SCENE II.

_An Apartment._

_Enter DON FERNANDO._

_Don Fer._ A wild scheme of my father's, to think of an alliance with this mad family; yes, Don Scipio's brain is certainly touched beyond cure, his daughter, my cara sposa of Italy, don't suit my idea of what a wife should be--no, the lovely novice, this poor relation of Dame Isabel, has caught my heart. I'm told to-morrow she's to be immured in a convent; what if I ask Dame Isabel, if--but she, and indeed Don Scipio, carry themselves very strangely towards me--I can't imagine what's become of my rascal Pedrillo.

_Enter PEDRILLO, in an elegant Morning Gown, Cap and Slippers._

_Ped._ Strange, the respect I meet in this family. I hope we don't take horse after my master's wedding. I should like to marry here myself,--before I unrobe I'll attack one of the maids!--Faith, a very modish dress to go courting in,--hide my livery, and I am quite gallant.

_Don Fer._ Oh here's a gentleman I ha'n't seen before!

_Ped._ Tol de rol!

_Don Fer._ Pray, sir, may I--Pedrillo, [_Surprised._] where have you--hey! what, ha! ha! ha! what's the matter with you?

_Ped._ Matter!--Why, sir, I don't know how it was, but somehow or other last night, I happened to sit down to a supper of only twelve covers, cracked two bottles of choice wine, slept in an embroider'd bed, where I sunk in down, and lay till this morning like a diamond in cotton.--So, indeed, sir, I don't know what's the matter with me.

_Don Fer._ I can't imagine how, or what it all means.

_Ped._ Why, sir, Don Scipio, being a gentleman of discernment, perceives my worth, and values it.

_Don Fer._ Then, sir, if you are a gentleman of such prodigious merit, be so obliging, with submission to your cap and gown, as to--pull off my boots.

_Enter VASQUEZ._

_Vas._ Sir, the ladies wait breakfast for you.

[_To PEDRILLO, with great respect._

_Don Fer._ My respects, I attend them.

_Vas._ You! I mean his honour here.

_Ped._ Oh, you mean my honour here.

_Don Fer._ Well, but perhaps, my good friend, I may like a dish of chocolate as well as his honour here.

_Vas._ Chocolate, ha! ha! ha!

[_With a sneer._

_Fed._ Chocolate, ha! ha! ha!

_Don Fer._ I'll teach you to laugh, sirrah!

[_Beats PEDRILLO._

_Ped._ Teach me to laugh! you may be a good master, but you've a very bad method--But, hey for chocolate and the ladies.

[_Exeunt PEDRILLO and VASQUEZ._

_Don Fer._ Don Scipio shall render me an account for this treatment; bear his contempt, and become the butt for the jests of his insolent servants! As I don't like his daughter, I have now a fair excuse, and indeed a just cause, to break my contract, and quit his castle; but then, I leave behind the mistress of my soul--Suppose I make her a tender of my heart--but that might offend, as she must know my hand is engaged to another--When I looked, she turned her lovely eyes averted--Doom'd to a nunnery!

AIR XI.--FERNANDO.

_My fair one, like the blushing rose,_ _Can sweets to every sense disclose:_ _Those sweets I'd gather, but her scorn_ _Then wounds me like the sharpest thorn._

_With sighs each grace and charm I see_ _Thus doom'd to wither on the tree,_ _Till age shall chide the thoughtless maid,_ _When all those blooming beauties fade._

Hey, who comes here? this is the smart little girl who seems so much attached to the beautiful novice--No harm to speak with her--

_Enter CATILINA._

So my pretty primrose!

_Catil._ How do you do, Mr--[_Pert and familiar._] I don't know your name.

_Don Fer._ Not know my name! You must know who I am though, and my business here, child?

_Catil._ Lord, man, what signifies your going about to sift me, when the whole family knows you're Don Fernando's footman.

_Don Fer._ Am I faith? Ha! ha! ha! I'll humour this--Well then, my dear, you know that I am only Don Fernando's footman?

_Catil._ Yes, yes, we know that, notwithstanding your fine clothes.

_Don Fer._ But where's my master?

_Catil._ Don Fernando! he's parading the gallery yonder, in his sham livery and morning gown.

_Don Fer._ Oh, this accounts for twelve covers at supper and the embroider'd bed; but who could have set such a jest going? I'll carry it on though--[_Aside._] So then after all I am known here?

_Catil._ Ay, and if all the impostors in the castle were as well known, we shou'd have no wedding to-morrow night.

_Don Fer._ Something else will out--I'll seem to be in the secret, and perhaps may come at it--[_Aside._] Ay, ay, that piece of deceit is much worse than ours.

_Catil._ That! what, then you know that this Italian lady is not Don Scipio's daughter, but Dame Isabel's, and her true name Lorenza?

_Don Fer._ Here's a discovery! [_Aside._] O yes, I know that.

_Catil._ You do! Perhaps you know too, that the young lady you saw me speak with just now is the real Donna Victoria?

_Don Fer._ Is it possible! Here's a piece of villany! [_Aside._] Charming! let me kiss you, my dear girl.

[_Kisses her._

_Catil._ Lord! he's a delightful man!

_Don Fer._ My little angel, a thousand thanks for this precious discovery.

_Catil._ Discovery!--Well, if you did not know it before, marry hang your assurance, I say--but I must about my business, can't play the lady as you played the gentleman, I've something else to do; so I desire you won't keep kissing me here all day.

[_Exit._

_Don Fer._ Why what a villain is this Don Scipio! ungrateful to--but I scorn to think of the services I rendered him last night in the forest; a false friend to my father, an unnatural parent to his amiable daughter! here my charmer comes.

[_Retires._

_Enter VICTORIA._

_Vict._ Yes, Catilina must be mistaken, it is impossible he can be the servant,--no, no; that dignity of deportment, and native elegance of manner, can never be assumed; yonder he walks, and my fluttering heart tells me this is really the amiable Fernando, that I must resign to Dame Isabel's daughter.

_Don Fer._ Stay, lovely Victoria!

_Vict._ Did you call me, sir?--Heavens, what have I said! [_Confused._] I mean, signor, would you wish to speak with Donna Victoria? I'll inform her, sir.

[_Going._

_Don Fer._ Oh, I could speak to her for ever, for ever gaze upon her charms, thus transfixed with wonder and delight.

_Vict._ Pray, signor, suffer me to withdraw.

_Don Fer._ For worlds I would not offend! but think not, lady, 'tis the knowledge of your quality that attracts my admiration.

_Vict._ Nay, signor.

_Don Fer._ I know you to be Don Scipio's daughter, the innocent victim of injustice and oppression; therefore I acknowledge to you, and you alone, that, whatever you may have heard to the contrary, I really am Fernando de Zelva.

_Vict._ Signor, how you became acquainted with the secret of my birth I know not; but, from an acquaintance so recent, your compliment I receive as a mode of polite gallantry without a purpose.

_Don Fer._ What your modesty regards as cold compliments, are sentiments warm with the dearest purpose; I came hither to ratify a contract with Don Scipio's daughter; you are she, the beautiful Victoria, destined for the happy Fernando.

_Vict._ Pray rise, signor:--My father perhaps, even to himself, cannot justify his conduct to me: But to censure that, or to pervert his intentions, would, in me, be a breach of filial duty.

AIR XII.--VICTORIA.

_By woes thus surrounded, how vain the gay smile_ _Of the little blind archer, those woes to beguile!_ _Though skilful, he misses, his aim it is cross'd,_ _His quiver exhausted, his arrows are lost._ _Your love, though sincere, on the object you lose,_ [Aside] _How sweet is the passion! Ah, must I refuse?_ _If filial affection that passion should sway,_ _Then love's gentle dictates I cannot obey._

_Don Fer._ And do you, can you, wish me to espouse Donna Lorenza, Isabella's daughter?--Say, you do not, do but satisfy me so far.

_Vict._ Signor, do not despise me if I own, that, before I saw in you the husband of Don Scipio's daughter, I did not once regret that I had lost that title.

_Don Fer._ A thousand thanks for this generous, this amiable condescension.--Oh, my Victoria! if fortune but favours my design, you shall yet triumph over the malice of your enemies.

_Vict._ Yonder is Dame Isabel, if she sees you speaking to me, she'll be early to frustrate whatever you may purpose for my advantage. Signor, farewell!

_Don Fer._ My life, my love, adieu!

AIR XIII. DUET.--VICTORIA _and_ FERNANDO.

Don Fer. _So faithful to my fair I'll prove,_ Vict. _So kind and constant to my love,_ Don Fer. _I'd never range,_ Vict. _I'd never change,_ Both. _Nor time, nor chance, my faith shall move._

Vict. _No ruby clusters grace the vine,_ Don Fer. _Ye sparkling stars forget to shine,_ Vict. _Sweet flowers to spring,_ Don Fer. _Gay birds to sing,_ Both. _Those hearts then part that love shall join._

[_Exeunt._

_Enter FERNANDO._

_Don Fer._ This is fortunate; the whole family, except Victoria, are firmly possessed with the idea that I am but the servant.--Well, since they will have me an impostor, they shall find me one: In Heaven's name, let them continue in their mistake, and bestow their mock Victoria upon my sham Fernando. I shall have a pleasant and just revenge for their perfidy; and, perhaps, obtain Don Scipio's real, lovely daughter, the sum of my wishes.--Here comes Don Scipio--Now to begin my operations.

_Enter DON SCIPIO._

[_As wishing DON SCIPIO to overhear him._] I'm quite weary of playing the gentleman, I long to get into my livery again.

_Don Scipio._ Get into his livery!

[_Aside._

_Don Fer._ These clothes fall to my share, however; my master will never wear them after me.

_Don Scipio._ His master! ay, ay.

[_Aside._

_Don Fer._ I wish he'd own himself, for I'm certain Don Scipio suspects who I am.

_Don Scipio._ Suspect? I know who you are, [_Advancing to him._] so get into your livery again as fast as you can.

_Don Fer._ Ha, my dear friend, Don Scipio, I was--

_Don Scipio._ Friend! you impudent rascal! I'll break your head, if you make so free with me. None of your swaggering, sirrah--How the fellow acts! it wasn't for nothing he was among the strolling players; but, hark ye, my lad, be quiet, for you're blown here, without the help of your trumpet.

_Don Fer._ Lord, your honour, how came you to know that I am Pedrillo?

_Don Scipio._ Why, I was told of it by your fellow--hold, I must not betray my little dreamer though--[Aside.]--No matter who told me; I--but here comes your master.

_Don Fer._ Pedrillo! The fellow will spoil all; I wish I had given him his lesson before I began with Don Scipio.

[_Aside._

_Don Scipio._ I hope he'll now have done with his gambols.

_Don Fer._ Sir, my master is such an obstinate gentleman, as sure as you stand here, he'll still deny himself to be Don Fernando.

_Don Scipio._ Will he? then I'll write his father an account of his vagaries.

_Enter PEDRILLO._

_Ped._ Master, shall I shave you this morning?

_Don Scipio._ Shave! Oh, my dear sir, time to give over your tricks and fancies.

_Ped._ [_Surprised._] My tricks and fancies!

_Don Fer._ Yes, sir, you are found out.

_Ped._ I am found out!

_Don Scipio._ So you may as well confess.

_Ped._ What the devil shall I confess?

_Don Scipio._ He still persists! Hark ye, young gentleman, I'll send your father an account of your pranks, and he'll trim your jacket for you.

_Ped._ Nay, sir, for the matter of that, my father could trim your jacket for you.

_Don Scipio._ Trim my jacket, young gentleman!

_Ped._ Why, he's the best tailor in Cordova.

_Don Scipio._ His father's a tailor in Cordova!

_Don Fer._ Ay, he'll ruin all--[_Aside._]--Let me speak to him. Tell Don Scipio you are the master.

[_Apart to PEDRILLO._

_Ped._ I will, sir--Don Scipio, you are the master.

_Don Scipio._ What!

_Don Fer._ Stupid dog!--[_Apart to PEDRILLO._]--Say you are Fernando, and I am Pedrillo.

_Ped._ I will--Sir, you are Fernando, and I am Pedrillo.

_Don Fer._ Dull rogue! [_Aside._] I told you, sir, he'd persist in it.

[_Apart to DON SCIPIO._

_Don Scipio._ Yes, I see it; but I tell you what, Don Fernando.--[_LORENZA sings without._] My daughter! Zounds! don't let your mistress see you any more in this cursed livery.--Look at the gentleman, hold up your head--egad, Pedrillo's acting was better than your natural manner.

_Don Fer._ Ah, sir, if you were to see my master dressed--the livery makes such an alteration!

_Don Scipio._ True! curse the livery.

_Ped._ It's bad enough; but my master gives new liveries on his marriage.

_Don Fer._ An insensible scoundrel!

[_Aside._

_Enter LORENZA._

_Lor._ Oh, caro, signor, every body says that you are [_To DON FERNANDO._] not Don Fernando.

_Don Scipio._ Every body's right, for here he stands like a young tailor of Cordova.

[_To PEDRILLO._

_Lor._ Oh, what? then this is Pedrillo?

[_To FERNANDO._

_Don Fer._ At your service, ma'am.

[_Bowing._

_Ped._ That Pedrillo! then, who the devil am I?

_Don Fer._ Here, rogue, this purse is yours--say you are Don Fernando.

[_Apart to PEDRILLO._

_Ped._ Oh, sir--now I understand you.--True, Don Scipio, I am all that he says.

_Don Scipio._ Hey! Now that's right and sensible, and like yourself; but I'll go bustle about our business, for we'll have all our love affairs settled this evening.

[_Exeunt DON SCIPIO and FERNANDO._

_Lor._ So, then, you're to be my husband, ha! ha! ha!

_Ped._ Eh!

_Lor._ Well, if not, I can be as cold as you are indifferent.

AIR XIV.--LORENZA.

_If I my heart surrender,_ _Be ever fond and tender,_ _And sweet connubial joys shall crown_ _Each soft rosy hour:_ _In pure delight each heart shall own_ _Love's triumphant pow'r._ _See brilliant belles admiring,_ _See splendid beaux desiring,_ _All for a smile expiring,_ _Where'er Lorenza moves._ _To balls and routs resorting,_ _O bliss supreme, transporting!_ _Yet ogling, flirting, courting,_ _'Tis you alone that loves._

_If I my heart surrender, &c._

[Exeunt.

ACT THE THIRD.