Silv. Stay, Marcel, I can inform you where these Lovers are.

Mar. Oh tell me quickly then, That I may take them in their foul Embraces, And send their Souls to Hell.

Silv. Last Night I made a youthful Sally to One of those Houses where Love and Pleasure Are sold at dearest Rates.

Mar. A Bordello; forwards pray.

Silv. Yes, at the Corner of St. Jerom's; where after seeing many Faces which pleas'd me not, I would have took my leave; but the Matron of the House, a kind obliging Lady, seeing me so nice, and of Quality, (tho disguis'd) told me she had a Beauty, such an one as had Count d' Olivarez in his height of Power seen, he would have purchas'd at any rate. I grew impatient to see this fine thing, and promis'd largely: then leading me into a Room as gay, and as perfum'd as an Altar upon a Holy-day, I saw seated upon a Couch of State—

Mar. Hippolyta!

Silv. Hippolyta our Sister, drest like a Venice Curtezan, With all the Charms of a loose Wanton, Singing and playing to her ravisht Lover, Who I perceiv'd assisted to expose her.

Mar. Well, Sir, what follow'd?

Silv. Surpriz'd at sight of this, I did withdraw, And left them laughing at my little Confidence.

Mar. How! left them? and left them living too?

Silv. If a young Wench will be gadding, Who can help it?

Mar. 'Sdeath you should, were you that half her Brother, Which my Father too doatingly believes you. [Inrag'd.

Silv. How! do you question his Belief, Marcel?

Mar. I ne'er consider'd it; be gone and leave me.

Silv. Am I a Dog that thus you bid me vanish? What mean you by this Language? [Comes up to him. And how dare you upbraid me with my Birth, Which know, Marcel, is more illustrious far Than thine, being got when Love was in his reign, With all his Youth and Heat about him? I, like the Birds of bravest kind, was hatcht In the hot Sun-shine of Delight; whilst Thou, Marcel, wer't poorly brooded In the cold Nest of Wedlock.

Mar. Thy Mother was some base notorious Strumpet, And by her Witchcraft reduc'd my Father's Soul, And in return she paid him with a Bastard, Which was thou.

Silv. Marcel, thou ly'st. [Strikes him.

Mar. Tho 'twere no point of Valour, but of Rashness To fight thee, yet I'll do't.

Silv. By Heaven, I will not put this Injury up.

[They fight, Silvio is wounded.

[Fight again. Enter Ambrosio, and Cleonte between; Silvio falls into the Arms of Cleonte.

Amb. Hold! I command you hold; Ah, Traitor to my Blood, what hast thou done?

[To Marcel, who kneels and lays his Sword at his Feet.

Silv. In fair Cleonte's Arms! O I could kiss the Hand that gives me Death, So I might thus expire.

Mar. Pray hear me, Sir, before you do condemn me.

Amb. I will hear nothing but thy Death pronounc'd, Since thou hast wounded him, if it be mortal. Have I not charg'd thee on thy Life, Marcel, Thou shouldst not hold Discourse with him of any kind?

Mar. I did foresee my Fate, but could not shun it.

[Takes his Sword and goes out.

Amb. What ho! Biscay, a Surgeon; on your Lives a Surgeon; where be the Rascals? [Goes out.

Silv. I would not have a Surgeon search my Wound With rude and heavy Hands: Yours, fair Cleonte, can apply the Balsam Far more successfully, For they are soft and white as Down of Swans, And every Touch is sovereign.

Cleo. But I shall die with looking on your Wounds.

Silv. And I shall die unless you cure them, Sister.

Cleo. With the expence of mine to save your Life, Is both my Wish and Duty.

Silv. I thank you, pretty Innocence. [Leads him in.

SCENE III. A Grove.

Discovers Euphemia veil'd, walking alone.

Euph. Olinda stays long; I hope she has overtook the Cavalier. Lord, how I am concern'd; if this should be Love now, I were in fine condition, at least if he be married, or a Lover: Oh that I fear: hang me, if it has not disorder'd me all over. But see, where she comes with him too.

Enter Olinda and Alonzo.

Olin. Here he is, Madam, I hope 'tis the right Man.

Alon. Madam, you see what haste I make to obey your kind Commands.

Euph. 'Twas as kindly done, Sir; but I fear when you know to what end 'tis, you'll repent your Haste.

Alon. 'Tis very likely; but if I do, you are not the first of your Sex that has put me to Repentance: But lift up your Veil, and if your Face be good— [Offers to lift up her Veil.

Euph. Stay, you're too hasty.

Alon. Nay, let's have fair Play on both sides, I'll hide nothing from you. [Offers again.

Euph. I have a Question or two to ask you first.

Alon. I can promise nothing till I see my Reward. I am a base Barterer, here's one for t'other; you saw your Man and lik'd him, and if I like you when I see you—

[Offers again.

Euph. But if you do not, must all my liking be castaway?

Alon. As for that, trust to my good Nature; a frank Wench has hitherto taken me as much as Beauty. And one Proof you have already given of that, in this kind Invitation: come, come, do not lose my little new-gotten good Opinion of thee, by being coy and peevish. [Offers again.

Euph. You're strangely impatient, Sir.

Alon. O you should like me the better for that, 'tis a sign of Youth and Fire.

Euph. But, Sir, before I let you see my Face—

Alon. I hope I must not promise you to like it.

Euph. No, that were too unreasonable, but I must know whether you are a Lover.

Alon. What an idle Question's that to a brisk young Fellow? A Lover! yes, and that as often as I see a new Face.

Euph. That I'll allow.

Alon. That's kindly said; and now do I find I shall be in love with thine as soon as I see't, for I am half so with thy Humour already.

Euph. Are you not married, Sir?

Alon. Married!

Euph. Now I dread his Answer. [Aside.] Yes, married.

Alon. Why, I hope you make no Scruple of Conscience, to be kind to a married Man.

Euph. Now do I find, you hope I am a Curtezan that come to bargain for a Night or two; but if I possess you, it must be for ever.

Alon. For ever let it be then. Come, let's begin on any Terms.

Euph. I cannot blame you, Sir, for this mistake, since what I've rashly done, has given you cause to think I am not virtuous.

Alon. Faith, Madam, Man is a strange ungovern'd thing; yet I in the whole course of my Life have taken the best care I could, to make as few Mistakes as possible: and treating all Women-kind alike, we seldom err; for where we find one as you profess to be, we happily light on a hundred of the sociable and reasonable sort.

Euph. But sure you are so much a Gentleman, that you may be convinc'd?

Alon. Faith, if I be mistaken, I cannot devise what other use you can make of me.

Euph. In short this; I must leave you instantly; and will only tell you I am the sole Daughter of a rich Parent, young, and as I am told not unhandsom; I am contracted to a Man I never saw, nor I am sure shall not like when I do see, he having more Vice and Folly than his Fortune will excuse, tho a great one; and I had rather die than marry him.

Alon. I understand you, and you would have me dispatch this Man.

Euph. I am not yet so wicked. The Church is the only place I am allowed to go to, and till now could never see the Man that was perfectly agreeable to me: Thus veil'd, I'll venture to tell you so.

Alon. What the Devil will this come to? her Mien and Shape are strangely graceful, and her Discourse is free and natural. What a damn'd Defeat is this, that she should be honest now! [Aside.

Euph. Well, Sir, what Answer? I see he is uneasy. [Aside.

Alon. Why, as I was saying, Madam, I am a Stranger.

Euph. I like you the better for that.

Alon. But, Madam, I am a Man unknown, unown'd in the World; and much unworthy the Honour you do me— Would I were well rid of her, and yet I find a damnable Inclination to stay too. [Aside. Will nothing but Matrimony serve your turn, Madam? Pray use a young Lover as kindly as you can.

Euph. Nothing but that will do, and that must be done.

Alon. Must! 'slife this is the first of her Sex that ever was before-hand with me, and yet that I should be forc'd to deny her too. [Aside.

Euph. I fear his Answer, Olinda. [Aside.

Olin. At least 'tis but making a Discovery of your Beauty, and then you have him sure.

Alon. Madam, 'tis a matter of Moment, and requires Deliberation; besides I have made a kind of Promise—

Euph. Never to marry?

Alon. No, faith, 'tis not so well: But since now I find we are both in haste, I am to be marry'd.

Euph. This I am sure is an Excuse; but I'll fit him for't. [Aside. To be marry'd said you? That Word has kill'd me, Oh I feel it drill Through the deep Wound his Eyes have lately made: 'Twas much unkind to make me hope so long.

[She leans on Olinda, as if she swooned, who pulls off her Veil: he stands gazing at a Distance.

Olin. Sure she does but counterfeit, and now I'll play my Part. Madam, Madam!

Alon. What wondrous thing is that! I should not look upon't, it changes Nature in me.

Olin. Have you no pity, Sir? Come nearer pray.

Alon. Sure there's Witchcraft in that Face, it never could have seiz'd me thus else, I have lov'd a thousand times, yet never felt such joyful Pains before.

Olin. She does it rarely. What mean you, Sir?

Alon. I never was a Captive to this Hour. If in her Death such certain Wounds she give, What Mischiefs she would do, if she should live! Yet she must live, and live that I may prove Whether this strange Disorder here be Love. [To his heart. Divine, divinest Maid. [Kneels.

Olin. Come nearer, Sir, you'll do a Lady no good at that Distance. Speak to her, Sir. [He rises and comes to her, gazing still.

Alon. I know not what to say, I am unus'd to this soft kind of Language: But if there be a Charm in Words, and such As may conjure her to return again; Prithee instruct me in them, I'll say any thing, Do any thing, and suffer all the Wounds Her Eyes can give.

Euph. Sure he is real. [Aside. Alas! I am discover'd; how came my Veil off?

[She pretends to recover, and wonder that her Veil is off.

Alon. That you have let me see that lovely Face, May move your Pity, not your Anger, Madam; Pity the Wounds 't has made, pity the Slave, Who till this Moment boasted of his Freedom.

Euph. May I believe all this? for that we easily do in things we wish.

Alon. Command me things impossible to all Sense but a Lover's, I will do't: to shew The Truth of this, I could even give you The last Proof of it, and take you at your Word, To marry you.

Euph. O wondrous Reformation! marry me! [Laughs.

Alon. How, do you mock my Grief?

Euph. What a strange dissembling thing is Man! To put me off too, you were to be married.

Alon. Hah, I had forgotten Hippolyta. [He starts.

Euph. See, Olinda, the Miracle increases, he can be serious too. How do you, Sir?

Alon. 'Tis you have robb'd me of my native Humour, I ne'er could think till now.

Euph. And to what purpose was it now?

Alon. Why, Love and Honour were at odds within me, And I was making Peace between them.

Euph. How fell that out, Sir?

Alon. About a Pair of Beauties; Women, That set the whole World at odds. She that is Honour's Choice I never saw, And love has taught me new Obedience here.

Euph. What means he? I fear he is in earnest. [Aside.

Olin. 'Tis nothing but his Aversion to Marriage, which most young Men dread now-a-days.

Euph. I must have this Stranger, or I must die; for whatever Face I put upon't, I am far gone in Love, but I must hide it. [Aside. Well, since I have mist my Aim, you shall never boast my Death; I'll cast my self away upon the next handsom young Fellow I meet, tho I die for't; and so farewel to you, loving Sir. [Offers to go.

Alon. Stay, do not marry, as you esteem the Life of him that shall possess you.

Euph. Sure you will not kill him.

Alon. By Heaven, I will.

Euph. O I'll trust you, Sir: Farewel, farewel.

Alon. You shall not go in triumph thus, Unless you take me with you.

Euph. Well, since you are so resolv'd (and so in love) I'll give you leave to see me once more at a House at the Corner of St. Jerom's, where this Maid shall give you Entrance.

Alon. Why, that's generously said.

Euph. As soon 'tis dark you may venture.

Alon. Till then will be an Age, farewel, fair Saint, To thee and all my quiet till we meet. [Exeunt.



ACT II.

SCENE I. The Street.

Enter Marcel in a Cloak alone.

Mar. The Night comes on, and offers me two Pleasures, The least of which would make another blest, Love and Revenge: but I, whilst I dispute Which Happiness to chuse, neglect them both. The greatest Bliss that Mankind can possess, Persuades me this way, to my fair Clarinda: But tyrannick Honour Presents the Credit of my House before me, And bids me first redeem its fading Glory, By sacrificing that false Woman's Heart That has undone its Fame. But stay, Oh Conscience, when I look within, And lay my Anger by, I find that Sin Which I would punish in Antonio's Soul, Lie nourish'd up in mine without Controul. To fair Clarinda such a Siege I lay, As did that Traitor to Hippolyta; Only Hippolyta a Brother has, Clarinda, none to punish her Disgrace: And 'tis more Glory the defenc'd to win, Than 'tis to take unguarded Virtue in. I either must my shameful Love resign, Or my more brave and just Revenge decline.

[Enter Alonzo drest, with Lovis. Marcel stays.

Alon. But to be thus in love, is't not a Wonder, Lovis?

Lov. No, Sir, it had been much a greater, if you had stay'd a Night in Town without being so; and I shall see this Wonder as often as you see a new Face of a pretty Woman.

Alon. I do not say that I shall lose all Passion for the fair Sex hereafter; but on my Conscience, this amiable Stranger has given me a deeper Wound than ever I received from any before.

Lov. Well, you remember the Bargain.

Alon. What Bargain?

Lov. To communicate; you understand.

Alon. There's the Devil on't, she is not such a Prize: Oh, were she not honest, Friend! [Hugs him.

Lov. Is it so to do? What, you pretend to be a Lover, and she honest, now only to deprive me of my Part: remember this, Alonzo.

Mar. Did not I hear Alonzo nam'd? [Aside.

Alon. By all that's good I am in earnest, Friend; Nay thy own Eyes shall convince thee Of the Power of hers. Her Veil fell off, and she appear'd to me, Like unexpected Day, from out a Cloud; The lost benighted Traveller Sees not th' Approach of the next Morning's Sun With more transported Joy, Than I this ravishing and unknown Beauty.

Lov. Hey day! What Stuff's here? Nay, now I see thou art quite gone indeed.

Alon. I fear it. Oh, had she not been honest! What Joy, what Heaven of Joys she would distribute! With such a Face, and Shape, a Wit, and Mein— But as she is, I know not what to do.

Lov. You cannot marry her.

Alon. I would not willingly, tho I think I'm free: For Pedro went to Marcel to tell him I was arriv'd, and would wait on him; but was treated more like a Spy, than a Messenger of Love: They sent no Answer back, which I tell you, Lovis, angers me: 'twas not the Entertainment I expected from my brave Friend Marcel. But now I am for the fair Stranger who by this expects me.

Mar. 'Tis Alonzo. O how he animates my Rage, and turns me over to Revenge, upon Hippolyta and her false Lover! [Aside.

Lov. Who's this that walks before us? [They go out.

Alon. No matter who.

Mar. I am follow'd. [They enter again.

Lov. See, he stops. [Marcel looks back.

Alon. Let him do what he please, we will out-go him. [They go out.

Lov. This Man whoe'er he be still follows us.

Alon. I care not, nothing shall hinder my Design, I'll go tho I make my passage thro his Heart. [They enter at another Door, he follows.

Lov. See, he advances, pray stand by a little. [They stand by.

Mar. Sure there's some Trick in this, but I'll not fear it. This is the Street, and hereabout's the House. [Looks about. This must be it, if I can get admittance now. [Knocks.

Enter Olinda with a Light.

Olin. O, Sir, are you come? my Lady grew impatient. [They go in.

Mar. She takes me for some other: This is happy. [Aside.

Alon. Gods! is not that the Maid that first conducted me to the fair thing that rob'd me of my Heart?

Lov. I think it is.

Alon. She gives admittance to another Man. All Women-kind are false, I'll in and tell her so. [Offers to go.

Lov. You are too rash, 'tis dangerous.

Alan. I do despise thy Counsel, let me go.

Lov. If you are resolv'd, I'll run the Hazard with you. [They both go in.

SCENE II. The Scene changes to a Chamber.

Enter from one side Olinda, lighting in Marcel muffled as before in his Cloke, from the other Antonio leading in Euphemia veil'd.

Mar. By Heaven's, 'tis she: Vile Strumpet!

[Throws off his Cloke, and snatches her from him.

Euph. Alas, this is not he whom I expected.

Anto. Marcel! I had rather have encounter'd my evil Angel than thee. [Draws.

Mar. I do believe thee, base ungenerous Coward. [Draws.

[They fight, Marcel disarms Antonio, by wounding his Hand. Enter Alonzo, goes betwixt them, and with his Sword drawn opposes Marcel, who is going to kill Antonio; Lovis follows him.

Alon. Take Courage, Sir. [To Antonio, who goes out mad.

Mar. Prevented! whoe'er thou be'st. It was unjustly done, To save his Life who merits Death, By a more shameful way. But thank the Gods she still remains to meet That Punishment that's due to her foul Lust. [Offers to run at her, Alonzo goes between.

Alon. 'Tis this way you must make your Passage then.

Mar. What art thou, that thus a second time Dar'st interpose between Revenge and me?

Alon. 'Tis Marcel! What can this mean? [Aside. Dost not thou know me, Friend? look on me well.

Mar. Alonzo here! Ah I shall die with Shame. [Aside. As thou art my Friend, remove from that bad Woman, Whose Sins deserve no sanctuary.

Euph. What can he mean? I dare not shew my Face. [Aside.

Alon. I do believe this Woman is a false one, But still she is a Woman, and a fair one: I would not suffer thee to injure her, Tho I believe she has undone thy quiet, As she has lately mine.

Mar. Why, dost thou know it then? Stand by, I shall forget thou art my Friend else, And thro thy Heart reach hers.

Alon. Nothing but Love could animate him thus, He is my Rival. [Aside. Marcel, I will not quit one inch of Ground; Do what thou dar'st, for know I do adore her, And thus am bound by Love to her Defence. [Offers to fight Marcel, who retires in wonder.

Euph. Hold, noble Stranger, hold.

Mar. Have you such Pity on your Lover there? [Offers to kill her, Alonzo stays him.

Euph. Help, help. [Her Veil falls off.

Enter Hippolyta drest like a Curtezan: Sees Marcel.

Hip. Oh Gods, my Brother! in pity, Sir, defend me From the just Rage of that incensed Man. [Runs behind Lovis, whilst Marcel stands gazing on both with wonder.

Lov. I know not the meaning of all this, but However I'll help the Lady in Distress. Madam, you're safe, whilst I am your Protector. [Leads her out.

Mar. I've lost the Power of striking where I ought, Since my misguided Hand so lately err'd. Oh Rage, dull senseless Rage, how blind and rude It makes us. Pardon, fair Creature, my unruly Passion, And only blame that Veil which hid that Face, Whose Innocence and Beauty had disarm'd it: I took you for the most perfidious Woman, The falsest loosest thing.

Alon. How! are you a Stranger to her?

Mar. Yes I am. Have you forgiven me, Madam?

Euph. Sir, I have. [Marcel bows and offers to go out.

Alon. Stay, Friend, and let me know your Quarrel.

Mar. Not for the World, Alonzo.

Alon. This is unfriendly, Sir.

Mar. Thou dost delay me from the noblest Deed, On which the Honour of my House depends, A Deed which thou wilt curse thy self for hindring Farewel. [Goes out.

Alon. What can the meaning of this be?

Euph. Oh do not ask, but let us quickly leave this dangerous Place.

Alon. Does it not belong to you?

Euph. No, but you would like me the better if it did: for, Sir, it is a—

Alon. Upon my Life, a Baudy-house.

Euph. So they call it.

Alon. You do amaze me.

Euph. Truth is, not daring to trust my Friends or Relations with a Secret that so nearly concern'd me as the meeting you, and hearing of a new come Curtezan living in this House, I sent her word I would make her a Visit, knowing she would gladly receive it from a Maid of my Quality: When I came, I told her my Business, and very frankly she offer'd me her House and Service— Perhaps you'll like me the worse for this bold Venture, but when you consider my promis'd Husband is every day expected, you will think it but just to secure my self any way.

Alon. You could not give me a greater Proof than this of what you say you bless me with, your Love.

Euph. I will not question but you are in earnest; at least if any doubt remain, these will resolve it. [Gives him Letters.

Alon. What are these, Madam?

Euph. Letters, Sir, intercepted from the Father of my design'd Husband out of Flanders to mine.

Alon. What use can I make of them?

Euph. Only this: Put your self into an Equipage very ridiculous, and pretend you are my foolish Lover arriv'd from Flanders, call your self Haunce van Ezel, and give my Father these, as for the rest I'll trust your Wit.

Alon. What shall I say or do now? [Aside.

Euph. Come, come, no study, Sir; this must be done, And quickly too, or you will lose me.

Alon. Two great Evils! if I had but the Grace to chuse the least now, that is, lose her. [Aside.

Euph. I'll give you but to night to consider it.

Alon. Short warning this: but I am damnably in love, and cannot withstand Temptation. [Kisses her Hand.

Euph. I had forgot to tell you my Name's Euphemia, my Father's you'll find on the Letters, and pray show your Love in your haste. Farewel.

Alon. Stay, fair Euphemia, and let me pay my Thanks, and tell you that I must obey you.

Euph. I give a Credit where I give a Heart. Go inquire my Birth and Fortune: as for you, I am content with what I see about you.

Alon. That's bravely said, nor will I ask one Question about you, not only to return the Bounty, but to avoid all things that look like the Approaches to a married Life. If Fortune will put us together, let her e'en provide for us.

Euph. I must be gone: Farewel, and pray make haste. [Looks kindly on him.

Alon. There's no resisting those Looks, Euphemia: One more to fortify me well; for I shall have need of every Aid in this Case. [Look at one another and go.

SCENE III. A Street.

Enter Antonio in haste with Hippolyta; weeping as passing over the Stage.

Ant. Come, let us haste, I fear we are pursu'd.

Hip. Ah, whither shall we fly?

Ant. We are near the Gate, and must secure our selves with the Darkness of the Night in St. Peter's Grove, we dare not venture into any House. [Exeunt.

Enter Clarinda and Dormida above in the Balcony.

Clar. Can'st thou not see him yet?

Dorm. Good lack a-day, what an impatient thing is a young Girl in love!

Clar. Nay, good Dormida, let not want of Sleep make thee testy.

Dorm. In good time— are you my Governess, or I yours, that you are giving me Instructions? Go get you in, or I shall lay down my Office.

Clar. Nay, wait a little longer, I'm sure he will come.

Dorm. You sure! you have wondrous Skill indeed in the Humours of Men: how came you to be so well acquainted with them? you scarce ever saw any but Don Marcel, and him too but thro a Grate or Window, or at Church; and yet you are sure. I am a little the elder of the two, and have manag'd as many Intrigues of this kind as any Woman, and never found a constant just Man, as they say, of a thousand; and yet you are sure.

Clar. Why, is it possible Marcel should be false?

Dorm. Marcel! No, no, Sweet-heart, he is that Man of a thousand.

Clar. But if he should, you have undone me, by telling me so many pretty things of him.

Dorm. Still you question my Ability, which by no means I can indure; get you in I say.

Clar. Do not speak so loud, you will wake my Mother.

Dorm. At your Instructions again; do you question my Conduct and Management of this Affair? Go watch for him your self: I'll have no more to do with you back nor edge. [Offers to go.

Clar. Will you be so barbarous to leave me to my self, after having made it your Business this three Months to sollicit a Heart which was but too ready to yield before; after having sworn to me how honourable all his Intents were; nay, made me write to him to come to night? And now when I have done this, and am all trembling with fear and shame (and yet an infinite Desire to see him too) [Sighs] thou wilt abandon me: go, when such as you oblige, 'tis but to be insolent with the more freedom.

Dorm. What, you are angry I'll warrant. [Smiles.

Clar. I will punish my self to pay thee back, and will not see Marcel.

Dorm. What a pettish Fool is a Maid in love at fifteen! how unmanageable! But I'll forgive all— go get you in, I'll watch for your Lover; I would not have you disoblige a Man of his Pretensions and Quality for all the World. [Clarinda goes in.

Enter Alonzo below.

Alon. Now do I want Lovis extremely, to consult with him about this Business: For I am afraid the Devil, or Love, or both are so great with me, that I must marry this fair Inchantress, which is very unlucky; but, since Ambrosio and Marcel refuse to see me, I hold my self no longer ingag'd in Honour to Hippolyta.

Dorm. [above.] Whist, whist, Sir, Sir.

Alon. Who's there?

Dorm. 'Tis I, your Servant, Sir; oh you are a fine Spark, are you not, to make so fair a Creature wait so long for you? there, there's the Key, open the Door softly and come in. [Throws him down a Key in a Handkerchief.

Alon. What's this? But I'll ask no Questions, so fair a Creature, said she? Now if 'twere to save my Life cannot I forbear, I must go in: Shou'd Euphemia know this, she would call it Levity and Inconstancy; but I plead Necessity, and will be judg'd by the amorous Men, and not the jealous Women: For certain this Lady, whoe'er she be, designs me a more speedy Favour than I can hope from Euphemia, and on easier Terms too. This is the Door that must conduct to the languishing Venus. [Opens the Door and goes in, leaving it unshut.

Enter Marcel with his Sword drawn.

Mar. Thus far I have pursu'd the Fugitives, Who by the help of hasty Fear and Night, Are got beyond my Power; unlucky Accident! Had I but kill'd Antonio, or Hippolyta, Either had made my Shame supportable. But tho I have mist the Pleasure of Revenge, I will not that of Love. One Look from fair Clarinda will appease The Madness which this Disappointment rais'd. [Walks looking towards the Window. None appears yet: Dormida was to throw me down the Key. The Door is open, left so to give me entrance. [Goes to the Door.

SCENE IV. Changes to a dark Hall.

Discovers Alonzo groping about in the Hall.

Alon. Now am I in a worse Condition than before, can neither advance nor retreat: I do not like this groping alone in the Dark thus. Whereabouts am I? I dare not call: were this fair thing she spoke of but now half so impatient as I, she would bring a Light, and conduct me.

Enter Marcel.

Mar. 'Tis wondrous dark.

Alon. Hah, a Man's Voice that way; that's not so well: it may be some Lover, Husband, or Brother; none of which are to be trusted in this Case, therefore I'll stand upon my Guard.

[Draws: Marcel coming towards him jostles him.

Mar. Who's there?

Alon. A Man.

Mar. A Man! none such inhabit here. [Draws. Thy Business?

Alon. This shall answer you, since there's no other way.

[They fight, Alonzo wounds Marcel, who fights him to the Door; Alonzo goes out, Marcel gropes to follow.

Mar. This is not just, ye Gods, to punish me, and let the Traytor 'scape unknown too: Methought 'twas Silvio's Voice, or else a sudden thought of Jealousy come into my Head would make me think so.

Enter Clarinda and Dormida with Light.

Clar. I tell you I did hear the noise of fighting.

Dorm. Why, between whom should it be? I'll be sworn Marcel came in alone.

Clar. Marcel! and wounded too! oh I'm lost. [Sees him, weeps.

Mar. Keep your false Tears to bathe your Lover's Wounds. For I perhaps have given him some— Thou old Assistant to her Lust, whose greatest Sin is wishing, tell me who 'twas thou didst procure for her. [In rage to Dormida.

Dorm. Alas! I cannot imagine who it should be, unless Don Silvio, who has sometimes made Addresses to her: But oh the House is up, Madam, we are undone; let's fly for Heavens sake.

Clar. Oh Marcel, can you believe— [A Noise.

Dorm. Come, come, I'll not be undone for your Fiddle-faddles; I'll lay it all on you, if I be taken. [Pulls out Clarinda.

Mar. Sot that I was, I could not guess at this to day, by his Anger at the Letter I foolishly shew'd him; he is my Rival, and 'tis with him she's fled; and I'll endeavour to pursue them. [Offers to go. But oh my Strength complies with their Design, [Leaning on his Sword.] and shamefully retires to give them leave to play their amorous Game out. [Goes faintly out.

SCENE V. Changes to the Street. Discovers Alonzo alone.

Alon. This Act of mine was rash and ill-natur'd, And I cannot leave the Street with a good Conscience, Till I know what mischief I have done.

Enter Dormida and Clarinda.

Hah, Ladies from the same House! these are Birds that I have frighted from their Nests I am sure: I'll proffer my Service to them.

Dorm. Why do not you make more haste?

Clar. How can she go, whose Life is left behind? Besides, I know not whither we should go. Ye Powers that guard the Innocent, protect us.

Alon. These must be some whom I have injur'd. Ladies— you seem as in distress.

Dorm. Oh, Sir, as you are a Gentleman, assist a pair of Virgins.

Alon. What's this, a mumping Matron? I hope the other's young, or I have offer'd my Service to little purpose.

Clar. Sir, if you will have the Charity to assist us, Do it speedily, we shall be very grateful to you.

Alon. Madam, I will, but know not where to carry ye; my Lodging is in an Inn, and is neither safe nor honourable: but Fortune dares no less than protect the Fair, and I'll venture my Life in your Protection and Service. [Exeunt.

Enter Marcel faintly.

Mar. Stay, Traytor, stay— oh they are out of sight, But may my Curse o'ertake them in their flight. [Exit.

SCENE VI. Chamber of Cleonte.

She is discover'd in her Night-Gown, at a Table, as undressing, Francisca by her.

Cleo. Francisca, thou art dull to Night. [Sighs.

Fran. You will not give me leave to talk.

Cleo. Not thy way indeed, hast thou no Stories but of Love, and of my Brother Silvio?

Fran. None that you wish to hear: But I'll do what you please, so you will not oblige me to sigh for you.

Cleo. Then prithee sing to me.

Fran. What Song, a merry, or a sad?

Cleo. Please thy own Humour, for then thou'lt sing best.

Fran. Well, Madam, I'll obey you, and please my self.

SINGS.

Amyntas led me to a Grove, Where all the Trees did shade us; The Sun it self, tho it had strove, Yet could not have betrayed us. The place secure from human Eyes, No other fear allows, But when the Winds that gently rise Do kiss the yielding Boughs.

Down there we sat upon the Moss, And did begin to play A thousand wanton Tricks, to pass The Heat of all the Day. A many Kisses he did give, And I return'd the same: Which made me willing to receive That which I dare not name.

His charming Eyes no aid requir'd, To tell their amorous Tale; On her that was already fir'd, 'Twas easy to prevail. He did but kiss, and clasp me round, Whilst they his thoughts exprest, And laid me gently on the Ground; Oh! —who can guess the rest?

After the Song, enter Silvio all undrest, gazing wildly on Cleonte; his Arm ty'd up.

Cleo. My Brother Silvio, at this late hour, and in my Lodgings too! How do you, Sir? are you not well?

Silv. Oh, why did Nature give me being? Or why create me Brother to Cleonte? [Aside. Or give her Charms, and me the sense to adore 'em?

Cleo. Dear Brother— [Goes to him.

Silv. Ah, Cleonte— [Takes her by the Hand and gazes.

Cleo. What would you, Sir?

Silv. I am not— well—

Cleo. Sleep, Sir, will give you ease.

Silv. I cannot sleep, my Wounds do rage and burn so, as they put me past all power of rest.

Cleo. We'll call your Surgeon, Sir.

Silv. He can contribute nothing to my Cure, But I must owe it all to thee, Cleonte.

Cleo. Instruct me in the way, give me your Arm, And I will bathe it in a thousand Tears, [Goes to untie his Arm. And breathe so many Sighs into your Wound—

Silv. Let that slight hurt alone, and search this— here. [To his Heart.

Cleo. How! are you wounded there, And would not let us know it all this while?

Silv. I durst not tell you, but design'd to suffer, Rather than trouble you with my Complaints: But now my Pain is greater than my Courage.

Fran. Oh, he will tell her, that he loves her sure. [Aside.

Cleo. Sit down and let me see't. [He sits down, she puts her Hand into his Bosom.

Fran. Oh foolish Innocence— [Aside.

Cleo. You have deceiv'd me, Brother, here's no Wound.

Silv. Oh take away your Hand— It does increase my Pain, and wounds me deeper.

Cleo. No, surely, Sir, my Hand is very gentle.

Silv. Therefore it hurts me, Sister; the very thoughts Of Touches by so soft and fair a Hand, Playing about my Heart, are not to be indur'd with Life. [Rises in passion.

Cleo. Alas, what means my Brother?

Silv. Can you not guess, fair Sister? have my Eyes So ill exprest my Soul? or has your Innocence Not suffer'd you to understand my Sighs? Have then a thousand Tales, which I have told you, Of Broken Hearts, and Lovers Languishments, Not serv'd to tell you, that I did adore you?

Cleo. Oh let me still remain in Innocence, Rather than sin so much to understand you.

Fran. I can endure no more— [Goes out.

Silv. Can you believe it Sin to love a Brother? it is not so in Nature.

Cleo. Not as a Brother, Sir; but otherwise, It is, by all the Laws of Men and Heaven.

Silv. Sister, so 'tis that we should do no Murder, And yet you daily kill, and I, among the number Of your Victims, must charge you with the sin Of killing me, a Lover, and a Brother.

Cleo. What wou'd you have me do?

Silv. Why— I would have thee— do— I know not what— Still to be with me— yet that will not satisfy; To let me look— upon thee— still that's not enough. I dare not say to kiss thee, and imbrace thee; That were to make me wish— I dare not tell thee what—

Cleo. I must not hear this Language from a Brother. [She offers to go.

Silv. What a vile thing's a Brother? Stay, take this Dagger, and add one Wound more [He kneels and offers her a Dagger, and holds her by the Coat. To those your Eyes have given, and after that You'll find no trouble from my Sighs and Tears.

Enter Francisca.

Fran. By this she understands him, curse on her Innocence, 'Tis fuel to his flame— [Aside.] Madam, there is below a Lady, who desires to speak with the Mistress of the House.

Cleo. At this hour a Lady! who can it be?

Fran. I know not, but she seems of Quality.

Cleo. Is she alone?

Fran. Attended by a Gentleman and an old Woman.

Cleo. Perhaps some one that needs a kind Assistance; my Father is in Bed, and I'll venture to know their Business; bring her up.

Fran. 'Twere good you should retire, Sir. [To Silvio, and Exit.

Silv. I will, but have a care of me, Cleonte, I fear I shall grow mad, and so undo thee: Love me— but do not let me know't too much. [Goes out.

Enter Francisca with Lights; follow'd by Alonzo, Clarinda, and Dormida: Alonzo gazes on Cleonte a while.

Cleo. Is't me you would command?

Clar. I know not what to say, I am so disorder'd. [Aside.

Alon. What Troops of Beauties she has! sufficient to take whole Cities in— Madam, I beg— [Takes Clarinda by the Hand, and approaches Cleonte.

Cleo. What, Sir?

Alon. That you would receive into Protection—

Cleo. What pray, Sir?

Alon. Would you would give me leave to say, a Heart That your fair Eyes have lately made unfit For its old Quarters.

Cleo. I rather think you mean this Lady, Sir. [Alonzo looks with wonder on Clarinda.

Alon. She's heavenly fair too, and has surpriz'd my Heart, Just as 'twas going to the other's Bosom, And rob'd her at least of one half of it. [Aside.

Clar. Madam, I am a Virgin in distress, And by misfortune forc'd to seek a Sanctuary, And humbly beg it here.

Cleo. Intreaties were not made for that fair Mouth; Command and be obey'd. But, Sir, to whom do you belong?

Alon. I belong to a very fair Person, But do not know her Name.

Cleo. But what are you, pray, Sir?

Alon. Madam, a Wanderer; a poor lost thing, That none will own or pity.

Cleo. That's sad indeed; but whoe'er you are, since you belong to this fair Maid, you'll find a Welcome every where.

Alon. And if I do not, I am cashier'd. [Aside. Madam, if telling you I am her Brother, Can make me more acceptable, I shall be yet more proud of the Alliance.

Cleo. What must I call your Sister, Sir, when I would pay my Duty?

Alon. There I am routed again with another hard Question. [Aside.

Clar. Madam, my Name's Clarinda.

Alon. Madam, I'll take my leave, and wish the Heart I leave with you to night, may persuade you to suffer my Visits to morrow, till when I shall do nothing but languish.

Cleo. I know not what loss you have suffer'd to night; but since your fair Sister's Presence with us allows it, you need not doubt a welcome.

Alon. I humbly thank you, Madam.

[Kisses her Hand, and looks amorously on Clarinda.

Fran. Madam, pray retire, for Don Marcel is come into the House all bloody, inrag'd against somebody.

Clar. I'm troubled at his Hurt, but cannot fear his Rage. Good night, Sir. [They go out.

Alon. They are gone; now had I as much mind to have kist the other's Hand, but that 'twas not a Ceremony due to a Sister— What the Devil came into my Head, to say she was so? nothing but the natural itch of talking and lying: they are very fair; but what's that to me? Euphemia surpasses both: But a Pox of her terms of Marriage, I'll set that to her Beauty, and then these get the Day, as far as natural Necessity goes: But I'll home and sleep upon't, and yield to what's most powerful in the Morning. To night these Strangers do my Heart possess, But which the greatest share, I cannot guess: My Fate in Love resembles that in War, When the rich Spoil falls to the common share. [Goes out.

SCENE VII. The Street.

Enter Alonzo, as out of the House, gazing upon it.

Alon. Sure I shall know this House again to morrow. [To him Lovis.

Lov. I wonder what should be become of Alonzo, I do do not like these Night-works of his— Who's there?

Alon. Lovis!

Lov. Alonzo?

Alon. The same, where hast thou been?

Lov. In search of you this two Hours.

Alon. O, I have been taken up with new Adventures, since I saw thee; but prithee what became of thine? for methought it was a likely Woman.

Lov. Faith, Sir, I thought I had got a Prize; but a Pox on't, when I came into the Street, e'er she had recover'd Breath to tell me who she was, the Cavalier you rescu'd from Marcel, laid claim to her; thank'd me for her Preservation, and vanisht. I hope you had better luck with your Female, whose Face I had not the good fortune to see.

Alon. Not so good as I could have wisht, for she stands still on her honourable terms.

Lov. Of Matrimony, ha, ha, a very Jilt, I'll warrant her; Come, come, you shall see her no more.

Alon. Faith, I fear I must.

Lov. To what purpose?

Alon. To persuade her to Reason.

Lov. That you'll soon do, when she finds you will not bite at t'other Bait.

Alon. The worst is, if I see her again, it must be at her Father's House; and so transform'd from Man to Beast— I must appear like a ridiculous Lover she expects out of Flanders.

Lov. A very Cheat, a trick to draw thee in: be wise in time.

Alon. No, on my Conscience she's in earnest, she told me her Name, and his I am to represent.

Lov. What is't, I pray?

Alon. Haunce van Ezel.

Lov. Hah! her Name too, I beseech you? [Impatiently.

Alon. Euphemia: And such a Creature 'tis—

Lov. 'Sdeath, my Sister all this while: This has call'd up all that's Spaniard in me, and makes me raging mad. [Aside.] But do you love her, Sir?

Alon. Most desperately, beyond all Sense or Reason.

Lov. And could you be content to marry her?

Alon. Any thing but that —But thou know'st my ingagement elsewhere; and I have hopes that yet she'll be wise, and yield on more pleasant terms.

Lov. I could be angry now; but 'twere unreasonable to blame him for this. [Aside.] Sir, I believe by your Treatment from Ambrosio and Marcel, you may come off there easily.

Alon. That will not satisfy my Honour, tho 'twill my Love; that I have not Hippolyta, I will owe to my own Inconstancy, not theirs: besides, this may be a Cheat, as you say.

Lov. But does Euphemia love you?

Alon. Faith, I think she has too much Wit to dissemble, and too much Beauty to need that Art.

Lov. Then you must marry her.

Alon. Not if I can avoid it.

Lov. I know this Lady, Sir, and know her to be worth your Love: I have it in my Power too, to serve you, if you proceed suddenly, which you must do, or lose her; for this Flandrian Boor your Rival is already arriv'd, and designs to morrow to make his first Address to Euphemia.

Alon. Oh, he must not, shall not see her.

Lov. How will you hinder him?

Alon. With this. [To his Sword.] Where is this Rival? tell me: Conduct me to him strait; I find my Love above the common rate, and cannot brook this Rival.

Lov. So, this blows the flame— His Life will be no hindrance to you in this Affair, if you design to love on.

Alon. Do'st know him?

Lov. Yes, he is a pleasant Original for you to be copy'd by: It is the same Fop, I told you was to marry my Sister, and who came along with me to Madrid.

Alon. How! Euphemia thy Sister?

Lov. Yes, indeed is she, and whom my Father designs to cast away upon this half Man, half Fool; but I find she has Wit to make a better Choice: she yet knows nothing of my Arrival, and till you resolve what to do, shall not; and my Dutchman does nothing without me.

Alon. If thou hast the management of him, he's likely to thrive.

Lov. But not in his Amour, if you please: In short, Sir, if you do really love my Sister, I am content to be so ungracious a Child to contribute to the cheating my Father of this same hopeful Son he expects, and put you upon him; but what you do, must be speedily then.

Alon. I am oblig'd to thee for this frank Offer, and will be instructed by thee.

Lov. If you're resolv'd, I'll warrant you Success.

Alon. I think I am resolv'd in spite of all my Inclinations to Libertinism.

Lov. Well, Sir, I'll get you such a Suit then, as that our Hero makes his first approach in, as ridiculously gay as his Humour, which you must assume too.

Alon. Content.

Lov. To night I must pay my Duty to my Father, and will prepare your way, and acquaint my Sister with it; 'tis but a Frolick if we succeed not.

Alon. God-a-mercy, Lad, let's about it then e'er we sleep, lest I change my Resolution before Morning. [Exeunt.



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.

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.

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.

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— [This while Alonzo and Euphemia make signs of Love with their Eyes.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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 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?

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?

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, 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. [He wakes, rises, and looks amazedly to see the Dagger in her Hand.

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. 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. [She leans on his Bosom, he the while gets her Dagger.

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, 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.

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?

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—

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 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. [Exit Francisca.

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?

[A noise of rural Musick is heard within the Trees, as Pipes, Flutes, and Voices.

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.

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; 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 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.

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.

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.



ACT IV.

SCENE I. _Carlo's_ House._

After a Noise of Musick without, enter Haunce drest as Alonzo was, follow'd by Gload, in Masquerade.

Hau. Hold, hold, I do not like the Salutations I receive from all I meet in this House.

Glo. Why, Sir, methinks they are very familiar Scabs all.

Hau. Salerimente, they all salute me as they were my old Acquaintance. Your servant, Myn heer Haunce, crys one; your servant, Monsieur Haunce, crys another.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Your servant, Sir, you come indeed like a Bridegroom all beset with Dance and Fiddle.

Hau. Bridegroom! ha, ha, ha, dost hear, Gload? 'tis true faith. But how the Devil came he to know it, man, hah?

Serv. My Master, Sir, was just asking for you, he longs to speak with you.

Hau. Ha, ha, with me, Sir? why, ha, ha, who the pox am I?

Serv. You, Sir, why, who should you be?

Hau. Who should I be? why, who should I be?

Serv. Myn heer Haunce van Ezel, Sir.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, well guest, i'faith now.

Glo. Why how should they guess otherwise, coming so attended with Musick, as prepar'd for a Wedding?

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, say'st thou so? faith, 'tis a good Device to save the Charges of the first Compliments, hah: but hark ye, hark ye, Friend, are you sure this is the House of Don Carlo?

Serv. Why, Sir, have you forgot it?

Hau. Forgot it! ha, ha, ha, dost hear, Gload? forgot it! why how the Devil should I remember it?

Glo. Sir, I believe this is some new-fashion'd Civility in Spain, to know every Man before he sees him.

Hau. No, no, you fool, they never change their Fashion in Spain, Man.

Glo. I mean their manner of Address, Sir.

Hau. It may be so, I'll see farther. Friend, is Don Carlo within?

Serv. He has not been out since, Sir.

Hau. Since, ha, ha, ha, since when? hah.

Serv. Since you saw him, Sir.

Hau. Salerimente, will you make me mad? why you damnable Rascal, when did I see him? hah.

Serv. Here comes my Master himself, Sir, [Enter Carlo.] let him inform you, if you grow so hot upon the Question.

Car. How now, Son, what, angry? You have e'en tir'd your self with walking, and are out of Humour.

Hau. Look there again— the old Man's mad too; why how the pox should he know I have been walking? Indeed, Sir, I have, as you say, been walking [Playing with his Hat.] —and am— as you say, out of Humour— But under favour, Sir, who are you? Sure 'tis the old Conjurer, and those were his little Imps I met. [Surlily to him.

Car. Sure, Son, you should be a Wit, by the shortness of your Memory.

Hau. By the Goodness of yours, you should be none, ha, ha, ha. Did I not meet with him there, Gload, hah? But pray refresh my Memory, and let me know you; I come to seek a Father amongst you here, one Don Carlo.

Car. Am I not the Man, Sir?

Hau. How the Devil should I know that now, unless by instinct?

Glo. The old Man is mad, and must be humour'd.

Hau. Cry you Mercy, Sir, I vow I had quite forgot you. Sir, I hope Donna Euphemia—

Car. Oh, Sir, she's in a much better Humour than when you saw her last, complies with our Desires more than I cou'd hope or wish.

Hau. Why look you here again— I ask'd after her Health, not her Humour.

Car. I know not what Arts you made use of, but she's strangely taken with your Conversation and Person.

Glo. Truly, Sir, you are mightily beholden to her, that she should have all this good Will to your Person and Conversation before she sees you.

Hau. Ay, so I am; therefore, Sir, I desire to see your Daughter, for I shall hardly be so generous as she has been, and be quits with her before I see her.

Car. Why, Sir, I hop'd you lik'd her when you saw her last.

Hau. Stark mad— I saw her last! why, what the Devil do you mean? I never saw her in all my Life, man. Stark mad, as I am true Dutch— [Aside.

Car. A Lover always thinks the time tedious: But here's my Daughter.

Enter Euphemia and Olinda.

Hau. Ay, one of these must be she: but 'tis a Wonder I should not know which she is by instinct. [Aside. [Stands looking very simply on both.

Euph. This is not Alonzo— has he betray'd me? [Aside.

Car. Go, Sir, she expects you.

Hau. Your pardon, Sir; let her come to me, if she will, I'm sure she knows me better than I do her.

Glo. How should she know you, Sir?

Hau. How? by instinct, you Fool, as all the rest of the House does: don't you, fair Mistress?

Euph. I know you—

Hau. Yes, you know me; you need not be so coy mun, the old Man has told me all.

Euph. What has he told you?— I am ruin'd. [Aside.

Hau. Faith, much more than I believ'd, for he was very full of his new-fashion'd Spanish Civility, as they call it; But ha, ha, I hope, fair Mistress, you do not take after him?

Euph. What if I do, Sir?

Hau. Why then I had as lieve marry a Steeple with a perpetual Ring of Bells.

Glo. Let me advise you, Sir; methinks you might make a handsomer Speech for the first, to so pretty a Lady— Fakes, and were I to do't—

Hau. I had a rare Speech for her thou knowest, and an Entertainment besides, that was, tho I say it, unordinary: But a pox of this new way of Civility, as thou call'st it, it has put me quite beside my part.

Glo. Tho you are out of your complimenting Part, I am not out of my dancing one, and therefore that part of your Entertainment I'll undertake for. 'Slife, Sir, would you disappoint all our Ship's Company?—

Hau. That's according as I find this proud Tit in Humour.

Car. And why so coy? pray why all this Dissimulation? Come, come, I have told him your Mind, and do intend to make you both happy immediately.

Euph. How, Sir, immediately!

Car. Yes, indeed; nay, if you have deceiv'd me, and dissembled with me, when I was so kind, I'll show you Trick for Trick i'faith— [Goes to Haunce.

Euph. What shall we do, Olinda?

Olin. Why marry Don Alonzo, Madam.

Euph. Do not rally, this is no time for Mirth.

Olin. Fie upon't, Madam, that you should have so little Courage; your Father takes this Fellow to be Alonzo.

Car. What Counsel are you giving there, hah?

Olin. Only taking leave of our old Acquaintance, since you talk of marrying us so soon.

Car. What Acquaintance, pray?

Olin. Our Maiden-heads, Sir.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, a pleasant Wench, faith now; I believe you would be content to part with yours with less warning.

Olin. On easy Terms perhaps, but this marrying I do not like; 'tis like going a long Voyage to Sea, where after a while even the Calms are distasteful, and the Storms dangerous: one seldom sees a new Object, 'tis still a deal of Sea, Sea; Husband, Husband, every day,— till one's quite cloy'd with it.

Car. A mad Girl this, Son.

Hau. Ay, Sir, but I wish she had left out the simile, it made my Stomach wamble.

Glo. Pray, Sir, let you the Maid alone as an Utensil belonging to my Place and Office, and meddle you with the Mistress.

Hau. Faith now, thou hast the better Bargain of the two; my Mistress looks so scurvily and civil, that I don't know what to say to her— Lady— hang't, that look has put me quite out again.

Car. To her, Son, to her—

Hau. Hark ye, Lady— Well, what next now? Oh pox, quite out, quite out; tell me whether the old Man ly'd or no, when he told me you lov'd me.

Euph. I love you!

Hau. Look you there now, how she looks again.

Car. She's only bashful, Sir, before me; therefore if you please to take a small Collation, that has waited within for you this three Hours—

Hau. That's strange now, that any thing should wait for me, who was no more expected here than Bethlehem-Gaber: Faith now, Lady, this Father of yours is very simple.

Euph. To take you for his Son.

Hau. I meant to have surpriz'd you I vow, before you had dreamt of me; and when I came, you all knew me as well as if you had cast a Figure for me.

Car. Well, Son, you'll follow.

Euph. You will not leave me alone, Sir, with a Man?

Hau. Go your ways, go your ways— I shall know more of your Secrets before [Gload makes Grimaces to Olinda of Love.] night yet, you little pouting Hypocrite you.

Euph. You know my Secrets! why, who are you?

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, that's a very good one faith now: who am I, quoth thou? why there's not a Child thus high in all your Father's House would have ask'd me so simple a Question.

Olin. Madam, I find by this Man, this is your expected Lover, whom you must flatter, or you are undone, 'tis Haunce van Ezel. [To Euphemia.

Euph. The Fop himself.

Hau. Oh, do you know me now?

Euph. 'Tis impossible.

Hau. This is an extreme the other way now. [Aside. Impossible, ha, ha, ha! No, no, poor thing, do not doubt thy Happiness: for look ye, to confirm you, here are my Bills of Exchange with my own natural Name to them, if you can read written Hand— [Shews her Papers.

Glo. Not love you! I'll swear you lye now, you little Jade, I am now in Masquerade, and you cannot judge of me; but I am Book-keeper and Cashier to my Master, and my Love will turn to account, I'll warrant you.

Olin. There may be use made of him. [Aside. I shall think of it. But pray why are you thus accouter'd?

Glo. Fakes, to entertain your Lady, we have brought the whole Ship's Company too in Masquerade.

Olin. That indeed will be very proper at this time of the Day, and the first Visit too.

Glo. Shaw, that's nothing, you little think what Blades we are mun— Sir, I'll call in the Fiddles and the Company.

Hau. Well remember'd, faith, now I had e'en forgot it.

Euph. What's the meaning of this? [Fiddles strike up.

Hau. To show you the difference between the damnable dull Gravity of the Spanish, and brisk Gaiety of the Dutch. Come, come, begin all. Enter Dutchmen and Women dancing. Nay, I'll shew you what I can do too, come, Gload. [They two dance. There's for you now, and yet you have not seen half my good Qualities; I can sing the newest Ballad that has been made, so I can. [Sings a Dutch Song.

Euph. Be these your Friends, Sir? they look as if you had ransack'd a Hoy for them.

Hau. How! look on them well, they are all States or States-fellows, I tell you that now, and they can bear witness who I am too.

Euph. Now I'm convinced, and am sorry I doubted my Happiness so long: I had such a Character of you.

Hau. Of me! oh Lord, I vow now— as they say— I don't know— ha, ha—

Euph. I heard you were the most incorrigible Fool, the most intolerable Fop.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, do you hear, Gload— who, I a Fop? I vow they were mistaken in me, for I am counted as pretty a Merchant as any walks the Change; can write a very plain Hand, and cast Account as well— my man Gload— can't I, Sirrah?

Glo. Yes indeed, forsooth, can he.

Hau. Egad, a Fool, a Fop, quoth ye— [Walks angry.

Olin. By all means flatter him, Madam.

Euph. I'm satisfy'd, Sir.

Hau. I care not whether you are or no, for I shall have you whether you will or no, mun.

Euph. 'Tis very likely; but there is a certain troublesome Fellow in love with me, that has made me vow whenever I marry to ask him leave.

Hau. How, ask his leave? I scorn to ask any Body's leave, I tell you that, tho 'twere my Mistress—

Euph. I cannot marry you then.

Hau. How, not marry me? look here now: [Ready to cry. Gload, can't you marry, and let no living Soul know it?

Euph. Oh no, Sir, I love your Life better, which would be indanger'd.

Hau. Why, what a cursed Custom you have in Spain, a Man can neither marry, nor console his Neighbour's Wife without having his Throat cut. Why, what if he will not give you leave?

Euph. Why, then you must fight him.

Hau. How! fight him, I fight him!

Glo. Why, yes, Sir, you know you can fight, you try'd but this very Morning—

Hau. Softly, you damn'd Rogue, not a Word of my Prowess aloud. Salerimente, I shall be put to fight when I am sober, shall I, for your damn'd prating, ye Rascal?

Euph. I am glad you have that good Quality.

[Olinda speaking to Gload, pushes him to speak.

Glo. Ay, Madam— my Master— has many more: But if you please to tell him his Rival's Name—

Hau. I'll have your Ears for this, Sirrah, the next time I'm soundly drunk, and you know that won't be long. [Aside. Lord, Madam, my Man knows not what he says. Ye Rascal, say I have no Courage— or I will drink my self to the Miracle of Valour, and exercise it all on thee.

Glo. I know what I do, Sir, you had Courage this Morning, is the Fit over?

Hau. Have I not slept since, you Rogue, have I not?

Glo. I have a trick to save your Honour, Sir, and therefore I will stand in't you have Courage.

Hau. A Pox of your Trick, the Rogue knows I dare not chastise him now, for fear they should think I have Valour.

Glo. Madam, my Master's modest, but tell him who 'tis he must fight with—

Hau. Oh, for a Tun of Rhenish— that I might abundantly beat thee—

Euph. Your Rival's Name's Alonzo, Sir.

Hau. Oh the Devil, a thundring Name too; but will this same— Alonzo make no allowance for necessity?— I vow 'tis pure necessity in me to marry you: the old Men being agreed upon the Matter, I am but an Instrument— alas, not I, [Crys. A very Tool, as they say, so I am.

Glo. Lord, Sir, why do you cry? I meant no harm.

Hau. No harm, you Rascal— to say I am valiant.

Glo. Why, yes, Sir, and if you would say so too, at worst 'twas but getting Don Lovis to have fought for you; you know that's a small courtesy to a Friend.

Hau. Faith, now thou art in the right; he'll do his Business for him, I'll warrant him. [Wipes his Eyes. Nay then, Madam, I have Courage, and will to this Don— this Alonzo you speak of; and if he do not resign you, and consign you too, I'll make him; yes, make him, do ye see— If Lovis should refuse me now— [Aside.

Glo. Shaw, Sir, he makes nothing to kill a Man, ten or twenty.

Euph. Well, since you are so resolv'd, my Brother will tell you where to find this Alonzo; and tell him, I must marry you to day, for I am resolv'd not to lie alone tonight.

Hau. What would not a Man do for so kind a Mistress?

Euph. Well, get you about it strait then, lest my Father's coming prevent it. [Exeunt Euphemia and Olinda.

Hau. I am gone— but if Lovis should fail—

Glo. He would beat you, if he thought you doubted him.

Hau. I'll keep my Fears then to my self. [Go out.

SCENE II. The Street.

Enter Hippolyta drest like a Man, with a Paper.

Hip. Thus I dare look abroad again: Methinks I am not what I was, My Soul too is all Man; Where dwells no Tenderness, no womanish Passions. I cannot sigh, nor weep, nor think of Love, But as a foolish Dream that's gone and past. Revenge has took possession of my Soul, And drove those Shadows thence; and shows me now Love, in so poor, so despicable a Shape, So quite devested of his Artful Beauty, That I'm asham'd I ever was his Votary. Well, here's my Challenge to Antonio; But how to get it to him is the Question. Base as he is, he'll not refuse to come, And since he never saw the wrong'd Alonzo, Sure I may pass for him. Who's here?—

Enter Haunce and Gload. She stands aside.

Hau. Gload, if it were possible I could be sober, and valiant at once, I should now be provok'd to exercise it: for I cannot find Lovis, and then how I shall come off, the Lord knows. And then again, for letting the Lady go, whom I rescu'd in the Grove this Morning.

Glo. Should I disobey a Lady, Sir? for she commanded me to let her go so soon as she came into the Gate. And, Sir, look, here comes Don Lovis.

Enter Lovis and Alonzo.

Hau. Oh, Brother Lovis, where the Devil have you been all this Day? I stay'd for you to go with me to your Sister's, as long as Flesh and Blood could forbear.

Lov. Why, have you been there without me?

Hau. Yes, marry have I, Sir.

Alon. I am undone then— [Aside.

Hau. I needed no Recommendation mun, for when I came they were all as well acquainted with me— I never saw them before; but by the way, they are all no wiser than they should be, except your Sister, who is the pretty'st loving, sweet Rogue—

Alon. How's this?

Lov. But have you seen my Sister?

Hau. Seen her! yes, and will marry her too mun before Night, an she were a thousand Sisters— but harkye, Lovis, the business is this— you must know that before I marry her, I am to seek out a certain Fellow, they call— they call Alonzo, ay, ay, Alonzo— a Pox on him, a troublesome Rascal they say he is; and his leave, it seems, must be askt to marry your Sister.