FOOTNOTES:

[38] This prologue first appeared in the edition of 1671, after the revival of the play.—Collier.

[DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.]

PERSONS.RELATIONS.CHARACTERS.
Don Henrique,In love with Camilla,but rejected.Choleric, jealous, revengeful.
Don Carlos,Near kinsman to DonHenrique.A well-natured, moral gentleman.
Don Octavio,In love with Porcia, but feigning to bein love with Camilla.A valiant and accomplished cavalier.
Don Antonio,Contracted to Porcia by proxy, before he saw her.A soldier, haughty, and of exact honour.
Porcia,Sister to Don Henrique.Ingenious, constant, and severely virtuous.
Camilla,Sister to Don Carlos.Susceptible of love, but cautious of her honour.
Diego,Servant to Octavio, bred a scholar.A great coward, and a pleasant droll.
Flora,Waiting-woman to Porcia.Witty, contriving, and faithful to her mistress.
Ernesto,Servants to Don Antonio.
Sancho,
Silvio,Servants to Don Henrique.
Geraldo,
Pedro,
Bernardino,
Jago,
The Corregidor and Attendants.[39]

The Scene, Seville.

THE ADVENTURES OF FIVE HOURS.[40]

[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.

Por. My dear Camilla, how I long'd to have thee,

[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.

Enter Camilla, Porcia, and Flora.

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?

Enter Page.

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.