SCENE II.
The Scene opens and discovers Aurelia and Camilla: Behind them a table and lights set on it. The Scene is a Garden with an arbour in it.
The garden-door opens! How now, Aurelia and Camilla in expectation of Don Melchor at the garden door! I'll away, least I prevent the design, and within this half hour come sailing back with full pockets, as wantonly as a laden galleon from the Indies.
[Exit.
Aur. But dost thou think the Englishman can keep his promise? For, I confess, I furiously desire to see the idea of Don Melchor.
Cam. But, madam, if you should see him, it will not be he, but the devil in his likeness; and then why should you desire it?
Aur. In effect 'tis a very dark enigma; and one must be very spiritual to understand it. But be what it will, body or phantom, I am resolved to meet it.
Cam. Can you do it without fear?
Aur. No; I must avow it, I am furiously fearful; but yet I am resolved to sacrifice all things to my love. Therefore, let us pass over that chapter.
[Don Melchor, without.
Cam. Do you hear, madam, there's one treading already; how if it be he?
Aur. If it be he! that is to say his spectre, that is to say his phantom, that is to say his idea, that is to say, he, and not he.
Cam. [Crying out.] Ah, madam, 'tis he himself; but he's as big again as he used to be, with eyes like saucers. I'll save myself.
[Runs under the table.
Enter Don Melchor: They both shriek.
Aur. Oh heaven! humanity is not able to support it.
[Running.
Mel. Dear Aurelia, what mean you?
Aur. The tempter has imitated his voice too; avoid, avoid, spectre.
Cam. If he should find me under the table now!
Mel. Is it thus, my dear, that you treat your servant?
Aur. I am not thy dear; I renounce thee, spirit of darkness!
Mel. This spirit of darkness is come to see an angel of light by her command; and to assure her of his constancy, that he will be her's eternally.
Aur. Away, infernal! 'tis not thee; 'tis the true Don Melchor that I would see.
Mel. Hell and furies!
Aur. Heaven and angels! Ah——
[Runs out, shrieking.
Mel. This is a riddle past my finding out, to send for me, and then to shun me; but here's one shall resolve it for me: Camilla, what dost thou there?
Cam. Help, help! I shall be carried away bodily.
[She rises up, overthrows the table and lights,
and runs out. The scene shuts.
Mel. [Alone.] Why, Aurelia, Camilla! they are both run out of hearing! this amazes me; what can the meaning of it be? Sure she has heard of my unfaithfulness, and was resolved to punish me by this contrivance! to put an affront upon me by this abrupt departure, as I did on her by my seeming absence.
Enter Theodosia and Beatrix.
Theo. Don Melchor! is it you, my love, that have frighted Aurelia so terribly?
Mel. Alas, madam! I know not; but, coming hither by your appointment, and thinking myself secure in the night without disguise, perhaps it might work upon her fancy, because she thought me absent.
Theo. Since 'tis so unluckily fallen out, that she knows you are at Madrid, it can no longer be kept a secret; therefore, you must now pretend openly to me, and run the risk of a denial from my father.
Mel. O, madam, there's no question but he'll refuse me: For, alas! what is it he can see in me worthy of that honour? Or, if he should be so partial to me, as some in the world are, to think me valiant, learned, and not altogether a fool, yet my want of fortune would weigh down all.
Theo. When he has refused you his consent, I may with justice dispose of myself; and that, while you are constant, shall never be to any but yourself: In witness of which, accept this diamond, as a pledge of my heart's firmness to you.
Beat. Madam, your father is coming this way.
Theo. 'Tis no matter; do not stir: since he must know you are returned, let him now see you.
Enter Don Alonzo.
Alon. Daughter, what make you here at this unseasonable hour?
Theo. Sir——
Alon. I know what you would say, that you heard a noise, and ran hither to see what it might be——Bless us! who is this with you?
Mel. 'Tis your servant, Don Melchor; just returned from St Sebastians.
Alon. But, sir, I thought you had been upon the sea for Flanders.
Mel. I had so designed it.
Alon. But, why came you back from St Sebastians?
Mel. As for that, sir, 'tis not material.
Theo. An unexpected law-suit has called him back from St Sebastians.
Alon. And how fares my son-in-law, that lives there?
Mel. In Catholic health, sir.
Alon. Have you brought no letters from him?
Mel. I had, sir, but I was set upon by the way, by picarons: and, in spite of my resistance, robbed, and my portmanteau taken from me.
Theo. And this was that which he was now desiring me to excuse to you.
Alon. If my credit, friends, or counsel, can do you any service in your suit, I hope you will command them freely.
Mel. When I have dispatched some private business, I shall not fail to trouble you; till then, humbly kisses your hands the most obliged of your servants.
[Exit Melchor.
Alon. Daughter, now this cavalier is gone, what occasion brought you out so late?—I know what you would say, that it is melancholy; a tincture of the hypochondria you mean: But, what cause have you for this melancholy? Give me your hand, and answer me without ambages, or ambiguities.
Theo. He will find out I have given away my ring—I must prevent him—Sir, I am ashamed to confess it to you; but, in hope of your indulgence, I have lost the table diamond you gave me.
Alon. You would say, The fear of my displeasure has caused the perturbation in you; well, do not disquiet yourself too much; you say 'tis gone, I say so too. 'Tis stolen; and that by some thief, I take it: But, I will go and consult the astrologer immediately.
[He is going.
Theo. What have I done? To avoid one inconvenience, I have run into another: This devil of an astrologer will discover that Don Melchor has it.
[Aside.
Alon. When did you lose this diamond? The minute and second I should know; but the hour will serve for the degree ascending.
Theo. Sir, the precise time I know not; but it was betwixt six and seven in the evening, as near as I can guess.
Alon. 'Tis enough; by all the stars, I'll have it for you: Therefore, go in, and suppose it on your finger.
Beat. I'll watch you at a distance, sir, that my Englishman may have wherewithal to answer you.
[Aside. Exeunt Theo. Beat.
Alon. This melancholy, wherewith my daughter laboureth, is—a—I know what I would say, is a certain species of the hysterical disease; or a certain motion, caused by a certain appetite, which, at a certain time, heaveth in her, like a certain motion of an earthquake—
Enter Bellamy.
Bel. This is the place, and very near the time that Theodosia appoints her meeting with Don Melchor. He is this night otherwise disposed of with Aurelia: 'Tis but trying my fortune, to tell her of his infidelity, and my love. If she yields, she makes me happy; if not, I shall be sure Don Melchor has not planted the arms of Spain in the fort before me. However, I'll push my fortune, as sure as I am an Englishman.
Alon. Sennor Inglis, I know your voice, though I cannot perfectly discern you.
Bel. How the devil came he to cross me?
Alon. I was just coming to have asked another favour of you.
Bel. Without ceremony, command me, sir.
Alon. My daughter Theodosia has lost a fair diamond from her finger, the time betwixt six and seven this evening; now, I desire you, sir, to erect a scheme for it, and if it be lost, or stolen, to restore it to me. This is all, sir.
Bel. There is no end of this old fellow; thus will he bait me from day to day, till my ignorance be found out.
[Aside.
Alon. Now is he casting a figure by the art of memory, and making a judgment of it to himself. This astrology is a very mysterious speculation.
[Aside.
Bel. 'Tis a madness for me to hope I can deceive him longer. Since then he must know I am no astrologer, I'll discover it myself to him, and blush once for all.
[Aside.
Alon. Well, sir, and what do the stars hold forth? What says nimble master Mercury to the matter?
Bel. Sir, not to keep you longer in ignorance, I must ingenuously declare to you, that I am not the man for whom you take me. Some smattering in astrology I have; which my friends, by their indiscretion, have blown abroad, beyond my intentions. But you are not a person to be imposed on like the vulgar: Therefore, to satisfy you in one word, my skill goes not far enough to give you knowledge of what you desire from me.
Alon. You have said enough, sir, to persuade me of your science; if fame had not published it, yet this very humility of yours were enough to confirm me in the belief of it.
Bel. Death, you make me mad, sir! Will you have me swear? As I am a gentleman, a man of the town, one who wears good cloaths, eats, drinks, and wenches abundantly, I am a damned ignorant, and senseless fellow.
Enter Beatrix.
Alon. How now, gentlewoman?—What, are you going to relief by moonshine?
Beat. I was going on a very charitable office, to help a friend that was gravelled in a very doubtful business.
Bel. Some good news, fortune, I beseech thee.
Beat. But now I have found this learned gentleman, I shall make bold to propound a question to him from a lady.
Alon. I will have my own question first resolved.
Bel. O, sir, 'tis from a lady.
Beat. If you please, sir, I'll tell it in your ear—My lady has given Don Melchor the ring; in whose company her father found her just now at the garden-door.
[In a whisper.
Bel. [Aloud.] Come to me to-morrow, and you shall receive an answer.
Beat. Your servant, sir.
[Exit Beatrix.
Alon. Sir, I shall take it very unkindly if you satisfy any other, and leave me in this perplexity.
Bel. Sir, if my knowledge were according—
Alon. No more of that, sir, I beseech you.
Bel. Perhaps I may know something by my art concerning it; but, for your quiet, I wish you would not press me.
Alon. Do you think I am not master of my passions?
Bel. Since you will needs know what I would willingly have concealed, the person, who has your diamond, is he whom you saw last in your daughter's company.
Alon. You would say 'tis Don Melchor de Guzman. Who the devil would have suspected him of such an action? But he is of a decayed family, and poverty, it seems, has enforced him to it. Now I think on't better, he has e'en stolen it for a fee, to bribe his lawyer; to requite a lie with a theft. I'll seek him out, and tell him part of my mind before I sleep.
[Exit Alon.
Bel. So, once more I am at liberty: But this astrology is so troublesome a science—Would I were well rid on't!
Enter Don Lopez, and a Servant.
Lop. Astrology, does he say? O, cavalier, is it you? not finding you at home, I came on purpose to seek you out: I have a small request to the stars by your mediation.
Bel. Sir, for pity let them shine in quiet a little; for what for ladies, and their servants, and younger brothers, they scarce get a holiday in a twelve-month.
Lop. Pray, pardon me, if I am a little curious of my destiny, since all my happiness depends on your answer.
Bel. Well, sir, what is it you expect?
Lop. To know whether my love to a lady will be successful.
Bel. 'Tis Aurelia, he means. [Aside.]—Sir, in one word I answer you, that your mistress loves another; one, who is your friend: But comfort yourself; the dragon's tail is between him and home, he never shall enjoy her.
Lop. But what hope for me?
Bel. The stars have partly assured me, you shall be happy, if you acquaint her with your passion, and with the double-dealing of your friend, who is false to her.
Lop. You speak like an oracle. But, I have engaged my promise to that friend, to serve him in his passion to my mistress.
Bel. We English seldom make such scruples; women are not comprised in our laws of friendship. They are feræ naturæ; our common game, like hare and partridge: Every man has equal right to them, as he has to the sun and elements.
Lop. Must I then betray my friend?
Bel. In that case my friend is a Turk to me, if he will be so barbarous as to retain two women to his private use. I will be factious for all distressed damsels; who would much rather have their cause tried by a full jury, than a single judge.
Lop. Well, sir, I will take your counsel; and if I err, the fault be on love and you.
[Exit Lop.
Bel. Were it not for love, I would run out of the town, that's the short on't; for I have engaged myself in so many promises, for the sun and moon, and those little minced-meats of them, that I must hide before my day of payment comes. In the mean time I forget Theodosia; but now I defy the devil to hinder me.
As he is going out, he meets Aurelia, and almost justles her down. With her Camilla enters.
Aur. What rudeness is this?
Bel. Madam Aurelia, is it you?
Aur. Monsieur Bellamy!
Bel. The same, madam.
Aur. My uncle told me he left you here: And, indeed, I came hither to complain of you. For you have treated me so inhumanly, that I have some reason to resent it.
Bel. What occasion can I have given you for a complaint?
Aur. Don Melchor, as I am informed by my uncle, is effectively at Madrid: So that it was not his idea, but himself in person, whom I saw. And since you knew this, why did you conceal it from me?
Bel. When I spoke with you, I knew it not: But I discovered it in the erecting of my figure. Yet if, instead of his idea, I constrained himself to come, in spite of his resolution to remain concealed, I think I have shown a greater effect of my art than what I promised.
Aur. I render myself to so convincing an argument: But by over-hearing a discourse just now betwixt my cousin Theodosia and her maid, I find that he has concealed himself upon her account, which has given me jealousy to the last point; for, to avow an incontestible truth, my cousin is furiously handsome.
Bel. Madam, madam, trust not your ears too far; she talked on purpose, that you might hear her. But, I assure you, the true cause of Don Melchor's concealment was not love of her, but jealousy of you. He staid in private to observe your actions: Build upon't, madam, he is inviolably yours.
Aur. Then will he sacrifice my cousin to me?
Bel. 'Tis furiously true, madam.
Aur. O most agreeable assurance!
Cam. Albricias, madam, for my good news! Don Melchor is coming this way; I know him by his voice: but he is in company with another person.
Aur. It will not be convenient to give him any umbrage, by seeing me with another person; therefore, I will go before; do you stay here, and conduct him to my apartment. Good-night, sir.
[Exit.
Bel. I have promised Don Lopez, he shall possess her; and I have promised her, she shall possess Don Melchor: 'Tis a little difficult, I confess, as to the matrimonial part of it: But, if Don Melchor will be civil to her, and she be civil to Don Lopez, my credit is safe without the benefit of my clergy. But all this is nothing to Theodosia.
[Exit Bel.
Enter Don Alonzo and Don Melchor.
Cam. Don Melchor, a word in private.
Mel. Your pleasure, lady.—Sir, I will wait on you immediately.
Cam. I am sent to you from a fair lady, who bears you no ill will. You may guess whom I mean.
Mel. Not by my own merits, but by knowing whom you serve. But, I confess, I wonder at her late strange usage, when she fled from me.
Cam. That was only a mistake; but I have now, by her command, been in a thousand places in quest of you.
Mel. You overjoy me.
Cam. And where, amongst the rest, do you think I have been looking you?
Mel. Pray refresh my memory.
Cam. In that same street, by the same shop—you know where, by a good token.
Mel. By what token?
Cam. Just by that shop, where, out of your nobleness, you promised me a new silk gown.
Mel. O, now I understand you.
Cam. Not that I press you to a performance—
Mel. Take this, and please yourself in the choice of it.
[Gives her money.
Cam. Nay, dear sir, now you make me blush; in faith I—am ashamed—I swear, 'tis only because I would keep something for your sake;—but my lady expects you immediately in her apartment.
Mel. I'll wait on her, if I can possibly. [Exit Cam.] But, if I can prevail with Don Alonzo for his daughter, then will I again consider, which of the ladies best deserves me. [Aside.] Sir, I beg your pardon for this rudeness in leaving you.
[To Alon.
Alon. I cannot possibly resolve with myself to tell him openly he is a thief; but I'll gild the pill for him to swallow.
[Aside.
Mel. I believe he has discovered our amour: How he surveys me for a son-in-law!
[Aside.
Alon. Sir, I am sorry for your sake, that true nobility is not always accompanied with riches to support it in its lustre.
Mel. You have a just exception against the capriciousness of destiny; yet, if I were owner of any noble qualities, (which I am not) I should not much esteem the goods of fortune.
Alon. But pray conceive me, sir; your father did not leave you flourishing in wealth.
Mel. Only a very fair seat in Andalusia, with all the pleasures imaginable about it: That alone, were my poor deserts according,—which, I confess, they are not,—were enough to make a woman happy in it.
Alon. But give me leave to come to the point, I beseech you, sir. I have lost a jewel, which I value infinitely, and I hear it is in your possession: But I accuse your wants, not you, for it.
Mel. Your daughter is indeed a jewel; but she were not lost, were she in possession of a man of parts.
Alon. A precious diamond, sir——
Mel. But a man of honour, sir——
Alon. I know what you would say, sir,—that a man of honour is not capable of an unworthy action; and, therefore, I do not accuse you of the theft: I suppose the jewel was only put into your hands.
Mel. By honourable ways, I assure you, sir.
Alon. Sir, sir, will you restore my jewel?
Mel. Will you please, sir, to give me leave to be the unworthy possessor of her? I know how to use her with that respect——
Alon. I know what you would say, sir; but if it belong to our family? otherwise, I assure you, it were at your service.
Mel. As it belongs to your family, I covet it; not that I plead my own deserts, sir.
Alon. Sir, I know your deserts; but, I protest, I cannot part with it: For, I must tell you, this diamond ring was originally my great-grandfather's.
Mel. A diamond ring, sir, do you mean?——
Alon. By your patience, sir; when I have done, you may speak your pleasure. I only lent it to my daughter; but, how she lost it, and how it came upon your finger, I am yet in tenebris.
Mel. Sir——
Alon. I know it, sir; but spare yourself the trouble, I'll speak for you; you would say you had it from some other hand; I believe it, sir.
Mel. But, sir——
Alon. I warrant you, sir, I'll bring you off without your speaking;—from another hand you had it; and now, sir, as you say, sir, and as I am saying for you, sir, you are loth to part with it.
Mel. Good sir,——let me——
Alon. I understand you already, sir,—that you have taken a fancy to it, and would buy it; but, to that I answer, as I did before, that it is a relick of my family: Now, sir, if you can urge aught farther, you have liberty to speak without interruption.
Mel. This diamond you speak of, I confess——
Alon. But what need you confess, sir, before you are accused?
Mel. You promised you would hear me in my turn, sir, but——
Alon. But, as you were saying, it is needless, because I have already spoken for you.
Mel. The truth is, sir, I was too presumptuous to take this pledge from Theodosia without your knowledge; but you will pardon the invincible necessity, when I tell you——
Alon. You need not tell me; I know your necessity was the reason of it, and that place and opportunity have caused your error.
Mel. This is the goodest old man I ever knew; he prevents me in my motion for his daughter. [Aside. Since, sir, you know the cause of my errors, and are pleased to lay part of the blame upon youth and opportunity, I beseech you, favour me so far to accept me, as fair Theodosia already has——
Alon. I conceive you, sir,—that I would accept of your excuse: Why, restore the diamond, and 'tis done.
Mel. More joyfully than I received it: And, with it, I beg the honour to be received by you as your son-in-law.
Alon. My son-in-law! this is the most pleasant proposition I ever heard.
Mel. I am proud you think it so; but, I protest, I think not I deserve this honour.
Alon. Nor I, I assure you, sir; marry my daughter—ha, ha, ha!
Mel. But, sir——
Alon. I know what you would say, sir—that there is too much hazard in the profession of a thief, and therefore you would marry my daughter to become rich, without venturing your neck for't. I beseech you, sir, steal on, be apprehended, and, if you please, be hanged, it shall make no breach betwixt us. For my part, I'll keep your counsel, and so, good night, sir.
[Exit Alon.
Mel. Is the devil in this old man, first to give me occasion to confess my love, and, when he knew it, to promise he would keep my counsel? But who are these? I'll not be seen; but to my old appointment with Theodosia, and desire her to unriddle it.
[Exit Mel.