FOOTNOTES:
[11] See an early note to "The Adventures of Five Hours" in the present volume.
[12] [i.e., In a snare. See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 200, where it is shown that the earlier phrase is Cob's pound.]
[13] [A common proverbial expression.]
[ACT III.]
Enter Don Fernando and Fabio, as in the room in the inn.
Don F. Are all things ready, Fabio, in case
Don Julio, when he comes, conclude with me
That I should be gone presently?
Fab. Horses stand ready for you at the posthouse.
Don F. 'Tis well; attend without. [Exit Fabio.
Enter Don Julio.
I see you sleep not in your friend's concerns,
You are so early; and since so, the sooner
We fix a resolution, certainly
'Twill be the better. 'Twas no small point gain'd,
To frustrate for a night Don Pedro's aims,
As Fabio tells me you have done; for he
Ne'er quitted him an inch last night, until
He had harboured him.
Don J. What, has he left his lodging?
Don F. That he has,
And (which is more considerable) taken one
Close by your house, which evidences clearly,
Where his suspicions lie: that being so,
I'm confident you'll be of my opinion
For my dislodging from Valencia
Immediately; for, Elvira being
Already so well settled, nothing can
So much endanger her discovery
As my remaining longer in these parts.
Don J. Were I but free as yesterday, Fernando,
To think of nothing but Elvira and your
Concernments, I must confess your absence
From hence were to be wish'd: but, cousin,
There's fallen out this very night a thing,
Which shows how little I beholden am
To fortune that, having so newly lent me
The means of serving handsomely my friend,
Calls back the debt already, and makes me
As needing of your aid, as you of mine.
Don. F. Ho! Fabio, forbid the horses presently.
[Fabio looks in.
The least appearance, Julio, of my being [To Julio.
Useful to you by staying puts an end
To all deliberation for myself;
Say, what's the accident? you have me ready.
Don J. Such and of such a nature, my Fernando,
That, as to be communicated to none
But you (another self), so I am sure
It will astonish you with the rehearsal.
Ah! could you think it possible, that Blanca
Should raise disturbance in the heart of Julio,
As to the honour of his family?
Don F. Heavens forbid!
Don J. Never was brother so secure as I,
Or so unalterable in his persuasion,
Of having a sister of unmatch'd discretion;
Nor e'er could less than evidence itself
Have shaken such a confidence.
Don F. For God's sake, Julio,
Hold me no longer in such pain of mind.
But, sure, we shall be better there within,
Free from the noise of the street.
Don J. You say well. [Exit Julio.
Don F. [As he follows him, aside.] This is what Fabio told me he saw last night,
Discovered by some accident to Julio;
It can be nothing else. O women, women! [Exit Fernando.
Enter Don Pedro and Fulvio, as in their new lodgings.
Don P. I am glad you have lighted on so fit a place
For all I intend, as this is, Fulvio.
I shall repair the last night's disappointment
By early care this morning: in the meanwhile,
Fail not of your part in the discovery
Where my enemy dwells, and i' th' observation
Of all his motions; that's the important part.
Fulv. Rely, sir, on my care and vigilance.
[Exeunt Don Pedro and Fulvio.
Enter Don Julio and Don Fernando, as in the outward room of the inn.
Don J. It is a quarter
Always reserv'd to my own privacy.
There lying unsuspected, if, whilst I
Continue late abroad, under pretence
Of being at Violante's, you keep watch
Carefully within, he cannot 'scape us:
So you be sure to observe punctually
The sign agreed, and bolting of the doors,
When he is once within.
Don F. Since you have so resolv'd and laid your business,
Dispose of me, and lead the way, whilst I
Give Fabio his instruction what to do
During my absence. [Exeunt Fernando and Julio.
Enter Donna Blanca and Francisca, as in Blanca's antechamber.
Fran. Since the black cloud, that threaten'd you last night
With such a storm, is luckily blown over
Without a sprinkling, I hope, madam, you
Will imitate the Fates, and grow serene
From all those clouds which so much threaten'd others.
Blan. Ah! Francisca, canst thou—
[She stops, seeing Elvira coming.
Enter Elvira, with a fine basin of flowers.
But here's Silvia.
O, the sharp thorns she brings me at this time,
With flowers in her hand, by the constraint
Her presence gives me! [Aside.
Elv. Madam, I wish the 'ranging of these flowers
May be to your mind; but alas, I fear
I am too dull for works of fancy.
Blan. 'Tis me you find too dull to relish them:
Anon they may be welcomer.
Elv. I'll wait that happy hour.
[Aside.] She's in ill humour. [Exit Elvira.
Blan. But tell me now, didst ever see, Francisca,
So false and bold a creature? The impudence
He had to clothe his treachery with new courtships,
Provokes me most of all.
Fran. Last night indeed, incens'd as you were, madam,
I fain would know what air so soft and gentle
He could have breath'd, would not have blown the flame
Higher and higher; but methinks your pillow
Should in so many hours have had some power
T' allay and mollify: I then complied
(He present) with your anger; but now, madam,
You must allow me to speak reason t' you
In his behalf, before you go too far,
And put things in your passion past recal,
Which, that once over, you would give your life
To have again.
Blan. Pray, think me not so tame.
Fran. So tame, say you? I think you wild, I swear,
To take so much to heart, what at the most
Deserves but some such sparkling brisk resentment,
As, once flash'd out in a few choleric words,
Ought to expire in a next visit's coyness.
Blan. Make you so slight of infidelity?
Fran. Cupid forbid! I'd have men true to love;
But I'd have women, too, true to themselves,
And not rebuke their gallants by requiring
More than the nature of frail flesh will bear.
I'd have men true as steel; but steel, you know,
(The purest and best-polish'd steel) will ply,
Urg'd from its rectitude, forsooth; but then
With a smart spring comes to its place again.
Blan. Come, leave your fooling, and speak soberly.
Fran. Why then, in sober sadness, you're i' th' wrong—
I do not say in being angry with him,
And nettled at the thing—that's natural.
We love no partners, even in what we know
We cannot keep all to ourselves: but, madam,
To think the worse of him for it: or resolve
A breach of friendship for a slight excursion,
That were a greater fault than his, who has
For one excuse long absence; and in truth
Another you'd be sorry he wanted—youth.
Blan. You talk as if——
Fran. [interrupting her.] Stay, madam, I beseech you,
And let me make an end: I have not yet
Touch'd the main point in his excuse, a suit
At court, enough I trow for any dog-trick.
Blan. How like a goose you talk! a court pretension!
What has that to do, one way or other,
With his faith to me?
Fran. So one, displeased to find his crawfishes
Shrivell'd within and empty, said to his cook
(Who laid the fault upon the wane o' th' moon):
What has the moon to do with crawfishes?
Marry, she has, 'tis she that governs shell-fish;
And 'tis as true, in courts that love rules business
By as preposterous an influence.
Blan. I prythee, make an end, or come to th' point.
Fran. Why, then, I'll tell you: you may believe me
(Having been train'd up in my youth, you know,
In the best school to learn court mysteries,
An aunt of mine being mother of the maids),
Love holds the rudder, and steers in all courts.
How oft, when great affairs perplex the brains
Of mighty politicians to conjecture,
From whence sprung such designs, such revolutions:
Such exaltations, madam, such depressions,
Against the rules of their mysterious art;
And when, as in surprising works of nature,
Reason's confounded, men cry those are secrets
Of the high pow'rs above, that govern all
Grave lookers on, stroking their beards, would say,
What a transcendent fetch of state is this!
These are the things that wisdom hides and hatches
Under black cap of weighty jobbernowl;
I mean Count Olivarez. All the while,
We female Machiavels would smile to think,
How closely lurking lay the nick of all
Under our daughter Doll's white petticoat.
Blan. All this, I grant you, may be true, and yet
Ne'er make a jot for his excuse, Francisca.
His suit had no relation to such matters.
Fran. Whate'er the thing be, 'tis all one. D' you think
Suits, be they what they will, can be obtain'd
By such as pass for fops, as all young men
Without a mistress or a confidant
Are sure to do there? A sharp-pointed hat
(Now that you see the gallants all flat-headed)
Appears not so ridiculous as a younker
Without a love-intrigue to introduce
And sparkify him there. Madam, in short,
Allow me once to be sententious:
It is a thing that always was, and is,
And ever will be, true to the world's end:
That, as in courts of justice, none can carry
On business well without a procurator,
So none in princes' courts their suits make surer,
Than those that work them by the best procurer.
Blan. [Smiling a little.] Well, hast done, Francisca?
Fran. Madam, I have.
Blan. Then letting pass
Thy fine reflections politic, now vented
To shew thy skill in courts, I'll tell thee freely,
I'm not transported in my jealousy
So far beyond the bounds of reason, as
Not to know well the difference betwixt
Such escapades of youth, as only spring
From warmth of blood or gales of vanity,
And such engagements as do carry with them
Dishonour unto those, whose quality
And love leave little to the serious part,
Once embark'd by them in a gallantry.
Fran. I see the clouds disperse. There's no such art
Of compassing one's ends with those above us,
As that of working them into good humour
By things brought in by the by. [Aside.
Why, surely, madam, unless anger lend you
Its spectacles to see things, I cannot think
You judge Don Zancho's fault to be any other
Than of the first kind, so well stated by you.
Blan. Francisca, were I otherwise persuaded,
I am not of an humour that could suffer
Such parleys for him, much less intercession;
But since, upon reflection, I find cause
To think what he has done a sally only
Of youth and vanity, when I shall find him
Sufficiently mortified, I may pardon him.
Fran. Heavens bless so sweet a temper! but, madam,
Have a care, I beseech you, of one thing.
Fran. That, whilst your pride of heart
Prolongs his readmission, his despair
Urge him not to some precipitate attempt
That may expose your honour, safe as yet.
You see what danger the last night's distemper
Had like t' have brought you into: transported lovers,
Like angels fallen from their bliss, grow devils.
Blan. What, would you have me appear so flexible?
Is't not enough
I tell you I may pardon him in due time?
Fran. Good madam, be advis'd: I do not press you
For his sake, but your own. Trust my experience,
To women nought's so fatal as suspense;
Whose smartest actions ne'er did cast such blot
On honour as this—shall I? shall I not?
Blan. I'd rather die, than have him think me easy.
Fran. Your spirit never can be liable
To that suspicion. Madam, leave to me
The conduct of this matter, I beseech you:
If, ere you sleep, you do not see the gallant
Sufficiently humbled at your feet,
Ne'er trust Francisca more.
Blan. You are so troublesome: do what you will.
[Blanca turns away, and exit as into her closet.
Fran. What, gone away?
I'll do what she would have, but dares not say. [Exit.
Enter Don Julio and Elvira, as in Blanca's chamber.
Don J. Where's my sister, Silvia? [Looking about him.
Elv. In her closet, sir:
As yet not ready.
Don J. And where's Francisca?
Elv. She's with her, dressing her.
Don J. Why then, Elvira,
Let me not lose this opportunity
Of telling you how sad a man I am
To see you in this posture, and to assure you
How gladly I would lay down life and fortune
To serve you in Don Fernando's absence.
Elv. Your generosity I make no doubt of:
But is Fernando gone?
Don J. I cannot say
That he is gone; for he was not himself,
With the thought of leaving you, and yet less
Himself, whene'er he thought of staying near you;
Tortur'd by two such contrary passions,
As love and sharp resentment.
Elv. He is gone then?—— [She pauses.
Ah, generous Don Julio, [Putting her handkerchief to her eyes.
You needs must be indulgent to a weakness
Which, whilst that he was present, indignation,
And a just sense of what I am, had pow'r
To keep within myself; but now I find
That check remov'd, nature will have its tribute,
And you must pardon my withdrawing, where [She weeps.
Such grief may pay it with unwitness'd tears. [Exit Elvira.
Don J. Can a demeanour so compos'd, so noble,
And yet so tender, want true innocence?
It cannot be. It grieves my heart, I swear,
T' have given her new affliction; but the secret
Of Don Fernando's close concealment here
Is so important, it necessitated
My saying what I did, since secrets are
Ever kept best by those that know them least.
Enter Blanca and Francisca.
Now, high dissimulation play, thy part! [Aside.
Good morrow, sister, have you rested well?
And do you rise serene, as does the sun?
Free from distemper, as the day from clouds?
Your looks persuade it me, they are so clear
And fresh this morning.
Blan. The pleasure of seeing you puts life into them,
Else they'd be dull enough, this ugly headache
Having tormented me all night. You might
Have heard me call Francisca up at midnight.
Fran. That was well thought on, for 'tis possible
He may have heard some noise. [Aside.
Don J. How cunning she is! [Aside.
Faith, now you put me in mind of it (I think)
'Twixt sleep and waking, I once heard some stirring.
Blan. The worst of my indisposition is,
That 'twill, I fear, hinder me again to-day
From visiting Violante, to thank her
For Silvia.
Don J. I charge myself with all your compliments;
For this whole afternoon, till late at night,
I needs must pass with her, to make amends
For yesterday's failings, caus'd, as you know,
By Don Fernando's being in town.
Blan. I must not hope to see you then again
To-day, when once gone out?
Don J. Hardly; unless to wait on Violante,
In case she come to see you, as 'tis likely,
When I shall tell her you are indispos'd:
And so farewell. [Exit Don Julio.
Blan. All's well, I see, Francisca, as to him:
I wish my heart were but as much at rest
In what concerns Don Zancho.
Fran. It shall be
Your own fault if it be not quickly so,
As I'll order the matter.
Blan. Take heed you make him not grow insolent,
By discovering to him my facility.
Fran. I'm too well vers'd to need instructions.
Blan. I leave all t' you. But how does Silvia
This morning?
Fran. I think she has been crying,
She looks so dull and moped.
Blan. I'll in and see her. [Exeunt.
Scene changes to Don Zancho's house. Enter Don Zancho, and Chichon limping.
Don Z. What, not yet gone, thou lazy, trifling rascal?
Chi. What juster excuse, sir, for not going,
Than is a broken leg?
Don Z. If you find not your own leg quickly, sirrah,
I shall find you a wooden one.
Chi. Be as angry as you will, sir, I'll not go
Till I have made my conditions: the true time
For servants to stand upon points is, when
Their masters stand upon thorns.
Don Z. What are they, owl's face?
Chi. Assurance, sir, but of free air within,
With fair retreat upon an even floor;
And that it shall not be in a slut's power,
After having kept me in a nasty place,
To empty me out at window.
Don Z. Prythee, Chichon,
Ha' done, and miss not th' opportunity
By fooling. Unless you take Francisca,
Just as she comes from mass, this day is lost,
And I lost with it.
Chi. Come, I'll hobble to her.
Expect a sorry account, but yet a true one;
Truth always comes by the lame messenger. [Exeunt.
Scene changes to a fine pleasant apartment. Enter Don Julio, and knocks, as at the door of his private apartment: Fernando opens the door and lets him in.
Don F. Y' have given me here a very pleasant prison:
But what news, my Julio? Are things disposed
For clearing of your doubts? My own concerns
I cannot think on during your disquiet.
Don. J. And I come now so strangely mov'd with yours,
I scarce have sense or memory of my own.
A heart of adamant could not be hinder'd,
I think, from liquefaction into tears,
To 've seen and heard Elvira, as I have done,
Upon th' occasion of my telling her
That you were gone.
A sense so gallant and so tender both
I never saw in woman.
Don. F. Can that high heart descend to tenderness?
Don J. Not whilst (you present) noble pride upheld it;
But, nature once set free from that constraint,
O, how pathetic was her very silence!
And the restraint of tears in her swol'n eyes,
More eloquent in grief than others' torrents.
If she be guilty, all her sex are devils.
Don. F. O, say no more; for were there room but left
For self-deceit, I might be happy yet.
Ah! evidence too cruel to deny me that! [A noise without.
Don. J. But what can be the noise I hear without—
In the next room? [Fernando peeps through the key-hole.
Don F. 'Slife! I see Don Pedro,
Elvira's father: there's no avoiding him;
He'd not a' come up so, without being sure
You are within.
Don J. Farther put-off would be of little use,
Since first or last he must be satisfied,
Being come hither upon such an errand.
The sooner now we see what 'tis he drives at,
The sooner we shall take from thence our measures;
I'll therefore go out to him, and be sure
To entertain him still so near the door,
That you may hear what passes.
Don F. I shall be attentive, and expect the issue
With much impatience. [Exit Don Julio.
Scene changes to Don Julio's antechamber. Enter Don Pedro and his Servant, and Don Julio and a Page.
Don P. My business, sir, is to Don Julio Rocca;
[Addressing himself to Don Julio.
If you be he, I shall desire the favour
Of some few words with you in private.
Don J. Sir, I am he to serve you. Page, set chairs.
[He points to the Page, and makes him set the chairs by the door where Don Fernando is, and then the Page and Don Pedro's man retire. [They sit down.
Don P. Having not the honour to be known t' you, sir,
'Tis fit this letter make my introduction:
'Tis from the Duke of Medina.
[He gives Don Julio the letter, which he receives with great respect; and going a little aside, reads it.
"Don Pedro de Mendoça, my kinsman and most particular friend, goes to Valencia in pursuit of one who hath highly injured his family, whose righting I am so much concerned in, as, could it have been done without too much publication of the thing, I would have accompanied him myself, but my presence will be needless in a place where you have power: I do therefore conjure you, and expect from your regard and kindness to me, that you employ it thoroughly in his behalf, and what service you shall do him, put it upon my account, whom you shall always find
"Your most affectionate cousin to serve you,
The Duke of Medina."
Don J. [giving the letter to Don Pedro, and he taking it.] Sir, it is fit you see how heartily
The Duke hath recommended your concernments,
Whose will's a law to me.
[Don Pedro having read it, and restoring it.
Don P. He told me, indeed, how very sure he was
Of your friendship and dependence.
I am proud to find he makes
So obliging use of it to my advantage.
Don J. I do avow myself his creature, sir;
Therefore the sooner you shall let me know
In what I may be useful t' you, the sooner
You'll see my readiness to serve you.
Don P. Your personal reputation, sir, as well
As your relation to the duke, assur'd me
Beforehand of what I find; and therefore
As hard a part as it is for a gentleman
Of my blood and temper to become
Relater of his own shame, unreveng'd
On the author of it, I shall tell you in short:
I live under an affront of th' highest nature
To the honour of my family; and the person
Who did it makes Valencia his retreat.
'Tis against him, Don Julio,
That your assistance must support me here:
I have already got some notice of him,
And when I shall be ascertain'd, I'll repair
Again unto you for your friendly aid,
And for the present trouble you no farther.
[Don Pedro offers to rise, as going away.
Don J. A little patience, I beseech you, sir.
I have express'd my readiness, and be sure
I am a man never to fail, where once
I have engag'd my word; but, sir, withal
You must consider with a fair reflection,
That in this place are all my chief relations
Of blood and friendship; and though neither shall
Have power t' exempt me from the serving you
In any just pretension, yet you know
That men of honour ever ought to seek,
How to comply with one duty without
Violating another.
Don P. I understand you, sir; and as 'tis that
Which well becomes a person of your worth
To have reflected on, so it becomes me
To satisfy, before I engage you farther.
Then give me leave to ask you, whether or no
Don Zancho de Moneçes be of the number
Of those, towards whom y'are under obligation
Either of blood or friendship?
[Don Julio showing some little surprise, but presently recovering.
Don J. Don Zancho de Moneçes, say you?
Don P. Sir, the same—
He startled at his name. [Aside.
Don J. He is a person I have always liv'd
In friendly correspondence with, without
Any such tie upon me towards him,
As ought to hinder my frank serving you.
Don P. You have reviv'd me; and since I have now nam'd
My enemy, I can conceal no longer
The grounds on which he is so. That Don Zancho,
About a fortnight since, was late at night
Found in my house, run newly through the body,
And welt'ring in his blood, ready to expire.
I by the outcry brought upon the place,
Surpris'd as you may imagine, and enrag'd,
Was yet so far master of my passion,
As to disdain the owing my revenge
To an unknown hand, perhaps as guilty
Towards me as was the sufferer. I made
Him straight be carried to a surgeon, where
I thought it generous to give him life,
Then dead, that living I might give him death.
Recover'd sooner than I thought, he fled,
And with him, as I have reason to believe,
My only daughter, who the very night
Of the accident was missing. O, the curse
Of men, to have their honours subjected
To the extravagance of such vile creatures!
Don J. [Sighing.] 'Tis our hard fate indeed.
Don P. I presently employ'd all diligence
To know what way he took, and having learn'd
'Twas towards this place, hither I have pursued him;
Confirm'd in my pursuit by information
Along the road, that an unknown gallant
Had, with his servant, guarded all the way
A conceal'd lady in a coach. And thus, sir,
You have the story of my injury;
Whereof I doubt not but your generous heart
Will wed the just revenge.
Don J. You may rely on't, sir, without reserves,
To th' utmost of my power.
Don P. May the gods reward you
The life that you renew to these grey hairs!
I'll take my leave at present, and return t' ye,
As soon as from the diligences used
I shall have clearer lights.
Don J. Here you shall find me waiting your commands.
[Exit Don Pedro, Don Julio waiting on him out.
Scene changes. Enter Don Julio and Don Fernando, as in the private apartment.
Don J. I hope you overheard us?
Don F. All distinctly,
And with surprising joy at his mistake.
Did ever bloodhound, in a hot pursuit,
Run on so readily upon the change?
Don J. I hope it bodes good fortune in the rest.
Don F. Were e'er two friends engag'd in an adventure
So intricate as we, and so capricious?
Don J. Sure, never in this world: methinks it merits
A special recapitulation.
You, at the height of all your happiness,
Supplanted with your mistress by a rival
You neither knew nor dreamt of, evidence
Anticipating jealousy.
Don F. And when that rival, fallen by my sword
In her own presence, is by miracle
Revived, and fitter to serve her than I,
That faithless mistress with the same assurance
She could have done, had she been true as fair,
And for my sake expos'd to fatal hazards,
Flies to my arms for her protection.
Don J. And whilst that you, refining point of honour,
In spite of rage expose yourself to serve her,
She asks and takes, with a vow'd indignation
To be beholden t' ye, new obligations.
Don F. I have recourse unto my only friend,
To help me in protecting my false mistress,
And he, at the same time, by highest powers [is]
Impos'd upon to be her persecutor.
Don J. Whilst the same friend, and by the selfsame pow'rs,
Is urg'd to act in their revenge against
The man, on whom you most desire to take it:
And then, to heighten all beyond invention,
That very friend is forc'd, even in that instant,
To a dependence on your only aid,
In his honour's nearest and most nice concerns.
Don F. Heaven, sure, delights t' involve us in a kind
Of labyrinth will pose itself t' unwind. [Exeunt.
[ACT IV.]
Scene changes to the room at Don Zancho's. Enter Don Zancho, and Chichon at another door, halting still with a staff.
Don Z. What, here again already! have you sped?
Chi. Lame as I am, you see I've made good speed
In my return, whate'er I've had in my errand.
Don Z. Leave, fool, your quibbling, and deliver me
From the disquiet of uncertainty.
Chi. That's quickly done. Set, sir, your heart at rest
From the vain hopes of ever seeing Blanca—
Now you are at ease, I trow?
Don Z. You'll be at little, unless you leave your jesting
With such edge-tools. Is banishment from her
Matter of raillery? Say, sirrah, and say
Quickly, what hopes?——
Prythee, if thou lov'st me, [Kindly.
Hold me no longer in suspense, Chichon.
Chi. Why, then, for fear—the devil a bit for love—
I'll tell you, sir, that luckily I met
The drab Francisca at the capuchin's,
Lodging behind her lady, I think on purpose;
For I perceiv'd her eager sparrowhawk's eye,
With her veil down (ne'er stirs a twinkling-while
From its sly peeping-hole) had found me straight—
took my time i' th' nick, but she outnick'd me;
For trudging on, her face another way,
With such a voice, as some you have seen have had
The trick to draw from caverns of their belly,
And make one think it came from a mile off,
She made me hear these words: About twilight
Fail not to pass by our door, and ask no more
At this time, varlet. And thus, sir, you see,
That neither she nor I have been prolix,
For this is all. You have leave to make your comment
On a brief text.
Don Z. As sweet methinks as short: such words imply
Little less than a demi-assignation.
Chi. All puddings have two ends,[14] and most short sayings
Two handles to their meaning.
Don Z. I'm sure I'll still lay hold upon the pleasing'st,
Till it be wrested from me: i' th' meanwhile,
If any visitants come this afternoon,
Be sure to tell them I am gone abroad,
That nothing else embark us at the time.
You shall not go alone.
Chi. I thank you for it—
I cannot go alone.
[Holding up his staff. Exeunt, Chichon halting.
Scene changes to Don Julio's private apartment. Enter Don Fernando and Julio.
Don J. All things are rightly laid, for Violante
Will pass the afternoon with Blanca, and then,
I waiting on her home in th' evening, Blanca
Will be secure from me till late at night.
I shall be where I told you, in full view
Of those two windows. If the gallant come
Up the great stairs, he must pass through that room,
And cannot 'scape your knowledge; if up the back one,
You needs must see him passing through the entry,
Close by that door. If this latter way,
Be sure to set the candle in that window: [Pointing.
If up the other, in that: and in either case,
As soon as he's within, fail not to bolt,
On th' inside, th' entry-door, and so he may
Find no retreat that way, I coming up
The other.
Don F. Be assured I shall be punctual,
As you direct. [Exeunt.
Scene changes to Don Pedro's lodging. Enter Don Pedro and his servant Fulvio.
Don P. Are you sure of what you say?
Fulv. As sure, sir,
As my own eyes can make me of what I saw.
You cannot doubt my knowing him, since 'twas I
(You may remember) fetch'd the surgeon to him,
And saw his wounds dress'd more than once or twice.
The tavern, where I was, looks into his garden,
And there I left him walking to come tell you.
Don P. We are well advanc'd then towards my just revenge.
I found Don Julio as ready to comply
With all the duke's desires as I could wish;
And my great fear is over, that Don Zancho
Might possibly have been some near relation
Of his own: so that now, Fulvio, if you
Keep but a careful eye upon his motions,
And give me notice, he can hardly 'scape us.
Fulv. Doubt not my diligence. [Exeunt.
Scene changes to the garden. Enter Blanca and Francisca as in a fine garden with orange-trees and fountains.
Blan. You must have your will; but know, Francisca,
If you expose me to his vanity,
I never shall forgive you.
Fran. I tell you, madam, I will bring him t' ye
So mortified, he shall an object be
For pity, not for anger: you'll need employ
Kindness to erect the poor dejected knight.
Blan. It fell out luckily, that Violante
Came hither; for, my brother now engag'd
With her, we're safe till ten o'clock at least.
Fran. But how shall we dispose of Silvia?
It will be hard to 'scape her observation,
For she has wit, and of the dangerous kind—
A melancholy wit. O the unlucky star,
That leads a lady, engaged in love-intrigues,
To take a new attendant near her person!
Blan. 'Twas an unluckiness; but Violante
Could not be denied, I having told her
So often that I wanted one; besides,
Who could have thought sh' had one ready at hand?
But we must make the best on't for this night:
'Twill not be hard to busy her, till 't be late,
In the perfuming-room. This near occasion
Well o'er, I think it will not be amiss,
Against another, to say somewhat to her,
That may, in case she have perceiv'd anything,
Persuade her she is not distrusted.
Fran. Madam, take heed of that: whene'er you find
It necessary to say anything,
Be sure to say that, that she may think all.
Take one rule more from my experience:
Nothing so fatal as a confidence
By halves in amorous transactions.
But here she comes—
Enter ELVIRA.
Blan. Come, Silvia, and take your part of this sweet place;
This is a day indeed to taste its freshness.
Elv. Madam, I needs must say, within a town
I never saw so fine a one.
Blan. In truth
I think not many sweeter. Those fountains,
Playing among the orange-trees and myrtles,
Have a fine mix'd effect on all the senses,
But think not, Silvia, to enjoy the pleasure
Without contributing to make it more.
Elv. How can I be so happy?
Blan. Francisca tells me she has overheard you
Warbling alone such notes unto yourself,
As have not only a good voice betray'd,
But skill to manage it.
Elv. It is Francisca,
That has betray'd a very ill one, madam.
Blan. Under yon palm-tree's shade, there is a seat
That yields to none in the advantages
It lends to music: let's go sit down there.
For this first time, one song shall satisfy.
Elv. When you have heard that one, I shall not fear
Your asking me another.
[They go and sit down under the palm-tree, and Elvira sings.
The Song.
See, O, see!
How every tree,
Every bower,
Every flower,
A new life gives to others' joys;
Whilst that I,
Grief-stricken, lie,
Nor can meet
With any sweet,
But what faster mine destroys.
What are all the senses' pleasures,
When the mind has lost all measures?
Hear, O, hear!
How sweet and clear
The nightingale
And waters'-fall
In concert join for others' ears;
Whilst to me
For harmony
Every air
Echoes despair,
And every drop provokes a tear.
What are all the senses' pleasures,
When the mind has lost all measures?
Blan. I thank you, Silvia; but I'll not allow
One of your youth to nourish melancholy
By tunes and words so flattering to that passion.
Elv. The happiness of serving you may fit me
In time for gayer things.
Blan. I will not ask another for the present;
Not for your reason, but because I'll be
More moderate in my pleasures. Now, Silvia,
I have a task to give you.
Elv. Whate'er it be, 'twill be a pleasing one,
Of your imposing.
Blan. 'Tis to gather store of
Fresh orange-flowers, and then carefully
To shift the oils in the perfuming-room,
As in the several ranges you shall see
The old begin to wither. To do it well
Will take you up some hours; but 'tis a work
I oft perform myself; and that you may
Be sure not to mistake, I'll go thither
With you, and show you the manner of it.
Elv. I hope I shall not fail, so well instructed. [Exeunt.
Scene changes to the room at Don Zancho's. Enter Don Zancho and Chichon.
Chi. Y'are so impatient, sir, you will mar all:
I tell you that 'tis yet too light by half,
The sun is hardly set: pray fetch a turn
Or two more in the garden, ere you go.
Don Z. You must be governor, I see, to-night,
You are so proud o' th' service you have done.
Come away. [Exeunt.
Scene changes to the garden again. Elvira appears in the garden, as gathering flowers from the orange-trees, and then (with her apron full) going away, says—
Elv. The task enjoin'd me is a sweet one, truly,
But I smell somewhat more in the imposal.
So far I am happy yet in my misfortune,
That I am lighted into a lady's service
Of an obliging humour; but (most of all)
One that, as kind as she is, I see 's as glad
To leave me alone, as I to be it. Somewhat
There is mysterious in her looks and conduct:
Such motions just, such inequalities,
Such flatteries to those I trusted least,
Such pretty employments found to busy those
I would be rid of, and such arts are these
To single out her confidant (unnoted),
I well remember would Elvira use,
Whilst the unquiet joys of love possess'd her,
How innocent soever. And, besides,
Francisca's sitting up so late last night,
And going up and down so warily,
Whilst others slept, is evidence enough
What god reigns here, as well as at the court.
But I forget myself. Let descants cease,
Who serves, though she observes, must hold her peace.
[Exit Elvira.
Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter Don Zancho, with his cloak over his face, and Chichon.
Don Z. Advance, Chichon, I'll follow at a distance.
'Tis the right time—just light enough, you see,
For warn'd expecters to know one another.
I hope she will not fail you.
Chi. She fail us!
No sentinel perdu is half so alert
As she in these occasions.
Enter Francisca veiled, peeping as out of the portal of Don Julio's house.
Fran. There comes the varlet; and I'm much deceived,
Or that's his master lagging at a distance—
I'll give them a go-by, cover'd with my veil.
[She passes by them heedlessly.
Chi. By that light, as little as 'tis, 'tis she:
I'll to her.
Don Z. And I'll stand close the while—
When you have broken the ice, I'll take my time.
[Chichon, going to Francisca, lays hold of her veil, and she turns about.
Chi. What signifies a veil to hide my doxy,
When every motion of a leg or wing
Darts round perfuming and informing airs?
Thou art the very cauliflower of women.
Fran. And thou the very cabbage-stalk of men,
That never stank to me, as does a blab.
Chi. Curse on thee, hold thy tongue! Dost thou not see,
Who stands against that wall?
Fran. Away, sauce-box!
[She, thrusting him off, goes on. Don Zancho sets himself just in her way, and makes as if he would lie down in it.
Don Z. Pass, trample on me, do, trample—but hear me!
Fran. These shoes have been my lady's, and she'd ne'er
Forgive it, should they do you so much honour. [Showing her foot.
'Tis thou hast caus'd all this. [Aside, turning to Chichon.
Chi. Fire on thy tongue!
Don Z. Ah, my Francisca, if there be no hopes
Of pardon, nor of pity, yet at least
Let Blanca, for her own sake, be so just
As not to give me cruel death unheard:
Do you your part at least, and do but give her
This letter from me—
[He offers her a letter, and she starting back:
Fran. Guarda! that's a thing
She has forbidden with such menaces,
I dare as well become another Porcia,[15]
And eat red burning coals. I had much rather
Consent that, now she's all alone at home,
You should transportedly rush in upon her,
As following me: so possibly you might
Attain your end without exposing me
Who, in that case, know how to act my part
So smartly against you, as shall keep her clear
From all suspicion. But I am to blame
Thus to forget my duty: I'll stay no longer.
[He stops her, and, pulling out a purse of money, puts it into her hand. Francisca offers to restore the purse, but yet holding it fast.
Don. Z. Spoke like an angel.
Fran. This is, you know, superfluous with me,
And shocks my humour; but anything from you!
Be sure you follow boisterously.
[She trudges away, and goes in hastily, as at Julio's house, and Don Zancho follows her in. Chichon stops at the door.
Chi. I'll bring you no ill-luck a second time.
If for sport's sake you have projected me
Another summersault from the balcony,
Make your account that 'tis already done,
Here you will find me halting in the street. [Exit Chichon.
Scene changes to Donna Blanca's antechamber. Enter Blanca.
Blan. How true it is that nature cheats mankind,
And makes us think ourselves the only tasters
Of pure delight and bliss; when as indeed,
Oppressing us with pains and griefs, she makes
Deliv'rance from them pass for solid pleasure!
Witness in me those images of joy,
Wherewith she flatters now my expectation:
What will its highest satisfaction be
At most, but ease from what tormented me?
Enter FRANCISCA hastily.
Fran. It now imports you have affected rage
As ready at hand as usually you have
Anger in earnest. But, above all, be sure
You discharge it smartly upon me; for here
He presses at my heels.
Enter Don Zancho, and goes to cast himself at Donna Blanca's feet, and she starting back from him.
Blan. What insolence is this? Think not, Francisca,
That I am to be fool'd! This is your work:
You shall not stay an hour within these walls—
By all that's good, you shall not!
Fran. For heaven's sake, madam, be not so unjust [Whining.
To an old servant, always full of duty.
But can I govern madmen? Would y' have had me
Make all the street take notice? There he attack'd me
With such transportment, the whole town had rung on't,
Had I not run away. Could I imagine
A man so wild as to pursue me hither
Into your presence?
Blan. It is well, Don Zancho; [Severely and scornfully.
Blanca may be thus used; but he that does it
Shall find——
[She turns away as going out, he holds her by the sleeve.
Don Z. Pardon this rudeness, madam, but a man
Made desperate hath nothing more to manage.
Hither I come to give you satisfaction,
And if my reasons can't, my heart-blood shall;
But you must hear me, or here see me dead.
Blan. Since to be rid of him, Francisca, I see
[Turning to Francisca.
I must the penance undergo of hearing him,
Keep careful watch to prevent accidents.
Fran. Madam, your closet will be much more proper
For such a conference; for in case your brother
Should come, Don Zancho has a safe retreat
From thence down the back-stairs. I shall be sure
To give you timely notice.
Don Z. And I know perfectly the passage thorough
Th' entry; I've come up more than once that way
During my happy days.
Blan. I think y' have reason; since I must have patience,
Light us in thither.
[Francisca takes the lights, and going before them, exeunt omnes.
Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter Don Julio, as in the portal of his own house.
Don J. The light was in the farther window; therefore
He went up this way: now, if Fernando
Have not forgot to bolt the entry-door,
He cannot 'scape us, sure, whoe'er he be.
'Tis the only comfort,
In such misfortunes, when a man hath means
To right his honour, without other help
Than such a friend as is another self,
And that the shame's even from domestics hid,
Until it be reveng'd.
[Exit Don Julio, as going into his own house.
Enter Chichon, as coming out of the porch before Don Julio's house.
Chi. 'Slight! 'tis Don Julio that I saw go in!
My master's like to pass his time but ill;
I'll steal in after, and observe: although
My courage cannot stead him, my wit may,
As things may possibly fall out.
[Exit Chichon, as stealing after Don Julio into his house.
Scene changes to Donna Blanca's closet. Enter Don Zancho and Donna Blanca, as in her closet.
Blan. As fine a story as may be! No, Don Zancho,
I, Blanca Rocca, am not carta blanca,[16]
Fit to receive whate'er impression
Your art——
Enter Francisca hastily.
Fran. Your brother's in the hall already;
Quick, quick, and let him find you in your chamber
Before your glass, I have set it ready there,
Whilst he retires the way it was resolv'd.
[Pointing to Don Zancho.
[Francisca takes the candle, and exeunt she and Donna Blanca; Don Zancho, another way.
Scene changes to Donna Blanca's bed-chamber. Re-enter Donna Blanca and Francisca, as in Blanca's chamber, she newly seated at her toilet, and beginning to unpin.
Enter Don Julio.
Don J. Blanca, I thought you had been abed ere this.
Have you had company to entertain you,
And keep you up beyond your usual hour?
Blan. What company can I have, you abroad,
At this time of the night?
Don J. I fain would find out some such as might please you.
[Ironically.
Francisca, take a candle and light me in
To Blanca's closet.
Blan. Good brother, what's the matter?
You were not wont to be so curious,
As thus to pry into my privacies.
Don J. That you shall know anon. Do as I bid you,
Francisca.
[Francisca takes one of the candles, and going before him stumbles, and falling puts out the light. Don Julio, taking it up, lights it again at the other on the table, and going with it himself towards Donna Blanca's closet.
These tropes are lost on me. [Exit.
Fran. Let him go, now we have gain'd time
enough.
Blan. Thanks to thy timely fall!
Fran. Persons employ'd
In such trusts must have their wits about them.
'Tis clear that he suspects, but know—he cannot.
When once you see all safe, 'twill then import you
To play the tyrant over him, with reproaches
For this his jealousy.
Blan. Let me alone for that.
But let us follow him in, that we may mark
His whole demeanour. [Exeunt.
Enter Don Zancho in disorder.
Don Z. Curse on't, the entry-door's bolted within,
What shall I do? [He pauses.] I must seek a way,
Through the perfuming-room into the garden. [Exit.
Enter Don Julio, with a candle in his hand, and passing hastily over the stage.
Don J. He must be gone this way, there is no other;
The entry-door was bolted.
Enter Donna Blanca and Francisca, who pass over the stage, as if stealing after Don Julio.
Fran. All's safe: he takes that way. Let him, a God's name,
Follow his nose to the perfuming-room.
Blan. He'll fright poor Silvia out of her wits;
But I'll come to her succour with a peal
Will ring him. [Exeunt Donna Blanca and Francisca.
Scene changes to the laboratory. Here is to open a curious scene of a laboratory in perspective, with a fountain in it, some stills, many shelves, with pots of porcelain and glasses, with pictures above them: the room paved with black and white marble, with a prospect through pillars at the end, discovering the full moon, and by its light a perspective of orange-trees, and towards that farther end Elvira appears at a table, shifting flowers, her back turned.
Enter Don Zancho hastily: Elvira turning about, they both startle, and stand awhile as it were amazed.
Don Z. O heavens! what is't I see? 'Tis mere illusion,
Or 'tis the devil in that angel's form,
Come here to finish by another hand
The fatal work that she began upon me
By Don Fernando's.
Elv. Good gods! Don Zancho here! it cannot be!
Or 'tis his ghost, come to revenge his death
On its occasioner; for, were he alive,
He could not but have more humanity
Than (having been my ruin at Madrid,
And robb'd me of my home and honour there)
To envy me an obscure shelter here.
[Whilst they amazed step back from one another, enter Don Julio, who, seeing Don Zancho with his back towards him, drawing his sword, says—
Don J. Think not (whoe'er thou art), by flying thus
From room to room, to 'scape my just revenge.
Shouldst thou retire to th' centre of the earth,
This sword should find thee there, and pierce thy heart.
[Throwing down the candle, he makes towards Don Zancho; but upon his turning about towards him, he makes a little stop, and says—
Nay then, if it be you, I'm happy yet
In my misfortune, since the gods thus give me
The means at once, and by the self-same stroke,
To right my honour, and revenge my friend;
And, by that action, fully to comply
With what the Duke requires in the behalf
Of wrong'd Don Pedro.
[Don Julio makes at Don Zancho: he draws, and they begin to fight; Elvira crying out, Help! help! runs to part them, and they stop upon her interposing.
Enter Don Fernando hastily over the stage, as coming from the private apartment.
Don F. I hear an outcry and [a] clattering of swords.
My friend (engag'd) must find me by his side.
[Exit, and re-enters at another door.
[As Fernando comes to the door of the perfuming-room, seeing them at a stand, he stops and stands close.
Don F. They are parleying: let's hear. [Aside.
[Blanca and Francisca passing over the stage.
Blan. 'Twas Silvia's voice: my heart misgives me somewhat.
Fran. 'Tis some new accident or some mistake;
Don Zancho cannot but be safe long since.
Blan. However let us in, and see.
[Exeunt Blanca and Francisca, and re-enter as at another door of the perfuming-room, and make a stand, as surprised with what they see.
Blan. We are all undone, I fear.
Fran. A little patience. [Chichon stealing over the stage.
Chi. The noise is towards the perfuming-room,
I know the back-way to it through the garden.
[Exit Chichon, and re-enters at the farther end of the laboratory, and stands close.
Don Z. Wit must repair the disadvantages
I'm under here, and save my Blanca's honour.
That once secur'd, there will be time enough
To save Elvira's. [Aside.
[Whilst this passes, Elvira holds Julio by the arm, he striving to get from her.
Since, by this lady's interposing thus,
You have thought fit our swords should pause awhile,
It may (I think) consist enough with honour
So far to seek your satisfaction, sir,
As to remove mistakes. Know then, Don Julio,
That, though I have presum'd upon your house,
I have not wrong'd your honour: it is she,
With whom you find me, that hath brought me hither;
Her I have long ador'd, and, having got
Intelligence that she was here conceal'd,
My passion (I confess) transported me
Beyond that circumspection and regard,
Which men of quality use, and ought t' observe
Towards one another's dwellings.
Don J. Good gods, what an adventure's here!
Yet all
Is well, so Blanca's honour be but safe. [Aside.
Sir, you surprise me much; can this be true?
[To Don Zancho.
Blan. Francisca, heard you that? had ever man
So ready a wit in such an exigent? [Aside.
Don J. [to Elvira.] What say you, madam?
Fran. We're surer lost than ever, unless she
Have wit and heart to take the thing upon her. [Aside.
Madam, make signs to her, and earnestly. [To Blanca.
[Blanca makes earnest signs to Elvira.
Fran. [aside to Blanca.] She looks this way, as if she comprehended
Your meaning.
Elv. I understand her, and I know as well
What mischief I may bring upon myself;
But let Elvira still do generously,
And leave the rest to fate. [Aside.] Sir, since you press me,
[To Don Julio.
My humour ne'er could disavow a truth:
Don Zancho's passion and transportments for me,
Beyond all rules of temper and discretion,
Have been the cause of all my sad misfortunes,
And still I see must be the cause of more.
Don J. Unhappy creature! how thou hast deceiv'd
My prone persuasion of thy innocence!
Don Z. If that suffice not, sir, you have this ready
To give you satisfaction. [Holding out his sword.
Don F. Hell and furies!—but I will yet contain
Myself, and see how far my friend will drive it. [Aside.
Don J. Stay, Don Zancho,
And answer me one question. Is this night
The first of your presuming thus to enter
My house by stealth?
Don Z. The query is malicious;
But I must thorough, as I have begun. [Aside.
Blan. [Aside to Francisca.] There was a question makes me tremble still.
Don Z. No, sir, it is not: I'll keep nothing from you.
Last night upon the same occasion——
Don J. Hold! it suffices.
Fran. [Aside hastily to Blanca.] All's safe, you see: for God's sake, let's away
Ere Julio perceive us.
Your presence here can serve for nothing, madam,
But to beget new chances and suspicions.
[Exeunt Blanca and Francisca. Don Fernando rushes out, drawing his sword.
Don F. Yes, it suffices, Julio, to make
This hand strike surer than it did before.
Elvira. Nothing was wanting to my misery,
But his being here to overhear; but yet
I must not suffer the same hand to kill him
A second time, upon a greater error
Than was the first.
[Aside. Don Fernando making at Don Zancho; Elvira steps between, and Julia also offers to stay him.
Don F. [Striving to come at Don Zancho.]
Strive to protect your gallant from me, do!
Strive, but in vain: the gods themselves cannot!
What, you, Don Julio, too?
[Chichon, running out from the place where he lurked, strikes out both the lights with his hat.
Chi. I have lov'd to see fighting; but at present
I love to hinder seeing how to fight.
Knights, brandish your blades, 'twill make fine work
Among the gallipots! [Aloud.
You have me by your side, sir, let them come;
They are but two to two. [As to his master.
Sir, follow me, I'll bring you to the door.
[Aside to his master, and pulling him.
Don Z. There's no dishonour in a wise retreat
From disadvantages, to meet again
One's enemy upon a fairer score.
[Chichon pushing his master before him out of door.
Chi. [Aside to his master.] There 'tis; advance, sir, I'll make good the rear.
[Exit Don Zancho and Chichon.
Don J. Ho! who's without? bring lights. [He stamps.] They cannot hear us,
The room is so remote from all the rest.—
What a confusion's this! Recall, Fernando,
Your usual temper, and let's leave this place,
And that unhappy maid unto its darkness,
To hide her blushes, since her shame it cannot.
[Exit Don Julio groping, and drawing Don Fernando with him.
Elv. [Alone.] Darkness and horror welcome, since the gods
Live in the dark themselves; for had they light
Of what's done here below, they would afford
Some ray to shine on injur'd innocence,
And not, instead thereof, thus multiply
Obscuring clouds upon it, such as the sun,
Should he with all his beams illuminate
Men's understandings, scarce could dissipate.
I now begin to pardon thee, Fernando,
Since what thou hast heard in this enchanted place
Carries conviction in 't against my firmness,
Above the pow'r of nature to suspend
My condemnation: unless wrong'd virtue might
Expect in thee a justice so refin'd,
As ne'er was found in man to womankind.
'Tis now, I must confess, the lost Elvira
Fit only for a cloister, where, secure
In her own spotless mind, she may defy
All censures, and without impiety
Reproach her fate even to the deity. [Exit, groping her way.