SCENE III.—_An Apartment in DON ALONSO’S House.

_Enter CLARA, EUGENIA, MARI NUÑO, etc._

_Clara._ Here, take my mantle, Mari. Oh, I wish we had a chaplain of our own in the house, not to go abroad through the crowded streets!

_Eug._ And I, that church were a league of crowded street off, and we obliged to go to it daily.

_Mari._ I agree with Señora Clara.

_Brigida._ And I with Señora Eugenia.

_Mari._ And why, pray?

_Brig._ Oh, madam, I know who it is deals most in sheep’s eyes.

_Enter DON ALONSO._

_Alon._ (_talking to himself as he enters_). How lucky he should have pitcht on the very one I wanted! (_Aloud._) Oh, Eugenia, I would speak with you. Nay, retire not, Clara, for I want you to pardon me for the very thing Eugenia is to thank me for.

_Clara._ A riddle, sir. I pardon you?

_Alon._ Listen, both of you. Your cousin Don Torribio has declared his love for Eugenia: and though I could have wished to marry you, Clara, first, and to the head of our house too, yet my regret at your missing it is almost cancelled by the joy of your sister’s acceptance.

_Clara._ And so with me, believe me, sir. I am well content to be slighted so long as she is happy: which may she be with my cousin these thousand years to come. (_Aside._) Oh, providential rejection!

[_Exit._

_Torribio_ (_peeping in_). Ah! what a wry face she makes!

_Alon._ And you, Eugenia, what say you?

_Eug._ (_aside_). Alas! surprise on surprise! (_Aloud._) Nay, sir, you know, I hope, that I am ever ready to obey you.

_Alon._ I looked for nothing else of you.

_Torr._ Nor I.

_Alon._ Your cousin is waiting your answer in his chamber. I will tell him the good news, and bring him to you.

[_Exit._

_Eug._ Only let him come! Alas!

_Torr._ (_entering_). How lightly steps a favour’d lover forth! Give you joy, cousin.

_Eug._ The wretch!

_Torr._ Being selected by the head of your house.

_Eug._ Sir, one word, I wouldn’t marry you if it should cost me my life.

_Torr._ Ah, you are witty, cousin, I know.

_Eug._ Not to you, sir. And now especially, I mean to tell you sober truth, and abide by it, so you had better listen. I tell you once again, and once for all, I wouldn’t marry you to save my life!

_Torr._ Cousin! After what I heard you tell your father?

_Eug._ What I said then was out of duty to him; and what I now say is out of detestation of you.

_Torr._ I’ll go and tell him this, I declare I will.

_Eug._ Do, and I’ll deny it. But I mean it all the same, and swear it.

_Torr._ Woman, am I not your cousin?

_Eug._ Yes.

_Torr._ And head of the family?

_Eug._ I dare say.

_Torr._ An Hidalgo?

_Eug._ Yes.

_Torr._ Young?

_Eug._ Yes.

_Torr._ Gallant?

_Eug._ Very.

_Torr._ And disposed to you?

_Eug._ Very possibly.

_Torr._ What do you mean then?

_Eug._ Whatever you choose, so long as you believe I mean what I say. I’ll never marry you. You might be all you say, and fifty other things beside, but I’ll never marry any man without a capacity.

_Torr._ Capacity! without a Capacity! I who have the family estate, and my ancestors painted in a row on the patent in my saddle-bags! I who—

_Enter ALONSO._

_Alon._ Well, nephew, here you are at last; I’ve been hunting every where to tell you the good news.

_Torr._ And what may that be, pray?

_Alon._ That your cousin Eugenia cordially accepts your offer, and—

_Torr._ Oh, indeed, does she so? I tell you she’s a very odd way of doing it then. Oh uncle, she has said that to me I wouldn’t say to my gelding.

_Alon._ To you?

_Torr._ Ay, to me—here—on this spot—just now.

_Alon._ But what?

_Torr._ What? why, that I had no Capacity! But I’ll soon settle that; I either have a Capacity or not—If I have, she lies; if not, I desire you to buy me one directly, whatever it may cost.

_Alon._ What infatuation!

_Torr._ What, it costs so much, does it? I don’t care, I’ll not have it thrown in my teeth by her or any woman; and if you won’t, I’ll go and buy a Capacity, and bring it back with me, let it cost—ay, and weigh—what it will.

[_Exit._

_Alon._ Nephew, nephew! Stop him there!

_Enter CLARA and EUGENIA._

_Clara._ What is the matter, sir?

_Alon._ Oh, graceless girl, what have you been saying to your cousin?

_Eug._ I sir? Nothing.

_Alon._ Oh! if you deceive me! But I must first stop his running after a Capacity!

[_Exit._

_Eug._ What can I have done?

_Clara._ Nay, attempt not dissimulation with me, who know how you would risk even your advancement for a sarcasm.

_Eug._ It was all for your sake, if I did, Clara.

_Clara._ For my sake! oh, indeed, you think I can have no lovers but what you reject? Poor little fool! I could have enough if I chose to lay out for them as some do; but many will pluck at an apple who will retire from a fortress.

_Eug._ Hark! they are coming back; I dare not face them both as yet.

[_Exit._

_Enter DON FELIX._

_Fel._ Permit me, madam—

_Clara._ Who is this?

_Fel._ One, madam, Who dares to ask one word with you.

_Clara._ With me?

_Fel._ Indeed with you.

_Clara._ You cannot, sir, mean me.

_Fel._ Once more, and once for all, with you indeed; Let me presume to say so, knowing well I say so in respect, not in presumption.

_Eug._ (_peeping_). Why, whom has my staid sister got with her?

_Clara._ With me! My very silence and surprise Bid you retire at once.

_Fel._ Which I will do When you will let this silence speak to you With less offence perhaps than could my tongue.

(_Offering her a letter._)

_Eug._ Oh, if he would but try if fort or apple!

_Clara._ A letter too!—for me!

_Fel._ And, madam, one It most imports your honour you should read. For, that being once in question, I make light That my friends’ lives, Don Juan and Don Pedro, Are in the balance too.

_Eug._ Don Juan! Don Pedro!

_Clara._ What, sir, is this to me, who neither know Don Juan, nor Don Pedro, nor yourself?

_Fel._ Having then done my duty to my friends, And (once again I say ’t) to yourself, madam, Albeit in vain—I’ll not offend you more By my vain presence. (_Going._)

_Clara._ Nay, a moment—wait. I must clear up this mystery. Indeed, I would not be discourteous or ungrateful: But ere I thank you for your courtesy, Know you to whom you do it?

_Fel._ To Donna Eugenia.

_Clara._ Well, sir?

_Eug._ Oh, the hypocrite!

_Fel._ You are the lady?

_Clara._ Enough—give me the letter, and adieu.

_Eug._ I can forbear no longer. (_Coming out._) Sister, stop! Oh! what to do!—the letter—

_Clara._ Well?

_Eug._ I tell you My father and my cousin are coming up, And if they see—

_Clara._ Well, if they see? what then! I wish them both to see and hear it all. (_Calling._) Sir! Father! Cousin! Otañez!

_Alon._ (_within_). Clara’s voice?

_Fel._ What to do now?

_Eug._ Alas, to tell the truth, When I but wish’d to lie!

_Clara_ (_calling_). This way, sir, here!

_Eug._ Will you expose us both? In here! in here!

[_She hides FELIX behind arras._

_Enter ALONSO, TORRIBIO, MARI NUÑO, OTAÑEZ, etc._

_Alon._ What is the matter?

_Clara._ There is some one in the house, sir. A man—I saw him stealing along the corridor, towards the garret.

_Brigida._ It must be a robber.

_Alon._ A robber?

_Mari._ What more likely in a rich Indian’s house?

_Alon._ I’ll search the house.

_Torr._ I’ll lead the forlorn hope, though that garret were Maestricht itself. Now, cousin, you shall see if I’ve a Capacity or not.

[_Exeunt ALONSO and the men._

_Clara._ Do you two watch in the passage. (_Exeunt MARI NUÑO and BRIGIDA._) And now, sir, the door is open, give me the letter and begone.

_Fel._ Adieu, madam, neglect not its advice.

_Eug._ Alas, alas, she has it!

_Fel._ She’s all too fair! come, honour, come, and shame False love from poaching upon friendship’s game!

[_Exit._

_Re-enter ALONSO, etc._

_Alon._ We can see nothing of him, daughter.

_Clara._ Nay, sir, he probably made off when the alarm was given. Take no more trouble.

_Alon._ Nay, we’ll search the whole house.

_Torr._ What do you say to my Capacity now, cousin?

[_Exeunt ALONSO, TORRIBIO, etc._

_Clara._ You see, Eugenia, in what your enterprises end. At the first crack, you faint and surrender. I have done all this to show you the difference between talking and doing. And now go; I have got the letter, and want to read it.

_Eug._ And so do I! but—

_Clara._ Go! I am mistress now. (_Exit EUGENIA._) May they not have written to me under cover of her name? let me see. (_Reads._) ‘Let not him offend honour by the very means he takes to secure it; at least let his good intention excuse his ill seeming. Don Juan, more than ever enamoured of you, hangs about your doors; Don Pedro follows every step you take; they are both in my house; it is impossible but the secret must soon escape both, who must then refer their rivalry to the sword, and all to the scandal of your name. You can, by simply disowning both, secure their lives, your own reputation, and my peace of mind as their friend and host. Adieu!’

Oh what perplexing thoughts this little letter Buzzes about my brain, both what it says, And leaves unsaid!—oh, can it be for me? And is the quiet nun really belov’d Under the cover of an idle flirt? Or is it but for her—the vain, pert thing, Who thinks her eye slays all it looks upon? If it be so, and she, not I, is lov’d, I yet may be reveng’d—

_Eug._ (_entering_). On whom?

_Clara._ Eugenia! This letter that has fallen to my hands, But meant for you—

_Eug._ Oh, I know all about it.

_Clara._ Know all about it! know then that two men Are even now following your steps like dogs To tear your reputation between them, And then each other for that worthless sake, And yet—

_Eug._ A moment, you shall see at once How easily I shall secure myself, And them, and supersede your kind intentions. Signor Don Pedro! (_Calls at the window._)

_Clara._ What are you about?

_Eug._ Listen and you will hear.

_Clara._ You dare not do it!

_Eug._ My father’s safely lockt up in his room, (Thanks to the gout your false alarm has brought.) My cousin gone to buy capacities, And now’s my time. (_Calling at the window._)

Don Pedro! Signor Don Pedro!

_Ped._ (_coming below to the window_). He well may wait to have his name thrice call’d When such a goddess—

_Eug._ Listen, sir, to me. It is because, I say, _because_ this room, Away from father’s and duenna’s ears, Allows some harmless speech, it also bars All nearer access than the ears and eyes Of father or duenna both could do. But, seeing harm of harmless trifling come, I now entreat, implore, command you, sir, To leave this window and my threshold clear, Now and for ever!

_Ped._ Hear me—

_Eug._ Pardon me, I cannot.

_Ped._ But this once—

_Eug._ If you persist I must be rude.

_Ped._ Oh, how do worse than—

_Eug._ (_shutting the blinds down_). Thus!

_Clara._ And to your other gallant?

_Eug._ Why not think If he were here, I’d do the same to him? Oh, Clara, be assured my levities Are but the dust on youth’s butterfly wing, Though prudes and sinners too take fright at them; Like that benighted traveller, you know, Who, frighted by a shallow brook that jump’d And bubbled at his right, swerved to the left And tumbled into one that lay quite still, But deep enough to drown him for his pains.

[_Exit._

_Clara._ What, did she hear what to myself I said? Or saw my colour change from white to red? Or only guess’d me waiting for the prey Her idle chatter ought to fright away? If chance have done more than all prudence could, Prudence at least may make occasion good. And if these lovers by mistake should woo, Why (by mistake) should I not listen too? And teach the teacher, to her proper cost, Those waters are least deep that prattle most.