ACT II.
SCENE I. A Chamber.
Enter Jacinta with a Light, and Julia.
Jac. Well, Madam, have you writ to Don Carlos?
Jul. No, nor is it possible I shou’d, this Devil haunts me so from room to room, like my evil Genius to prevent that Good; oh, for an opportunity of one kind Minute to return Acknowledgments for this kind Letter he has sent me.
Jac. I’m glad you find me a Sybil: Madam, I ever prophesy’d a happier end of that Amour than your ill Fortune has hitherto promised,—but what said the lovely Cavalier?
Jul. All that a Man inspir’d with Love cou’d say, all that was soft and charming.
Jac. Nay, I believe his Art.
Jul. Judge then what my Heart feels, which like a Fire but lightly cover’d o’er with the cold Ashes of Despair, with the least blast breaks out into a Flame; I burn, I burn, Jacinta, and only charming Carlos can allay my Pain—but how? Ay, there’s the question.
Jac. Some way I will contrive to speak with him, for he has lost his old wont if he traverse not the Street where you live: but see Donna Clara.—
Enter Clara.
Jul. Hah, my Sister, whom yet my jealous heart can scarce be reconciled to; so deeply was my fear of Rivalship fixt there, —so sad, my Sister, and so near the happy day with Carlos?
Cla. ‘Tis pity she that thinks it so shou’d want him; the Blessing’s thrown away on me, but we are both unhappy to be match’d to those we cannot love. Carlos, though young, gay, handsom, witty, rich, I hate as much as you the old Francisco; for since I cannot marry my Antonio, both Youth and Beauty are but lost on me, and Age decrepid would be equal torment.
Jul. Wou’d Carlos knew your heart, sure he’d decline; for he has too much Honor to compel a Maid to yield that loves him not.
Cla. ‘Tis true, he is above me every way, and the Honor my Father thinks to do our Family by this Match, makes him resolve upon’t; but I have given my Vows to young Antonio.
Jul. And young Antonio you are like to have, for any thing that Carlos cares; for know, to thy eternal joy, my Clara, he has but feigned to thee, as much as thy Antonio to Isabella.
Cla. But are you sure of this?
Jul. Most certain; this Night if you can let Antonio see you, he’ll tell you all the Cheat, and beg your Pardon.
Cla. Which he will soon obtain, and in return, what Service I can render him in your behalf he shall not want.
Jul. Antonio will engage you they are Friends.
Cla. You amaze me.
Jac. I have appointed him this night to wait, and, if possible, I would get him a Minute’s time with you.
Cla. Dear Jacinta, thou art the kindest Maid.—
Jac. Hang’t, why should we young Women pine and languish for what our own natural Invention may procure us; let us three lay our Heads together, and if Machiavel with all his Politicks can out-wit us, ‘tis pity but we all lead Apes in Hell, and die without the Jewish Blessing of Consolation.
Jul. No more, here comes the Dragon.
Enter Francisco.
Fran. So, together consulting and contriving.
Jac. What, are you jealous of the Petticoat?
Fran. Petticoat! Come, come, Mistress Pert, I have known as much danger hid under a Petticoat, as a pair of Breeches. I have heard of two Women that married each other—oh abominable, as if there were so prodigious a scarcity of Christian Mans Flesh.
Jac. No, the Market’s well enough stored, thanks be praised, might every Woman be afforded a reasonable Allowance.
Fran. Peace, I say, thou Imp of Lucifer; wou’d thou hadst thy Bellyful, that I might be fairly rid of thee—go get you up to your Chamber, and, d’ye hear, stir not from thence, on pain of our severe displeasure, for I am sent for in all haste, to Signior Don Sebastian’s, ‘tis but hard by, I shall soon return;—what, are you here?
Enter Isabella.
I have a high commendation of your fine Behaviour, Gentlewoman, to Antonio; his Father has sent for me, and I shall know all anon, this shall but hasten your Wedding, Huswise, I tell you that, and so farewel to you— [Ex. Isabella crying.
Cla. Say you so, then ‘tis time for me to look about me.
Jul. But will you go out so late, Love? indeed some hurt will come to thee.
Fran. No, look ye, I go arm’d. [Shews his Girdle round with Pistols. Go, get you to your Chambers.
[He goes out, they go in.
SCENE II. Changes to the Street.
Enter Carlos, Antonio.
Car. I wonder where this Man of mine should be, whom I sent this Evening with my Letter to Julia. What art thou?
Enter Guzman, runs against Carlos.
Guz. My Lord, ‘tis I, your trusty Trojan, Guzman.—what makes you here, Sir, so near the Door of your Mistress?
Car. To wait my Doom; what Tidings hast thou, Guzman?
Guz. Why, Sir, I went as you directed me, to Don Baltazer’s.
Car. And didst thou deliver it?
Guz. And the first thing I met with was old Francisco.
Car. So.
Guz. To whom I civilly addrest my self—told him, you presented your Service to him,—sent to know how his Lady and he did. Which word Lady I no sooner named, but I thought he would have saluted me with a Cudgel,—in fine, observing her behind him, whom he shelter’d all he could with his Cloke, I taking an occasion to whisper him, gave it her over his shoulder, whilst she return’d some Smiles and Looks of Joy,—but for an answer, ‘twas impossible to get the least sign of one.
Car. No matter, that joy was evident she wisht me one, and by the first opportunity my diligent waiting will be recompensed; but where hast thou been all this while?
Guz. Finding out the Chimney-sweeper you spoke of, Sir, and whom you ordered me to bring this Evening.
Car. And hast thou found him?
Guz. He’s here, at the corner of the Street, I’ll call him. [Ex. Guz.
Car. I have, Antonio, besides your particular Revenge, one of my own to act by this deceit, since all my Industry to see the charming Julia has hitherto been vain, I have resolv’d upon a new project, if this False Count pass upon ‘em, as I doubt not but he will, and that he gets admittance into the House, I’ll pass for one of his Domesticks.
Enter Guzman and Guiliom. Page holding his lanthorn to his face.
Guz. Here’s the Fellow, Sir.
Ant. Fellow! he may be the Devil’s Fellow by his countenance.
Car. Come nearer, Friend; dost think thou canst manage a Plot well?
Guil. As any Man in Cadiz, Sir, with good instructions.
Car. That thou shalt have, thou art apprehensive.
Guil. So, so, I have a pretty memory for mischief.
Ant. Hast thou Assurance and Courage?
Guil. To kill the honestest Man in Spain, if I be well paid.
Car. That thou shalt be.
Guil. I’ll do’t, say no more, I’ll do’t.
Car. But canst thou swear stoutly, and lye handsomely.
Guil. Prettily, by Nature, Sir, but with good instructions I shall improve; I thank Heaven I have Docity, or so.
Car. Thou want’st not Confidence.
Guil. No, nor Impudence neither; how should a man live in this wicked world without that Talent?
Ant. Then know our Design is only comical, though if you manage not Matters well, it may prove tragical to you; in fine, dost think thou canst personate a Lord?
Guil. A Lord! marry, that’s a hard question: but what sort of a Lord?
Car. Why, any Lord.
Guil. That I cannot do, but I can do some sort of a Lord, as some Lords are wiser than other-some; there is your witty Lord,—him I defie; your wise Lord, that is to say, your knavish Lord, him I renounce; then there’s your Politick Lord, him I wou’d have hang’d; then there’s your Foolish Lord, let him follow the Politician; then there’s your brisk, pert, noisy Lord, and such a small insignificant Fiend I care not if I am possest with; I shall deal well enough with a Devil of his capacity.
Car. Very well, then there needs no more but that you go along with my man to my house, my Authority shall secure you from all the injuries that shall accrue from a discovery, but I hope none will happen: Equipage, Clothes and Money we’ll furnish you with.—Go home with him, and dress, and practise the Don till we come, who will give you ample instructions what to do.
Guil. And if I do not fit you with a Don better than Don Del Phobos, or Don Quixote, let me be hang’d up for the Sign of the Black Boy on my own Poles at a Spanish Inn door.
Ant. We’ll be with you presently.
Guil. And if you find me not en Cavalier, say Clothes, Garniture, Points, and Feathers have lost their Power of making one.
[Ex. Guz. and Page, and Guil.
Enter, opening the door, Jacinta.
Car. Hah, the Door opens, and surely ‘tis a Woman that advances: dear Antonio, wait a little farther;—who’s there?
Jac. Hah, if it should be old Francisco now.
Car. Let it be who it will, I’ll tell my name, it cannot injure either;—I’m Carlos, who are you?
Jac. A thing that looks for him you name—Jacinta;—are you alone?
Car. Never since Julia did possess my heart; what news, my dearest Messenger of Love? what may I hope?—
Enter Julia.
Jul. All that the kindest Mistress can bestow, If Carlos loves, and still will keep his Vows.
Car. Julia, my Life, my Soul, what happy Stars Conspir’d to give me this dear lucky minute?
Jul. Those that conducted old Francisco out,
And will too soon return him back again;
I dare not stay to hear thy love or chiding,
Both which have power to charm, since both proceed
From a kind heart, that’s mine.
Car. Oh, take not this dear Body from my Arms, For if you do, my Soul will follow it.
Jul. What would’st thou have me do?
Car. Be wondrous kind, be lavish of thy Heart, Be generous in thy Love, and give me all.
Jul. Oh Heavens! what mean you? I shall die with fear.
Car. Fear! let coward Lovers fear, who love by halves, We that intirely love are bold in Passion, Like Soldiers fir’d with glory dread no Danger.
Jul. But should we be unthrifty in our Loves, And for one Moment’s joy give all away, And be hereafter damn’d to pine at distance?
Car. Mistaken Miser, Love like Money put
Into good hands increases every day,
Still as you trust me, still the Sum amounts:
Put me not off with promise of to morrow,
To morrow will take care for new delights,
Why shou’d that rob us of a present one?
Jul. Ah, Carlos! How fondly do I listen to thy words,
And fain would chide, and fain wou’d boast my Virtue,
But mightier Love laughs at those poor delays;
And I should doubtless give you all your Julia,
Did not my fear prevent my kinder business;
—And should Francisco come and find me absent,
Or take thee with me, we were lost, my Carlos.
Car. When then, my Julia, shall we meet again?
Jul. You Spaniards are a jealous Nation, But in this English Spaniard Old Francisco, That mad Passion’s doubled; wholly deprives him of his Sense, and turns his Nature Brute; wou’d he but trust me only with my Woman, I wou’d contrive some way to see my Carlos.
Car. ‘Tis certain, Julia, that thou must be mine.
Jul. Or I must die, my Carlos.
[Ant. listning advances.
Ant.—I’m sure ‘tis Carlos’s voice, and with a Woman; And though he be my Rival but in Jest, I have a natural curiosity to see who ‘tis he entertains.
Jul. Oh Heavens! Sir, here’s Francisco; step aside, Lest mischief shou’d befall you. [Runs in.
Car. Now Love and wild Desire prompt me to kill this happy Rival,— he’s old, and can’t be long in his Arrears to Nature.—What if I paid the debt? [Draws halfway. One single push wou’d do’t, and Julia’s mine;—but, hang’t, Adultery is a less sin than Murder, and I will wait my Fortune.—
Ant. Where are you,—Don Carlos?
Car. Who’s there, Antonio? I took thee for my Rival, and ten to one but I had done thy business.
Ant. I heard ye talking and believ’d you safe, and came in hopes to get a little time to speak to Clara in;—hah!—Jacinta—
Jac. Who’s there, Antonio? [Peeping out of the door.
Ant. The same; may I not speak with Clara?
Jac. Come in, she’s here.—
Car. And prithee, dear Jacinta, let me have one word with Julia more, she need not fear surprize; just at the door let me but kiss her hand. [Going in.
Jac. I’ll see if I can bring her.—
Enter Francisco.
Fran. A proud ungracious Flirt,—a Lord with a Pox! here’s a fine business, i’faith, that she should be her own Carver,—well I’ll home, and thunder her together with a vengeance.
Car. Who’s here? sure this is he indeed; I’ll step aside, lest my being seen give him an occasion of jealousy, and make him affront his Wife. [Goes aside as Fran. was going in.
Enter Julia.
Fran. Hum, what have we here, a Woman?
Jul. Heavens! what, not gone yet, my Dear?
Fran. So, so, ‘tis my confounded Wife, who expecting some body wou’d have me gone now.
Jul. Are you not satisfied with all I’ve said, With all the Vows I’ve made, Which here anew, in sight of Heaven, I breathe?
Fran. Yes, yes, you can promise fair, but hang him that trusts ye.
Jul. Go, go, and pray be satisfyed with my eternal Love.—
Fran. How fain she’d have me gone now; ah, subtle Serpent! is not this plain demonstration,—I shall murder her, I find the Devil great with me. [Aside still.
Jul.—What is’t thou pausest on?
Fran. The wicked Dissimulation of villainous Woman. [Aloud to her.
Jul. Francisco!
Fran. Oh thou Monster of Ingratitude, have I caught thee? You’d have me gone, wou’d ye? ay, to Heaven, I believe, like a wicked Woman as you are, so you were rid of me. Go,—and be satisfyed of my eternal love —ah, Gipsey,—no, Gentlewoman, I am a tuff bit, and will hold you tugging till your heart ake.
Jul. Why, was there such hurt in desiring you to go that you might make haste back again,—Oh, my fears!
Fran. That you might receive a Lover,—’tis plain—and my Indignation’s high.
Jul. Heav’n knows I meant—
Fran. Only to cuckold me a little,—get you in,—where I will swear thee by Bell, Book and Candle,—get you in, I say,—go, go,—I’ll watch for your Lover, and tell him how unkind he was to stay so long, I will.—
[Ex. Julia, he stands just in the door, Carlos advances.
Car. I hear no noise, sure ‘twas he,—and he’s gone in— To reap those Joys he knows not how to value, And I must languish for; I’ll stay a little—perhaps Jacinta may return again, for anything belonging to my Julia is dear, even to my Soul.
[Goes just to the door, Fran. bolts out on him.
Fran. Who’s there?—what wou’d you have?—who wou’d you speak to?—who do you come from?—and what’s your business?
Car. Hah, ‘tis the Sot himself;—my name is Carlos.
Fran. Carlos! what Father of Belzebub sent him hither?—a plain case;—I’ll murder her out of hand.
Car.—And I wou’d speak to any body, Friend, that belongs to the fair Clara,—if you are any of this house.
Fran. Only the Cuckold of the house, that’s all;—my name, Sir, is Francisco; but you, perhaps, are better acquainted with my Wife.
Car. Francisco, let me embrace you, my noble Brother, and chide you, that you wou’d not visit me. [Going to embrace him, he flies off.
Fran. And bring my Wife along with me.
Car. Both had been welcome—and all I have, you shou’d command.
Fran. For my Wife’s sake—what if I shou’d pistol him now;—and I am damnably provok’d to’t, had I but Courage to shoot off one. [Aside.
Car. Methinks you make not so kind returns as my Friendship to you, and the Alliance shall be between us, deserves.
Fran. I am something ill-bred, I confess, Sir;—’tis dark, and if I shou’d do’t no body wou’d know ‘twas I. [Aside.
Car. I fear there’s some Misunderstanding between us, pray let us go in a while, I’ll talk you from your error. [Offers to go, he gets between him and the door.
Fran. Between us, Sir! oh Lord, not in the least, Sir, I love and honour you so heartily—I’d be content to give you to the Devil, but the noise of the Pistol wou’d discover the business. [Aside.
Car. Come, let’s in, and talk a while.
Fran. I’m sorry I cannot do’t, Sir, we are something incommoded being not at our own house.
Car. Brother, I am afraid you are a little inclined to be jealous, that will destroy all Friendship.—
Fran. So, how finely the Devil begins to insinuate!
Car. That makes a Hell of the Heav’n of Love, and those very Pains you fear, are less tormenting than that Fear; what say you, Brother, is’t not so with you?
Fran. I find you wou’d have me turn a Husband of the Mode, a fine convenient Tool, one of the modern Humour, a civil Person, that understands Reason, or so; and I doubt not but you wou’d be as modish a Gallant.
Car. Ha, ha, ha.
Fran. What, do you laugh, Sir?
Car. Who can chuse, to hear your Suspicions, your needless Fears. Come, come, trust your Wife’s Discretion, and Modesty—and I doubt not but you will find your self—
Fran. In the Road to Heaven, whither they say all Cuckolds go—I thank you for your advice; I perceive you wou’d willingly help me onwards of my Journey.
Car. I’m glad I know you, Sir,—farewel to you— [Goes out.
Fran. No matter for that, so you know not my Wife—and so farewel to you, Sir, and, the Devil take all Cuckoldmakers.
[Exit.
SCENE III. The inside of the House.
Enter Clara, Julia, Antonio, Jacinta running to ‘em.
Jac. He has seen Don Carlos, and they have been in great discourse together, I cou’d not hear one word, but you’ll have it at both ears anon, I’ll warrant you. Ha, he’s coming.
Enter Francisco.
Cla. Heavens, he must not see you here. [To Ant.
Jac. Here, step into Clara’s Bed-chamber. [He goes in.
Fran. So the Plot’s at last discover’d,—he was a Cavalier of his Parole.
Jul. Who speak you of?
Fran. Only the Governor, the fine young Governor, I deliver’d him the message, told him my mind and the like.
Jul. So kind to visit us, and have you sent him away already?
Fran. Ah, Witch; already! why, have I any lodging for him?
Jul. But I am glad you brought him not in, I being so unready.
Fran. But you are always ready for him, my dear victorious Man-slayer.
Jul. What means he, sure he has a Gad-bee in his Brain.
Fran. Satan’s she Advocate—peace, I say;—so, you look as innocently now, as a little Devil of two years old, I’ll warrant;—come, come, look me full in the face—thus,—turn your nose just to mine—so—now tell me whose damnable Plot this was, to send your Gallant with his Eloquence, Querks and Conundrums, to tutor me into better manners?
Jul. Send him! I’ll answer no such idle questions.
Fran. He has taken a world of pains about your particular Chapter, and no doubt but he preach’d according to instructions;—what say you for your self, that Judgment may not pass?
Jul. I say you’re an old jealous Fool; have I seen Don Carlos, or heard from Don Carlos, or sent to Don Carlos? here’s a-do indeed.
Fran. What made you at the door against my positive commands,—the very Street-door,—in the night,—alone,—and undrest,—this is a matter of Fact, Gentlewoman; you hastened me away,—a plain case,—and presently, after Don Carlos comes to the door,—positive proof,—sees me and falls right down upon my Jealousy,—clear conviction,—’twas pity but I had follow’d his counsel, yes, when the Devil turns student in Divinity;—but no matter, I’ll see your back fairly turn’d upon this Town to morrow; I’ll marry my Daughter in the morning to Antonio, and a fair wind or not, we’ll home; the Gally lies ready in the Harbour— therefore prepare, pack up your tools, for you are no woman of this world.
Ant. How! marry me to morrow to his daughter;—and carry his Wife from my Friend; this misfortune must be prevented. [Aside peeping.
Fran. And so, Mistress, come your ways to your Chamber.
Jul. And study how to prevent this cruel separation. [Aside, goes out with him and Jacinta.
Cla. Ah, Antonio, I find by that sad look of yours, you have over-heard our hasty Doom.
Ant. I have, and am a little surpriz’d at the suddenness of it; and I my self am the unlucky occasion of it,—to break it off, I told my Father how scurvily Isabella treated me,—he thereupon sends for old Francisco, tells him of my complaint, and instead of disengaging my self, I find my self more undone.
Cla. What shall we do? I’m sure thou wilt not marry her, thou canst not do’t and hope to go to Heaven.
Ant. No, I have one prevention left, and if that fail, I’ll utterly refuse to marry her, a thing so vainly proud; no Laws of Nature or Religion, sure, can bind me to say yes; and for my Fortune, ‘tis my own, no Father can command it.
Cla. I know thou wilt be true, and I’ll not doubt it.
Enter Jacinta.
Jac. Ah! Madam, the saddest news—
Cla. Hah! what?
Jac. Poor Gentleman, I pity you of all things in the World,—you must be forc’d—how can I utter it,—to the most lamentable torment that ever Lover endur’d—to remain all night in your Mistress’s Chamber.
Ant. Alas, how shall I endure so great an Affliction?
Cla. And I.
Jac. Ha, ha, ha, how I am griev’d to think on it; ha, ha, ha, that you shou’d both be so hardly put to it; ha, ha, ha, for the old Gentleman has lock’d all the doors, and took the keys to bed to him,—go, get you in,—ha, ha, ha.—
Ant. Oh, my dear Clara, this is a blessing I could not hope.
Cla. So large a Freedom shall my Virtue prove, I’ll trust my Honour with Antonio’s Love.
[They go in.
[Ex. Jacinta laughing.