ACT I.

+Scene+--_Don Antonio's house._

_Enter +Don Henrique+._

+Don H.+ How happy are the men of easy phlegm, Born on the confines of indifference: Holding from nature the securest tenure, The peaceful empire o'er themselves; which we, Th' unhappy men of fire, without the aids Of mighty reason or almighty grace, Are all our lives contending for in vain, 'Tis evident, that solid happiness Is founded on the conquest of our passions; But since they are the favourites of sense, Self-love bribes reason still in their defence: Thus in a calm I reason; but when cross'd, The pilot quits the helm, and I am toss'd.

_Enter +Silvio+._

+Sil.+ Sir, Don Carlos is without.

+Don H.+ Wait on him in.

_Enter +Don Carlos+._

+Don C.+ Cousin, methinks this day hath longer seem'd Than usual; since 'tis so far advanc'd Without our seeing one another.

+Don H.+ If I had not been hinder'd by some business, I should, ere this, have seen you, t' have told you Some pleasing news I lately have receiv'd: You have so often borne with my distempers, 'Tis fit that once, at least, you should partake Of my good-humour.

+Don C.+ What cause soever has produc'd this change, I heartily rejoice in the effect; And may it long continue.

+Don H.+ I can inform you by experience now, How great a satisfaction 'tis to find A heart and head eas'd of a weighty care; For a gentleman of my warm temper, Jealous of the honour of his family, (As yet ne'er blemish'd) to be fairly freed From the tuition of an orphan sister, Rich, beautiful and young.

+Don C.+ You know, Don Henrique, for these thirteen years, That I have been with the like province charg'd: An only sister, by our parents' will (When they were call'd from all[41] their cares below) Committed to my trust, much more expos'd To the great world than yours; and, sir, unless Nearness of blood deceive me, short of few In those perfections which invite the gallants: Yet, thanks to my temper, cousin, as well As to her virtue, I have seen her grow, Even from her childhood to her dangerous age, Without the least disturbance to my rest; And when with equal justice I reflect On the great modesty and circumspection Of lovely Porcia, I conclude that you Might well have slept as undisturb'd as I.

+Don H.+ Sir, I complain not of my sister's conduct; But you know well, young maids are so expos'd To the invasion of audacious men, And to the malice of their envious sex, You must confess the confines of their fame Are never safe till guarded by a husband. 'Tis true, discreet relations ought to use Preventions of all kinds; but, dear Carlos, The blemish once receiv'd, no wash is good For stains of honour but th' offender's blood.

+Don C.+ Y' are too severe a judge of points of honour.

+Don H.+ And therefore, having not long since receiv'd The news that Don Antonio de Mendoza Is likely to be here this night from Flanders, To whom my sister, by th' intervention O' th' Marquis d'Olivera, is contracted, I will not close these eyes, till I have seen Her and my cares safe lodg'd within his arms.

+Don C.+ I find your travels, cousin, have not cur'd you Of that innate severity to women, Urg'd justly as a national reproach To all of us abroad. The rest o' th' world Lament that tender sex amongst us here, Born only to be honourable prisoners; The greater quality, the closer kept: Which cruelty is reveng'd upon ourselves, Whilst, by immuring those whom most we love, We sing, and sigh only to iron gates. As cruel is that overcautious custom By proxy to contract parties unknown To one another; this is only fit For sovereign princes, whose high qualities Will not allow of previous interviews: They sacrifice their love to public good, Consulting interest of state and blood; A custom which as yet I never knew Us'd amongst persons of a lower rank Without a sequel of sad accidents. Sir, understand me right; I speak not this By way of prophecy: I am no stranger To Don Antonio's reputation, Which I believe so just, I no way doubt Your sister's being happy in him.

+Don H.+ Don Carlos, let us quit this argument: I am now going to our noble friend And kinsman, the corregidor, to see If he'll oblige us with his company At my sister's wedding. Will you come along?

+Don C.+ Most willingly, as soon as I have brought My sister hither, who has given this evening To her cousin Porcia.

+Don H.+ I have business, cousin, by the way; I'll go before, and wait you i' th' Piazza. Your servant, sir. [_+Don Henrique+ waits on him to the door. Exit +Don Carlos+._

+Don H.+ This kinsman is my bosom friend; and yet, Of all men living, I must hide from him My deep resentments of his sister's scorn. That cruel maid, to wound me to the heart, Then close her ears against my just complaints! But though as yet I cannot heal my wound, I may by my revenge upon my rival Divert the pain; and I will drive it home. There's in revenge a balm which will appease The present grief, till[42] time cure the disease. [_Exit +Don Henrique+._

_Enter +Porcia+._

+Por.+ My heart is so oppress'd with fear and grief, That it must break, unless it finds relief; The man I love is forc'd to fly my sight, And like a Parthian[43] kills me in his flight: One, whom I never saw, I must embrace, Or else destroy the honour of my race. A brother's care, more cruel than his hate: O, how perplex'd are the intrigues of fate!

_Enter +Don Carlos+_ and +Camilla+.

+Don C.+ Cousin, I thought my sister's company Would not displease you, whilst I wait upon Your brother in a visit.

+Por.+ Sir, you oblige me with a welcome favour. I rather should have styl'd it charity To bring a friend to her, whose cruel fate Has robb'd her of herself. [_Aside._

+Cam.+ Methinks, 'tis pity that a wall should make The houses two of friends so entirely one As you and I, and our two brothers, are.

+Por.+ If it be true that lovers live much more There where they love than where they breathe, I'm sure No walls can sever us: we're still together.

+Don C.+ Were I not much engag'd, I would not quit So sweet a conversation; but, sister, At my return I'll wait upon you home.

+Por.+ For this night, cousin, pray let her be mine, I beg it of you both.

+Don C.+ You may command; we are both yours. [_Exit +Don Carlos+._ [_+Porcia+ throws herself on +Camilla's+ neck._ Where, freely breathing out my grief, I might Some mitigation from thy pity find! But since there's no true pity without pain, Why should I ease by thy affliction gain?

+Cam.+ Ah, Porcia! if compassion suffering be, And to condole be pain, my destiny Will full revenge in the same kind afford, Should I but my unequall'd griefs relate, And you but equally participate.

+Por.+ If yours, as mine, from love-disasters rise, Our fates are more allied than families.

+Cam.+ What to our sex and blooming age can prove An anguish worthy of our sighs but love?

+Por.+ 'Tis true, Camilla, were your fate like mine, Hopeless to hold, unable to resign.

+Cam.+ Let's tell our stories, then we soon shall see Which of us two excels in misery.

+Por.+ Cousin, agreed.

+Cam.+ Do you begin then.

+Por.+ You know, Camilla, best how generously, How long, and how discreetly, Don Octavio Has serv'd me; and what trials of his faith And fervour I did make, ere I allow'd him The least hope to sustain his noble love. Cousin, all this you know: 'twas in your house We had our interviews, where you were pleas'd To suffer feign'd addresses to yourself, To cover from my watchful brother's eyes The passion which Octavio had for me.

+Cam.+ My memory in this needs no refreshing.

+Por.+ And how one evening (O that fatal hour!) My brother, passing by Don Carlos' house With his great friend and confidant, Don Pedro, Did chance to see th' unfortunate Octavio In your balcony entertaining me: Whom not believing there he took for you; My back being towards him, and both dress'd alike. Enraged with jealousy, this cruel man (To whom all moderation is unknown) Resolves to stamp all your neglects of him In's suppos'd rival, poor Octavio's, heart. They take their stand i' th' corner of our street; And after some little time Octavio, Free from suspicion as design of ill, Retires: they assault him, and in's own defence He kills Don Pedro, and is forc'd to fly. My brother cruelly pursues him still With such insatiate thirst after revenge, That nothing but Octavio's blood can quench: Covering his ill-nature and suspicion With the resentment of Don Pedro's death.

+Cam.+ Is this the sum of your sad story, Porcia? Is this all?

+Por.+ No, no, Camilla, 'tis the prologue only: The tragedy will follow. This brother, To whose impetuous will my deceas'd parents (May their souls rest in peace!) having condemn'd Me and my fortune, treats me like a slave: So far from suffering me to make my choice, That he denounces death if I refuse; And now, to frustrate all my hopes at once, Has very lately made me sign a contract To one in Flanders whom I never saw,[44] And is this night (they say) expected here.

+Cam.+ Is such a rigour possible, dear Porcia?

+Por.+ Was ever misery like mine, Camilla? Reduc'd to such extremes, past all relief? If I acquaint my brother with my love T' Octavio, the man whom he most hates, I must expect the worst effects of fury: If I endeavour to forget Octavio, Even that attempt renews his memory, And heightens my disquiet: if I refuse To marry, I am lost: if I obey, I cast Octavio and myself away. Two such extremes of ill no choice admit. Each seems the worst; on which rock shall I split? Since, if I marry, I cannot survive, And not to marry were to die alive.

+Cam.+ Your story, I confess, is strangely moving; Yet if you could my fortune weigh with yours In scales of equal sensibility, You would not change your sufferings for mine.

+Por.+ What can there be in Nature more afflicting, Than to be torn from th' object of my love, And forc'd t' embrace a man whom I must hate?

+Cam.+ Have you not known that object of your love, And entertain'd the person you esteem? Have you not heard, and answer'd to his sighs? Has he not borne his part in all your cares? Do you not live and reign within his heart?

+Por.+ I doubt no more his faith than my hard fate.

+Cam.+ Tell me, dearest Porcia--if I love one, Whom I shall never see: suff'ring as much Without the means of e'er expressing it, As what I suffer is above expression; If all my sighs wander in fleeting air, And ne'er can reach his ears for whom they're form'd; If all my passion, all my killing cares, Must be for ever to their cause unknown; If their sad weight must sink me to my grave Without one groan, that he can ever hear, Or the least hope that I should e'er obtain Ease by's pity or cure by his disdain-- If this the state of my misfortune be (As heaven, that has decreed it, knows it is) Say, dearest Porcia, do you envy me?

+Por.+ What overcruel laws of decency Have struck you dumb? Have you misplac'd your love? On such a party as you dare not own?

+Cam.+ No, no, the cause is worthy of th' effect: For though I had no passion for this person, I were ungrateful if I should not give The first place in my heart to such high merit.

+Por.+ If he had been so happy to deserve Your love, why are not you so just to let Him know it?

+Cam.+ 'Tis impossible. Ah, that dismal word Clearly states the difference of our fortunes! You in your first adventure have been cross'd, But I, before I can set out, am lost.

+Por.+ Pray, make me comprehend this mystery.

+Cam.+ It is t' open my wounds afresh, dear Porcia; But you must be obey'd---- [_After a little pause._ His excellence the Conde d'Oniate, Being sent ambassador to th' emperor, We, having the honour to be near allied To's lady, went with him. My brother Was desir'd by her to make that journey: Whose tenderness for me not suffering him To let me stay behind, I was engag'd, And treated by th' ambassadress my cousin With more respect than I could ever merit.

+Por.+ She is a lady fam'd for great civility.

+Cam.+ We had not pass'd much time i' th' emperor's court, When my dear brother unexpectedly By urgent business was call'd back to Seville. In our return (passing too near a garrison Of th' enemy's) our convoy was surpris'd And routed by a party of their horse----

+Por.+ Camilla, you begin to raise my fears.

+Cam.+ We, being pris'ners, were hurried straight away To th' enemy's quarters, where my ill fate Made me appear too pleasing to the eyes Of their commander, who at first approach Pretends to parley in a lover's style, Protesting that my face had chang'd our fortunes, And him my captive made: but finding soon, How little he advanc'd in his design By flattery and his feign'd submission, He shifts his person, calls me his prisoner, And swears my virgin treasure was his prize: But yet protests he had much rather owe it To my indulgence than his own good-fortune. And so, through storms and calms, the villain still Pursues his course to his accursed end; But finding me inflexible to his threats As well as fawnings, he resolves to use The last and uncontrolled argument Of impious men in power--force.

+Por.+ Ah, poor Camilla! where was your dear[45] brother At a time of such distress?

+Cam.+ My brother? he, alas! was long before Borne away from me in the first encounter; Where having certainly behav'd himself As well became his nation and his name, Remain'd sore wounded in another house.

+Por.+ Prythee, make haste to free me from this fright.

+Cam.+ The brute approaches, and by violence Endeavours to accomplish his intent: I invocate my guardian angel, and resist, But with unequal force, though rage supplied Those spirits which my fear had put to flight. At length, grown faint with crying out and striving, I spied a dagger by the villain's side, Which snatching boldly out, as my last refuge, With his own arms I wound the savage beast: He at the stroke unseiz'd me, and gave back. So guilt produces cowardice. Then I, The dagger pointing to my breast, cried out, Villain, keep off, for, if thou dost persist, I'll be myself both sacrifice and priest: I boldly now defy thy lust and hate; She, that dares choose to die, may brave her fate!

+Por.+ O, how I love and envy thee at once! [_+Porcia+ starts to her, and kisses her._ Go on, brave maid.

+Cam.+ Immediately the drums and trumpets sound, Pistols go off, and a great cry, _To arms, To arms!_ The lustful satyr flies. I stand, Fix'd with amazement to the marble floor, Holding my guardian dagger up aloft, As if the ravisher had threaten'd still.

+Por.+ I fancy thee, Camilla, in that brave posture, Like a noble statue which I remember To have seen of the enraged Juno, When she had robb'd Jove of his thunderbolt.

+Cam.+ Freed from this fright, my spirits flow'd so fast To the forsaken channels of my heart, That they, who by their orderly access Would have supported life, by throngs oppress: O'ercharg'd with joy, I fell into a swoon, And that, which happen'd during this interval,[46] Is not within the circle of my knowledge.

+Por.+ Y' have rais'd me to a mighty expectation: Will the adventure answer it, Camilla?

+Cam.+ At my return to life, op'ning my eyes, Think, dearest Porcia, how I was astonish'd To find there, kneeling by my side, a man Of a most noble form, who bowing to me: Madam (says he) y' are welcome to the world: Pardon, I pray, the boldness of a stranger, Who humbly sues t' you to continue in it: Or, if you needs will leave us, stay at least Until I have reveng'd your wrongs, and then I'll wait upon you to the other world; For, you withdrawn, this will a desert seem, And life a torment.

+Por.+ High gallantry, cousin, for the first address!

+Cam.+ 'Twas so surprising, that my confusion Check'd my reply; but I suppose my looks Did speak the grateful language of my heart; For I perceiv'd an air of joy enlighten His manly face; but, O, how soon 'twas clouded By fresh alarms! we heard the soldiers cry, Where's Antonio? the enemy is rallied, And coming on to give a second charge! He started up, and with a mien that mark'd The conflict 'twixt his honour and his love, Madam (says he) the soul was never yet With such convulsion from the body torn, As I from you; but it must ne'er be said That Don Antonio de Mendoza Follows those in dangers whom he ought to lead. Thus the vanquish'd conqueror disappear'd, Leaving that image stamp'd upon my heart To which I all the joys must sacrifice Of the poor remnant of my wretched life; If properly to live I may be said, When all my hopes of seeing him are dead. [_She puts her handkerchief to her eyes._

+Por.+ Though you have kept this part of your adventure Still from me--

+Cam.+ And from everybody living.

+Por.+ I have observ'd the signs of smother'd grief: I've often seen those lovely eyes much swoll'n. Those are true tears, Camilla, which are stol'n. But what said you was his name, Camilla?

+Cam.+ Antonio de Mendoza.

+Por.+ O heavens! Antonio de Mendoza!

_Enter +Don Henrique+._

+Don H.+ I'm pleased to find you speaking of your husband.

+Cam.+ What's that I hear? her husband! [_Aside._

+Don H.+ Have you the letter ready I desir'd you To write to him? I'll send a servant with it To meet him on the way; 'twill show respect.

+Por.+ You know my obedience, brother.

+Don H.+ 'Tis well, sister.

_Enter +Silvio+._

+Sil.+ Sir, here's a servant of Don Antonio Newly alighted at the gate: he's come Post from his master, charg'd with letters for you.

+Don H.+ I could not have receiv'd more welcome news. Go, bring him in. Sister, you may withdraw.

[_Exeunt +Porcia+ and +Camilla+._

_Enter +Ernesto+ and +Silvio+._

+Ern.+ Sir, Don Antonio kisses your hands, And sends me to present this letter to you.

[_He gives a letter to +Don Henrique+. +Don Henrique+ opens it, and, having read it to himself, says_--

+Don H.+ I'm glad to find by's letter he's in health; Yet methinks, friend, he writes but doubtfully Of's being here this night, as I expected.

+Ern.+ His letter, I suppose, sir, speaks his purpose.

+Don H.+ I'll answer't, and despatch you presently: In the meanwhile, go: make him welcome, Silvio. [_Exeunt +Silvio+ and +Ernesto+._ I would to heaven he were arriv'd; I grow Each minute more impatient. As bodies Near the centre move with more violence, So when we approach the ends of our designs, Our expectations are the more intense, And our fears greater of all cross-events. [_Exit +Don Henrique+._

_Enter +Silvio+, +Ernesto+, +Geraldo+, +Pedro+, +Bernardino+, +Jago+, with some cups of chocolate._

+Sil.+ Methinks, camerade, a sup of chocolate Is not amiss after a tedious journey-- Your master's health, sir. [_He drinks._

+Ern.+ I'll do you reason, sir.[47]

+Sil.+ Pray, how long is't, brother, since you left Spain?

+Ern.+ 'Tis now five years and upwards since I went From Seville with my master into Flanders, The king's fencing-school, where all his subjects Given to fighting are taught the use of arms, And notably kept in breath.

+Sil.+ Your master, I am sure, has got the fame To be a per'lous man in that rough trade.

+Ern.+ He's a brave soldier, envy must confess it.

+Ped.+ It seems so, faith, since merely by the force Of his great reputation he can take Our bright young mistress in without a siege.

+Ern.+ If I mistake not, she will be reveng'd On him ere long, and take him too by th' force Of her rare wit and beauty.

+Ped.+ Sh' has a fair Portion, sir, of both, I dare assure you.

+Sil.+ But prythee, brother, instruct us a little; Tell us, what kind of country is this Holland, That's so much talk'd of, and so much fought for?

+Ern.+ Why, friend, 'tis a huge ship at anchor, fraught With a sort of creatures made up of turf And butter.

+Ped.+ Pray, sir, what do they drink in that country? 'Tis said, there's neither fountains there Nor vines.

+Ern.+ This is the butler, sure, by his apt question. [_Aside._ Friend, they drink there a certain muddy liquor, Made of that grain with which you feed your mules.

+Ped.+ What, barley? can that juice quench their thirst?

+Ern.+ You'd scarce believe it could, did you but see How oft they drink.

+Ped.+ But methinks that should make them drunk, camerade?

+Ern.+ Indeed most strangers are of that opinion; But they themselves believe it not, because They are so often.

+Ger.+ A nation, sure, of walking tuns, the world Has not the like.

+Ern.+ Pardon me, friend, there is but a great ditch Betwixt them and such another nation; If these good fellows would but join, and drink That dry, i' faith they might shake hands.

+Ger.+ Prythee, friend, can these Dutch Borachios[48] fight?

+Ern.+ They can do even as well, for they can pay Those that can fight.

+Sil.+ But where, I pray, sir, do they get their money?

+Ern.+ O sir, they have a thriving mystery; They cheat their neighbouring princes of their trade, And then they buy their subjects for their soldiers.

+Sil.+ Methinks our armies should beat these butter-boxes. Out of the world.

+Ern.+ Trust me, brother, they'll sooner beat our armies Out of their country: why, ready money, friend, Will do much more in camps, as well as courts, Than a ready wit, I dare assure you.

+Ger.+ Methinks, camerade, our king should have more money Than these Dutch swabbers; he's master o' th' Indies, Where money grows.

+Ern.+ But they have herrings which, I assure you, Are worth our master's mines.

+Ger.+ Herrings! why, what a devil, do they grow In their country?

+Ern.+ No, faith, they fish 'em on the English coast, And fetch their salt from France; then they pickle 'em, And sell 'em all o'er the world.

+Ger.+ 'Slife, these rascals live by cookery!

+Ern.+ This is the coddled cook, I've found him out. [_Aside._

+Ber.+ What kind of beds, sir, have they i' that country?

+Ern.+ This, I dare swear, 's the groom o' th' chamber. [_Aside._ Sir, they have certain niches in their walls,[49] Where they climb up o' nights; and there they stew In their own grease till morning.

+Jago.+ Pray, sir, give me leave to ask you one question: What manner of women have they in that country?

+Ern.+ The gentleman-usher, upon my life! [_Aside._ Pray excuse me, sir: we gentlemen-soldiers Value ourselves upon our civility To that soft sex; and in good faith they are The softest of that sex I ever met with.

+Jago.+ Does any of our Spaniards ever marry With'em?

+Ern.+ Yes, some lean families, that have a mind To lard their progeny.

+Sil.+ What, a' God's name, could come into the heads Of this people to make them rebel?

+Ern.+ Why, religion; that came into their heads A' God's name.

+Ger.+ But what a devil made the noblemen Rebel? they never mind religion.

+Ern.+ Why, that which made the devil himself rebel-- Ambition.

+Sil.+ This is a pleasant fellow. [_Aside._ I find you gentlemen-soldiers want no wit.

+Ern.+ When we're well paid, sir, but that's so seldom, I find that gentleman wants wit that is A soldier. Your company's very good, But I have business which requires despatch.

+Ped.+ Will you not mend your draught before you go?

+Ern.+ I thank you, sir, I have done very well.

+All.+ Your servant, your servant, &c. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Camilla+, +Porcia+, +Flora+._

+Por.+ Was e'er disaster like to mine, Camilla?

+Cam.+ Was e'er misfortune, Porcia, like to mine?

+Por.+ That I must never see Octavio more?

+Cam.+ That I again must Don Antonio see, Yet never see him mine?

+Por.+ I, to be married to the man I hate!

+Cam.+ And I, to have the man I love torn from me!

+Por.+ I am, by robbing of my friend, undone!

+Cam.+ I, for not hind'ring of the theft, am lost!

+Por.+ Ye powers, who these entangled fortunes give, Instruct us how to die or[50] I how to live. [_She weeps._

+Cam.+ Cousin, when we should act, then to complain Is childishly to beat the air in vain. These descants on our griefs only perplex; Let's seek the remedy. You know, our sex This honour bears from men, in exigents Of love never to want expedients.

+Por.+ You have awaken'd me, give me your veil: [_+Porcia+ takes off +Camilla's+ veil, and puts it on herself._ Quickly, dear cousin, quickly; and you, Flora, Run presently, and see whether my brother Be settled to despatch Antonio's man. [_Exit +Flora+._

+Cam.+ What mean you, Porcia?

+Por.+ If once my brother be set down to write, I may securely reckon one hour mine; For he is so extravagantly jealous, That he distrusts the sense of his own words, And will weigh a subscription to a scruple, Lest he should wrong his family by his style: Therefore, I'll serve myself of[51] this occasion To see Octavio, and to let him know That all our hopes are ready to expire, Unless he finds some prompt expedient For our relief.

+Cam.+ Pray, how and where d' you hope to speak with him?

+Por.+ At his own house, where he lies yet conceal'd: 'Tis not far off, and I will venture thither.

+Cam.+ D' you know the way?

+Por.+ Not very well; but Flora's a good guide.

_Enter +Flora+ hastily._

+Flo.+ O madam! he's coming already.

+Por.+ Ah, spiteful destiny! Come, let's retire Into my chamber, cousin. [_Exeunt +Porcia+ and +Camilla+._

_Enter +Don Henrique+ and +Ernesto+._

+Don H.+ If you desire to see her, friend, you may.

+Ern.+ I should be glad to acquaint my master, sir, That I have had the honour to see his bride.

+Don H.+ Where's your lady, Flora?

+Flo.+ She's in her chamber, sir.

+Don H.+ Tell her, Antonio's man attends her here, To do his duty to her ere he goes. [_Exit +Flora+._ Stay here: you'll find her with a kinswoman, In her home dress without a veil; but you Are privileg'd by your relation for this access: I'll go despatch my letter. [_Exit +Henrique+._

_Enter +Camilla+, +Porcia+, and +Flora+. +Ernesto+ addresses himself to +Camilla+, seeing her without a veil._

+Ern.+ Madam, I have been bold to beg the honour Of seeing your ladyship, to make myself More welcome to my lord at my return.

+Por.+ A rare mistake! further it, dear Camilla! Who knows what good this error may produce? [_Aside._

+Cam.+ Friend, in what state left you your lord and mine?

+Ern.+ As happy as the hopes of being yours Could make him, madam.

+Cam.+ I would the master were as easily deceiv'd. [_Aside._ I pray present my humble service to him; And let him know that I am very glad He has pass'd his journey so successfully-- Give him the letter, Flora.[52] Farewell, friend. [_Exeunt +Camilla+, +Porcia+, and +Flora+._

+Ern.+ Now, by my life, she is a lovely lady; My master will be ravish'd with her form. I hope this blind bargain, made by proxy, May prove as happy a marriage as those Made after th' old fashion, chiefly for love, And that this unseen beauty may have charms To bring him back to his right wits again From his wild ravings on an unknown dame, Whom, as he fancies (once upon a time) He recover'd from a trance, that's to say From a sound sleep, which makes him dream e'er since. I'll hasten to him with this pleasing news. [_Exit +Ernesto+._

+Cam.+ My melancholy could hardly hinder me From laughing at the formal fool's mistake. But, tell me, did not I present your person With rare assurance? The way for both to thrive Is to make me your representative.

+Por.+ Most willingly; and I am confident, When you your charms shall to his heart apply, You all your rivals safely may defy.

+Cam.+ I wish I could be vain enough to hope it. But, cousin, my despairs are so extreme, I can't be flatter'd, though but in a dream.

+Flo.+ Madam, do we go, or what do you resolve on?

+Por.+ I must resolve, but know not what to choose.

+Cam.+ Cousin, take heed, I am afraid you venture Too much: your brother cannot tarry long, And if at his return he finds you missing----

+Por.+ Y' have reason; th' opportunity is lost. What is't o'clock, Flora?

+Flo.+ I think, near seven, for the clock struck six Just as Camilla enter'd the chamber.

+Por.+ Quick then, Flora, fetch your veil; you shall carry My tablets to Octavio; there he'll find The hour and place where I would have him meet. [_Exit +Flora+._

+Cam.+ 'Tis well resolv'd; but where do you design Your meeting.

+Por.+ In the remotest part of all the garden, Which answers, as you know, to my apartment; And Flora has the key of the back-door.

+Cam.+ As the case stands, you choose the fittest place. [_+Flora+ returns veiled._

+Por.+ Cousin, I beg your patience whilst I write. [_+Porcia+ writes in her tablets._

+Cam.+ You, Mistress Flora, by this accident May chance to see your faithful lover Diego.

+Flo.+ He is a faithful lover of himself--[53] Without a rival, madam.

+Cam.+ Damsel, your words and thoughts hardly agree; For could we see his image in your heart, 'Twould be a fairer far than e'er his glass Reflected.

+Flo.+ Madam, I am not yet so very old, That I should doat.

+Cam.+ Nor yet so very young but you may love: Dotage and love are cousin-germans, Flora.

+Flo.+ Yes, when we love and are not lov'd again; [_Smiling._ For else I think they're not so near akin.

+Cam.+ I have touch'd a nettle, and stung myself. [_Aside._

+Por.+ Make all the haste you can, pray, Flora.

+Flo.+ Madam, I'll fly. Should I not play my part, I were to blame, Since all my fortune's betted on her game. [_Aside._ Madam, has Octavio the other key Belonging to the tablets?

+Por.+ Yes, yes; I pray, make haste. [_Exit +Flora+._

+Cam.+ Cousin, pray, call for Mirabel, and let her Divert us with a song.

+Por.+ Who waits there?

Page, bid Mirabel come in, and Floridor With his lute, and send in somebody with chairs.

+Cam.+ Pray, cousin, let her sing her newest air.

+Por.+ What you please.

+Cam.+ Tell me, prythee, whose composition was it?

+Por.+ Guess, and I'll tell you true. [_They bring in chairs._

+Cam.+ Octavio's?

+Por.+ Y' are i' th' right.

_Enter +Mirabel+ and +Floridor+._

+Por.+ Mirabel, sing "Mistaken Kindness."

+The Song.+[54]

_Can Luciamira so mistake, To persuade me to fly? 'Tis cruel-kind for my own sake To counsel me to die; Like those faint souls, who cheat themselves of breath, And die for fear of death._

_Since love's the principle of life, And you the object lov'd, Let's, Luciamira, end this strife, I cease to be remov'd. We know not what they do are gone from hence, But here we love by sense._

_If the Platonics, who would prove Souls without bodies love, Had, with respect, well understood, The passions i' the blood, Th' had suffer'd bodies to have had their part And seated love i' the heart._ [_Exeunt +Mirabel+ and +Floridor+._

+Por.+ What discord there's in music, when the heart, Untun'd by trouble, cannot bear a part!

+Cam.+ In vain we seek content in outward things; 'Tis only from within where quiet springs. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[39] In this list of characters three very unimportant personages, Mirabel, Floridor, and a Page, are omitted.--_Collier._

[40] This play, in the third edition from which it is here printed, received some additions and improvements. The first performance of it was at court; and on its appearance on the stage at the Duke's Theatre it met with great applause, and was acted thirteen nights successively. Echard, in the preface to his translation of Terence, gives it this general character, that it "is one of the pleasantest stories that ever appeared upon our stage, and has as much variety of plots and intrigues, without anything being precipitated, improper or unnatural, as to the main action." In the year 1767, Mr Hull made some alterations in it, with which it was acted at Covent Garden Theatre about nine nights, under the title of "The Perplexities." To the second edition were prefixed complimentary verses by James Long, J. Evelyn, A. Cowley Jasper Nedham, M.D., Lod. Carlile, Chr. Wase, William Joyner, and one copy signed Melpomene. In Sir Wm. Davenant's Works, p. 339, is a prologue written by him, addressed to the Lord Chancellor, on the acting of this play at the Inner Temple.

[41] Till now the measure was spoiled by the omission of the word _all_. The four editions read the line as it now stands. The play has been hitherto very carelessly printed, and a few of the errors are pointed out in the notes.--_Collier._ [But it must be added that even Mr Collier left the text and (more particularly) the punctuation in so corrupt a state, that many passages were unintelligible.]

[42] [Former edits., _and_.]

[43] Prior has adopted this image--

"So when the Parthian turn'd his steed, And from the hostile camp withdrew, He backward sent the fatal reed, Secure of conquest as he flew."

--Poems, i. 40, edit. 1778.

[44] This speech is very much altered from the first and second editions, where it stands that Don Henrique has already married Porcia

"By proxy To one in Flanders."

--_Collier._

[45] This word was omitted by Reed and Dodsley.--_Collier._

[46] The author has not been very strict in the observance of his metre in any part of the play, and in this respect the changes he made in the third edition were sometimes injurious. Thus in the two earlier copies this line, which would have read very well if _in_ had been substituted for _during_, is given as follows--

"And what was done in this parenthesis."

It was a point gained, however, to get rid of the figure.--_Collier._

[47] [I'll pledge you. See Nares, edit. 1859, p. 216.]

[48] [Literally a bottle. See Halliwell in _v._]

[49] [Cupboard beds, similar to those still used throughout Holland among the humbler classes.]

[50] [Former edits., _and_.]

[51] [Former edits., _on_.]

[52] This is hardly intelligible, as it stands here and in the third edition. In the two earlier copies, Porcia says to Flora on entering--

"If thou lov'st me, get him away quickly Before my brother come, and give him this. [_She gives +Flora+ a letter_."

--_Collier._ [There does not appear to be any obscurity here. In a subsequent scene, Ernesto delivers the letter handed to him by Flora from Camilla, whom he mistakes for Porcia.]

[53] [_Of himself_ seems to be used here in the sense of by himself, _per se_, standing alone.]

[54] The song, and its introduction, were new in the copy of 1671.--_Collier._