Act Iii.

Scene I. House of Carlo.

Enter Alonzo drest ridiculously, meeting Lovis, they laugh at each other.

Lov. Very Haunce all over, the Taylor has play’d his part, play but yours as well, and I’ll warrant you the Wench.

Alon. But prithee, why need I act the Fool thus, since Haunce was never seen here?

Lov. To make good the Character I always gave of him to my Father; but here he comes, pray be very rude, and very impertinent.

Alon. Lord, Lord, how shall I look thus damnably set out, and thus in love!

Enter Don Carlo.

Lov. This, Sir, is Monsieur Haunce, your Son that must be.

Alon. Beso los manos, signor: Is your Name Don Carlo? and are you the Gravity of this House? and the Father of Donna Euphemia? and are you—

Car. Sir, I guess by all these your Demands at once, your Name to be Myn heer Haunce van Ezel.

Alon. Your Judgment’s good; but to my Questions.

Car. In truth I have forgot them, there were so many.

Alon. Are you he who is to be my Father?

Car. ’Tis so negotiated—and if all Circumstances concur—For, Sir, you must conceive, the Consequence of so grand a Conjunction—

Alon. Less of your Compliments, Sir, and more of your Daughter, I beseech you. ’Sheart, what a formal Coxcomb ’tis. [Aside.

Lov. Prithee give him way. [Aside.

Alon. By this Light I’ll lose thy Sister first; Why, who can indure the grave approaches to the Matter? ’Dslife, I would have it as I would my Fate, sudden and unexpected.

264 Car. Pray, how long have you been landed?

Alon. So, now shall I be plagu’d with nothing but wise Questions, to which I am able to make no Answer. [Aside.] Sir, it is your Daughter that I desire to see impatiently.

Car. Have you no Letters from my very good Friend your Father?

Alon. What if I have not? cannot I be admitted to your Daughter without a Pass?

Car. O lack, Sir—

Alon. But to let you see I come with full Power (tho I am old enough to recommend my self) here is my Commission for what I do. [Gives him Letters.

Car. I remember amongst his other Faults, my Son writ me word he had Courage: If so, I shall consider what to do. [Reads.] Sir, I find by these your Father’s Letters, you are not yet arriv’d.

Alon. I know that, Sir, but I was told I should express my Love in my haste; therefore outsailing the Pacquet, I was the welcome Messenger my self; and since I am so forward, I beseech you, Sir— [Carlo coming to imbrace him. Now dare not I proceed, he has so credulous a consenting Face. [Aside.

Car. Spare your Words, I understand their meaning; a prudent Man speaks least, as the Spaniard has it: and since you are so forward, as you were saying, I shall not be backward; but as your Father adviseth here, hasten the uniting of our Families, with all celerity; for delay in these Affairs is but to prolong time, as the wise Man says.

Alon. You are much in the right, Sir. But my Wife, I desire to be better acquainted with her.

Car. She shall be forth-coming, Sir. Had you a good Passage? for the Seas and Winds regard no Man’s necessity.

Alon. No, no, a very ill one; your Daughter, Sir.

Car. Pray, how long were you at Sea?

Alon. Euphemia, Sir, Euphemia, your Daughter. This Don’s fuller of Questions than of Proverbs, and that’s a Wonder. [Aside.

265 Car. They say Flanders is a very fine Country, I never saw it; but—

Alon. Nor ’tis no matter, Sir, if you never do, so I saw your Daughter. He’ll catechize me home to my Dutch Parents by and by, of which I can give him no more account than— [Aside.

Car. Are they as dissatisfied with their new Governour, as they were with Don John? for they love change.

Alon. A Pox of their Government, I tell you I love your Daughter.

Car. I fear ’tis so, he’s valiant; and what a dangerous Quality is that in Spain! ’tis well he’s rich. [Aside.

Lov. Pray, Sir, keep him not long in Discourse, the Sea has made him unfit for—

Alon. Any thing but seeing my Mistress.

Lov. I’ll have mercy upon thee, and fetch her to thee. [Ex. Lovis.

Car. Sir, you must know, that we suffer not our Women in Spain to converse so frequently with your Sex, and that thro a cautious—well consider’d prudent—Consideration.

Alon. But, Sir, do you consider what an impatient thing a young Lover is? Or is it so long since you were one your self, you have forgot it? ’Tis well he wanted Words. [Enter Euphemia and Lovis.] But yonder’s Euphemia, whose Beauty is sufficient to excuse every Defect in the whole Family, tho each were a mortal sin; and now ’tis impossible to guard my self longer from those fair Eyes. [Aside.

Car. I must not urge him to speak much before Euphemia, lest she discover he wants Wit by his much Tongue: [Aside. There’s my Daughter, Sir, go and salute her.

Alon. Oh, I thank you for that, Sir. [He stands ridiculously looking on her.

Car. You must be bold, Sir.

Alon. Well, Sir, since you command me— [Goes rudely to kiss her.

266 Car. I did not mean kissing by saluting.

Alon. I cry you Mercy, Sir, so I understood you.

Car. Fie upon’t, that he should be no more a Master of Civility.

Lov. I fear, Sir, my Sister will never like this Humour in her Lover; he wants common Conversation.

Car. Conversation—ye foolish Boy, he has Money, and needs none of your Conversation. And yet if I thought he were valiant—

Lov. I hope, Sir, he does not boast of more of that than he really has.

Car. That Fault I my self have been guilty of, and can excuse; but the thing it self I shall never endure: you know I was forc’d to send you abroad, because I thought you addicted to that. I shall never sleep in quiet—Valiant! that’s such a thing, to be Rich, or Wise and Valiant. [Goes to Euphemia.

Lov. Colonel, pray to the business, for I fear you will betray your self.

Car. But look upon his Wealth, Euphemia, and you will find those Advantages there which are wanting in his Person; but I think the Man’s well.

Euph. I must not seem to yield too soon. [Aside. Sir, there be many Spaniards born that are as rich as he, and have Wit too.

Car. She was ever very averse to this Marriage. [Aside. This Man is half a Spaniard, his Mother was one, and my first Mistress, and she I can tell you, was a great Fortune—

Euph. I, Sir, but he is such a Fool—

Car. You are a worse, to find fault with that in a Husband.

Alon. Stand aside, Sir, are you to court your Daughter or I?

Car. I was inclining her—

Alon. You inclining her! an old Man wants Rhetorick; set me to her. [Goes to Euphemia.

267 Car. This capricious Humour was tolerable in him, Whilst I believ’d it the Effects of Folly, but now ’tis that of Valour: Oh, I tremble at the Sight of him. [Retires.

Euph. Now, I see you are a Cavalier of your Word.

Alon. Faith, Euphemia, you might have believ’d, and taken me upon better Terms, if you had so pleas’d: To marry you is but an ill-favour’d Proof to give you of my Passion.

Euph. Do you repent it?

Alon. Would to God ’twere come but to that, I was just upon the Point of it when you enter’d. But I know not what the Devil there is in that Face of yours, but it has debauch’d every sober Thought about me: Faith, do not let us marry yet.

Euph. If we had not proceeded too far to retreat, I should be content.

Alon. What shall I come to? all on the sudden to leave delicious whoring, drinking and fighting, and be condemn’d to a dull honest Wife. Well, if it be my ill Fortune, may this Curse light on thee that has brought me to’t: may I love thee even after we are married to that troublesome Degree, that I may grow most damnable jealous of thee, and keep thee from the Sight of all Mankind, but thy own natural Husband, that so thou may’st be depriv’d of the greatest Pleasure of this Life, the Blessing of Change.

Euph. I am sorry to find so much ill Nature in you; would you have the Conscience to tie me to harder Conditions than I would you?

Alon. Nay, I do not think I shall be so wickedly loving; but I am resolv’d to marry thee and try.

Euph. My Father, Sir, on with your Disguise. [To them Carlo.

Car. Well, Sir, how do you like my Daughter?

Alon. So, so, she’ll serve for a Wife.

Car. But do you find her willing to be so?

268 Alon. ’Tis not a half-penny matter for that, as long as my Father and you are agreed upon the matter,

Car. Well, Euphemia, setting all foolish Modesty aside, how do you like this Man?

Euph. As one, whom in Obedience to you, I am content to cast my self away upon.

Car. How seems his Humour to you?

Euph. Indifferent, Sir, he is not very courtly, something rough and hasty.

Car. I fear she has found his ill Quality of Valour too; and since ’tis certain ’tis so, why should it be said that I ruin’d a Child to satisfy my Appetite of Riches? [Aside. Come, Daughter, can you love him, or can you not? For I’ll make but short Work on’t; you are my Daughter, and have a Fortune great enough to inrich any Man; and I’m resolv’d to put no Force upon your Inclinations.

Euph. How’s this! nay, then ’tis time I left dissembling. [Aside.] Sir, this Bounty in you has strangely overcome me, and makes me asham’d to have withstood your Will so long.

Car. Do not dissemble with me, I say do not; for I am resolv’d you shall be happy.

Euph. Sir, my Obedience shall—

Car. No more of your Obedience; I say again, do not dissemble, for I’m not pleas’d with your Obedience.

Euph. This Alteration is very strange and sudden; pray Heaven he have not found the Cheat. [Aside. Love, Sir, they say will come after Marriage; pray let me try it.

Car. Few have found it so; nor shall you experience it at so dear a Rate as your Ruin.

Euph. But, Sir, methinks I am grown to love him more since he spoke to me, than before.

Car. The Effects of your Obedience again.

Euph. This is a strange Alteration, Sir; not all my Tears and Prayers before I saw him, could prevail with you. I beseech you, Sir, believe me.

269 Car. Nor should now, had I not another Reason for’t.

Euph. Oh, I fear—But, Sir—

Car. Go to, I’ll be better satisfy’d e’er I proceed farther—both of your Inclinations, and his Courage. [Aside.

Euph. Do you consider his Wealth, Sir?

Car. That shall not now befriend him.

Alon. Sir, I bar whispering; ’tis not in my Bargain, nor civil: I’ll have fair Play for my Money.

Car. I am only knowing my Daughter’s Pleasure; she is a little peevish, as Virgins use in such Cases; but wou’d that were all, and I’d endeavour to reconcile her.

Alon. I thank you, Sir; in the mean time I’ll take a Walk for an Hour or two, to get me a better Stomach both to my Dinner and Mistress.

Car. Do so, Sir. Come, Euphemia, I will give you a Proof of my Indulgence, thou shalt marry no valiant Fools! valiant, quoth ye. Come, come—had he been peaceable and rich—Come, come— [Ex. with Euphemia.

Lov. Well, now I’ll go look after my Dutchman, lest he surprize us here, which must not be; where shall I find you?

Alon. I’ll wait upon my Prince, and then on you here.

Lov. Do so, and carry on this Humour. Adieu.

Scene II. A flat Grove.

Enter Haunce in a fantastical travelling Habit, with a Bottle of Brandy in his Hand, as sick: Gload marches after.

Hau. Ah, ah, a pox of all Sea-Voyages. [Drinks. Here, Gload, take thee t’other Sope, and then let’s home. [Gload drinks. Ah, ah, a pox of all Sea-Voyages.

Gload. Sir, if I may advise, take t’other turn in the Grove, for I find by my Nose you want more airing.

Hau. How, Sirrah! by your Nose? have a care, you know ’tis ill jesting with me when I’m angry.

270 Gload. Which is as often as you are drunk; I find it has the same Effects on me too: but truly, Sir, I meant no other than that you smell a little of the Vessel, a certain sour remains of a Storm about you.

Hau. Ah, ah, do not name a Storm to me, unless thou wilt have the Effects on’t in thy Face. [Drinks.

Gload. Sha, sha, bear up, Sir, bear up.

Hau. Salerimente, a Sea-phrase too! Why, ye Rascal, I tell you I can indure nothing that puts me in mind of that Element. [Drinks.

Gload. The Sight of Donna Euphemia will— [Gload drinks between whiles too.

Hau. Hold, hold, let me consider whether I can indure to hear her nam’d or not; for I think I am so thorowly mortify’d, I shall hardly relish Woman-kind again this—two Hours. [Drinks.

Gload. You a Man of Courage, and talk thus!

Hau. Courage! Why, what dost thou call Courage?—Hector himself would not have chang’d his ten Years Siege for our ten Days Storm at Sea—a Storm—a hundred thousand fighting Men are nothing to’t; Cities sackt by Fire nothing: ’tis a resistless Coward that attacks a Man at disadvantage; an unaccountable Magick, that first conjures down a Man’s Courage, and then plays the Devil over him. And in fine, it is a Storm—

Gload. Good lack that it should be all these terrible things, and yet that we should outbrave it.

Hau. No god-a-mercy to our Courages tho, I tell you that now, Gload; but like an angry Wench, when it had huft and bluster’d it self weary, it lay still again. [Drinks.

Gload. Hold, hold, Sir, you know we are to make Visits to Ladies, Sir; and this replenishing of our Spirits, as you call it, Sir, may put us out of Case.

Hau. Thou art a Fool, I never made love so well as when I was drunk; it improves my Parts, and makes me witty; that is, it makes me say any thing that comes next, which 271 passes now-a-days for Wit: and when I am very drunk, I’ll home and dress me, and the Devil’s in’t if she resist me so qualify’d and so dress’d.

Gload. Truly, Sir, those are things that do not properly belong to you.

Hau. Your Reason, your Reason; we shall have thee witty too in thy Drink, hah! [Laughs.

Gload. Why, I say, Sir, none but a Cavalier ought to be soundly drunk, or wear a Sword and Feather; and a Cloke and Band were fitter for a Merchant.

Hau. Salerimente, I’ll beat any Don in Spain that does but think he has more right to any sort of Debauchery, or Gallantry than I, I tell you that now, Gload.

Gload. Do you remember, Sir, how you were wont to go at home? when instead of a Periwig, you wore a slink, greasy Hair of your own, thro which a pair of large thin Souses appear’d, to support a formal Hat, on end thus— [Imitates him.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, the Rogue improves upon’t. [Gives him Brandy.

Gload. A Collar instead of a Cravat twelve inches high; with a blue, stiff, starcht, lawn Band, set in print like your Whiskers; a Doublet with small Skirts hookt to a pair of wide-kneed Breeches, which dangled halfway over a Leg, all to be dash’d and dirty’d as high as the gartering.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, very well, proceed. [Drinks.

Gload. Your Hands, defil’d with counting of damn’d dirty Money, never made other use of Gloves, than continually to draw them thro—thus—till they were dwindled into the scantling of a Cats-gut.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, a pleasant Rascal. [Drinks.

Gload. A Cloke, half a yard shorter than the Breeches, not thorow lin’d, but fac’d as far as ’twas turn’d back, with a pair of frugal Butter-hams, which was always manag’d—thus—

Hau. Well, Sir, have you done, that I may show you this Merchant revers’d?

272 Gload. Presently, Sir; only a little touch at your Debauchery, which unless it be in damn’d Brandy, you dare not go to the Expence of. Perhaps at a Wedding, or some Treat where your Purse is not concern’d, you would most insatiably tipple; otherwise your two Stivers-Club is the highest you dare go, where you will be condemn’d for a Prodigal, (even by your own Conscience) if you add two more extraordinary to the Sum, and at home sit in the Chimney-Corner, cursing the Face of Duke de Alva upon the Jugs, for laying an Imposition on Beer: And now, Sir, I have done.

Hau. And dost thou not know, when one of those thou hast described, goes but half a League out of Town, that he is so transform’d from the Merchant to the Gallant in all Points, that his own Parents, nay the Devil himself cannot know him? Not a young English Squire newly come to an Estate, above the management of his Wit, has better Horses, gayer Clothes, swears, drinks, and does every thing with a better grace than he; damns the stingy Cabal of the two Stiver-Club, and puts the young King of Spain and his Mistress together in a Rummer of a Pottle; and in pure Gallantry breaks the Glasses over his Head, scorning to drink twice in the same: and a thousand things full as heroick and brave I cou’d tell you of this same Holy-day Squire. But come, t’other turn, and t’other sope, and then for Donna Euphemia. For I find I begin to be reconcil’d to the Sex.

Gload. But, Sir, if I might advise, let’s e’en sleep first.

Hau. Away, you Fool, I hate the sober Spanish way of making Love, that’s unattended with Wine and Musick; give me a Wench that will out-drink the Dutch, out-dance the French, and out—out—kiss the English.

Gload. Sir, that’s not the Fashion in Spain.

Hau. Hang the Fashion; I’ll manage her that must be my Wife, as I please, or I’ll beat her into Fashion.

Gload. What, beat a Woman, Sir?

273 Hau. Sha, all’s one for that; if I am provok’d, Anger will have its Effects on whomsoe’er it light; so said Van Trump, when he took his Mistress a Cuff o’th’ Ear for finding fault with an ill-fashion’d Leg he made her: I lik’d his Humour well, therefore come thy ways. [Exeunt.

Scene III. Draws off. A Grove.

Discovers Antonio sleeping on the Ground; Hippolyta sitting by, who sings.

Ah false Amyntas, can that Hour So soon forgotten be, When first I yielded up my Power To be betray’d by thee? God knows with how much Innocence I did my Heart resign Unto thy faithless Eloquence, And gave thee what was mine.

I had not one Reserve in store, But at thy Feet I laid Those Arms which conquer’d heretofore, Tho now thy Trophies made. Thy Eyes in silence told their Tale Of Love in such a way, That ’twas as easy to prevail, As after to betray. [She comes forth, weeps.

Hip. My Grief’s too great to be diverted this way. [Pointing to Antonio. Why should this Villain sleep, this treacherous Man— Who has for ever robb’d me of my rest? Had I but kept my Innocence intire, I had out-brav’d my Fate, and broke my Chains, Which now I bear like a poor guilty Slave, Who sadly crys, If I were free from these, I am not from my Crimes; so still lives on, 274 And drags his loathed Fetters after him. Why should I fear to die, or murder him? It is but adding one Sin more to th’ number. This—would soon do’t—but where’s the Hand to guide it? [Draws a Dagger, sighs. For ’tis an act too horrid for a Woman. [Turns away. But yet thus sleeping I might take that Soul, [Turns to him. Which waking all the Charms of Art and Nature Had not the Power t’effect. Oh were I brave, I could remember that, And this way be the Mistress of his Heart. But mine forbids it should be that way won; No, I must still love on, in spite of me, And wake him quickly, lest one Moment’s thought Upon my Shame should urge me to undo him. Antonio, Antonio.

Ant. Vile Woman, why that Dagger in that Hand?

Hip. To’ve kill’d thee with, But that my Love o’ercame my juster Passion, And put it in thy Power to save thy self; Thank that, and not my Reason for thy Life.

Ant. She’s doubly arm’d, with that and Injury, And I am wounded and defenceless. [Aside. Hippolyta, why all this Rage to me? [Kindly smiles.

Hip. Antonio, thou art perjur’d, false and base. [In great Rage.

Ant. What said my fairest Mistress? [Goes to her looking softly.

Hip. I said that thou wert perjur’d, false and base. [Less in Rage.

Ant. My dear Hippolyta, speak it again, I do not understand thee, [Takes her by the Hand.

Hip. I said that thou wert perjur’d, my Antonio. [Sighs.

Ant. Thou wert to blame, but ’twas thy Jealousy. Which being a Fault of Love I will excuse. 275 Give me that Mark of Anger, prithee do, It misbecomes thy Hand.

Hip. I’ve nothing left but this I can command, And do not ravish this too.

Ant. It is unkind thus to suspect my Love; Will you make no Allowance for my Humour? I am by Nature rough, and cannot please, With Eyes and Words all soft as others can, But I can love as truly my blunt way.

Hip. You were so soft when first you conquer’d me. [Sighs. That but the Thoughts of that dear Face and Eyes, So manag’d, and so set for Conquest out, Would make me kind even to another Man; Could I but thus imbrace and hide my Eyes, And call him my Antonio.

Ant. Stand off, false Woman, I despise thy Love, Of which to every Man I know thou deal’st An equal share.

Hip. I do not wonder that I am deceiv’d, But that I should believe thee, after all thy Treachery. But prithee tell me why thou treat’st me thus? Why didst thou with the sacred Vows of Marriage, After a long and tedious Courtship to me, Ravish me from my Parents and my Husband? For so the brave Alonzo was by promise.

Ant. Why, I will tell thee; ’twas not love to thee, But hatred to thy Brother Don Marcel, Who made Addresses to the fair Clarinda, And by his Quality destroy’d my Hopes.

Hip. And durst you not revenge your self on him?

Ant. His Life alone could not appease my Anger; And after studying what I had to do—

Hip. The Devil taught thee this.

Ant. Yes, and you I chose, 276 Because you were contracted to Alonzo, That the disgrace might be more eminent.

Hip. I do believe thee, for when I reflect On all thy Usage since thou hast betray’d me, I find thou hast not paid me back one Sigh, Or Smile for all that I have given thee.

Ant. Hear me out.

Hip. Most calmly.

Ant. From Town to Town you know I did remove you, Under pretence to shun your Brother’s Anger: But ’twas indeed to spread your Fame abroad. But being not satisfy’d till in Madrid, Here in your native Town, I had proclaim’d you; The House from whence your Brother’s Fury chas’d us, Was a Bordello, where ’twas given out Thou wert a Venice Curtezan to hire, Whilst you believ’d it was your nuptial Palace. [Laughs.

Hip. Dost think I did not understand the Plot? Yes, and was mad till some young Lovers came. But you had set a Price too high upon me, No brisk young Man durst venture, I had expos’d my self at cheaper Rates.

Ant. Your Price, I pray, young Sinner? [Pulls off his Hat in scorn.

Hip. Thy Life; he that durst say Antonio lives no more, Should have possest me gratis.

Ant. I would have taken care none should have don’t; To show, and offer you to Sale, was equally as shameful.

Hip. Well, what hast thou more to do? this is no Place to inhabit in, nor shall thou force me further; And back into the Town thou dar’st not go.

Ant. Perhaps I had been kinder to you, Had you continu’d still to give me that— Might have begot a Passion in me.

Hip. I have too much Repentance for that Sin, To increase it, at the Price of being belov’d by thee.

277 Ant. Consider what you do, this Place is silent, And far from any thing that may assist you. Come lead me to the Covert of this Grove. [Takes her rudely.

Enter Haunce and Gload drunk; Haunce seeing them, offers to go out again.

Glo. Hold, hold, Sir, why do you run away?

Hau. Thou Fool, dost not see the Reason?

Glo. I see a Man and a Lady, Sir.

Hau. Why, you Coxcomb, they are Lovers; Or some that are going to do the deed of Love.

Ant. How! Men here? Your Business.

Hau. Prithee, Friend, do not trouble your self with ours, but follow your own; my Man is a little saucy in his Drink indeed, but I am sober enough to understand how things go.

Ant. Leave us then.

Hau. Leave us then—good Words, good Words, Friend; for look ye, I am in a notable Humour at present, and will be intreated.

Glo. Yes, Sir, we will be intreated.

Ant. Pray leave us then.

Hau. That’s something—but hark ye, Friend, say a Man had a mind to put in for a share with you.

Ant. Rude Slaves, leave us.

Hau. Ha, Slaves!

Glo. Slaves said you, Sir? hah—

Hip. Oh, as you’re a Gentleman, assist me. [To Haunce.

Hau. Assist thee? this Fellow looks as he would not have his Abilities call’d in question; otherwise I am amorous enough to do thee a kindness. [Offers still to go, she holds him.

Hip. Sir, you mistake me; this is a Ravisher—

Hau. A Ravisher! ha, ha, ha, dost like him the worse for that? No, no, I beg your Pardon, Madam.

Hip. Have you no Manhood, Sir?

278 Glo. She is in earnest; now if I durst stay, how I would domineer over my Master; I never try’d perhaps, I may be valiant thus inspir’d. Lady, I am your Champion, who dares ravish you, or me either?

Ant. Rascal, unhand her. [He comes up to them, Gload puts the Lady before him.

Hau. How now, Gload ingag’d! nay, I scorn to be out-done by my Man. Sirrah, march off with the Baggage, whilst I secure the Enemy.

Ant. Rash Man, what mean you?

Hau. I say, stand off, and let him go quietly away with the Wench, or look you—

Ant. Unmanner’d Fool, I will chastise thy Boldness. [Goes up to him with his Dagger.

Hau. How, how, hast thou no other Weapon?

Ant. No, if I had, thou durst not have encounter’d me.

Hau. I scorn thy Words, and therefore there lies my Sword; and since you dare me at my own Weapon, I tell you I am good at Snick-a-Sne as the best Don of you all— [Draws a great Dutch Knife.

Ant. Can I endure this Affront?

Glo. The best way to make a Coward fight, is to leave him in Danger—Come, Lady— [Goes out.

Ant. Thou base unmanner’d Fool, how darst thou offer at a Gentleman, with so despis’d a thing as that?

Hau. Despis’d a thing? talk not so contemptibly of this Weapon, I say, do not, but come on if you dare.

Ant. I can endure no longer— [Flies at him, Haunce cuts his Face, and takes away, after a-while, his Dagger. Injustice! can such a Dog, and such a Weapon vanquish me?

Hau. Beg your Life; for I scorn to stain my Victory in Blood—that I learnt out of Pharamond. [Aside.

Ant. He does not merit Life, that could not defend it against so poor and base a thing as thou: Had but Marcel left me my Sword—

279 Hau. O then I perceive you are us’d to be vanquish’d, and therefore I scorn to kill thee; live, live.

Ant. How the Rascal triumphs over me!

Hau. And now, like a generous Enemy, I will conduct thee to my Tent, and have thy Wounds drest—That too I had out of Pharamond. [Aside.

Ant. What if I take the offer of this Sot? so I may see Hippolyta again. But I forget— [Aside.

Hau. Will you accept my Offer?

Ant. For some Reasons I dare not venture into the Town.

Hau. My Lodging is at St. Peter’s Gate, hard by; and on the Parole of a Man of Prowess you shall be safe and free—Pharamond again. [Aside.

Ant. I’ll trust him, for worse I cannot be. [Aside. Lead on, I’ll follow, Sir—

Hau. Not so, for tho the Captive ought to follow the Victor, yet I’ll not trust my Enemy at my backside. Politicks too.— [Aside.

Ant. You must command— [Go out.

Scene IV. The Garden.

Enter Silvio and Francisca.

Silv. Well, dear Francisca, will Cleonte come, And all alone into the Garden?

Fran. My Lord, she will; I have at last prevail’d, to what intent she knows not; this is an Hour wherein you’ll scarce be interrupted: The amorous Entertainment you have prepar’d for her, will advance your Design; such Objects heighten the Desire. Is all ready on your part?

Silv. It is, and I am prepared for all the Resistance she can make, and am resolv’d to satisfy my insupportable Flame, since there’s no other hope left me.

Fran. She’s coming, Sir, retire. [Exit Silvio into the Garden. Oh, how he kills me! Well, at least this pleasure I have 280 whilst I am dying, that when he possesses the fair Cleonte, he for ever ruins his Interest in her Heart, and must find nothing but her mortal Hate and Scorn.

Enter Cleonte.

Cleo. Francisca, why art thou so earnest for my coming into the Garden so early?

Fran. Because, Madam, here without Interruption you may learn what the Lady Clarinda has to tell you.

Cleo. Is that all? go wait upon her hither then.

Fran. Yes, when your more pleasant Affair is dispatch’d, I will— [Aside.

Cleo. Can this be Love I feel? This strange unusual something in my Soul, That pleads so movingly for Silvio there; And makes me wish him not allied to me?

Hah! what pleasant Noise is this? sure ’tis i’ the Air— Bless me, what strange things be these!

Enter Swains playing upon Pipes, after them four Shepherds with Garlands and Flowers, and four Nymphs dancing an amorous Dance to that Musick; wherein the Shepherds make Love to the Nymphs, and put the Garlands on their Heads, and go out; the Nymphs come and lay them at Cleonte’s Feet, and sing.

1 Nymph. Here at your Feet, we tribute pay, Of all the Glories of the May.

2 Nymph. Such Trophies can be only due To Victors so divine as you,

Both. Come, follow, follow, where Love leads the way, To Pleasures that admit of no Delay.

1 Nymph. Come follow to the amorous Shade, Covered with Roses, and with Jessamine.

2 Nymph. Where the Love-sick Boy is laid, Panting for Love’s charming Queen.

281

Both. Come follow, follow, where we lead the way, To Pleasures that admit of no delay. [Lead her out.

The Scene changes to a fine Arbour, they leave her and vanish.

Cleo. I am all Wonder.

Enter Silvio in rapture, not yet seeing Cleonte.

Silv. I’m all on Fire, till I enjoy my Sister; Not all the Laws of Birth and Nature Can hinder me from loving—Nor is’t just: Why should the charm of fair Cleonte’s Eyes, Me less than Aliens to her Blood surprize? And why (since I love Beauty every where, And that Cleonte has the greatest share) Should not I be allowed to worship her? The empty Words of Nature and of Blood, Are such as Lovers never understood. Prudence in love ’twere Nonsense to approve, And he loves most that gives a Loose to Love.

Cleo. Silvio here!

Silv. Hah—yonder she’s! [Sees her. And now my Passion knows no Bounds, nor Laws. Cleonte, come, come satisfy my Flame. [Runs to her, and takes her passionately by the hand. These private Shades are ours, no jealous Eye Can interrupt our Heaven of Joy.

Cleo. What mean you? do you know I am your Sister?

Silv. Oh that accursed Name!—why should it check me? [He pauses. Wouldst thou had rather been some mis-begotten Monster, That might have startled Nature at thy Birth: Or if the Powers above would have thee fair, Why wert thou born my Sister? Oh, if thou shouldst preserve thy Soul, and mine, Fly from this Place and me; make haste away, A strange wild Monster is broke in upon thee; 282 A thing that was a Man, but now as mad As raging Love can make him. Fly me, or thou art lost for ever.

Cleo. Remember, Silvio, that you are my Brother, And can you hurt your Sister? [Weeps.

Silv. Shouldst thou repeat those Ties a thousand times, ’Twill not redeem thee from the Fate that threatens thee. Be gone, whilst so much Virtue does remain about me, To wish thee out of Danger.

Cleo. Sure, Silvio, this is but to try my Virtue. [Weeps still.

Silv. No, look on my Eyes, Cleonte, and thou shalt see them flame with a strange wicked Fire. [Looks wildly on her. Yet do not look, thy Eyes increase it. —Alas! [Turns away, and hides his Eyes.

And I shall still forget I am thy Brother: Go, go, whilst I have power to take my Eyes away, For if they turn again, it will be fatal.

Cleo. Pray hear me, Sir.

Silv. Oh, do not speak; thy Voice has Charms As tempting as thy Face; but whilst thou art silent and unseen, Perhaps my Madness may be moderate; For as it is, the best Effects of it Will prompt me on to kill thee.

Cleo. To kill me!

Silv. Yes; for shouldst thou live, adorn’d with so much Beauty, So much my Passion is above my Reason, In some such fit as does possess me now I should commit a Rape, a Rape upon thee: Therefore be gone, and do not tempt Despair, That merciless rude thing, but save thy Honour, And thy Life.

Cleo. I will obey you, Sir. [Goes into the Garden.

Silv. She’s gone—and now [Walks, and talks in stopping.] my hot Fit abates—she is my Sister—that is, my Father’s 283 Daughter—but—what if his Wife deceiv’d him—or perhaps—(which is the likelier thing) my Mother play’d the false one—for ’twas her Trade to do so—and I’m not Son to Ambrosio—Oh, that she were in being to confess this Truth, for sure ’tis Truth; then I might love, and might enjoy Cleonte—enjoy Cleonte! [In transport.] Oh that Thought! what Fire it kindles in my Veins, and now my cold Fit’s gone— [Offers to go, but starts and returns.

—No, let me pause a while— For in this Ague of my Love and Fear, Both the Extremes are mortal— [Goes into the Garden.

Enter Ambrosio and Marcel.

Amb. I’m reconcil’d to you, since your Brother Silvio would have it so.

Mar. My Blood flows to my Face, to hear him named.

Amb. Let there be no more Differences between you: But Silvio has of late been discontented, keeps home, and shuns the Conversation which Youth delights in; goes not to Court as he was wont. Prithee, Marcel, learn thou the cause of it.

Mar. I do believe I shall, my Lord—too soon. [Aside.

Amb. I’m now going to my Villa, and shall not return till Night; by the way I mean to visit your Wife, that was design’d to be, the rich Flavia, and see if I can again reconcile her to you; for your Neglect has been great, and her Anger is just.

Mar. I rather wish it should continue, Sir, for I have yet no Inclinations to marry.

Amb. No more, I’ll have it so, if I can.

Mar. I’m silent, Sir. [Ex. Ambrosio and Marcel.

Enter as from out of the Garden, Cleonte, Clarinda, Francisca, Dormida, from amongst the Trees, sadly; Silvio who starts at sight of them.

Cleo. I am satisfied you knew not of my Brother’s being in the Garden. [To Franc.

284 Silv. Clarinda with my Sister! and in our House! she’s very fair—and yet how dull and blasted all her Beauties seems, when they approach the fair Cleonte’s—I cannot shun a tedious Compliment; to see the fair Clarinda [Goes to Clarinda.] here, is a Happiness beyond my Hope; I’m glad to see her kind to the Sister, who always treated the Brother with so much Scorn and Rigour.

Clar. Silvio! sure I’m betray’d. [Aside. [He talks to her.

Enter Marcel, and is amaz’d.

Mar. Hah! Silvio with Clarinda in our House! Oh, daring Villain! to make this place a Sanctuary To all thy Lusts and Treachery! Now I’m convinc’d, ’twas he that wounded me, And he that fled last Night with that false Woman. [Cleonte goes to Marcel.

Silv. You need not fear me now, fair Maid, I’m disarm’d of all my dangerous Love.

Mar. It was by his contrivance that she came, [To Cleonte.] do not excuse him, but send her quickly from you, lest you become as infamous as she.—

Cleo. Oh, how I hate her now; I know my Brother Silvio loves her.

Mar. How every Gesture shows his Passion, whilst she seems pleas’d to hear him. I can endure no more—

Cleo. What will you do? [She goes to them.

Mar. Nothing, dear Sister, But if I can be wise and angry too: For ’tis not safe t’attack him in the Garden. How now, Silvio—under the Name of Brother, I see you dare too much. [Snatches away his Sister and Clarinda.

Silv. What mean you by this rude Address, Marcel?

Mar. I’ll tell ye, Sir, anon. Go get you in. [To the Women, who go in.

285 Silv. Well, Sir, your Business now?

Mar. It is not safe to tell you here, tho I have hardly Patience to stay till thou meet me in St. Peter’s Grove.

Silv. I will not fail you, Sir, an Hour hence. [Goes in after them.

Mar. I dare not in this Rage return to upbraid Clarinda, lest I do things that mis-become a Man. [Goes out.