ACT III.
SCENE I. Don Carlos’ house.
Enter Don Carlos in his Night-gown, Antonio, and Guzman with Clothes.
Car. All night with Clara say’st thou? that was lucky; But was she kind, my friend?
Ant. As I desir’d, or Honour wou’d permit her; Nor wou’d I press her farther.
Car. A very moderate Lover.
Ant. For some part of my Virtue, Sir, I owe to you; in midst of all my Love, even in the kindest moments of Delight, my Joys were broken by concern for you.—Julia this day, or very suddenly, leaves Cadiz.
Car. By Heaven, and so will Carlos then; for I’m so resolutely bent to possess that dear Creature, That I will do’t with hazard of my Life, Expence of Fortune, or what’s dear to me.
Guz. And how wou’d you reward that politick head, that shou’d contrive the means to bring this handsomly about; not for an a hour, or a night, but even as long as you please, with freedom; without the danger of venturing your honourable neck, in showing Feats of Activity three stories high, with a Dagger in one hand, and a Pistol in t’other, like a Ropedancer?
Car. But how? Thou talkest of Impossibilities.
Ant. Dost think she’ll e’er consent to quit her Husband?
Guz. No, Heaven forbid, I am too good a Christian to part Man and Wife; but being naturally inclined to works of Charity, I will with one project I have in this noddle of mine,—make old Francisco a Cuckold, accommodate my Lord and Julia, serve you, Sir,—and give our selves a good Scene of Mirth.
Car. Thou amazest me.
Guz. If I do’t not, send me to the Galleys; nay, and so far cure the Jealousy of the old Fellow, that from a rigid suspicious troublesom Fool, he shall become so tame and gentle a Husband,—that he shall desire you to favour him so much as to lie with his dear Wife.
Car. By what strange Witchcraft shall this be brought to pass?
Guz. E’en honest Invention, Sir, good Faith, listen and believe:—When he goes, he certainly goes by Sea, to save the charges of Mules.
Ant. Right, I heard him say so; in the Galley that lies in the Port.
Guz. Good, there is a Galley also, in the Harbour, you lately took from the Turks; Habits too were taken in her enough to furnish out some forty or fifty as convenient Turks as a man wou’d wish at the Devil.
Car. Ah, Rogue, I begin to apprehend already.
Guz. Our Turkish Galley thus man’d, I’ll put to Sea, and about a League from Land, with a sham-fight set on that of Old Francisco, take it, make ‘em all Slaves, clap the Old Fellow under hatches, and then you may deal with the fair Slave his Wife, as Adam did with Eve.
Car. I’m ravish’d with the thought.
Ant. But what will be the event of this?
Car. I will not look so far, but stop at the dear Joys, and fear no Fate beyond ‘em.
Guz. Nay, with a little cudgelling this dull Brain of mine I shall advance it farther for the Jest-sake;—as I take it, Signior Don Antonio, you have a fine Villa, within a Bow-shot of this City belonging to your self.
Ant. I have with pleasant Gardens, Grotto’s, Waterworks.—
Car. A most admirable Scene for Love and our Designs.
Ant. ‘Tis yours, Sir.
Guz. Then, Sir, when we have taken this old Fool, on whom the grossest cheat wou’d pass, much more this, which shall carry so seeming a Truth in’t, he being clapt under hatches in the Dark, we’ll wind round a League or two at Sea, turn in, and land at this Garden, Sir, of yours, which we’ll pretend to be a Seraglio, belonging to the Grand Seignior; whither, in this hot part o’th’ year, he goes to regale himself with his She-Slaves.
Car. But the distance of Place and Time allow not such a Fallacy.
Guz. Why he never read in’s life; knows neither Longitude nor Latitude, and Constantinople may be in the midst of Spain for any thing he knows; besides, his Fear will give him little leisure for thinking.
Ant. But how shall we do with the Seamen of this other Gally?
Guz. There’s not above a Dozen, besides the Slaves that are chain’d to the Oar, and those Dozen, a Pistole apiece wou’d not only make ‘em assist in the design, but betray it in earnest to the Grand Seignior; —for them I’ll undertake, the Master of it being Pier de Sala, your Father’s old Servant, Sir. [To Carlos.
Ant. But possibly his mind may alter upon the Arrival of this False Count of ours?
Car. No matter, make sure of those Seamen however; that they may be ready upon occasion.
Ant. ‘Tis high time for me that your Count were arriv’d, for this morning is destin’d the last of my Liberty.
Car. This Morning—Come, haste and dress me— [To Guz.]—Guzman, where’s our Count?
Enter Guiliom drest fine, two great Pages
and a little one following.
Guz. Coming to give you the good morrow, Sir; And shew you how well he looks the Part.
Car. Good day to your Lordship— [Bowing.
Guil. Morrow, morrow, Friend.
Ant. My Lord, your most humble Servant.
Guil. Thank you, Friend, thank you; Page, Boy—what’s a-Clock, Sirrah?
Page. About Eight, my Lord.
Ant. Your Lordship’s early up.
Guil. My Stomach was up before me, Friend; and I’m damnably hungry; ’.is strange how a man’s Appetite increases with his Greatness; I’ll swinge it away now I’m a Lord,—then I will wench without Mercy; I’m resolv’d to spare neither Man, Woman, nor Child, not I; hey, Rogues, Rascals, Boys, my Breakfast, quickly, Dogs—let me see, what shall I have now that’s rare?
Page. What will your Honour please to have?
Guil. A small rasher of delicate Bacon, Sirrah—of about a Pound, or two, with a small Morsel of Bread—round the Loaf, d’ye hear, quickly, Slaves.
Ant. That’s gross meat, Sir, a pair of Quails—or—
Guil. I thank you for that, i’faith, take your Don again, an you please, I’ll not be starv’d for ne’er a Don in Christendom.
Ant. But you must study to refine your Manners a little.
Guil. Manners! you shall pardon me for that; as if a Lord had not more privilege to be more saucy, more rude, impertinent, slovenly and foolish than the rest of his Neighbours, or Mankind.
Car. Ay, ay, ‘tis great.
Guil. Your saucy Rudeness, in a Grandee, is Freedom; your Impertinence, Wit; your Sloven, careless; and your Fool, good natur’d; as least they shall pass so in me, I’ll warrant ye.
Car. Well, you have your full Instructions; your Baggage, Bills and Letters, from Octavio the Sevilian Merchant.
Guz. All, all, Sir, are ready, and his Lordship’s breakfast waits.
Car. Which ended, we advance,
Just when Aurora rose from _Thetis’. Bed,
Where he had wantoned a short Summer’s night,
Harness’d his bright hoov’d Horses to begin
His gilded course above the Firmament,
Out sallied Don Gulielmo Rodorigo de Chimney Sweperio, and so forth.
Gad, this adventure of ours will be worthy to be sung in Heroick Rhime
Doggerel, before we have finisht it; Come—
[Goes out.
Guil. Hey, Rogues, Rascals, Boys, follow me just behind.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. Francisco’s house.
Enter Clara and Jacinta.
Jac. Nay, I knew he would be civil, Madam, or I would have borne you Company; but neither my Mistress nor I, cou’d sleep one wink all Night, for fear of a Discovery in the Morning; and to save the poor Gentleman a tumbling Cast from the Window, my Mistress, just at day-break, feigned her self wondrous sick,—I was called, desired to go to Signior Spadilio’s the Apothecary’s, at the next Door, for a Cordial; and so he slipt out;—but the Story of this false Count pleases me extremely, and, if it should take, Lord, what mirth we shall have. Ha, ha, ha, I can’t forbear with the thoughts on’t.
Cla. And to see the Governor his Man?
Jac. Ah, what a Jest that would be too—Ha, ha, ha! but here comes Isabella; let’s puff up her Pride with Flatteries on her Beauty.
Enter Isabella looking in a Glass, and seeing her Face.
Isa. Ah, Heavens, those Eyes—that Look,—that pretty Leer,—that my Father shou’d be so doating an old Fool to think these Beauties fit for a little Merchandize; a Marchioness wou’d so much better become me. [Looks again. —Ah, what a Smile’s there—and then that scornful Look—’tis great— Heavens, who’s here? [Sees them.
Cla. Only those Friends that wish you better Fortune than this day promises.
Jac. Look on that Face; are there not Lines that foretel a world of Greatness, and promise much Honour?
Cla. Her Face, her Shape, her Mein, her every part declares her Lady—or something more.
Isa. Why, so, and yet this little Creature of a Father, ridiculously and unambitious, would spoil this Lady, to make up a simple Citizen’s Wife—in good time.
Jac. That very look had some presaging Grandeur.
Isa. Do you think so, Jacinta? Ha, ha, ha.
Jac. That Laugh again, oh Heavens, how it charms!
Cla. And how graceful ‘tis!
Jac. Ah, nothing but a great gilt Coach will become it.
Cla. With six Spanish Mares.—
Jac. And embroidered Trappings.
Cla. With four Lackeys.
Jac. And a Page at the tail on’t.
Cla. She’s evidently design’d for a Person of Quality.
Isa. Besides I have so natural an Inclination for a Don, that if my Father do force me to marry this small Creature of a Merchant, I shall make an Intrigue with some body of Quality.
Cla. Cou’d you but manage it well, and keep it from Antonio.
Isa. Keep it from Antonio,—is it think you for a little silly Cit, to complain when a Don does him the Honour to visit his Lady? Marry, that were pretty.
Enter Francisco, and Lopez.
Fran. How, a Count to speak with me! with me, I say,—here at Cadiz.
Lop. A Count, Sir, and to speak with you.
Fran. Art sure ‘tis not the Governor?—I’ll go lock up my Wife.
Lop. Governor, Sir! No, no, ‘tis a mere Stranger, Sir, a rare Count whom I never saw all days of my life before.
Fran. And with me wou’d he speak? I hope he comes not to my Wife.
Enter Julia.
Jul. Oh Husband, the delicatest fine Person of Quality, just alighted at the Door, Husband.
Fran. What, have you seen him then? the Devil’s in these Women, and there be but a Loop-hole to peep out of they’ll spy a man,—I’m resolved to see this thing,—go, retire, you Women, here’s Men coming up.
Isa. And will Men eat us?
Fran. No, but they may do worse, they may look on ye, and Looking breeds Liking; and Liking, Love; and Love a damn’d thing, call’d Desire; and Desire begets the Devil and all of Mischief to young Wenches—Get ye gone in, I say—here’s a Lord coming—and Lords are plaguy things to Women.
Isa. How, a Lord! oh, heavens! Jacinta, my Fan, and set my Hair in order, oh, the Gods! I would not but see a Lord for all the World! how my Heart beats already—keep your Distance behind, Jacinta,—bless me, how I tremble—a little farther, Jacinta.
Fran. Come, come, Huswife, you shall be married anon, and then let your Husband have the plague of you—but for my Gentlewoman,—Oh Lord —they’re here.
Enter Guiliom, Carlos, and Pages, &c.
Gull. How now, Fellow, where’s this old Don Francisco?
Fran. I’m the Person, Sir.
Isa. Heavens, what an Air he has!
Guil. Art thou he? Old Lad, how dost thou do? Hah!
Fran. I don’t know.
Guil. Thou knowest me not it seems, old Fellow, hah!
Fran. Know you—no, nor desire to do,—on what acquaintance, pray?
Guil. By Instinct; such as you ought to know a Person of Quality, and pay your Civilities naturally; in France, where I have travel’d, so much good manners is used, your Citizen pulls off his hat, thus—to every Horse of Quality, and every Coach of Quality; and do you pay my proper Person no more respect, hah!
Isa. What a Dishonour’s this to me, to have so dull a Father, that needs to be instructed in his Duty.
Guil. But, Sir, to open the eyes of your understanding—here’s a Letter to you, from your Correspondent a Merchant of Sevil.
[Gives him a dirty Letter which he wipes on his Cloke and reads, and begins to pull off his hat, and reading on bows lower and lower till he have finisht it.
Fran. Cry Mercy, my Lord,—and yet I wou’d he were a thousand Leagues off.
Guil. I have Bills of Exchange too, directed to thee, old Fellow, at Sevil; but finding thee not there, and I (as most Persons of my Quality are) being something idle, and never out of my way, came to this Town, to seek thee, Fellow—being recommended as thou seest here, old Vermin—here— [Gives him Bills.
Isa. Ah, what a graceful Mein he has! how fine his Conversation! ah, the difference between him and a filthy Citizen!
Jul.—Clara has told me all.— [Jac. whispering to Jul.
Car. That’s she in the middle; stand looking on her languishingly, —your head a little on one side,—so,—fold your Arms,—good,—now and then heave your breast with a sigh,—most excellent.— [He groans.
Fran. Bills for so many thousands.
Jac. He has you in his eye already.
Isa. Ah, Jacinta, thou flatterest me.
Jac. Return him some kind looks in pity. [She sets her Eyes, and bows, &c.
Car. That other’s my Mistress,—couldst thou but keep this old Fellow in discourse whilst I give her the sign to retire a little.—
Guil. I’ll warrant you I’ll banter him till you have cuckolded him, if you manage matters as well as I.
Fran. My Lord, I ask your pardon for my rudeness in not knowing you before, which I ought to have done in good manners I confess; who the Devil does he stare at so?—Wife, I command you to withdraw, upon pain of our high displeasure.—my Lord, I shall dispatch your affairs,—he minds me not,—Ay, ‘tis my Wife, I say, Minion, be gone,—your Bills, my Lord, are good, and I accept ‘em;—why a Devil he minds me not yet, [Julia goes to t’other side to Carlos.]—and though I am not at my proper home,—I am where I can command Money,—hum,—sure ‘tis my Daughter,—Ay, ay,—’tis so, how if he should be smitten now; the plaguy Jade had sure the Spirit of Prophecy in her; ‘tis so—’tis she—my Lord.
Guil. Prithee, old Fellow, Peace,—I am in love.
Fran. In love,—what, shall I be the Father of a Lord? wou’d it become me, think ye?—he’s mighty full of Cogitabund—my Lord,—sure his Soul has left the Tenement of his Body—I have his Bills here, and care not if it never return more. [Looks over the Bills.
Car. Dear Julia, let’s retire, our time’s but short.
Jul. I dare not with you, the venture wou’d be too bold in a young beginner in the Thefts of Love.
Guil. Her Eyes are Suns, by Jove.
Car. Oh, nothing is so ventrous as Love, if it be true.
Guil. Or else, two Morning Stars, All other Beauties are but Soot to her.
Jul. But shou’d my Husband—
Car. He’s safe for one dear half hour, I’ll warrant you, come.
Fran. Um—my Wife here still, must I begin to thunder.
Jul. Lord, and you be so froward, I’ll be gone.—
Car. So, her Husband, kind heart, lest she should be cruel, has himself given me the dear opportunity.—[Aside.—Be sure you keep the old Fellow in discourse awhile.
Guil. Be you as sure to cuckold him.— [Ex. Car. and Jul. —Old Fellow,—prithee what Person of Quality is that?
Fran. Person of Quality! alas, my Lord, ‘tis a silly Citizen’s Daughter.
Guil. A Citizen’s! what clod of Earth cou’d bring forth such a Beauty?
Fran. Alas, my Lord, I am that clod of Earth, and to Earth, if you call it so, she must return again, for she’s to be married to a Citizen this Morning.
Guil. Oh! I am doubly wounded, first with her harmonious Eyes, Who’ve fir’d my Heart to that Degree, No Chimney ever burnt like me. Fair Lady,—suffer the Broom of my Affection to sweep all other Lovers from your heart.
Isa. Ah, my Lord, name it not, I’m this day to be married.
Guil. To day! name me the Man; Man did I say? the Monster, that dares lay claim to her I deign to love,—none answer me,—I’ll make him smoak, by Vulcan—and all the rest of the Goddesses.
Fran. Bless me, what a furious thing this Love is?
Guil. By this bright Sword, that is so used to slaughter, he dies; [Draws.] old Fellow, say—the Poltroon’s name.
Fran. Oh, fearful—alas, dread Sir!
Isa. Ah! sheath your Sword, and calm your generous Rage.
Guil. I cannot brook a Rival in my Love, the rustling Pole of my Affection is too strong to be resisted. Runs raging up and down the Stage with his Sword in his hand.
Isa. I cannot think, my Lord, so mean a Beauty can so suddenly charm a Heart so great as yours.
Guil. Oh! you’re mistaken, as soon as I cast my eyes upon the Full-moon of your Countenance, I was struck blind and dumb.
Fran. Ay, and deaf too, I’ll be sworn, he cou’d neither hear, see nor understand; this Love’s a miraculous thing.
Guil. And that Minute, the most renoun’d Don Gulielmo Roderigo de Chimeny Sweperio, became your Gally-Slave,—I say no more, but that I do love,—and I will love,—and that if you are but half so willing as I, I will dub you, Viscountess de Chimeny Sweperio.
Isa. I am in Heaven, ah! I die, Jacinta. How can I credit this, that am so much unworthy?
Guil. I’ll do’t, say no more, I’ll do’t.
Fran. Do’t, but, my Lord, and with what face can I put off Signior Antonio, hum.
Guil. Antonio,—hy, Pages, give order that Antonio be instantly run through the Lungs—d’ye hear?
Fran. Oh, hold, hold, my Lord! run through the Lungs!
Page. It shall be done, my Lord! but what Antonio?
Guil. Why, any Antonio; all the Antonio’s that you find in Cadiz.
Fran. Oh, what bloody-minded Monsters these Lords are!—But, my Lord, I’ll ne’er give you the trouble of killing him, I’ll put him off with a handsom Compliment; as thus,—Why, look ye, Friend Antonio, the business is this, my Daughter Isabella may marry a Lord, and you may go fiddle.—
Guil. Ay, that’s civil,—and if he do not desist, I’ll unpeople Spain but I’ll kill him; for, Madam, I’ll tell you what happened to me in the Court of France—there was a Lady in the Court in love with me,—she took a liking to my Person which—I think,—you will confess—
Isa. To be the most accomplisht in the World.
Guil. I had some sixscore Rivals, they all took Snuff; that is, were angry—at which I smiled;—they were incensed; at which I laught, ha, ha, ha,—i’faith; they rag’d, I—when I met ‘em,—Cockt, thus—en passant—justled ‘em—thus,—[Overthrows Fran.] They turn’d and frown’d,—thus,—I drew.—
Fran. What, on all the sixscore, my Lord?
Guil. All, all; sa, sa, quoth I, sa, sa, sa, sa, sa, sa. [Fences him round the Stage.
Fran. Hold, hold, my Lord, I am none of the sixscore.
Guil. And run ‘em all through the Body!
Fran. Oh Heavens! and kill’d ‘em all.
Guil. Not a Man,—only run ‘em through the body a little, that’s all, my two Boys were by, my Pages here.
Isa. Is it the fashion, Sir, to be attended by Pages so big?
Guil. Pages of Honour always;—these were stinted at nurse, or they had been good proper Fellows.
Fran. I am so frighted with this relation, that I must up to my Wife’s Chamber for a little of that strong Cordial that recovered her this morning. [Going out Guil. stays him.
Guil. Why, I’ll tell you, Sir, what an odd sort of a Wound I received in a Duel the other day,—nay, Ladies, I’ll shew it you; in a very odd place—in my back parts. [Goes to untuck his Breeches, the Ladies squeak.
Isa. Ah.
Page. Shew a Wound behind, Sir! the Ladies will think you are a Coward.
Guil. Peace, Child, peace, the Ladies understand Dueling as little as my self; but, since you are so tender-hearted, Ladies, I’ll not shew you my wound; but faith, it spoiled my dancing.
Page comes in.
Page. My Lord, now you talk of dancing, here’s your Baggage brought from a-board the Gally by your Seamen, who us’d to entertain you with their rustick Sports.
Guil. Very well; Sir, with your permission, I am resolved whether you will or no, to give the Ladies some divertisement,—bid ‘em come in; nay, Sir, you stir not. [Ex. Page. ’.is for your delight, Sir, I do’t; for, Sir, you must understand, a Man, if he have any thing in him, Sir, of Honour, for the case, Sir, lies thus, ‘tis not the business of an Army to droll upon an Enemy—truth is, every man loves a whole skin;—but ‘twas the fault of the best Statesmen in Christendom to be loose in the hilts,—you conceive me.
Fran. Very well, my Lord, I’ll swear he’s a rare spoken man;—why, what a Son-in-law shall I have? I have a little business, my Lord, but I’ll wait on you presently. [Going out.
Guil. Sir, there is nothing like your true jest; a thing once well done, is twice done, and I am the happiest Man in the World in your Alliance; for, Sir, a Nobleman if he have any tolerable parts,—is a thing much above the Vulgar;—oh,—here comes the Dancers.
Enter Dancers.
Come, sit down by me.
Fran. ‘Tis my duty to stand, my Lord.
Guil. Nay, you shall sit.
[They dance.
Enter Antonio.
Ant. Good day, Sir, I hope you will not chide my tardiness, I have a little overslept my self, and am ashamed to see my lovely Bride, and all this worthy Company attend. —But you, fair Creature— [To Isabella.
Isa. No marrying to day, Sir.
Fran. No, Sir, no marrying to day.
Ant. How, do I dream, or hear this from Francisco?
Guil. How now, Fellow, what art thou?
Ant. The Husband of that proud disdainful Woman.
Guil. Another word like that—and thou art—
Ant. What, Sir?
Fran. Oh, hold, hold, my Lord! Antonio, I must tell you, you’re uncivil.
Guil. Dost know, dull Mortal, that I am a Lord, And Isabella my adopted Lady.
Ant. I beg your pardon, Sir, if it be so, poor Mortals can but grieve in silence.
Guil. Alas, poor Mortal!
Ant. But, for you, Francisco.
Fran. Ah, dear Antonio, I vow and swear I cannot chuse but weep to lose thee; but my Daughter was born for a Lady, and none can help their destiny.
Ant. And is it possible thou canst use me thus? [To Isa.
Isa. Take away that little Fellow; in pity of your life, I deign to bid you withdraw and be safe.
Guil. D’ye hear, hah?—this Lady has beg’d your life.
Ant. Beg’d my Life!
Guil. Vile Wretch, dar’st thou retort? [Draws, the Women hold him.
Fran. Oh, hold, hold, my noble Son-in-law, he shall do any thing;— dear Antonio, consider, I was never Father to a Lord all days of my Life before:—my Lord, be pacified, my Daughter shall be a Lady.
Isa. For my sake spare him, and be Friends with him, as far as you may deign to be with a little Citizen.
Guil. Fellow, I forgive thee,—here’s my hand to kiss in sign and token I am appeased. [Gives him his hand to kiss, ‘tis all black.
Ant. A Pox of his honourable hand, ‘t had like to have spoiled all, —well, since it must be so, I am content.
Guil. So, now Peace is concluded on, on all sides, what shall we do to day besides eating and drinking in abundance; for to morrow I shall get my self in order for my Marriage.
Cla. What thinks your Honour of taking the Air upon the Sea, in a Galley, a League or two?
Guil. With Fiddles, Drums and Trumpets, Westphalia hams and Pidgeons, and the like: Hey, Rogues, Scoundrels, Dogs.
Isa. Ah, how fine is every Action of a great Man!
Guil. Command a Galley to attend us presently. —You shall along, old Boy. [To Fran.
Fran. Alas, I must stay at home with my Wife, my Lord.
Guil. A Wife! have I a Mother-in-law too?—she must along with us, and take a frisk,—no denial.
Enter Carlos.
—Oh, are you come? [Aside.
Car. Yes, and thank thee for the best moment of my Life—Hast thou contrived the Voyage then?
Guil. Take no care—come, haste on board—our Honour will not lose the Fresco of the Morning,—Follow me, Pages.
Page. At your heels, my Lord—
[Exeunt.