SCENE II.--_The Prado.

_Enter_ DON CARLOS, R.

_Car._ All hail to the powers of burgundy! Three flasks to my own share! What sorrows can stand against three flasks of burgundy? I was a damned melancholy fellow this morning, going to shoot myself, to get rid of my troubles.--Where are my troubles now? Gone to the moon, to look for my wits; and there I hope they'll remain together, if one cannot come back without t'other. But where is this indolent dog, Julio? He fit to receive appointments from ladies! Sure I have not missed the hour--No, but seven yet--[_Looking at his watch._]--Seven's the hour, by all the joys of burgundy! The rogue must be here--let's reconnoitre. [_Retires_, R.

_Enter_ VICTORIA _and_ OLIVIA, _veiled_, L. U. E.

_Oliv._ Positively, mine's a pretty spark, to let me be first at the place of appointment. I have half resolved to go home again, to punish him.

_Vict._ I'll answer for its being but half a resolution--to make it entire, would be to punish yourself.--There's a solitary man--is not that he?

_Oliv._ I think not. If he'd please to turn his face this way----

_Vict._ That's impossible, while the loadstone is the other way. He is looking at the woman in the next walk. Can't you disturb him?

_Oliv._ [_Screams._] Oh! a frightful frog!

[CARLOS _turns on_ R.

_Vict._ Heavens, 'tis my husband!

_Oliv._ Your husband! Is that Don Carlos?

_Vict._ It is indeed.

_Oliv._ Why, really, now I see the man, I don't wonder that you are in no hurry for your weeds. He is moving towards us.

_Vict._ I cannot speak to him, and yet my soul flies to meet him.

_Car._ Pray, lady, what occasioned that pretty scream? I shrewdly suspect it was a trap.

_Oliv._ A trap! ha! ha! ha!--a trap for you!

_Car._ Why not, madam? Zounds, a man near six feet high, and three flasks of burgundy in his head, is worth laying a trap for.

_Oliv._ Yes, unless he happens to be trapped before. 'Tis about two years since you was caught, I take it--do keep farther off!--Odious! a married man!

_Car._ The devil! is it posted under every saint in the street, that I am a married man?

_Oliv._ No, you carry the marks about you; that rueful phiz could never belong to a bachelor. Besides, there's an odd appearance on your temples--does your hat sit easily?

_Car._ By all the thorns of matrimony, if----

_Oliv._ Poor man! how natural to swear by what one feels--but why were you in such haste to gather the thorns of matrimony? Bless us! had you but looked about you a little, what a market might have been made of that fine, proper, promising person of yours.

_Car._ Confound thee, confound thee! If thou art a wife, may thy husband plague thee with jealousies, and thou never be able to give him cause for them; and if thou art a maid, may'st thou be an old one! [_Going_, R. _meets_ DON JULIO.] Oh, Julio, look not that way; there's a tongue will stun thee!

_Julio._ Heaven be praised! I love female prattle. A woman's tongue can never scare me. Which of these two goldfinches makes the music?

_Car._ [_Crosses to_ VICTORIA.] Oh, this is as silent as a turtle--[_Taking_ VICTORIA'S _hand_.]--only coos now and then,--Perhaps you don't hate a married man, sweet one?

_Vict._ You guess right; I love a married man.

_Car._ Hah, say'st thou so? wilt thou love me?

_Vict._ Will you let me?

_Car._ Let thee, my charmer! how I'll cherish thee for't. What would I not give for thy heart!

_Vict._ I demand a price, that, perhaps, you cannot give--I ask unbounded love; but you have a wife.

_Car._ And, therefore, the readier to love every other woman; 'tis in your favour, child.

_Vict._ Will you love me ever?

_Car._ Ever! yes, ever; till we find each other dull company, and yawn, and talk of our neighbours for amusement.

_Vict._ Farewell! I suspected you to be a bad chapman, and that you would not reach my terms. [_Going._]

_Car._ Nay, I'll come to your terms, if I can;--but move this way; [_Crosses_, L.] I am fearful of that woodpecker at your elbow--should she begin again, her noise will scare all the pretty loves that are playing about my heart. Don't turn your head towards them; if you like to listen to love tales, you'll meet fond pairs enough in this walk. [_Forcing her gently off._

_Julio._ I really believe, though you deny it, that you are my destiny--that is, you fated me hither. See, is not this your mandate? [_Taking a letter from his pocket._

_Oliv._ Oh, delightful! the scrawl of some chambermaid: or, perhaps, of your valet, to give you an air. What is it signed? Marriatornes? Tomasa? Sancha?

_Julio._ Nay, now I am convinced the letter is yours, since you abuse it: so you may as well confess?

_Oliv._ Suppose I should, you can't be sure that I do not deceive you.

_Julio._ True; but there is one point in which I have made a vow not to be deceived; therefore, the preliminary is, that you throw off your veil.

_Oliv._ My veil!

_Julio._ Positively! if you reject this article, our negotiation ends.

_Oliv._ You have no right to offer articles, unless you own yourself conquered.

_Julio._ I own myself willing to be conquered, and have, therefore, a right to make the best terms I can. Do you accede to the demand?

_Oliv._ Certainly not.

_Julio._ You had better.

_Oliv._ I protest I will not.

_Julio._ [_Aside._] My life upon't, I make you. Why, madam, how absurd this is!--yet, 'tis of no consequence, for I know your features, as well as though I saw them.

_Oliv._ How can that be?

_Julio._ I judge of what you hide, by what I see--I could draw your picture.

_Oliv._ Charming! pray begin the portrait.

_Julio._ Imprimis, a broad high forehead, rounded at the top, like an old-fashioned gateway.

_Oliv._ Oh, horrid!

_Julio._ Little gray eyes, a sharp nose, and hair, the colour of rusty prunella.

_Oliv._ Odious!

_Julio._ Pale cheeks, thin lips, and----

_Oliv._ Hold, hold, thou vilifier! [_Throws off her veil; he sinks on one knee._] There! yes, kneel in contrition for your malicious libel.

_Julio._ Say, rather, in adoration. What a charming creature!

_Oliv._ So, now for lies on the other side.

_Julio._ A forehead formed by the graces; hair, which cupid would steal for his bow-strings, were he not engaged in shooting through those sparkling hazel circlets, which nature has given you for eyes; lips! that 'twere a sin to call so; they are fresh gathered rose leaves, with the fragrant morning dew still hanging on their rounded surface.

_Oliv._ Is that extemporaneous, or ready cut, for every woman who takes off her veil to you?

_Julio._ I believe, 'tis not extemporaneous; for Nature, when she finished you, formed the sentiment in my heart, and there it has been hid, till you, for whom it was formed, called it into words.

_Oliv._ Suppose I should understand, from all this, that you have a mind to be in love with me; would not you be finely caught?

_Julio._ Charmingly caught! if you'll let me understand, at the same time, that you have a mind to be in love with me.

_Oliv._ In love with a man! Heavens! I never loved any thing but a squirrel!

_Julio._ Make me your squirrel--I'll put on your chain, and gambol and play for ever at your side.

_Oliv._ But suppose you should have a mind to break the chain?

_Julio._ Then loosen it; for, if once that humour seizes me, restraint won't cure it. Let me spring and bound at liberty, and when I return to my lovely mistress, tired of all but her, fasten me again to your girdle, and kiss me while you chide.

_Oliv._ Your servant--to encourage you to leave me again?

_Julio._ No; to make returning to you, the strongest attraction to my life. Why are you silent?

_Oliv._ I am debating, whether to be pleased or displeased, at what you have said.

_Julio._ Well?

_Oliv._ You shall know when I have determined. My friend and yours are approaching this way, and they must not be interrupted.

_Julio._ 'Twould be barbarous--we'll retire as far off as you please.

_Oliv._ But we retire separately, sir; that lady is a woman of honour, and this moment of the greatest importance to her. You may, however, conduct me to the gate, on condition that you leave me instantly.

_Julio._ Leave her instantly--oh, then I know my cue. [_Exit together_, R. U. E.

_Enter_ CARLOS L., _followed by_ VICTORIA, _unveiled_.

_Car._ [_Looking back on her._] My wife!

_Vict._ Oh, Heavens! I will veil myself again. I will hide my face for ever from you, if you will still feast my ears with those soft vows, which, a moment since, you poured forth so eagerly.

_Car._ My wife!--making love to my own wife!

_Vict._ Why should one of the dearest moments of my life be to you so displeasing?

_Car._ So, I am caught in this snare, by way of agreeable surprise, I suppose.

_Vict._ 'Would you could think it so!

_Car._ No, madam! by Heaven, 'tis a surprise fatal to every hope with which you may have flattered yourself. What! am I to be followed, haunted, watched!

_Vict._ Not to upbraid you. I followed you because my castle, without you, seemed a dreary desert. Indeed, I will never upbraid you.

_Car._ Generous assurance! never upbraid me--no, by Heavens! I'll take care you never shall. She has touched my soul, but I dare not yield to the impression. Her softness is worse than death to me! [_Aside._]

_Vict._ 'Would I could find words to please you!

_Car._ You cannot; therefore leave me, or suffer me to go, without attempting to follow me.

_Vict._ Is it possible you can be so barbarous?

_Car._ Do not expostulate; your first vowed duty is obedience--that word so grating to your sex.

_Vict._ To me it was never grating; to obey you has been my joy; even now, I will not dispute your will, though I feel, for the first time, obedience hateful. [_Going, and then turning back._] Oh, Carlos! my dear Carlos! I go, but my soul remains with you. [_Exit_, L.

_Car._ Oh, horrible! had I not taken this harsh measure, I must have killed myself; for how could I tell her that I have made her a beggar? better she should hate, detest me, than that my tenderness should give her a prospect of felicity, which now she can never taste. Oh, wine-created spirit! where art thou now? Madness, return to me again! for reason presents me nothing but despair.

_Enter_ JULIO, _from the top_, R. U. E.

_Julio._ Carlos, who the devil can they be? my charming little witch was inflexible. I hope yours has been more communicative.

_Car._ Folly! Nonsense!

_Julio._ Folly! Nonsense! What, a pretty woman's smile!--but you married fellows have neither taste nor joy.

_Car._ Pshaw! [_Crosses, and exit_, R.

_Julio._ Pshaw! that's a husband! Humph--suppose my fair one should want to debase me into such an animal; she can't have so much villany in her disposition: and yet, if she should? pho! it won't bear thinking about. If I do so mad a thing, it must be as cowards fight, without daring to reflect on the danger. [_Exit_, R.