Part 24

Don _Ped._ You talk, _Alvarada_, like a perfect Stranger to that Tenderness methinks every Son shou'd feel for a good Father: For my part, I've receiv'd such repeated Proofs of an uncommon Affection from mine, that the Loss of a Mistress could scarce touch me nearer. You'll believe me, when you see me leave _Leonora_ a Virgin, till I have seen the good old Man.

Don _John._ That will be a Proof, indeed; Heaven's Blessing must needs fall upon so dutiful a Son; but I don't know how its Judgments may deal with so indifferent a Lover.

Don _Ped._ O! I shall have Time enough to repair this seeming small Neglect: But before I go, pray a Word or two with you alone. _Lopez_, wait without. [_Exit ~Lop~._] You see, my dearest Friend, I am engag'd with _Leonora_; perhaps I have done wrong; but 'tis gone too far, to talk or think of a Retreat; I shall I go directly from this Place to the Altar, and there seal the eternal Contract. That done, I'll take Post to see my Father, if I can, before he dies. I leave then here a young and beauteous Bride; but that which touches every String of Thought, I fear, I leave her wishing I were _Guzman_. If it be so, no doubt he knows it well; and he that knows he's lov'd by _Leonora_, can let no fair Occasion pass to gain her; my Absence is his Friend, but you are mine, and so the Danger's balanc'd. Into your Hands, my Dear, my faithful _Alvarada_, [_Embracing him._] I put my Honour, I put my Life; for both depend on _Leonora_'s Truth. Observe her Lover, and----neglect not her. You are wise, you are active, you are brave and true. You have all the Qualities that Man shou'd have for such a Trust; and I by consequence have all the Assurance Man can have, you'll, as you ought, discharge it.

Don _John._ A very hopeful Business you wou'd have me undertake, keep a Woman honest!--'Sdeath, I'd as soon undertake to keep _Portocarero_ honest. Look you, we are Friends, intimate Friends; you must not be angry if I talk freely. Women are naturally bent to Mischief, and their Actions run in one continued Torrent till they die. But the less a Torrent's check'd, the less Mischief it does; let it alone, perhaps 'twill only kiss the Banks and pass; but stop it, 'tis insatiable.

Don _Ped._ I wou'd not stop it; but cou'd I gently turn its Course where it might run, and vent itself with Innocence, I wou'd. _Leonora_ of herself is virtuous; her Birth, Religion, Modesty and Sense, will guide her Wishes where they ought to point. But yet, let Guards be what they Will, that Place is safest that is ne'er attack'd.

Don _John._ As far as I can serve you, in hind'ring _Guzman_'s Approaches, you may command me.

Don _Ped._ That's all I ask.

Don _John._ Then all you ask is granted.

Don _Ped._ I am at ease, farewel.

Don _John._ Heaven bring you safe to us again.

[_Exit Don ~Ped~._

_Don ~John~ solus._

Yes, I shall observe her, doubt it not. I wish no body may observe me, for I find I'm no more Master of myself. Don _Guzman_'s Passion for her adds to mine; but when I think on what Don _Pedro_ will reap, I'm Fire and Flame. Something must be done: What, let Love direct, for I have nothing else to guide me.

_Enter ~Lopez~._

_Lop._ [_Aside._] Don _Pedro_ is mounting for his Journey, and leaves a young, warm, liquorish Hussy with a watry Mouth, behind him----Hum--If she falls handsomely in my Master's Way, let her look to her----hist--there he is. Doing what? Thinking? That's new. And if any Good comes on't, that will be newer still.

Don _John._ [_Aside._] How! Abuse the Trust a Friend reposes in me? And while he thinks me waking for his Peace, employ the stretch of Thought to make him wretched?

_Lop._ Not to interrupt your pious Meditations, Sir, pray have you seen----Seen what, Fool? Why he can't see thee. I'gad, I believe the little blind Bastard has whipt him through the Heart in earnest.

Don _John._ [_Aside._] _Pedro_ wou'd never have done this by me----How do I know that?----Why----he swore he was my Friend----Well; and I swore I was his----Why then if I find I can break my Oath, why should not I conclude he will do as much by his?

_Lop._ [_Aside._] His Countenance begins to clear up: I suppose Things may be drawing to a Conclusion.

Don _John._ [_Aside._] Ay, 'tis just so: And I don't believe he wou'd have debated the Matter half so long as I have done: I'gad I think I have put myself to a great Expence of Morality about it. I'm sure, at least, my Stock's out. But I have a Fund of Love, I hope may last a little longer. O, are you there, Sir!

[_Seeing ~Lop~._

_Lop._ I think so, Sir; I won't be positive in any thing.

Don _John._ Follow me: I have some Business to employ you in, you'll like.

[_Exit Don ~John~._

_Lop._ I won't be positive in that neither. I guess what you are going about--There's Roguery a-foot: This is at _Leonora_, who I know hates him; nothing under a Rape will do't----He'll be hang'd----And then, what becomes of thee, my little _Lopez_?----Why, the Honour to a----dingle dangle by him. Which he'll have the Good-nature to be mighty sorry for. But I may chance to be beforehand with him: If we are not taken in the Fact, they'll perhaps do him the Honour to set a Reward upon his Head. Which if they do, Don, I shall go near to follow your moral Example, secure my Pardon, make my Fortune, and hang you up for the Good of your Country.

[_Exit._

+ACT+ III.

+SCENE+, _Don_ Felix's _House_.

_Enter Don ~Felix~, Don ~Pedro~, ~Leonora~, and ~Jacinta~._

Don _Fel._ How, Son! oblig'd to leave us immediately, say you?

Don _Ped._ My ill Fortune, Sir, will have it so.

_Leo._ [_Aside._] What can this be?

Don _Fel._ Pray, what's the Matter? You surprise me.

Don _Ped._ This Letter, Sir, will inform you.

Don _Fel._ [Reads.] _My dear Son, ~Bertrand~ has brought me the welcome News of your Return, and has given me your Letter; which has in some Sort reviv'd my Spirits in the Extremity I am in. I daily expect my Exit from this World. 'Tis now six Years since I have seen you; I shou'd be glad to do it once again before I die: If you will give me that Satisfaction, you must be speedy. Heaven preserve you._

[_~To Don~ Ped._] 'Tis enough: The Occasion I'm sorry for, but since the Ties of Blood and Gratitude oblige you, far be it from me to hinder you. Farewel, my Son, may you have a happy Journey; and if it be Heaven's Will, may the sight of so good a Son revive so kind a Father. I leave you to bid your Wife adieu.

[_Exit ~Don~ Fel._

Don _Ped._ I must leave you, my lovely Bride; but 'tis with bitter Pangs of Separation. Had I your Heart to chear me on my Way, I might with such a Cordial run my Course: But that Support you want the Power to give me.

_Leo._ Who tells you so?

Don _Ped._ My Eyes and Ears, and all the Pains I bear.

_Leo._ When Eyes and Ears are much indulg'd, like favourite Servants they are apt to abuse the too much Trust their Master places in 'em.

Don _Ped._ If I'm abus'd, assist me with some fair Interpretation of all that present Trouble and Disquiet, which is not in my Power to overlook, nor yours to hide.

_Leo._ You might methinks have spar'd my Modesty; and without forcing me to name your Absence, have laid my Trouble there.

Don _Ped._ No, no, my Fair Deluder, that's a Veil too thin to cover what's so hard to hide; my Presence not my Absence is the Cause. Your cold Reception at my first Approach, prepar'd me for the Stroke; and 'twas not long before your Mouth confirmed my Doom: Don _Guzman_, I am yours.

_Leo._ Is't then possible the Mouth shou'd utter one Name for another?

Don _Ped._ Not at all, when it follows the Dictates of the Heart.----

_Leo._ Were it even so, what Wrong is from that Heart receiv'd, where Duty and where Virtue are its Rulers?

Don _Ped._ Where they preside, our Honour may be safe, yet our Minds be on the Rack.

_Leo._ This Discourse will scarce produce a Remedy; we'll end it, therefore, if you please, and leave the rest to Time: Besides, the Occasion of your Journey presses you.

Don _Ped._ The Occasion of my Delay presses you, I fear, much more; you count the tedious Minutes I am with you, and are reduc'd to mind me of my Duty, to free yourself from my Sight.

_Leo._ You urge this thing too far, and do me wrong. The Sentiments I have for you are much more favourable than your Jealousy suffers 'em to appear. But if my Heart has seem'd to lean another way, before you had a Title to it, you ought not to conclude I shall suffer it to do so long.

Don _Ped._ I know you have Virtue, Gratitude and Truth; and therefore 'tis I love you to my Ruin. Cou'd I believe you false, Contempt would soon release me from my Chains, which yet I can't but wish to wear for ever: therefore indulge at least your Pity to your Slave; 'tis the soft Path in which we tread to Love. I leave behind a tortur'd Heart to move you:

_Weigh well its Pains, think on its Passion too, } Remember all its Torments spring from you; } And if you cannot love, at least be true._ }

[_Exit Don ~Pedro~._

_Jacin._ Now by my troth, Madam, I'm ready to cry. He's a pretty Fellow, and deserves better Luck.

_Leo._ I own he does: And his Behaviour wou'd engage any thing that were unengag'd. But, alas! I want his Pity more than he does mine.

_Jacin._ You do! Now I'm of another Mind. The Moment he sees your Picture, he's in love with you; the Moment he's in love with you, he imbarks; and, like Lightning, in a Moment more, he's here: Where you are pleas'd to receive him with a Don _Guzman, I am yours_. Ah----poor Man!

_Leo._ I own, _Jacinta_, he's unfortunate, but still I say my Fate is harder yet. The irresistible Passion I have for _Guzman_, renders Don _Pedro_, with all his Merit, odious to me; yet I must in his favour, make eternal War against the Strength of Inclination and the Man I love.

_Jac._ [_Aside._] Um----If I were in her Case, I cou'd find an Expedient for all this Matter. But she makes such a Bustle with her Virtue, I dare not propose it to her.

_Leo._ Besides, Don _Pedro_ possesses what he loves, but I must never think on poor Don _Guzman_ more.

[_Weeping._

_Jac._ Poor Don _Guzman_, indeed! We han't said a Word of the Pickle he's in yet. Hark! somebody knocks----at the old Rendezvous. It's he, on my Conscience.

_Leo._ Let's be gone; I must think of him no more.

_Jac._ Yes, let's be gone; but let's know whether 'tis he or not, first.

_Leo._ No, _Jacinta_; I must not speak with him any more. [_Sighing._] I'm married to another.

_Jac._ Married to another! Well, Married to another; why, if one were married to twenty others, one may give a civil Gentleman an Answer.

_Leo._ Alas! what would'st thou have me to say to him?

_Jac._ Say to him! Why, one may find twenty Things to say to a Man: Say, that 'tis true you are married to another, and that 'twould be a--Sin to think of any Body but your Husband; and that----you are of a timorous Nature, and afraid of being damn'd; and that a----You wou'd not have him die neither: That a----Folks are mortal, and Things sometimes come strangely about, and a Widow's a Widow, and----

_Leo._ Peace, Levity [_Sighing._] But see who 'tis knocks.

_Jac._ Who's there?

_Isa._ [_Behind the Scenes._] 'Tis I, _Isabella_.

_Leo._ _Isabella!_ What do you want, my Dear?

_Isa._ Your Succour, for Heaven's sake, _Leonora_. My Brother will destroy himself.

_Leo._ Alas! it is not in my power to save him.

_Isa._ Permit him but to speak to you; that possibly may do.

_Leo._ Why have not I the Force to refuse him?

Don _Guz._ [_Behind the Scenes._] Is it you I hear, my poor lost Mistress? Am I so happy, once more to meet you, where I so often have been blest!

_Jac._ Courage, Madam, say a little something to him.

Don _Guz._ Not one kind Word to a distracted Lover? No Pity for a Wretch, you have made so miserable?

_Leo._ The only Way to end that Misery, is to forget we ever thought of Happiness!

Don _Guz._ And is that in your Power? Ah, _Leonora_, you ne'er lov'd like me.

_Leo._ How I have lov'd, to Heaven I appeal! But Heaven does now permit that Love no more.

Don _Guz._ Why does it then permit us Life and Thought? Are we deceiv'd in its Omnipotence? Is it reduc'd to find its Pleasures in its Creatures Pain?

_Leo._ In what, or where, the Joys of Heaven consist, lies deeper than a Woman's Line can fathom; but this we know, a Wife must in her Husband seek for hers, and, therefore, I must think of you no more.----Farewel.

[_Exit ~Leo~._

Don _Guz._ Yet hear me, cruel _Leonora_.

_Jac._ It must be another Time, then, for she's whipt off now. All the Comfort I can give you, is, that I see she durst not trust herself any longer in your Company. But hush, I hear a Noise, get you gone; we shall be catch'd.

_Leo._ [_Within._] _Jacinta!_

_Jac._ I come, I come, Madam.

[_Exit ~Jac~._

_Enter ~Lopez~._

_Lop._ If I mistake not, there are a Brace of Lovers intend to take some Pains about Madam, in her Husband's Absence. Poor Don _Pedro_! Well; methinks a Man's in a very merry Mood, that marries a handsome Wife: When I dispose of my Person, it shall be to an ugly one. They take it so kindly, and are so full of Acknowledgment; watch you, wait upon you, nurse you, humour you, are so fond, and so chaste. Or, if the Hussy has Presumption enough to think of being otherwise, away with her into the Mountains, fifty Leagues off; no Body opposes. If she's mutinous, give her Discipline; every Body approves on't. Hang her, says one, he's kinder than she deserves: Damn her, says another, why does not he starve her? But, if she's handsome, Ah, the Brute, cries one: Ah the _Turk_, cries t'other: Why don't she cuckold him, says this Fellow? Why does not she poison him, says that? and away comes a Pacquet of Epistles, to advise her to't. Ah poor Don _Pedro_! But enough: 'Tis now Night, all's hush and still: every Body's a-bed, and what am I to do? Why, as other trusty Domesticks, sit up to let the Thief in. But I suppose he won't be here yet; with the help of a small Nap beforehand, I shall be in a better Condition to perform the Duty of a Centinel, when I go to my Post. This Corner will just fit me: Come, _Lopez_, lie thee down, short Prayers, and to sleep.

[_He lies down._

_Enter ~Jacinta~ with a Candle in her Hand._

_Jac._ So, I have put my poor Lady to Bed, with nothing but Sobs, Tears, Sighs, Wishes, and a Pillow to mumble, instead of a Bridegroom, poor Heart.----I pity her; but every Body has their Afflictions, and by the Beads of my Grandmother, I have mine. Tell me, kind Gentlemen, if I have not something to excite you? Methinks I have a rogueish Eye, I'm sure I have a melting Heart. I'm soft, and warm, and sound, may it please ye. Whence comes it then, this Rascal _Lopez_, who now has been two Hours in the Family, has not yet thought it worth his while, to make one Motion towards me? Not that the Blockhead's Charms have moved me, but I'm angry mine han't been able to move him. I doubt, I must begin with the Lubber: my Reputation's at stake upon't, and I must rouze the Drone, somehow.

_~Lopez~ rubbing his Eyes, and coming on._

_Lop._ What a damn'd Condition is that of a Valet! No sooner do I, in comfortable Slumber, close my Eyes, but methinks my Master's upon me, with fifty Slaps o' th' Back, for making him wait in the Street. I have his Orders to let him in here to-night, and so I had e'en----Who's that?----_Jacinta!_----Yes, a-caterwauling!--like enough.

_Jac._ The Fellow's there; I had best not lose the Occasion.

_Lop._ The Slut's handsome. I begin to kindle: But if my master shou'd be at the Door----Why there let him be, till the Matter's over.

[_Aside._

_Jac._ Shall I advance?

[_Aside._

_Lop._ Shall I venture?

[_Aside._

_Jac._ How severe a Look he has!

[_Aside._

_Lop._ She seems very reserv'd.

[_Aside._

_Jac._ If he shou'd put the Negative upon me.

[_Aside._

_Lop._ She seems a Woman of great Discretion; I tremble.

[_Aside._

_Jac._ Hang it, I must venture.

[_Aside._

_Lop._ Faint Heart never won fair Lady.

[_Aside._

_Jac._ _Lopez_!

_Lop._ _Jacinta_!

_Jac._ O dear Heart! Is't you?

_Lop._ Charming _Jacinta_, fear me not.

_Jac._ O ho! he begins to talk soft----then let us take upon us again.

[_Aside._

_Lop._ Cruel _Jacinta_, whose Mouth (small as it is) has made but one Morsel of my Heart.

_Jac._ It's well he prevents me. I was going to leap about the Rascal's Neck.

[_Aside._

_Lop._ Barbare _Jacinta_, cast your Eyes On your poor _Lopez_, ere he dies.

_Jac._ Poetry too! Nay then I have done his Business.

[_Aside._

_Lop._ Feel how I burn with hot desire, Ah! pity me, and quench my Fire. Deaf, my fair Tyrant, deaf to my Woes! Nay, then, Barbarian, in it goes.

[_Drawing a Knife._

_Jac._ Why, how now, Jack Sauce? why, how now, Presumption? What Encouragement have I given you, Jack-a-lent, to attack me with your Tenders? I cou'd tear your Eyes out, Sirrah, for thinking I'm such a one. What Indecency have you seen in my Behaviour, Impudence, that you shou'd think me for your beastly Turn, you Goat, you?

_Lop._ Patience, my much offended Goddess, 'tis honourably I wou'd share your Bed.

_Jac._ Peace, I say--Mr. _Liquorish_. I, for whom the most successful Cavaliers employ their Sighs in vain, shall I look down upon a crawling Worm? Pha--See that Crop Ear there, that Vermin that wants to eat at a Table, would set his Master's Mouth a-watering.

_Lop._ May I presume to make an humble Meal upon what savoury Remnants he may leave?

_Jac._ No.

_Lop._ 'Tis hard! 'tis wondrous hard!

_Jac._ Leave me.

_Lop._ 'Tis pitiful, 'tis wondrous pitiful!

_Jac._ Begone, I say. Thus, Ladies 'tis, perhaps, sometimes with you; With Scorn you fly the Thing, which you pursue.

[_Exit ~Jac~._

_Lop._ [_Solus._] 'Tis very well, Mrs. Flipflap, 'tis very well; but do you hear----Tawdry, you are not so alluring as you think you are----Comb-brush, nor I so much in love----your Maidenhead may chance to grow mouldy with your Airs--the Pox be your Bedfellow; there's that for you. Come, let's think no more on't. Sailors must meet with Storms; my Master's going to Sea, too. He may chance to fare no better with the Lady, than I have done with her _Abigail_: There may be foul Weather there, too. I reckon, at present, he may be lying by under a Mizen, at the Street-Door; I think it rains too, for his Comfort. What if I shou'd leave him there an Hour or two, in fresco, and try to work off the Amour that Way? No; People will be physick'd their own Way. But, perhaps, I might save his Life by't----yes, and have my Bones broke, for being so officious; therefore, if you are at the Door, Don John, walk in, and take your Fortune.

[_Opens the Door._

_Enter Don ~John~._

Don _John._ Hist! hist!

_Lop._ Hist! hist!

Don _John._ _Lopez_!

_Lop._ [_Aside._] The Devil--Tread softly.

Don _John._ Are they all asleep?

_Lop._ Dead.

Don _John._ Enough; shut the Door.

_Lop._ 'Tis done.

Don _John._ Now, begone.

_Lop._ What! Shut the Door first, and then begone! Now, methinks, I might as well have gone first, and then shut the Door.

Don _John._ I bid you begone, you Dog, you, do you find the way.

_Lop._ [_Aside._] Stark mad, and always so when a Woman's in chace. But, Sir, will you keep your chief Minister out of the Secrets of your State? Pray, let me know what this Night's Work is to be.

Don _John._ No Questions, but march.

[Lop. _goes to the Door, and returns_.

_Lop._ Very well----But, Sir, shall I stay for you in the Street?

Don _John._ No, nor stir out of the House.

_Lop._ So: well, Sir, I'll do just as you have order'd me; I'll be gone, and I'll stay; and I'll march, and I won't stir, and--just as you say, Sir.

Don _John._ I see you are afraid, you Rascal, you.

_Lop._ Possibly.

Don _John_. Well, be it so; but you shan't leave the House, Sir; therefore, begone to your Hogstye, and wait further Orders.

_Lop._ [_Aside._] But, first, I'll know how you intend to dispose of yourself.

[_~Lop.~ hides behind the Door._

_Don ~John~ solus._

Don _John._ All's hush and still; and I am at the Point of being a happy----Villain. That Thought comes uninvited----Then, like an uninvited Guest, let it be treated: Begone, Intruder. _Leonora_'s Charms turn Vice to Virtue, Treason into Truth; Nature, who has made her the supreme Object of our Desires, must needs have designed her the Regulator of our Morals. Whatever points at her, is pointed right. We are all her due, Mankind's the Dower which Heaven has settled on her; and he's the Villain that would rob her of her Tribute. I, therefore, as in Duty bound, will in, and pay her mine.

_Lop._ [_Aside._] There he goes, i'faith; he seem'd as if he had a Qualm just now; but he never goes without a Dram of Conscience-Water about him, to set Matters right again.

Don _John._ [_Aside._] This is her Door, 'tis lock'd; but I have a Smith about me will make her Staple fly.

[_Pulls out some Irons, and forces the Lock._

_Lop._ [_Aside._] Hark! hark! if he is not equipt for a Housebreaker, too. Very well, he has provided two Strings to his Bow; if he 'scapes the Rape, he may be hang'd upon the Burglary.

Don _John._ [_Aside._] There, 'tis done, so: No Watch-Light burning? [_Peeping into her Chamber._] All in darkness? So much the better, 'twill save a great deal of blushing on both Sides. Methinks I feel myself mighty modest, I tremble too; that's not proper at this Time. Be firm, my Courage, I have Business for thee--So--How am I now? Pretty well. Then by your Leave, Don _Pedro_, I must supply your Neglect. You should not have married till you were ready for Consummation; a Maidenhead ought no more to lie upon a handsome Bride, than an Impeachment upon an innocent Minister.

[_~Don~ John enters the Chamber._

_Lop._ [_Coming forwards._] Well done, well done; God-a-mercy, my little _Judas_. Unfortunate Don _Pedro_! thou hast left thy Purse in the Hands of a Robber; and while thou art galloping to pay the last Duty to thy Father, he's at least upon the Trot to pay the first to thy Wife. Ah the Traitor! What a _Capilotade_ of Damnation will there be cook'd up for him! But softly: Let's lay our Ear to the Door, and pick up some Curiosities----I hear no Noise----There's no Light; we shall have him blunder where he should not do, by and by----commit a Rape upon her Tea-Table, perhaps, break all her China, and then she'll be sure to hang him. But hark--now I hear--nothing; she does not say a Word; she sleeps curiously. How if she shou'd take it all for a Dream, now? Or her Virtue shou'd be fallen into an Apoplexy? Where the Pox will all this end?

_Leo._ [_Within._] _Jacinta_! _Beatrix_! _Fernandez_! Murder! Murder! help! help! help!

_Lop._ Now the Play begins, it opens finely.

_Leo._ [_Within._] Father! _Alphonso!_ Save me, O save me!

_Lop._ Comedy or Tragedy, for a Ducat! for fear of the latter, decamp _Lopez_.

[_Exit ~Lopez~._

+SCENE+ _changes to ~Leonora~'s Bed-Chamber; discovers ~Leonora~ in a Gown, holding Don ~John~ by the Sleeve._

_Leo._ Whoever you are, Villain, you shan't escape me; and tho' your Efforts have been in vain, you shan't fail to receive the Recompence of your Attempt: Help, ho, help there! help!

[_Don ~John~ breaks from her, but can't find the Door._

Don _John._ [_Aside._] S'death, I shall be undone! Where is this damn'd Door?

_Leo._ He'll get away: a Light there, quickly.

_Enter Don ~Guzman~ with his Sword drawn._

Don _Guz._ Where are you, fair Angel? I come to lose my Life in your Defence.

Don _John._ [_Aside._] That's _Guzman_'s Voice? The Devil has sent him: But we are still in the dark; I have one _Tour_ yet--Impudence, be my Aid. Light there, ho! Where is the Villain that durst attempt the virtuous _Leonora_.

Don _Guz._ His Life shall make her Satisfaction.

Don _John._ Or mine shall fall in his pursuit.

Don _Guz._ 'Tis by my Hands that she shall see him die.

Don _John._ My Sword shall lay him bleeding at her Feet.