling. For else I think they're not so near akin.
+Cam.+ I have touch'd a nettle, and stung myself. [Aside.
+Por.+ Make all the haste you can, pray, Flora.
+Flo.+ Madam, I'll fly. Should I not play my part, I were to blame, Since all my fortune's betted on her game. [Aside. Madam, has Octavio the other key Belonging to the tablets?
+Por.+ Yes, yes; I pray, make haste. [Exit +Flora+.
+Cam.+ Cousin, pray, call for Mirabel, and let her Divert us with a song.
+Por.+ Who waits there?
Page, bid Mirabel come in, and Floridor With his lute, and send in somebody with chairs.
+Cam.+ Pray, cousin, let her sing her newest air.
+Por.+ What you please.
+Cam.+ Tell me, prythee, whose composition was it?
+Por.+ Guess, and I'll tell you true. [They bring in chairs.
+Cam.+ Octavio's?
+Por.+ Y' are i' th' right.
Enter +Mirabel+ and +Floridor+.
+Por.+ Mirabel, sing "Mistaken Kindness."
+The Song.+[54]
_Can Luciamira so mistake, To persuade me to fly? 'Tis cruel-kind for my own sake To counsel me to die; Like those faint souls, who cheat themselves of breath, And die for fear of death._
_Since love's the principle of life, And you the object lov'd, Let's, Luciamira, end this strife, I cease to be remov'd. We know not what they do are gone from hence, But here we love by sense._
_If the Platonics, who would prove Souls without bodies love, Had, with respect, well understood, The passions i' the blood, Th' had suffer'd bodies to have had their part And seated love i' the heart._ [Exeunt +Mirabel+ and +Floridor+.
+Por.+ What discord there's in music, when the heart, Untun'd by trouble, cannot bear a part!
+Cam.+ In vain we seek content in outward things; 'Tis only from within where quiet springs. [Exeunt.
FOOTNOTES:
[39] In this list of characters three very unimportant personages, Mirabel, Floridor, and a Page, are omitted.--Collier.
[40] This play, in the third edition from which it is here printed, received some additions and improvements. The first performance of it was at court; and on its appearance on the stage at the Duke's Theatre it met with great applause, and was acted thirteen nights successively. Echard, in the preface to his translation of Terence, gives it this general character, that it "is one of the pleasantest stories that ever appeared upon our stage, and has as much variety of plots and intrigues, without anything being precipitated, improper or unnatural, as to the main action." In the year 1767, Mr Hull made some alterations in it, with which it was acted at Covent Garden Theatre about nine nights, under the title of "The Perplexities." To the second edition were prefixed complimentary verses by James Long, J. Evelyn, A. Cowley Jasper Nedham, M.D., Lod. Carlile, Chr. Wase, William Joyner, and one copy signed Melpomene. In Sir Wm. Davenant's Works, p. 339, is a prologue written by him, addressed to the Lord Chancellor, on the acting of this play at the Inner Temple.
[41] Till now the measure was spoiled by the omission of the word all. The four editions read the line as it now stands. The play has been hitherto very carelessly printed, and a few of the errors are pointed out in the notes.--Collier. [But it must be added that even Mr Collier left the text and (more particularly) the punctuation in so corrupt a state, that many passages were unintelligible.]
[42] [Former edits., and.]
[43] Prior has adopted this image--
"So when the Parthian turn'd his steed, And from the hostile camp withdrew, He backward sent the fatal reed, Secure of conquest as he flew."
--Poems, i. 40, edit. 1778.
[44] This speech is very much altered from the first and second editions, where it stands that Don Henrique has already married Porcia
"By proxy To one in Flanders."
--Collier.
[45] This word was omitted by Reed and Dodsley.--Collier.
[46] The author has not been very strict in the observance of his metre in any part of the play, and in this respect the changes he made in the third edition were sometimes injurious. Thus in the two earlier copies this line, which would have read very well if in had been substituted for during, is given as follows--
"And what was done in this parenthesis."
It was a point gained, however, to get rid of the figure.--Collier.
[47] [I'll pledge you. See Nares, edit. 1859, p. 216.]
[48] [Literally a bottle. See Halliwell in v.]
[49] [Cupboard beds, similar to those still used throughout Holland among the humbler classes.]
[50] [Former edits., and.]
[51] [Former edits., on.]
[52] This is hardly intelligible, as it stands here and in the third edition. In the two earlier copies, Porcia says to Flora on entering--
"If thou lov'st me, get him away quickly Before my brother come, and give him this. [She gives +Flora+ a letter."
--Collier. [There does not appear to be any obscurity here. In a subsequent scene, Ernesto delivers the letter handed to him by Flora from Camilla, whom he mistakes for Porcia.]
[53] [Of himself seems to be used here in the sense of by himself, per se, standing alone.]
[54] The song, and its introduction, were new in the copy of 1671.--Collier.
Act II
+Scene.+--The city of Seville.
Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Sancho+, in riding-clothes.
+San.+ Sir, we are arriv'd in very good time.
+Don A.+ I did not think it would have been so soon By an hour at least; but lovers ride apace. Why smile you, Sancho?
+San.+ Faith, at the novelty of your amours, To fall in love with one you hardly saw, And marry one you never saw: 'tis pretty; But we poor mortals have another method.
+Don A.+ Y' are very pleasant, friend; but is not this The market-place, behind the Jacobins?
+San.+ Yes, sir.
+Don A.+ 'Tis here I charg'd Ernesto to expect me.
+San.+ Since you are here, sir, earlier than you thought, Why might you not go shift you at the post-house, And be return'd before Ernesto come? Howe'er, 'tis better that he wait for you, Than you for him, in the open street.
+Don A.+ 'Tis well thought on; come, let's go then. [Exeunt.
Enter +Don Octavio+ and +Diego+.
+Don O.+ Come, Diego, 'tis now time to quit our dens, And to begin our chase.
+Diego.+ Of what, sir? bats or owls, now the sun's set? Call you this making of love? why, methinks, 'Tis more like making of war: marching all night In arms, as if we design'd to beat up The enemy's quarters.
+Don O.+ Why, would not you venture as much for Flora?
+Diego.+ No, in good faith, sir; I shall venture enough, If e'er I marry her: I'll run no hazard By my good-will beforehand.
+Don O.+ That's from your fear, not prudence, Diego.
+Diego.+ Sir, you may call it what you please; but I Dare boldly say, there lives not in the world A more valiant man than I, whilst danger Keeps its distance; but when saucily It presses on, then, I confess, 'tis true, I have a certain tenderness for life, Which checks my ardour, and inclines my prudence Timely to withdraw.
+Don O.+ Your style is wondrous civil to yourself; How you soften that harsh word call'd cowardice. But the danger is not always evident, When you are pleas'd, my friend, to run away.
+Diego.+ It may be so, sir--not to vulgar eyes; But I have such a piercing sight, that I Discover perils out of others' ken; Which they, not seeing soon enough to shun, Are forc'd t' encounter; and then their struggling Is by th' unwary world taken for courage.
+Don O.+ Who's truly valiant will be always so.
+Diego.+ Who's wisely valiant will avoid the foe.
+Don O.+ You have more light, Diego, I see, than heat; But I'll allow your wit and honesty To come to composition for your want Of courage.
+Diego.+ I have courage enough for the profession To which my parents did design me.
+Don O.+ Why, what was that?
+Diego.+ An advocate. I could have acted choler In my client's sight, and, when his back was turn'd, Have hugg'd the lawyer of the adverse party; And, if I mistake not, they sell their breath Much dearer than you soldiers do your blood. 'Tis true, you get honour, a fine light food For delicate complexions; but I have Known some captains of plain stomachs starve upon't.
+Don O.+ The varlet's i' the right. [Aside.] How came't about You were not of this thriving trade?
+Diego.+ After I had spent seven years at Salamanca, My father, a rich merchant of this city, Was utterly undone by that damn'd Englishman, With whom we fright our children.
+Don O.+ Who, Captain Drako? Was he a pirate?
+Diego.+ He had been so on this side of the line.
+Don O.+ 'Tis strange that war and peace should have degrees Of latitude: one would have thought they should Have been the same all o'er the world. But what's this To my amours? I trifle away my time. Was ever lover's fate so rude as mine? Condemn'd to darkness, forc'd to hide my head, As well as love; and, to spite me the more, Fortune has contradictions reconcil'd: I am at once a pris'ner and exil'd.
Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Sancho+.
+Don A.+ Methinks Ernesto should not tarry long, If not already come. Sancho, how call you The street there just before us, where you see Yon gentleman with his cloak o'er his face? I have lost all my measures of this town.
+Sancho.+ I am as much to seek as you, sir.
+Don A.+ Let us go to him, Sancho, and inquire: He has a notable good mien: I ne'er Saw an air more like [to] Octavio's.
+Don O.+ Unless my eyes do very much deceive me, That's Don Antonio; if it be he, Diego, There is no danger in his knowing us: He was my comrade when I first bore arms. [+Don Octavio+ lets fall his cloak from before his face. Tis he.
+Don A.+ You injure me, Octavio, to be so long A-knowing one who's so entirely yours. [They embrace.
+Don O.+ Your presence in this place, noble Antonio, Was so unexpected, I hardly durst Believe my eyes. When came you to this town?
+Don A.+ I am just now arrived.
+Don O.+ I joy to see you here, but should have thought It likelier to have heard of you at court, Pursuing there the recompenses due To your great merit.
+Don A.+ That is no place for men of morality: I have been taught, Octavio, to deserve, But not to seek, reward, that does profane The dignity of virtue. If princes, For their own interests, will not advance Deserving subjects, they must raise themselves By a brave contempt of fortune.
+Don O.+ Rig'rous virtue! which makes us to deserve, Yet suffer the neglect of those we serve.
+Don A.+ Virtue to interest has no regard: Nor is it virtue, if w' expect reward.
+Don A.+ If for their service kings our virtues press, Is no pay due to valour and success?
+Don O.+ When we gave up our persons to their will, We gave with those our valour, fortune, skill.
+Don O.+ But this condition tacitly was meant, Kings should adjust reward and punishment.
+Don A.+ Kings are the only judges of deserts, And our tribunal's seated in their hearts.
+Don O.+ But if they judge and act amiss, what then?
+Don A.+ They must account to th' powers above, not men.[55]
+Don O.+ Then we must suffer?
+Don A.+ Yes; if we reject Their power as too great, we must erect A greater to control them; and thus we, Instead of shrinking, swell the tyranny.
+Don O.+ W' obey for fear, then?
+Don A.+ True: 'tis only above, Where pow'r is justice, and obedience love.
+Don O.+ I'm glad to find in you the seeds yet left Of steady virtue; may they bring forth fruit, Fit to illustrate and instruct the age. Let me once more embrace you: welcome, brave man, [Embraces +Don Antonio+. Both the delight and honour of your friends.
+Don A.+ You will give me leave, sir, to distinguish Betwixt your judgment and civility.
+Don O.+ He has not liv'd i' th' reach of public fame, Who is a stranger to your character. This is my house; be pleas'd, sir, to go in, And make it yours, though truly at present I am but in an ill condition To receive the honour of such a guest, Having, by an unlucky accident, Been forc'd of late to keep myself conceal'd.
+Don A.+ I humbly thank you, sir, but cannot yet Receive your favour; for I must stay here, Expecting the return of one I sent Before me to my brother-in-law's.
+Don O.+ Have you a brother-in-law in Seville? You surprise me much.
+Don A.+ It is most true, Octavio, I come hither A married man, as much as friends can make me.
+Don O.+ Since it imports you not to miss your servant, Let us stay here without until he comes, And then go in and rest yourself awhile. But how go our affairs in Flanders?
+Don A.+ I left our armies in a better state Than formerly.
+Don O.+ And your governor, the Duke of Alva, I suppose, in great[er] reputation?
+Don A.+ The honour of our country and the terror Of others: Fortune consulted Reason When she bestow'd such favours upon him.
+Don O.+ And yet 'tis said, he loses ground at court.
+Don A.+ 'Tis possible: under a jealous prince A great's as prejudicial as an evil fame.
+Don O.+ They say he's cruel, even to barbarity.
+Don A.+ 'Tis mercy, that which they call cruelty. In a civil war, in fertile provinces (And the sun sees not richer than are these), The soldier, especially the auxiliary, Whose trade it is to fight for salary, Is brib'd by gain the rebels' lives to spare, That mutual quarter may prolong the war; Till this slow fever has consum'd their force, And then they'll fall to our rival France, of course. War made in earnest maketh war to cease, And vigorous prosecution hastens peace.
+Don O.+ Y' have made me comprehend his conduct: he's sure As great a politician as a soldier.
+Don A.+ Loyalty's his centre, his circumf'rence, glory; And t' after ages he'll show great in story.
+Don O.+ And is our good friend, the Marquis d'Olivera, In high esteem?
+Don A.+ The boast of [all] our army: h' has exceeded Hope, and made flattery impossible.
+Don O.+ They say he did wonders at the siege of Mons.[56]
+Don A.+ You mean, as I suppose, at the pursuit O' th' German army, led by the Prince of Orange? Indeed his courage and his conduct there Were very signal.
+Don O.+ You'll much oblige me if, whilst you expect Your servant here, I might learn from yourself Some few particulars of your own actions; Fame speaks loudly of them, but not distinctly.
+Don A.+ Fame, like water, bears up the lighter things, And lets the weighty sink. I do not use To speak in the first person; but if you needs Will have a story to fill up the time, I'll tell you an adventure of my own, Where you'll find love so intermix'd with arms, That, I am confident, 'twill raise your wonder, How, being prepossess'd with such a passion, I should, upon prudential motives only, Be engag'd, as now you find me, to marry A lady whom I never saw.
+Don O.+ The person and the subject, sir, both challenge My best attention.
+Don A.+ [After a little pause.] The following evening to that glorious day, Wherein the Duke of Alva gain'd such fame Against the cautelous Nassau, some horse Were sent from the army under my command. To cover the Limbourg frontiers, much expos'd To th' enemy's inroads. My troops scarce lodg'd, I receiv'd intelligence that a party Of th' enemy, about two hundred horse, Were newly come t' a village three leagues off, Intending there to lodge. Immediately We sounded to horse, and march'd[57] to their surprise So lustily,[58] that by the break of day Their quarters were on fire.
+Don O.+ You had been taught, sir, by your wise general, That diligence in execution is (Even above fortune) mistress of success.
+Don A.+ They made but faint resistance: some were slain, Some perish'd in the fire, others escap'd, Giving the alarm in quarters more remote To their companions drown'd in sleep and wine Who, at the outcry and the noise of trumpets, Methinks I fancy starting from their beds, As pale and wan, as from their dormitories Those the last trump shall rouse: diff'ring in this, That those awake to live, but these to die.
+Don O.+ O, how unsafe it is to be secure!
+Don A.+ Finding no more resistance, I made haste To a lofty structure which, as I conceiv'd, Was the likeliest quarter for their officer; Led thither by desire to rescue both-- Him from the soldier's rage, that from the fire.
+Don O.+ A care most worthy of a gallant leader.
+Don A.+ But think, Octavio, how I was surpris'd When, entering a pavilion i' th' garden, I found a woman of a matchless form, Stretch'd all along upon the marble floor.
+Don O.+[59] I easily can divine how such a heart, As harbours in the brave Antonio's breast, May suffer at so sad a spectacle.
+Don A.+ At the first sight I did believe her dead; Yet in that state so awful she appear'd, That I approach'd her with as much respect As if the soul had animated still That body which, though dead, scarce mortal seem'd. But as, the sun from our horizon gone, His beams do leave a tincture on the skies, Which shows it was not long since he withdrew: So in her lovely face there still appear'd Some scatter'd streaks of those vermilion beams, Which us'd t' irradiate that bright firmament. Thus did I find that distress'd miracle, Able to wound a heart as if alive, Uncapable to cure it as if dead.
+Don O.+ I no more doubt your pity than your wonder.
+Don A.+ My admiration did suspend my aid, Till passion join'd to pity made me bold. I kneel'd, and took her in my arms, then bow'd Her body gently forward; at which instant A sigh stole from her. O the ravishing sound! Which being a symptom of remaining life Made me forget that 'twas a sign of grief. At length she faintly opens her bright eyes: So breaks the day, and so do all the creatures Rejoice, as I did, at the new-born light: But as the Indians, who adore the sun, Are scorch'd by's beam, ere half his race be run, So I, who did adore her rising eyes, Found myself wounded by those deities.
+Don O.+ I am big with expectation; pray Deliver me.
+Don A.+ From her fair hand a bloody poniard fell, Which she held fast during her trance, as if Sh' had only needed arms whilst she did sleep, And trusted to her eyes when she did wake. What I said to her, being a production Of mere ecstasy, I remember not. She made me no reply; yet I discern'd, In a serener air of her pale face, Some lines of satisfaction mix'd with fear.
+Don O.+ Such looks in silence have an eloquence. But pray go on.
+Don A.+ Rais'd from the ground, and to herself return'd, I stepp'd a fitting distance back, as well To gaze upon that lovely apparition, As to express respect; when at that instant The trumpets sound a charge; my soldiers cry, Where is our leader? Where's Antonio? My love awhile disputed with my honour, But that, being the longer-settled power, O'ercame; I join'd my troops, left in reserve, As they were ready to receive a charge From divers squadrons of fresh horse who, being Quarter'd in neighbouring villages, had taken Hotly th' alarm, and came, though then too late, In succour of their friends. Honour and love Had so inflam'd my heart, that I advanc'd Beyond the rules of conduct, and receiv'd So many wounds, that I with faintness fell.
+Don O.+ How can this story end?
+Don A.+ My soldiers beat the enemy, and brought me off, Where surgeons quickly cur'd my outward wounds; But the remembrance of that heroine My inward hurts kept bleeding still afresh; Till, by the business of the war constrain'd T' attend my charge i' th' army, my despair Of ever seeing her again conspiring With the strong persuasions of Olivera, I was at length even forc'd to an engagement Of marriage with a lady of this city, Rich, noble, and, as they say, beautiful. And so you have me here, come to consummate Those nuptial rites to which my interest, And the importunity of trusty friends, O'errule my judgment, though against my heart.
+Don O.+ A wonderful adventure! but pray, sir, May I not take the liberty to ask you, Who may this noble lady be, to whom The fates have destin'd so much happiness?
+Don A.+ I have no reserves for you, Octavio, 'Tis the sister of----
_Enter +Ernesto+, and +Don Octavio+ retires hastily, and covers his face with his cloak._
+Don A.+ [Nodding to +Octavio+.] It is my servant, sir.
+Don O.+ Step to Antonio, Diego, and desire him To send him off. [+Diego+ goes to +Antonio+ and whispers.
+Don A.+ I will immediately. Well, Ernesto, What good news? speak freely.
+Ern.+ Sir, as you charg'd me, I told your brother-in-law I thought you hardly could be there this night. He kisses your hands, and bad me tell you, That he expects your coming with impatience. This letter's from Don Henrique, th' other's from Your beauteous bride, the most accomplish'd person I ever saw: my being of your train Gave me the privilege of a domestic, To see her in her chamber-dress without A veil, either to cover faults or hide Perfections.
+Don A.+ Tell me truly, is she so very handsome?
+Ern.+ Handsomer far, in my opinion, sir, Than all those Brussels beauties, which you call The finish'd pieces: but I say no more; Let your own eyes inform you; here's a key Of the apartment that's made ready for you; A lower quarter, very nobly furnish'd, That opens on St Vincent's Street.
+Don A.+ Give it me, and go to the post-house, And take care that my things be brought from, thence. [Exit +Ernesto+. Octavio, will you go along with me, And be a witness of my first address?
+Don O.+ Sir, you choose in me an ill companion Of lovers' interviews or nuptial joys: One whose misfortunes to such sad extremes Are heighten'd, that the very mentioning Of happy hours serves only to embitter The memory of my lost joys.
+Don A.+ So very deep a sense of your misfortunes Holds no proportion with Octavio's mind.
+Enter+ +Flora+ in haste.
+Flo.+ Where's your master, Diego?
+Diego.+ There's some ill towards, when this bird appears. [Aside. Do you not see him? y' have liv'd too long a maid.
+Flo.+ Sir, I have something to say t' you in private, That requires haste.
+Don O.+ What new accident brings you hither, Flora?
+Flo.+ These tablets will inform you, sir. [+Flora+ retires.
+Diego.+ Will you not stay for an answer, damsel?
+Flo.+ 'Tis a command, not a question, Diego.
+Diego.+ Short and sweet, Flora.
+Don O.+ Good Flora, stay a minute. I much fear It is some new misfortune.
+Diego.+ Nay, sir, you may be sure 'tis some disaster, Else it would ne'er have come so easily, And so unsought for.
+Don O.+ Will you allow me for a moment, sir, To step into my house, and read a letter? [Bowing to +Antonio+.
+Don A.+ I'll wait upon you in, and stay your leisure. [Exeunt all but +Diego+.
+Diego.+ These little black books do more devils raise Than all the figures of the conjurors. This is some missive from the heroine: If it ends not in fighting, I'll be hang'd; It is the method of their dear romances, And persons of their rank make love by book. Curse o'[60] th' inventor of that damn'd device Of painting words, and speaking to our eyes! Had I a hundred daughters, by this light, Not one of 'em should ever read or write.
Enter +Flora,+ and seems to go away in haste.
Here she comes again. 'Twas a quick despatch. A word, Flora, or a kind glance at least; What, grown cruel?
+Flo.+ Diego, nobody w' you?[61] This is no time for fooling, friend.
+Diego.+ Nay, if you be so serious, fare you well. But, now I think on't better, I'll do th' honours Of our street, and bring you to the end on't.
+Flo.+ I shall be well help'd up with such a squire. If some wandering knight should chance to assault you, To bear away your damsel, what would you do?
+Diego.+ I'd use no other weapon but a torch: I'd put aside your veil, show him your face, That, I suppose, would guard us both.
+Flo.+ Why, d' you think 'twould fright him, Diego?
+Diego.+ O no, 'twould charm him, Flora.
+Flo.+ Well, such as 'tis, I'll venture it without Engaging your known valour: [so,] good night. [Exit +Flora+.
Enter +Don Octavio+ and +Don Antonio+.
+Don O.+ What may this be? I swear I cannot guess; The warning's short; but she must be obeyed. The hour draws near. I must go seek a friend, Her words seem to imply need of a second: 'Twere barbarous to engage Antonio, Newly arriv'd, and come on such an errand. [Aside. Noble Antonio, my confusion's great, [Addressing +Antonio+. To tell you thus abruptly I must leave you; Th' occasion's indispensable.
+Don A.+ I must not quit you, sir, I know too well The laws of honour to desert you now: When I perceive my friend in such disorder, And[62] all the marks that he is call'd to danger, To leave him then----
+Don O.+ It is a summons from a lady, sir, Whom I have lov'd with passion and success, To meet her in her garden presently. All is propitious on her part and mine; But she's so guarded by a tyrant brother, So naturally jealous, and so incens'd By a late accident which I shall tell you, That to assure you there would be no danger In this adventure, were (sir) to abuse you: But for that very reason I am bound Not to consent you should embark yourself In a business so directly opposite To the occasion which has brought you hither.
+Don A.+ I like the omen: at my first arrival To have the honour to serve so brave a friend.
+Don O.+ You from a life of perils hither come To find a nuptial-bed, not seek a tomb.
+Don A.+ My friend engag'd, it never must be said Antonio left him so to go to bed.
+Don O.+ Y' are married, and expose what's not your own.
+Don A.+ Wedded to honour, that must yield to none.
+Don O.+ Honour makes me refuse your aid; we must As well to friends as to ourselves be just.
+Don A.+ He ought not to pretend to friendship's name, Who reckons not himself and friend the same.
+Don O.+ Friendship with justice must not disagree, That were to break the virtue's harmony.
+Don A.+ Friendship is justice; for whene'er we give, We then receive: so 'tis commutative.
+Don O.+ So great's your friendship, you your friend oppress: To make it juster, you must make it less.
+Don A.+ Friendship can never err in the extent: Like Nile, when't overflows, 'tis most beneficent.
+Don O.+ I find, Antonio, you will still subdue.
+Don A.+ I owe my triumph to my cause, not you. Come, we lose time; your mistress must not stay.
+Don O.+ Who's so accompani'd, needs not fear his way. [Exeunt.
FOOTNOTES:
[55] It may be mentioned here, that throughout the third edition certain sententious passages, and moral and political apothegms, are printed in italics. This ultra-loyal line, and some others of the same kind so distinguished, were first inserted in the copy of the play published two years before the death of the author.--Collier.
[56] In the year 1572 the town of Mons, in Hainault, was surprised by Count Lodowicke, who fortified himself in it, intending to hold it against the power of Spain. It was soon after invested by the Duke of Alva, and surrendered to him after a long siege, notwithstanding the Prince of Orange, who came before it with an army, with which he some time harassed his enemy, but without effecting his principal design.
[57] [Former edits., march.]
[58] [Former edits., luckily.]
[59] In the third edition, by an error, this speech is not distinguished from Antonio's description, but it would evidently belong to Octavio, even if, in the two earlier copies, the same mistake had been committed.--Collier.
[60] [i.e., On. Former edits., of.]
[61] [In former edits. this line is given to Diego.]
[62] [Perhaps we should read With.]
Act III
+Scene.+--+Don Henrique's+ house.
+Camilla,+ +Porcia,+ and +Flora+ appear in a balcony.
+Por.+ Come, cousin, the hour assign'd approaches.
+Cam.+ Nay, more than so; for 'tis already night.
+Flo.+ And, thanks to your stars, sufficiently dark.
+Por.+ To the clouds you would say, Flora; for stars, In this occasion, would not much befriend us. Pray, cousin, when Octavio shall arrive, Do you and Flora watch above with care; For if my cruel brother should surprise us----
+Cam.+ Let us alone to play the sentinels.
+Flo.+ I'm confident he's abroad, and will not Suddenly return; for I heard him say He'd pass the evening at the corregidor's: And thence, you know, he seldom comes home early.
_Enter +Antonio+, +Octavio+, and +Diego+, with their cloaks over their faces, and their swords undrawn in their hands._
+Don A.+ Is it not something early for adventures Of this nature.
+Don O.+ 'Tis the hour she appointed.
+Don A.+ How dark 'tis grown o' th' sudden! there's not one Star appears in all the firmament.
+Diego.+ So much the better; for when I must fight, I covet no spectators of my prowess. [Aside.
+Don O.+ Stay you here, Antonio; I'll step before, and give the sign. When you hear the door open, then come on, and follow me in.
_Enter at the other side of the stage +Don Henrique+ and +Don Carlos+._
+Don H.+ The corregidor's is a sweet place.
+Don C.+ The walks and fountains so entice me, I still Weary myself before I can retire.
+Don H.+ Indeed we have stay'd longer than we thought, And therefore let's go home the shorter way: The back-door of my garden's here at hand.
+Don C.+ It will be better than to go about.
+Por.+ Would he were come, I fear the rising moon Will give us little time.
[Above in the balcony. +Octavio+ knocks upon the hilt of his sword.
I think I hear his usual knock. Who's there?
+Don O.+ 'Tis I.
+Por.+ I hope y' are not alone.
+Don O.+ No; here's Diego with me, and a friend.
+Por.+ 'Tis well. I'll open the door presently.
+Don H.+ Come, we are now hard by the garden-gate.
+Don O.+ Let's to the door; sure, she's there by this time. Be not afraid, Diego.
+Diego.+ You had as good command me not to breathe.
+Don O.+ Come on; what are you thinking on?
+Diego.+ That I see company, or that my fear does.
+Don O.+ Y' are i' th' right; let's, to avoid suspicion, Walk on at large till they are out of distance. [The noise of a lock.
+Don C.+ I think I heard your garden door open.
+Don H.+ I think so too; ha! at this time of the night? Why, what a devil can this mean? 'Tis so.
+Don A.+ They have open'd this door: 'tis time for me To follow; surely Octavio is gone in. [+Antonio+ goes towards the door.
+Por.+ What stay you for? [Holding the door half open.
+Don H.+ What is't I hear? sure, 'tis Porcia's voice.
+Por.+ What mean you to stand there? come in, I say.
+Don H.+ Hell and furies! [He goes to draw his sword.
+Don C.+ Be patient, sir, and you will make a clearer Discovery of your affront.
+Por.+ You may come in securely, Octavio. [Setting open the door.
I have set those will watch my brother's coming.
+Don A.+ Madam, I am not Octavio.
+Por.+ Not Octavio! who are you then, and who's That shadow there?
+Don H.+ I can hold no longer. [Aside.] I'm thy destiny, [Draws his sword. Vile woman, and his mortal enemy.
+Don A.+ Ha, my mortal enemy?
+Don H.+ Yes, villain. Whoe'er them art, thou shalt pay This treachery with thy life.
+Don A.+ Vain man! whoe'er thou art, know [that] the life Thou threaten'st is guarded by a trusty sword. [+Don Carlos+ draws, and they all enter the garden fighting.
+Don H.+ Make fast the door. [To +Don Carlos+. Thou art some desperate villain hir'd to murder. [+Octavio+ and +Diego+ come to the door.
+Don A.+ Hir'd by friendship, and honour's my salary. [In the garden.
+Don O.+ That's Antonio's voice within the garden: [Runs to the door and finds it shut. What, the door shut! my friend engaged, and I Excluded! cursed fate! this tree may help me To climb o'er; if not, I'll fly t' him. [He climbs up.
+Diego.+ You may do so; your sprightly love has wings, And's ever fledg'd;[63] 'tis moulting-time with mine: Yet I'll up too; the hazard's not in climbing. [+Diego+ climbs the tree. Here I will sit, and out of danger's reach Expect the issue.
_Scene changes to a garden, out of which they issue fighting._
+Don O.+ Courage, brave friend; you have Octavio by you.
+Don A.+ So seconded, a coward would grow firm.
+Don H.+ What, is there more of your crew? then 'tis time To call for help. Ho! Silvio, Geraldo, Pedro! come forth, and bring out torches with you.
Enter +Silvio+, with his sword drawn.
+Sil.+ Here am I, sir, my camarades[64] will follow [They fight. As soon as they have lighted their torches.
+Don A.+ How I despise these slaves, Octavio, Having you by me!
+Diego.+ Their swords do clatter bravely in the dark. [In the tree.
+Sil.+ I'm slain.
[_+Silvio+ falls. +Don Henrique+, stepping back, falls over +Silvio+, and loses his sword, and Carlos runs in to him._
+Don C.+ What,[65] are you hurt?
+Don H.+ No, I fell by chance; help me to find my sword.
+Don O.+ What, do you give back? you do well to take breath, Whilst you have any left; 'twill not be long, Now that the rising moon lends us some light.
[The rising moon appears behind the scene. +Porcia+ runs out to +Octavio+.
+Por.+ O Octavio, let not this moment slip To free me from my cruel brother's fury, Or never hope to see me any more Amongst the living. [+Octavio+ leads her away by the arm.
+Don O.+ Ah, noble maid! he that is once possess'd Of such a treasure, and defends it not, Let him live wretched, and detested die. Where's my brave friend?
+Don A.+ You have me by your side: lead off your mistress; I'll secure your retreat.
+Diego.+ That, doubtless, is my master who, victorious, [In the tree, pointing to those who are going off. Is bravely marching off with his fair prize: I'll down and follow.
+Don C.+ But whilst I was engag'd to succour you, [Having helped up +Don Henrique+. Our enemies, I fear, are got away: I heard the door open, and see none here: Although the night's much brighter than it was. I'll follow, and trace the villains, if I can, To their dens: meanwhile take care of your sister: And pray, till my return, be moderate.
+Don H.+ How! moderation in this case?--what, ho! Geraldo, Pedro! Ah, ye cursed rogues!
Enter Servants with torches.
Durst ye not show your heads till they were gone? Geraldo, light me in, whilst Pedro looks To his hurt companion. Ah, Porcia, Porcia!
[Exeunt +Don Henrique+ and +Geraldo+: +Pedro+ carries out Silvio fainting with his hurts.
_Scene changes to the city of Seville. Enter +Don Octavio+, +Porcia+, +Don Antonio+, and a little after +Diego+, and after them +Don Carlos+._
+Diego.+ Sure, that's Antonio bringing up the rear? Sir, th' are but just before; my master bears her [Looking back to +Don Carlos+. Most gallantly away: lose not sight of me.
+Don C.+ This rogue takes me for one of his own crew; He will by his mistake help me to harbour 'em. [Exeunt.
_+Camilla+ and +Flora+ appear in the balcony. Scene changes to +Don Henrique's+ house._
+Cam.+ Was there ever such a disaster, Flora? Sure, th' are all dead, so great's the silence. Porcia! Porcia! Nobody answers.
+Flo.+ Madam, let us go down into the garden.
+Cam.+ Excuse me; that were to involve myself In this unlucky scandal. 'Tis possible, Affrighted with the scuffle, she's return'd Into her quarter by the other door; Let's away thither. [They go down upon the stage.
+Flo.+ O madam! I see a light, and Don Henrique coming this way with his sword drawn; what shall we do?
+Cam.+ Peace; let us hide ourselves behind the door [They go behind the door. Till we discover his intentions.
_Enter +Don Henrique+ and +Geraldo+ with a torch, and +Pedro+ with a light: +Don Henrique+ and +Geraldo+, their swords drawn._
+Ped.+ Sir, I have search'd all the rooms of the house, And cannot find her.
+Don H.+ Base, infamous woman! maybe, she's fled To the quarter order'd for Antonio.
+Ped.+ That door is lock'd, and's servant has the key.
+Don H.+ Ah, this cursed vagabond! thus to rob [He stamps. A brother of the fruits of all his care, And cast this stain on th' honour of our house! But if ever I get the fugitive Within my reach, I'll sacrifice her blood To the offended spirits of my ancestors.
+Flo.+ Madam, d' you hear?
+Cam.+ Yes, and tremble, Flora.
+Don H.+ Call for her woman.
+Ped.+ Flora! Flora!
Enter +Flora+.
+Flo.+ My good angel guard me! What's your pleasure, sir?
+Don H.+ Where's your mistress, hussy?
+Flo.+ She told me, sir, about half an hour since, She would go down into the garden. [Exit +Flora+.
+Don H.+ My shame is certain. Ah! the sad condition Of us men of honour! how unequally Our crosses and our comforts mingled are! Our orphan sisters are no sooner grown Above the follies of their childish age (During which season custom does exact Our watchful caution over all their actions), But they are grafted on some stranger stock, Where they do change both their abodes and names Without the least reflection on their kindness, Who pain'd themselves to cultivate their youth; Or else remain to exercise our fears. O unjust heavens! why suffer you that they, Who to our joys of life such bubbles are, Should add such weight unto our griefs and care? Ah, Porcia, Porcia!.
Enter +Don Carlos+.
+Don C.+ Don Henrique, if I am not much mistaken, I have in this short time made a great progress Towards your redress: I come from harbouring The villains who have done you this affront.
+Cam.+ [behind.] It imports to be attentive now.
+Don H.+ O, you revive me! May I but once enjoy The pleasure of my revenge, though the next Moment were the last period of my life, I should depart contented. Are the villains Within our reach?
+Don C.+ Be patient, sir, and I'll inform you fully. You were no sooner up, but I pursu'd Your flying enemies, hoping the night, Grown somewhat lighter, might help me to discover The place of their retreat. One of their party Who was behind the rest, mistaking me For one of his camerades, bad me come on, Saying his master was but just before; That he had borne his mistress bravely off, And put her champion brother out of combat.
+Don H.+ Insolent rascal! [He stamps.
+Don C.+ We had not pass'd above a street or two, Before he stopp'd, and at the second house Beyond the church, in Saint Iago's Street, He enter'd and desired me to follow him. I making a stand, he grew suspicious, And from my silence guessing his mistake, He slipp'd into the house, and lock'd the door. When I had well observ'd the street and house, I came with speed to give you this account.
+Flo.+ O madam, this is Don Octavio's house: Without all doubt, they've carri'd Porcia thither. [To +Camilla+ behind the door.
+Cam.+ Peace, Flora, and listen to the sequel.
+Don H.+ Come, cousin, we lose time--Heigh! who waits there? I will besiege the house; if they refuse To render, I'll reduce that theatre Of my shame to ashes, and make their fort Both theirs and its own sepulchre. There are Such charms in vengeance, that I do not wonder It is reserv'd for him who form'd the thunder.
+Don C.+ Have patience, cousin, and consult your reason; 'Twill soon convince you how unpracticable And vain your proposition is t' attempt, At this time of night, a house so guarded In a well-govern'd city: that would prove Very like thunder, which the cloud destroys, Wherein 'twas form'd, producing only noise. What can the issue be, but to alarm The town, expose your person and your fortune To th' rigour of the law, publish your shame, And frustrate your revenge for ever?
+Don H.+ What! would you have me tarry till these villains, Who have invaded my house, affronted My person, murder'd my servant, and robb'd Me of a sister, may evade my vengeance? [Spoken hastily.
+Don C.+ No, fear not that; let me alone to find A certain way to hinder their escape. I'll instantly to the corregidor, And beg the assistance of his authority To secure these criminals for the present, That afterwards the law may punish them.
+Don H.+ A fine proposal! Why, cousin, can you think That I'll submit a personal injury To th' tame decision of the formal law? And, having been affronted by the sword, To pray the aid of the long robe, and take An advocate for second? Reliev'd by law!
+Don C.+ Since we all parties are in making laws, We must not judges be in our own cause: We hold it infamous to break our words, Yet cancel the great charter with our swords.
+Don H.+ They by their insolence the laws invade.
+Don C.+ But you by your revenge the laws degrade.
+Don H.+ Honour obliges me to take revenge.
+Don C.+ Honour is justice, rightly understood: Your idol honour's only heat of blood.
+Don H.+ Honour's opinion, which rules all the world.
+Don C.+ Opinion, Henrique, only governs fools; Reason the wise and truly valiant rules.
+Don H.+ Reason's opinion; for every one Stamps reason on his own opinion.
+Don C.+ Then, by your argument, when people join In making laws, because they all opine, Laws are reasonable, and bind us all----
+Don H.+ Curse on your sophistry, to treat a friend With figures, that's raging in a fever! You may as well pretend to teach a man To sing his part, that's stretch'd upon a rack. No, sir, I'll sooner lose this irksome life, Than e'er consent to publish my disgrace Before I have reveng'd it--to assist At the funeral of my own honour! [He stamps.
+Don C.+ What a wild creature is a choleric man! [Aside. 'Tis far from my intent; all my design Is only how we may conceal your shame, Till we have got these villains in our power; Which can be brought about by no such means, As by demanding justice against those Who did assault your person, and have wounded Your servant--a very plausible pretence! Will this content you? Trust my conduct, cousin: Is not my interest the same with yours?
+Don H.+ Well, since it must be so, I pray, make haste.
+Don C.+ Doubt not my diligence; by this I'll prove Friendship has fire and wings, as well as love.
+Don H.+ If you could fly, you'd move with too much leisure; Ah, tedious minutes, which revenge does measure! [Exit +Carlos+.
+Flo.+ Madam, y' have heard their mischievous design?
+Cam.+ Yes, Flora, out of question Porcia's there, And, if they find her, she is lost for e'er.
+Flo.+ I'll try to hinder it, though I were certain To perish in th' attempt. I'm confident The house at present is in such confusion, I may run thither without being miss'd.
+Cam.+ 'Tis well thought on; in the interim, I'll retire To Porcia's chamber. [Exeunt from behind the door.
Enter +Geraldo+.
+Ger.+ Sir, Don Antonio is just arriv'd.
+Don H.+ Ha! what's that you say, sirrah?
+Ger.+ That Don Antonio, sir, your brother-in-law, Is without, walking i' th' hall, and bad me Give you notice of it. Shall he come in?
+Don H.+ Antonio arrived! O heavens, this circumstance Was only wanting to complete my shame! When he desires to see his wife, shall I Myself inform a person of his quality That she is run away? Where shall I find A heart, a tongue, a voice: or breath, or face, To utter this unparallel'd disgrace? [Spoken hastily. O this fantastic sense of honour! At my own tribunal stand assoil'd,[66] Yet, fearing others' censure, am embroil'd.
+Ger.+ What is your pleasure, sir? 'tis possible That Don Antonio may think it long.
+Don.+ H. Wait on him in, but at the same time tell him You cannot find me. I will leave my house And the discovery of my shame to fate, And any censure rather undergo Than be the reporter of my own disgrace; Till first I have my honour's ransom paid In the vile blood of this perfidious maid. [Exit +Henrique+.
Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Ernesto+.
+Don A.+ My friend and his fair mistress safely lodg'd, And free from their adventure, 'tis now fit To mind my own engagement. But, Ernesto, What can the meaning be of this rude usage, In suffering me to stay without thus long Upon my first arrival? Come, let's go on Into the other rooms.
+Ern.+ I swear, sir, I'm amazed at this great change. 'Tis not above two hours since I found here A numerous and well-order'd family, In all appearance. Now I see the pages Bolt out of the doors, then start back again Into their holes, like rabbits in a warren! The maids lie peeping at the garret-windows, Like th' upper tier of ordnance in a ship; All looks disorder'd now; nor can I guess What may have caus'd so great an alteration. But there I see the servant you sent in.
Enter +Geraldo+.
+Don A.+ Friend, where's your master?
+Ger.+ I cannot tell, sir.
+Don A.+ Where is his sister?
+Ger.+ In truth, I know not, sir; we men-servants Have little to do in the ladies' quarters. [Exit +Geraldo+.
+Don A.+ This looks but oddly. Are you sure, Ernesto, Y' have not misguided me to a wrong house?
+Ern.+ If you are sure, sir, that we are awake, Then I am certain this is the same house, Wherein this afternoon I saw and spoke with Don Henrique and your bride: by the same token, There was a lady with her in a veil, And this very room is the antechamber To her apartment.
+Don A.+ I should be finely serv'd if, after all This negotiation and a tedious journey, My pains and patience should be cast away On some such wither'd sybil for a wife, As her own brother is asham'd to show me.
+Ern.+ You'll soon be freed from that fear, sir. [+Ernesto+ goes toward the door.
+Don A.+ How so?
+Ern.+ Because I see her in the inner room, Lying along upon her couch, and reading. Her face is turn'd the other way; but yet Her shape and clothes assure me 'tis the same.
+Don A.+ Art certain that 'tis she?
+Ern.+ There are not many like her.
+Don A.+ If thou be'st sure 'tis she, I'll venture in Without her brother's presence t' introduce me.
+Ern.+ She's coming this way, sir.
Enter +Camilla+ reading.
+Cam.+ Y' have reason, Dido, and 'tis well remark'd-- [She shuts her book; and after a little pause-- The woman who suffers herself to love Ought likewise to prepare herself to suffer. There was great power in your charms, Æneas, T' enthral a lady's heart at first approach, And make such early and such deep impressions, That nothing but her death could e'er deface. Alas, poor Dido!--
+Don A.+ O heavens! what's that I see?--or do I dream? [+Antonio+, seeing her, starts, then stands as if amazed. Sure, I am asleep, and 'tis a vision Of her who's always present to my thoughts; Who (fearing my revolt) does now appear To prove and to confirm my constancy. When first I saw that miracle, she seem'd An apparition; here it must be one. What fit of frenzy's this?
+Ern.+ Sir, 'tis Porcia: A lovely, living woman, and your bride.
+Don A.+ The blessing is too mighty for my faith.
+Ern.+ Faith! Ne'er trouble your faith in this occasion; Approach her boldly, sir, and trust your sense.
+Don A.+ As when we dream of some transporting pleasure, And (finding that we dream) we fear to wake, Lest sense should rob us of our fancy's treasure, And our delightful vision from us take, Bless'd apparition, so it fares with me. That very angel now once more appears, To whose divinity long since I rais'd An altar in my heart, where I have offer'd The constant sacrifice of sighs and vows. My eyes are open, yet I dare not trust 'em! Bliss above faith must pass for an illusion. If such it be, O, let me sleep for ever, Happily deceiv'd? But, celestial maid, If this thy glorious presence real be, O, let one word of pity raise my soul From visionary bliss, and make me die With real joy instead of ecstasy. Speak, speak, my destiny; for the same breath May warm my heart, or cool it into death.
+Ern.+ 'Slife! he's in one of his old fits again-- Why, what d' you mean, sir? 'tis Porcia herself.
+Cam.+ I am that maid, who to your virtue owes Her honour then and her disquiet since; Yet in my pain I cannot but be pleas'd To find a passion, censur'd in our sex, Justifi'd by so great an obligation. 'Tis true I blush, yet I must own the fire, To which both love and gratitude conspire.
+Don A.+ Incomparable creature! can it be That, having suffer'd all which mighty love Did e'er inflict, I now should be repaid With as full joys as love could ever give? Fortune, to make my happiness complete, Has join'd her power, and made me find a bride In a lost mistress: but with this allay-- Of leaving me no means my faith to prove, Since chance anticipates the pains of love.
+Cam.+ The servant's error has misled the master, He takes me too for Porcia. Bless'd mistake! Assist me now, artful dissimulation. [Aside. But how can that consist with so much passion? 'Tis possible, the sense of my distress'd Condition might dispose a noble heart To take impressions then, which afterwards Time and your second thoughts may have defac'd; But can a constant passion be produc'd From those ideas pity introduc'd? Let your tongue speak your heart; for, should y' abuse me, I shall in time discover the deceit: You may paint fire, Antonio, but not heat.
+Don A.+ Madam!
+Cam.+ Hold. Be not too scrupulous, Antonio; Let me believe it, though it be not true; For the chief happiness poor maids receive Is when themselves they happily deceive.
+Don A.+ If, since those conquering eyes I first beheld, You have not reign'd unrivall'd in my heart, May you despise me now you are my own; Which is to me all curses summ'd in one. But may your servant, madam, take the boldness To ask if you have ever thought of him?
+Cam.+ A love, so founded in a grateful heart, Has need of no remembrancer, Antonio; You know yourself too well: those of your trade Have skill to hold as well as to invade.
+Don A.+ Fortune has lifted me to such a height Of happiness, that it may turn my brain When I look down upon the world. What have I now to wish but moderation To temper and to fix my joys?
+Cam.+ I yield as little t' you, noble Antonio, In happiness as affection; but still Porcia must do as may become your bride, And sister to Don Henrique, in whose absence A longer conference must be excused: Therefore I take the freedom to withdraw. Should I have stay'd until Don Henrique came, His presence would have marr'd my whole design. [Aside. Exit +Camilla+.
+Don A.+ Where beauty, virtue, and discretion join, 'Tis heaven, methinks, to find that treasure mine!
Enter +Don Henrique+.
+Don H.+ Sure, Don Antonio, having long ere this Found out th' infamous flight of my vile sister, Will be retir'd to meditate revenge Upon us both. Ah, curse! he is there still. [He sees him. I'll slip away. But it is now too late; He has perceiv'd me.
+Don A.+ How, Don Henrique! avoid your friend that's come So long a journey t' embrace you, and cast Himself at the feet of your fair sister?
+Don H.+ Noble Antonio, you may well imagine The trouble I am in, that you should find My house in such disorder, so unfit To receive th' honour of so brave a guest.
+Don A.+ 'Tis true, Don Henrique, I am much surpris'd With what I find: I little did expect Your sister Porcia should have been----
+Don H.+ O heavens! I'm lost, he has discover'd all. [Aside. 'Tis not, Antonio, in a brother's power To make a sister of a better paste Than heav'n has made her.
+Don A.+ In your case 'specially; for without doubt Heaven never made a more accomplish'd creature.
+Don H.+ What means the man? [Aside.
+Don A.+ I come just now from entertaining her, Whose wit and beauty so excel all those Of her fair sex whom I have ever known, That my description of her would appear Rather detraction than a just report Of her perfections.
+Don H.+ Certainly he mocks me: he never could Have chosen a worse sufferer of scorn; But I will yet contain myself awhile, To see how far he'll drive it. [Aside.] Say you, sir, That you have seen and entertain'd my sister?
+Don A.+ Yes, Don Henrique; and with such full contentment, So rais'd above expression, that I think The pains and care of all my former life Rewarded with excess in the delight Of those few minutes of her conversation. Tis true that satisfaction was abridg'd By her well-weigh'd severity to give me A greater pleasure in the contemplation Of her discreet observance of the rules Of decency, not suffering me, though now Her husband, any longer to enjoy So great a happiness, you not being by.
+Don H.+ I am confounded; but I must dissemble My astonishment till I can unfold The mystery. [Aside.] She might have spared that caution: But I suppose you'll easily forgive An error on the better side.
+Don A.+ Sir, I have seen so much of her perfection In that short visit, I shall sooner doubt Our definitions in morality Than once suppose her capable of error.
+Don H.+ This exposition makes it more obscure, I must get him away. [Aside.] Sir, is't not time To wait on you to your chamber? It's late, And I believe [that] you have need of rest.
+Don A.+ I should accept your offer, sir, with thanks, If I were not oblig'd, as late as 'tis, To see a friend before I go to bed.
+Don H.+ I'll bear you company, if you'll give me leave.
+Don A.+ I humbly thank you, sir, but can't consent To give you so much trouble; I'll return Within an hour at farthest.
+Don H.+ Whene'er you please; y' are wholly master here.
+Don A.+ I never saw a man so discompos'd, Whate'er the matter is. [Aside. Ernesto, I must make a step to see A friend near-hand; bid Sancho follow me, And stay you in my chamber till I come. [Exeunt +Antonio+ and +Ernesto+.
+Don H.+ Your servant, sir. [_+Don Henrique+ waits on him to the door._] This sudden sally hence At this time of the night, newly arriv'd From a long journey, and not to suffer me To wait upon him, does embroil me more. But now I will not long be in suspense; I'll to my sister's chamber.
_Enter +Don Carlos+, as +Don Henrique+ is going into +Porcia's+ chamber._
+Don C.+ Ho! Don Henrique! come away, all's prepar'd. Our kinsman the corregidor is ready With a strong band of serjeants, and stays for you.
+Don H.+ Speak softly, Don Antonio is arriv'd, And some of his may overhear us.
+Don C.+ That's very unlucky; but does he know Your sister's missing?
+Don H.+ I think not yet.
+Don C.+ Come, let's away; we have no time to lose.
+Don H.+ Pray, stay awhile. I labour with a doubt Will burst me, if not clear'd before I go.
+Don C.+ What, cousin, will you lose an opportunity Never to be recover'd? Are you mad? Will you permit the villains to escape, And laugh at us for ever? Come away. [He pulls him.
+Don H.+ Well, I must go, and let him make it out; The worst estate of human life is doubt. [Exeunt.
FOOTNOTES:
[63] [Former edits., fledge.]
[64] [So for metre's sake, instead of comrades.]
[65] [This is printed by Mr Collier, Wat are you hurt?]
[66] Absolved, discharged. Fr. absoudre. Lat. absolvere.--Junius.
See likewise note to Lodge's "Wounds of Civil War" [vii. 169].--Collier.
"Then had the Monkes aucthoritie to preache, baptyse, and assoyle from synne, which they never had afore."--Bale's "Acts of English Votaries," fol. 35, edit. 1550.
See also "World of Wonders," 1607, part i. p. 32.--Gilchrist.
Act IV
+Scene.+--+Don Octavio's+ house.
_Enter +Don Octavio+ angrily, pushing +Diego+, and +Porcia+ following._
+Don O.+ Villain, thou hast undone us! cursed villain! Where was thy soul I had fear quite banish'd it, And left thee not one grain of common sense?
+Por.+ Was there ever so fatal an accident?
+Don O.+ Why, traitor, didst thou not let me know it As soon as we were come into the house?
+Diego.+ What would y' have done, if you had known it then?
+Don O.+ I would have sallied out and kill'd the rogue, In whose pow'r thou hast put it to destroy us. Can it be doubted but that long ere this He has acquainted Henrique where we are, From whose black rage we must immediately Expect t' encounter all the worst extremes Of malice, seconded by seeming justice? For the unfortunate are still i' th' wrong. Curse on all cowards! better far be serv'd By fools and knaves: they make less dangerous faults.
+Diego.+ Am I in fault because I'm not a cat? How could I tell i' th' dark whether that rascal Were a knight-errant or a recreant knight? I thought him one of us, and true to love. Were it not for such accidents as these, That mock man's forecast, sure, the Destinies Had ne'er been plac'd amongst the deities.
+Don O.+ Peace, cowardly slave! having thus play'd the rogue, Are you grown sententious? Did I not fear To stain my sword with such base blood, I'd let Thy soul out with it at a thousand wounds.
+Diego.+ Why, then, a thousand thanks to my base blood For saving my good flesh. [Aside.
+Don O.+ Pardon, my dearest mistress, this excess Of passion in your presence.
+Por.+ What shall we do, Octavio? if we stay here, We are undone for ever: my brother Will be instantly upon us. Alas! My own life I value not, Octavio, When yours, my better life, such hazard runs; But, O my honour! O my innocence! Expos'd to scandal: there's my deepest sense.
+Don O.+ Though the complexion of your brother's malice Resemble hell, it is not black enough To cast a stain upon your virgin innocence. Sure, two such diff'rent branches ne'er did spring From the same stock. To me't seems very strange, Our middle natures, form'd of flesh and blood, Should have such depths of ill, such heights of good, An angel sister and a devil brother!
+Por.+ He's my brother, and I know no defence For injur'd innocence but innocence. Fly, fly, Octavio! leave me to my fate.
+Don O.+ Your kindness, generous maid, confutes itself. To save my life, you counsel me to fly, Which is at once to bid me live and die.
+Por.+ What then, for heaven's sake, d' you resolve to do?
+Don O.+ I must resolve, and suddenly, but what, I swear, I know not: there have been such turns In my misfortunes, they have made me giddy.
+Por.+ You must determine; time wastes, Octavio.
+Don O.+ Madam, if I should lead you through the streets, And chance to meet the officers of justice, I not daring to avow my person, For that unlucky accident you know of, You might, I fear, by that means be in danger: We must not venture't. Run, rascal, and fetch A chair immediately.
+Diego.+ A pretty errand at this time o' th' night! These chairmen are exceedingly well-natur'd; Th' are likely to obey a servant's orders After nine of [the] clock! [Exit +Diego+.
+Don O.+ Ye pow'rs above, why do ye lay so great A weight on human nature, and bestow Such an unequal force to bear our loads? After a long pursuit, through all those stories, Which hell-bred malice or the pow'r of fate Could ever raise t' oppress a noble love, To be at length possess'd of a rich mine, Where nature seem'd to have lodged all her treasure, And in an instant have it ravish'd from me, Is too rude a trial for my patience To sustain: I cannot bear it.
+Por.+ My sense of this misfortune equals yours; But yet I must conjure you to submit To the decrees of those who rule above: Such resignation may incline their justice Th' impending mischief to divert; besides, In human things there's such vicissitude, Where hope should end we hardly can conclude.
+Don O.+ Weak hope the parent is of anxious care, And more tormenting far than fix'd despair: This makes us turn to new expedients, That languish 'twixt desire and diffidence.
+Por.+ Fortune will blush for shame when she shall find Her best-aim'd darts can never touch your mind.
+Don O.+ Ah, Porcia! though my mind be far above The reach of fate, 'tis level unto love. Urge it no more: I'll die a thousand deaths, Ere I'll consent to part with you. [Strikes his breast.
+Por.+ I shall be always yours; for though we're forc'd To separate, yet we are not divorc'd.
+Don O.+ Whilst our souls act by organs of the sense, 'Twixt death and parting there's no difference.
+Por.+ Consult your reason, then you will comply, Making a virtue of necessity.
+Don O.+ Ah, lovely maid! 'twas not allowed to Jove To hold at once his reason and his love.
Enter +Diego+.
+Diego.+ The chair is come, sir, just as I expected.
+Don O.+ Where is it?
+Diego.+ Even where it was: they are deeply engag'd A las Pintas,[67] and will not leave their game, They swear, for all the dons in Seville.
+Don O.+ A curse upon these rogues! I'll make 'em come, Or make their hearts ache. [+Don Octavio+ runs out.
+Diego.+ Madam, though I was never yet unkind To my own person, I am so much troubled At the disquiet my mistake has brought you, That, could I do't conveniently, i' faith, I would even cudgel myself.
+Por.+ Away, buffoon! is this a time for fooling?
Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Sancho+.
+Don A.+ Where is my noble friend Octavio?
+Diego.+ Did you not meet him at the door, sir?
+Don A.+ No.
+Diego.+ He went out, sir, just as you came in.
+Don A.+ Madam, I might have gone to bed, but not [Addresses himself to +Porcia+. To rest, without returning to inquire Of yours and of my noble friend's condition, And once more to offer you my service.
+Por.+ I take the boldness, in Octavio's absence, To return his with my most humble thanks, For your late generous assistance of us, And for this new addition to our debt.
+Don A.+ Though I have not th' honour to be known t' you, The service of your sex in their distresses Is the first vow of those of our profession; And my constant friendship for Octavio Is of so old a date, that all occasions, By which I may express the fervour of it, Are most welcome to me.
Enter +Flora+ in great haste.
+Flo.+ O madam, I am cut of breath with running.
+Por.+ What accident, Flora, brings you hither?
+Flo.+ A sad one, madam, and requiring haste, To give you timely notice on't. Don Carlos, Assisted by the light o' th' rising moon, And by a mistake of some of your train, Has trac'd you to this house, and in my hearing Inform'd your brother of the place and manner Of your retreat: who is now coming hither Accompanied with the corregidor, To seize on whomsoever shall be found Within these walls, upon pretence of murder.
+Por.+ O cruel accident!
+Flo.+ Madam, make haste: get out of the backdoor, Or you will certainly be met with.
+Por.+ How vile a creature am I now become! For, though in my own innocence secure, To the censorious world who, like false glasses, Mingling their own irregular figures, Misreflect the object, I shall appear Some sinful woman, sold to infamy.
+Don A.+ Your own clear mind's the glass, which to yourself Reflects yourself; and, trust me, madam, W' are only happy then, when all our joys Flow from ourselves, not from the people's voice.
+Flo.+ Madam, they'll instantly be here.
+Por.+ O, that Octavio should just now be absent! But to expect till he return were madness.
+Don A.+ Y' have reason, madam; and, if you dare trust Your person to the conduct of a stranger, Upon my honour, lady, I'll secure you, Or perish in th' attempt.
+Por.+ Generous sir, how shall a wretched maid, Abandon'd by her fate to the pursuit Of an inhuman brother, e'er be able Either to merit or requite your favours?
+Don A.+ I am th' oblig'd, if rightly understood, Being o'erpaid by th' joy of doing good.
+Por.+ Sir, I resign myself to your protection With equal gratitude and confidence.
+Don A.+ Come, madam, we must lose no time-- Diego, find out your master presently, And tell him that, the danger not allowing Our stay till his return, I shall convey His mistress safely to a nunnery.
+Por.+ And, Flora, stay you here to bring me word What he resolves to do in this our desperate Condition. [Exit +Diego+.
+Flo.+ Madam, I shall.
+Don A.+ But stay--I swear I'd like to have committed [Going out, returns. A foul mistake: the monastery gates Will not be open'd at this time o' th' night Without a strict inquiry into the cause; Besides, 'tis possible that, once lodg'd there, She may be out of my friend's pow'r or mine Ever to get her thence, if it be known. It must not be. I have thought better on't. [He pauses, and thinks. I will convey you to my brother-in-law's, A person of such quality and honour, As may protect and serve you with his credit: And there my wife may have the happiness T' accompany you, and pay the offices, Due to your virtue and distress'd condition: And, going to a house that's so much mine, Make account, madam, 'tis to your own home. Sancho, stay you here to attend Octavio, [Turning to +Sancho+. And guide him the next way to my apartment: Here is the key, I shall have little use on't, Having Ernesto waiting for me there. One word more, Sancho: let Octavio know 'Tis my advice, that he come in a chair. He by that means may possibly escape Examination, if he should be met with.
+Por.+ Flora, I pray, do you continue here, And if by any accident Octavio Should be hinder'd from coming after us, Observe his motions well, and where he fixes; Then return home, and I shall find some way Of sending to you to inform myself.
+Flo.+ I shall not fail t' observe your orders, madam.
+Don A.+ Madam, I am ready to attend you.
+Por.+ Ah, cruel brother! ah, my dear Octavio! How am I tortur'd betwixt love and hate!
+Don A.+ W' had better suffer than deserve our fate. [Exit +Don Antonio+ and +Porcia+.
+San.+ 'Tis no small compliment my master makes Your lady and her gallant, at this time O' th' night to quit his brother-in-law's, and leave So fair a bride as Porcia all alone.
+Flo.+ What, is his mistress's name Porcia too?
+San.+ Yes; and if she has as fair a handmaid As yourself, I shall soon forget my damsels In the Low Countries.
+Flo.+ If your Low-Country damsels resemble us, You would not be put to't to forget first. But I believe that you are safe enough: I have not heard such praises of their wit, But that we may suppose they have good memories.
Enter +Diego+.
+Diego.+ Is not my master yet return'd?
+Flo.+ No.
+Diego.+ Well, now have we an honourable cause To wear the beadle's livery: faith, Flora, If your tender sex had not been privileg'd From this harsh discipline, how prettily Would the beadle's crimson lace show upon Your white back!
+Flo.+ 'Twon't do so well as on a darker ground: 'Twill suit much better with your tawny hide.
+San.+ I pray, camerade, is it the mode in Seville To be whipp'd for company?
+Diego.+ O sir, a well-bred soldier will ne'er refuse Such a civility to an old friend; This is a new way of being a second, To show your passive courage.
+San.+ We soldiers do not use to show our backs.
+Diego.+ Not to your enemies; but, sir, the beadle Will prove your friend; for, your blood being heated With riding post, the breathing of a vein Is very requisite.
+San.+ Would t' heaven that I were i' the camp again: There we are never stripp'd till we are dead.
Enter +Don Octavio+, and the Chairmen appear at the door.
+Don O.+ Be sure you stir not thence, till I return. [To the Chairmen. Sirrah, where's Porcia?
+Diego.+ She's fled away i' th' dark with a young man Of your acquaintance.
+Don O.+ Rascal, leave your fooling.
+Diego.+ There's none i' th' case, sir: 'tis the wisest thing She ever did; had she stay'd your return, She would have fallen into those very clutches In which you will immediately be gripp'd, Unless you make more haste. Flora is come With all the speed she could, to let you know Th' are coming with the justice, to lay hold Of all within this house; pray be quick, sir, And save yourself. She's safe in a nunnery, Conducted thither by Antonio.
+Don O.+ Peace, screech-owl! fire consume that tongue of thine! What say'st thou, villain! in a nunnery? Porcia in a nunnery? O heavens! nothing But this was wanting to make me desperate. What hope's there left ever to get her thence, After such accidents as these made public? Ah, Flora, is it true that my dear Porcia Is gone into a nunnery?
+Flo.+ Once, sir, 'twas so resolv'd, and Diego sent To give you notice on't; but afterwards, He being gone, they chang'd their resolutions. There's one can tell you more. [Pointing to +Sancho+.
+San.+ My master bad me stay, to let you know He has convey'd her to his own apartment In his brother-in-law's house, a person So eminent in quality and credit, That the imagining him in her and your Protection, sir, may much avail ye both: Besides, she'll have the satisfaction there Of being treated by my master's bride. There he'll expect you, and advises you To come in a chair, to avoid questioning, In case of any encounter.
+Don O.+ I'll take his counsel: he's a generous friend. Come, chairmen, away; pray, friend, do you guide us. [To +Sancho+.
+Diego.+ Up with your burden, beasts, and fall forthwith To your half-trot.
[Exeunt. The chair is carried over the stage; +Diego+, +Sancho+, and +Flora+ follow.
A noise within. Follow, follow, follow! _Enter +Don Carlos+, the +Corregidor+, and +Sergeants+, pursuing +Sancho+, +Flora+, and +Diego+._
+Diego.+ This is one of Don Cupid's pretty jests: W' are struck upon a shelf before we could Put out to sea.
+Don C.+ You find, sir, my conjecture's not ill-grounded. [To the +Corregidore+.
+Cor.+ What are you, sirrah?
+Diego.+ A living creature, very like a man: Only I want a heart.
+Cor.+ Y' are pleasant, sir; pray heaven your mirth continue. Who is that woman with the veil?
+Diego.+ Let her answer for herself, sh' has a tongue; Set it but once agoing, and she'll tell All that she knows, and more.
+Cor.+ Make her uncover her face. [One of the +Sergeants+ goes to lift up her veil.
+Don C.+ Hold, friend. Cousin, if it should be Porcia, [Turning to the +Corregidore+. It were not fit to expose her here.
+Cor.+ 'Tis very well consider'd. Go you to her. And speak to her in private. [+Don Carlos+ goes towards +Flora+.
+Flo.+ 'Tis I, sir, Flora who, being commanded By my lady----
+Don C.+ Speak softly, prythee, Flora, 'tis enough; I understand the rest, and pity her: Bid her sit still i' th' chair, I'll do my best To save her from dishonour.
+Flo.+ He thinks 'tis Porcia there; a good mistake; It may secure Octavio from the hands Of this rude rabble. [Aside. They take you for my mistress, sir; sit still, [To +Don Octavio+ in the chair. I'll follow the chair, and watch all occasions To further your escape.
+Don C.+ We have found our wand'ring nymph, sir.
+Cor.+ Was it Porcia?
+Don C.+ No, sir, 'twas her waiting-woman, Flora, following the chair, wherein they were conveying her lady to some other place.
+Cor.+ We arriv'd luckily: had we but stay'd a moment longer, they had all been fled.
+Ser.+ Will you have us see, sir, who's i' th' chair?
+Cor.+ Forbear, fellow! Her own folly is punishment enough [To +Don Carlos+. T' a woman of her quality, without Our adding that of public shame.
+Don C.+ 'Twas happily thought on, when you oblig'd Don Henrique to expect us at your house; For had he come and found his sister here, 'T had been impossible to have restrain'd His passion from some great extravagance.
+Cor.+ I could not think it fit to let him come; For one of such a spirit would ne'er brook The sight of these had done him these affronts And's better that a business of this nature, Especially 'twixt persons of such quality, Should be compos'd, if it were possible, By th' mediation of some chosen friends, Than brought t' a public trial of the law; Or, which is worse, some barbarous revenge.
+Don C.+ This fellow, if I am not much[68] mistaken, [Looking upon +Diego+. Is Don Octavio's man.
+Cor.+ Who do you belong to, friend?
+Diego.+ To nobody, sir.
+Cor.+ Do not you serve?
+Diego.+ Yes, sir; but my master is not himself.
+Cor.+ Take his sword from him, sergeant. [The +Sergeant+ goes to lake away his sword.
+Diego.+ Diego, disarm'd by any other hand Than by his own? Know, friend, it is a weapon Of such dire execution, that I dare not Give it up but to the hands of justice.
[The +Corregidor+ receives the sword, and gives it to the hands of his +Sergeants+.
Pray call for't, sir, as soon as you come home, And hang't up in your hall, then underwrite, This is bold Diego's sword. O, may it be Ever from rust, as 'tis from slaughter, free!
+Cor.+ Thou art a fellow of a pleasant humour.
+Diego.+ Faith, sir, I never pain myself for love, Or fame, or riches; nor do I pretend To that great subtlety of sense, to feel Before I'm hurt; and for the most part I keep myself out of harm's way.
+Don C.+ The definition of a philosopher!
+Cor.+ Come, leave your fooling, sirrah. Where's your master?
+Diego.+ The only way to leave my fooling, sir, Is to leave my master; for, without doubt, Whoever has but the least grain of wit Would never serve a lover militant: He had better wait upon a mountebank, And be run through the body twice a week To recommend his balsam.
+Cor.+ This fellow is an original.
+Diego.+ But of so ill a hand, I am not worth The hanging up, sir, in my master's room, Amongst the worst of your collection.
Enter +Sergeants+, with two Footmen and two Maid-servants.
+Ser.+ An't please your worship, we have search'd the house From the cellars to the garrets, and these Are all the living cattle we can find.
+Cor.+ Friends, take a special care of that same varlet And the waiting-woman: we'll find a way To make them tell the truth, I warrant you.
+Flo.+ O Diego! must we be prisoners together?
+Diego.+ Why, that's not so bad as the bands of wedlock, Flora.
+Cor.+ Come, let's away; but whither to convey her? To her own house certainly were not fit, Because of her incensed brother.
+Don C.+ If you approve on't, cousin, I'll carry her To mine; for since we seek (if possible) To compose the business, she will be there With much more decency and satisfaction, Being in a kinsman's house, and where she'll have My sister to accompany her.
+Cor.+ This business cannot be in better hands Than yours; and there I'll leave it, and bid you Good night.
+Don C.+ Your servant, cousin; I wish you well at home. You may be pleas'd to take your sergeants with you; [As the +Corregidor+ goes out-- There are without two servants of Don Henrique's, They'll be enough to guard our prisoners, And with less notice.
+Cor.+ Come, sergeants, follow me.
+Don C.+ Well, ye may go about your business, friends. [To the Footmen and Maids. I am glad we did not find Octavio here; For, though I might justly pretend ignorance, I would not have him suffer, though by chance. [Exeunt Servants.
+San.+ Well, I am now sufficiently instructed, And, since there is no notice ta'en of me, I'll fairly steal away, and give my master An account of this misfortune. [Exit +Sancho+.
+Don C.+ Take up the chair, and follow me. [They take up the chair.
+Diego.+ A lovely dame they bear: 'tis true, she's something Hairy about the chin, but that, they say, 's A sign of strength. It tickles me to think How like an ass he'll look when, op'ning the shell, His worship finds within so rough a kernel. [Exeunt.
Scene changes to +Don Antonio's+ apartment in +Don Henrique's+ house. Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Porcia+.
+Don A.+ Madam, banish your fear: you are now safe Within these walls: be pleas'd to remain here Till I shall bring some lights, and acquaint Porcia With th' honour she'll receive in entertaining So fair a guest.
+Por.+ Who is't you say you will advertise, sir?
+Don A.+ My wife Porcia. Have but a little patience, And she'll attend you, madam. [Exit +Antonio+.
+Por.+ Is her name Porcia too? Pray heaven send her A better fate than her distress'd name's-sake. But whither am I brought? What house is this? What with my fears and darkness of the night, I have lost all my measures: I can't guess What quarter of the town it is w' are in; For, to avoid the meeting with my brother And his revengeful train, we have been forc'd To make so many turnings, I am giddy. But, thanks to providence, I have this comfort, That now I'm in a place out of his reach.
_Enter +Don Antonio+ with two lights, and sets them on the table._
+Don A.+ Madam, my wife will suddenly attend you; Pardon, I pray, my absence for a moment. [Exit +Antonio+.
+Por.+ Now I begin to hope my sighs and tears Have in some measure with just heaven prevail'd At length to free me. But what do I see! [Looking about her, she starts. Am I awake, or is it an illusion? Bless me, is not this my brother's house? this, The quarter joining to my own apartment? There is no room for doubt; and my misfortunes Are always certain and without redress. Unerring powers, arbiters of fate, Teach me my crimes, and how to expiate Your wrath! Alas! I know not what I have done To merit this continued persecution! But how came I here I brought by Octavio's friend, One on whose virtue I did so rely, That I my brother's malice durst defy. Can he betray me? sure, I'm in a dream. But if Octavio--O vile suspicion! Octavio false?--No, truth and he are one. 'Tis possible his friend may guilty be, But to what end so base a treachery? And if perfidious, how could he be his friend? I am confounded with the various forms Of my misfortunes, heighten'd still the more, The less I can their hidden cause explore. This only's evident, that I must fly Immediately this fatal place. But why Struggle I thus with fate, since, go or stay, Death seems alike to wait me every way. [She weeps.
Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Camilla+.
+Cam.+ I wonder much what lady this can be Antonio mentions. [Aside.
+Don A.+ Pardon, I beseech you, madam, the liberty Which I so early take; but I presume Such is your generous tenderness to those Whose spiteful fortunes, not their fault, has brought Into distress, that you will think yourself Oblig'd to him who gives you the occasion T' exercise those virtues, which only visit Others, but reside with you. This fair lady-- But she will best relate her own sad story, Whilst I seek out Don Henrique, and engage him T' employ his power and int'rest for her service.
[_Exit +Don Antonio+. Upon +Camilla's+ approach +Porcia+ takes the handkerchief from her eyes._
+Cam.+ Ha! what is that I see? Stay, stay, Antonio, [She runs after Antonio. It is not fit Don Henrique--but he's gone, And we are lost for ever!
+Por.+ O heavens! is this Antonio, the same man, To whom I am betroth'd? then my destruction Is inevitable.
+Cam.+ Are you an apparition, or are you Porcia herself? speak; that when y' have said it thrice, I may not yet believe you.
+Por.+ You well may doubt even what you see, Camilla, Since my disasters are so new and strange, They sever truth from credibility.
+Cam.+ How is it possible you should be here?
+Por.+ I know not how: only of this I'm sure, I have not long to expect the dismal end Of my sad tragedy; since 'tis evident, The person that hath led me to this place, This fatal place, is the abus'd Antonio, Who has conspir'd with my unnatural brother To take away my wretched life, and chose This scene as fittest for their cruelty. And thus, strange fate! (through ignorance betray'd) I have sought protection from the same party Whom I have injur'd, and have made my husband The only confidant of his own affront: Who, to accomplish his too just revenge, As well upon my family as person, Gives me up to be murder'd by my brother; So, whilst I'm branded as a faithless bride, He'll be detested as a parricide.
+Cam.+ Prodigious accident! but wert thou blind, Not to know thine own house, unhappy Porcia?
+Por.+ Alas! how could I, in so dark a night, In such confusion, and so full of fear? Besides, he brought me in by the back-way, Through his own quarter, where was neither light, Nor any creature of the family.
+Cam.+ Although I cannot comprehend the steps Of this your strange adventure, yet, dear cousin, Your case, as I conceive, is not so desperate.
+Por.+ We easily persuade ourselves to hope The things we wish. But, cousin, my condition Will not admit self-flattery, and what Can you propose to temper my despair?
+Cam.+ Don't you remember, how this afternoon Antonio's man, finding me in your quarter Without a veil, you having put on mine, That he applied himself to me, and I, By your command, assum'd your person?
+Por.+ Yes, very well.
+Cam.+ The master since has, by the man's mistake, Been happily led into the same error: I have not disabus'd him yet, in hopes It might produce advantage to us both.
+Por.+ O, he has spoken with my brother since, Who (sure) has undeceiv'd him long e'er this. No, without doubt, they, having found themselves Affronted both, have both conspir'd my death.
+Cam.+ How, cousin, can that be, if Don Antonio Has engag'd himself in your protection, And is Octavio's friend?
+Por.+ Cousin, if you impartially reflect On the affront which I have done Antonio, You will not wonder much if he recede From the scarce-trodden path of rigid honour To meet with his revenge, and to that end Proceeds thus cautelously, still pretending He knows not me, that he may disavow, Both to Octavio and to all the world, Th' infamy of betraying a poor maid To loss of life and honour.
+Cam.+ Misfortunes make you rave: this vile suspicion Is inconsistent with Antonio's fame. You may as well believe that nature will Reverse the order of the whole creation, As that Antonio, a man whose soul Is of so strong and perfect a complexion, Should e'er descend to such a slavish sin. [Spoken with heat. And if we had the leisure, I could give you Such reasons to convince you of your error, That you would both acknowledge and repent it.
+Por.+ Alas! I had forgot her near concernments For Antonio. [Aside.] Pardon and pity me, Camilla; My mind is so distracted by afflictions, I know not what I should, or should not, fear.
+Cam.+ I pity thee with all my heart. But, cousin, If Antonio, not knowing you nor your Relations, should chance to find your brother, And tell him unawares all that has pass'd, And that h' has brought the distress'd party hither, He'll presently imagine it is you, And then, I fear, 'twill be impossible (Though he should interpose with all his power) To stop the torrent, or divert his rage From breaking in, and executing on us That horrid parricide which, though too late, It may be he himself would execrate.
+Por.+ There's too much ground for what you fear, Camilla; But if I could secure myself this night, 'Tis very possible that to-morrow We might engage Antonio and your brother To find out some expedient to relieve me.
+Cam.+ Were you only in pain for your security This night, I know an easy remedy For that.
+Por.+ Which way, my dearest?
+Cam.+ Why, what does hinder us from making use On this occasion of the secret door, By which, you know, you have so often pass'd Into your house upon more pleasing errands? By this we shall obtain these benefits-- [A] safety from your brother's present fury, And time to try if Carlos and Antonio May be engag'd to mediate in this business; And I have cause to think you will not find Antonio so implacable as you Imagine.
+Por.+ I conceive you, cousin. Fool that I was, To think a heart once conquer'd by your eyes Should e'er become another virgin's prize!
Enter +Don Antonio+.
+Don A.+ So late! a guest in's house, that's come so far On such a business, and not yet come home! There's something in't I cannot comprehend. [Aside. Madam, I han't as yet found out your brother, But (sure) 'twill not be long ere he return; Then I'll acquaint him with the accident Has made his house this lady's sanctuary.
+Por.+ Here is a glimpse of comfort, for I see He takes my cousin for Don Henrique's sister. [Aside. O bless'd mistake, so luckily continu'd!
+Cam.+ I am by his permission mistress here; And since that I am pleas'd, sir, 'tis enough, Without our troubling him with the account Of her sad story.
+Don A.+ True, madam, as to her reception here; But yet 'twere very fit he knew it too, That we might serve ourselves of his advice And credit for this lady's service.
Enter +Don Henrique+.
+Don H.+ Though I did promise the corregidor Not to stir from his house till his return, Yet I could not obtain it of myself; [Aside. I'm so impatient to unfold the riddle Of Don Antonio's seeing of my sister, And entertaining her in her own lodgings. I shall not now be long i' th' dark. O heavens! [He sees her. 'Tis she herself, and Camilla with her. Were all my servants mad, or all agreed T' abuse me in affirming she was fled? But Don Carlos, was he mad too to swear That he had trac'd her to another house? Certainly I or they must be possess'd, Or some enchantment reigns within these walls.
+Don A.+ O, here comes Don Henrique: now I'll acquaint him With your sad story, madam.
+Cam.+ I fear we are undone.
+Don A.+ Don Henrique!
+Por.+ I'm dead if he proceed, but how to hinder him----
+Don A.+ Here's a lady with your sister Porcia----
+Don H.+ Yes, sir, I see who 'tis.
+Don A.+ Since you know her, sir, you will the easier Excuse my boldness.
+Don H.+ Boldness! in what, sir?
+Don A.+ To have been th' occasion of your finding her Here with your sister at this time o' th' night.
+Don H.+ Lord, sir, what do you mean?
+Don A.+ There was in truth such a necessity in it, That 'twill, I hope, excuse my humble suit to you In her's and my behalf.
+Por.+ Now all comes out.
+Don H.+ I understand you, sir; she does desire To pass this night with Porcia, to assist her In th' ordering of her nuptial ceremonies. Let her stay, a' God's name.
+Por.+ If he does not dissemble, my condition Is not so desperate as I imagin'd. [Aside.
+Don A.+ I hope you'll pardon this great liberty: So early a confidence will need it, sir.
+Don H.+ 'Tis more than enough that you desire it; Th' occasion, too, does justify her stay.
+Don A.+ 'Tis most true, sir, th' occasion did enforce me Thus boldly to presume upon your friendship.
+Don H.+ Ha' done, for heaven's sake: is it a novelty, Think you, for Porcia and her cousin-german To pass a night together?
+Don A.+ Is she so near a kinswoman of his? Strange inadvertence in her not to tell me Her relation to him when I nam'd him first. I'd made fine work on't, had I told him all. [Aside.
+Don H.+ She knows I owe her many a good turn Upon Octavio's score, and hope ere long To be able to repay her to the full.
[Looking on the ladies, and spoken aside, that +Antonio+ might not hear him.
+Por.+ Can he declare his mind in plainer terms?
+Cam.+ I cannot tell which of us two he means: These words may be applied to either of us; But I begin to fear that he knows all.
+Don H.+ Since 'tis so late, pray give the ladies leave To retire to their chambers. Go in, sister.
+Don A.+ My brother's words and his behaviour Imply some mystery; but I must be silent Till I discover more. [Aside.
+Por.+ Let us be gone; w' are lost if we stay here. I'm confident he counterfeits this calm To cover his revenge, until Antonio And the rest of the house are gone to bed.
+Cam.+ But we shall ne'er be able to get out, Whilst they continue in the outward rooms.
+Por.+ Yes, by the garden door; but I'm afraid 'Tis shut.
+Cam.+ No, now I think on't, Flora went that way, And left it open.
+Por.+ Come, let's be gone: I hope heaven will ordain Ease by that door which first let in my pain. [Exeunt +Porcia+ and +Camilla+.
+Don A.+ I'll only make a step, sir, to my chamber, And then return to you immediately.
+Don H.+ Pray, sir, give me leave to wait on you.
+Don A.+ I humbly thank you, sir; I know the way, And shall not stay above a moment from you.
+Don H.+ What you please, sir; you command here.
+Don A.+ I'll now go see whether my servant Sancho Has brought Octavio to my lodgings, As I directed him. [Exit +Don Antonio+.
+Don H.+ Heavens! was there ever so strange a mystery! Don Carlos, he affirm'd that those we fought with Had convey'd Porcia away; and when I come To seek her in the house, I find her missing: To second this, her waiting-woman Flora Tells me that she went down, about that time, Into the garden: Antonio, not long after, Affirms that he both saw and entertain'd her In her own apartment, where I now find her, And Camilla with her. What can this be? These, sure, are riddles to pose an Œdipus; But if, by my own sense, I am assur'd My honour safe, which was so much in doubt, What matter is it how 'tis brought about?
FOOTNOTES:
[67] At cards. From pinta, a spot or mark.--Sp.
Although Pintas mean cards generally, yet the word is applied to a particular game in Spain, which we call Basset.--Collier.
[68] Much was omitted by previous editors.--Collier.