Chapter 82

Enter _Cleonte_, _Clarinda_ weeping, and _Dormida_ and _Francisca_.

Cleo. Fear not, I’ll use my Interest both with your Mother and my Father, to set your Heart at rest, Whose Pain I feel by something in my own.

Clar. The Gods reward your Bounty, fair _Cleonte_.

Dor. I, I, Madam, I beseech you make our Peace with my good Lady her Mother, whatsoever becomes of the rest, for she’ll e’en die with Grief— [Weeps.

She had but two fair Pledges of her Nuptial Bed. And both by cruel Fate are ravisht from her. _Manuel_ a Child was lost, And this; not holy Relicks were more strictly guarded, Till false _Marcel_ betray’d me to debauch her. [Weeps aloud.

Cleo. Alas, had you a Brother once? [To _Clarinda_.

Clar. Madam, I might have had: but he was lost e’er I was born.

Cleo. Ah! would my _Silvio_ had been so. [Aside. By what strange Accident, _Clarinda?_

Dor. Madam, I can inform you best. [Puts herself between.

Cleo. Do then, _Dormida_.

Dor. Madam, you must know, my Lady _Octavia_, for that’s her name, was in her Youth the very Flower of Beauty and Vertue: Oh such a Face and Shape! had you but seen her—And tho I say it, Madam, I thought my self too somebody then.

Clar. Thou art tedious: Madam, ’tis true my Mother had the Reputation of both those Attractions, which gain’d her many Lovers: amongst the rest, Don _Manuel_, and Don _Alonzo_, were most worthy her Esteem.

Dor. Ay, Madam, Don _Alonzo_, there was a Man for you, so obliging and so bountiful—Well, I’ll give you 309 Argument of both to me: for you must know I was a Beauty then, and worth obliging. [Puts herself between. And he was the Man my Lady lov’d, tho Don _Manuel_ were the richer: but to my own Story—

Cleo. Forward, _Clarinda_.

Clar. But as it most times happens, We marry where our Parents like, not we; My Mother was dispos’d of to Don _Manuel_.

Dor. Ay, Madam; but had you seen Don _Alonzo’s_ Rage, and how my Lady took this Disappointment—But I who was very young, and very pretty, as I told you before—

Clar. Forbear, Madam; ’tis true, _Alonzo_ was so far transported, That oft he did attempt to kill my Father; But bravely tho, and still he was prevented: But when at the Intreaties of my Mother, The King confin’d my Father, _Alonzo_ then study’d a new Revenge; And thinking that my Father’s Life depended Upon a Son he had, scarce a Year old, He did design to steal him; and one Evening, When with the Nurse and Maid he took the Air, This desperate Lover seiz’d the smiling Prize, Which never since was heard of.

Cleo. I guess the Grief the Parents must sustain.

Dor. It almost caus’d their Deaths; nor did kind Heaven Supply them with another till long after, Unhappy this was born: Which just her Father liv’d to see, and dy’d. [Weeps. Then she was Daughter, Son and Husband too,

To her afflicted Mother: But as I told you, Madam, I was then in my Prime—

Clar. Now, Madam, judge what her Despair must be, Who is depriv’d of all her Joys in me. [Weeps.

Cleo. _Francisca_, see who it is that knocks so hastily. [One knocks.

310 Franc. Oh, Madam, ’tis Don _Marcel_ leading a wounded Man.

Cleo. Oh my Fears, ’tis _Silvio!_

Franc. ’Tis not Don _Silvio_.

Enter _Marcel_, leading _Hippolyta_ wounded, followed by _Alonzo_ and _Pedro_.

Cleo. Alas, what Youth is this you lead all bleeding?

Mar. One that deserves your Care; where’s my Father?

Cleo. Not yet return’d.

Mar. ’Tis well; and you, Sir, I must confine till I know how to satisfy my Honour, and that of my wrong’d Sister. [To _Antonio_.

Ant. The holy Man will soon decide our Difference: Pray send for one, and reconcile us all.

Hip. I fear, _Antonio_, still thou dost dissemble.

Ant. So let me find Forgiveness when I die, If any fear of Death have wrought this change, But a pure Sense of all my Wrongs to thee, Knowing thy constant Love, and Virtue to me.

Mar. I will secure your fear—_Francisca_, send for Father _Joseph_ to me, and conduct these Gentlemen to the Lodgings next the Garden.

[Exeunt _Francisca_, _Antonio_ and _Hippolyta_.

Alon. Prithee, _Marcel_, are thee and I awake, or do we dream? thou, that thou art in thy Father’s House; and I, that I see those two fair Women there? Pray, lovely Fugitive, how came you hither? [To _Clarinda_.

Mar. I thought thou wert mistaken; ’Twas _Silvio_ brought her hither, that false Man. But how came you to know her?

Alon. Know her! ’slife, I question my Sense. Pray, Lady, are you Flesh and Blood? [To _Cleonte_.

Cleo. Yes surely, Sir; for ’twere pity you should have bestow’d your Heart on a Shadow, and I well remember you gave it one of us last Night.

311 Alon. A Dream, a Dream! but are you indeed the same fair Person, and is this the same House too?

Cleo. I am afraid your Heart’s not worth the keeping, since you took no better notice where you dispos’d of it.

Alon. Faith, Madam, your wrong a poor Lover, who has languish’d in search of it all this live-long day.

Cleo. Brother, I beseech you, receive the innocent _Clarinda_, who, I fear, will have the greatest Cause of Complaint against you. [To _Marcel._ Gives him to _Clarinda_.

Alon. But pray, fair one, let you and I talk a little about that same Heart you put me in mind of just now. [To _Cleonte_, with whom he seems to talk.

Ped. Surely that’s my old Mistress, _Dormida_; twenty years has not made so great an Alteration in that ill-favour’d Face of hers, but I can find a Lover there.

[Goes to her, they seem to talk earnestly, and sometimes pleasantly, pointing to _Clarinda_.

Mar. Enough, _Clarinda_: I’m too well convinc’d, Would thou hadst still remain’d a Criminal. Now how can I reward thy Faith and Love?

Clar. I know, _Marcel_, it is not in thy Power, Thy faithless Story I’m acquainted with.

Mar. Do not reproach me with my Shame, _Clarinda_. ’Tis true, to gain thee to consent to my Desires, I made an honourable Pretence of loving. Pardon a Lover all the ways he takes To gain a Mistress so belov’d and fair. But I have since repented of that Sin, And came last Night for thy Forgiveness too.

Ped. This is News indeed; ’tis fit I keep this Secret no longer from my Master. Don _Manuel_ being dead, my Vow’s expir’d. [Aside.]

[_Pedro_ goes to _Alonzo_.

Clar. And do you mean no more to love me then?

Mar. In spite of me, above my Sense or Being.

Clar. And yet you’ll marry _Flavia_.

Mar. Against my Will I must, or lose a Father.

312 Clar. Then I must die, _Marcel_.

Mar. Do not unman my Soul, it is too weak To bear the Weight of fair _Clarinda’s_ Tears. [Weeps.

Alon. Why was this Secret kept from me so long?

Ped. I was oblig’d by Vow, Sir, to Don _Alonzo_, my dead Master, not to restore you till Don _Manuel’s_ Death; believing it a Happiness too great for his Rival, for so he was upon your Mother’s score.

Alon. Have I a Mother living?

Ped. Here in Madrid, Sir, and that fair Maid’s your Sister. [Pointing to _Clarinda_.

Alon. I scarce can credit thee, but that I know thee honest.

Ped. To confirm that belief, Sir, here are the Writings of twelve thousand Crowns a Year, left you by your Foster-Father the brave _Alonzo_, whose Name he gave you too. [Gives him Papers, he reads.

Alon. I am convinc’d—How now, _Marcel_, what all in Tears? why, who the Devil would love in earnest? Come, come, make me Judge between you.

Mar. You’ll soon decide it then, my Heart’s _Clarinda’s_; But my forc’d Vows are given to another.

Alon. Vows! dost think the Gods regard the Vows of Lovers? they are things made in necessity, and ought not to be kept, nor punish’d when broken; if they were—Heaven have mercy on me poor Sinner.

Enter _Ambrosio_.

Mar. My Father return’d! [Bows, and goes to him, and then leads _Alonzo_ to him. Sir, this is the gallant Man that was design’d to be your Son-in-Law.

Amb. And that you were not so, Sir, was my misfortune only.

Alon. I am glad to find it no slight to my Person, Or unknown Quality that depriv’d me of that Honour.

313 Mar. To convince you of that, _Alonzo_, I know my Father will bestow this other Sister on you; more fair and young, and equally as rich. [_Ambrosio_ calls _Marcel_ aside.

Alon. How, his Sister! Fool that I was, I could not guess at this; and now have I been lying and swearing all this while how much I lov’d her. Well, take one time with another, a Man falls into more Danger by this amorous Humour, than he gets good turns by it.

Mar. Pardon me, Sir, I knew not you had design’d her elsewhere—Dear _Alonzo_, my Father—

Alon. Ay, Sir, I am much oblig’d to him. Oh Pox, would I were well with _Euphemia_.

Mar. I protest I could wish—

Alon. Ay, so could I, Sir, that you had made a better Judgment of my Humour: All must out, I have no other way to avoid this Compliment else. Why look ye, _Marcel_—Your Sister is—Pox, I am ill at Dissimulation, and therefore in plain Terms, I am to be married this very Evening to another.

Mar. This was happy, and has sav’d me an Excuse. [Aside. But are you in earnest, How is it possible, being so lately come into _Madrid?_

Alon. Destiny, Destiny, _Marcel_, which there was no avoiding, tho I mist of _Hippolyta_.

Mar. Who is it, prithee?

Alon. A Woman I hope, of which indeed I would have been better assur’d; but she was wilful. She’s call’d _Euphemia._

Mar. Our next Neighbour, the Daughter of old _Carlo_.

Alon. The same.

Mar. Thou art happy to make so good a Progress in so short a time, but I am—

Alon. Not so miserable as you believe. Come, come, you shall marry _Clarinda_.

Mar. ’Tis impossible.

314 Alon. Where’s the hindrance?

Mar. Her want of Fortune; that’s enough, Friend.

Alon. Stand by and expect the best— [Goes to _Ambrosio_. Sir, I have an humble Suit to you.

Amb. I shall be infinitely pleas’d you could ask me any thing in my Power; but, Sir, this Daughter I had dispos’d of, before I knew you would have mist of _Hippolyta_.

Alon. Luckier than I expected. [Aside. Sir, that was an Honour I could not merit, and am contented with my Fate: But my Request is, that you would receive into your Family a Sister of mine, whom I would bestow on Don _Marcel_.

Mar. Hah, what mean you, Sir? a Sister of yours?

Alon. Yes, she will not be unwelcome—This is she.

Amb. This is the Daughter to _Octavia_—Her Mother was a Lady whom once I did adore, and ’twas her fault she was not more happy with me, than with Don _Manuel_. Nor have I so wholly forgot that Flame, but I might be inclin’d to your Proposal: But, Sir, she wants a Fortune.

Alon. That I’ll supply.

Mar. You supply, Sir? On what kind Score, I pray?

Alon. That which you’ll suffer without being jealous, When you shall know she is indeed my Sister.

Clar. How! this brave Man my Brother?

Alon. So they tell me, and that my Name is _Manuel_. Had you not such a Brother?

Dor. Oh ye Gods, is this the little _Manuel?_

Ped. Yes, _Dormida_, and for a farther Proof see this. [Opens his Master’s Bosom and shews a Crucifix.

Dor. This I remember well, it is Don _Manuel_: Pray let me look upon you: Just like my Lord—Now may the Soul of Don _Alonzo_ rest in Peace, For making so hopeful a Man of you.

Alon. Amen. But, Sir, if you approve of my Sister, I’ll make her as worthy of _Marcel_, as _Flavia_.

Amb. I’ve lost the Hopes of her—She’s not to be reconcil’d. [Aside. 315 _Clarinda_ needs no more than to belong to you, To make her valuable—and I consent with Joy. [Gives her to _Marcel._

Mar. And I with Joys unutterable take her.

Alon. _Pedro_, there rests no more than that you wait on my Mother, and let her know all that has happen’d to my self and Sister, and that I’ll pay my Duty to her e’er I sleep.

Dor. The very Joy to find her Son again, will get my Pardon too: and then perhaps _Pedro_ and I may renew our old Amours.

Alon. Sir, I have another Request to make.

Amb. You must command, Sir.

Alon. That is, that you will permit this fair Company to honour me this Evening at my Father-in-law’s, Don _Carlo_.

Amb. How, has Don _Carlo_ married the Lady Octavia?

Alon. No, Sir, but a worse matter than that, I am to marry his Daughter.

Amb. Oh, Sir, _Euphemia_ has too much Beauty and Virtue to make you doubt your Happiness.

Alon. Well, Sir, I must venture that. But your Company I’ll expect, the Ladies may clap on their Vizards, and make a masquerading Night on’t: tho such Freedoms are not very usual in _Spain_, we that have seen the World, may absolve one another.

Amb. My Garden joins to that of Don _Carlo_, and that way we will wait on you, as soon as I have dispatcht a small Affair.

Alon. Your humble servant, Sir. [Goes out; _Ambrosio_ the other way.

Mar. Sister, go you and prepare my Father to receive _Hippolyta_, whilst I go see them married.

[Exeunt _Cleonte_ and _Clarinda_.

[_Marcel_ passing over the Garden, sees _Silvio_ enter in Passion, followed by _Francisca_.

Silv. Do not, _Francisca_—do not blow my Flame, The Cure thou bring’st is much the greater Hell. [Offers to go, but stops.

316 Mar. Hah, _Silvio!_ unseen I’ll hear the Business. [Goes aside.

Silv. I would fain shun thee, but this impious Weight Of Love upon my Soul hinders my flight: I’m fixt—like conscious Guilt it keeps me here, And I am now insensible of Fear. Speak on, thou Messenger of sacred Love—speak on.

Franc. The fair _Cleonte_, Sir, whose Soul’s inflam’d No less than yours; tho with a virgin Modesty She would conceal it, pitying now your Pain, Has thro my Intercession—

Silv. Oh quickly speak! What Happiness design’d me?

Franc. To admit you, Sir, this Night into her Chamber.

Mar. Death to my Soul! What’s this? [Aside.

Silv. Her Chamber? is that all? will that allay this Fever In my Blood?—No, no, _Francisca_, ’Tis grown too high for amorous Parleys only; Her Arms, her charming Bosom, and her Bed, Must now receive me; or I die, _Francisca_.

Franc. I mean no other, Sir; why, can you think A Maid in love as much as you can be, Assisted with the silence of the Night, (Which veils her Blushes too) can say—I dare not? Or if she do, she’ll speak it faintly o’er, And even whilst she so denies will yield. Go, go prepare your self for this Encounter, And do not dally as you did to day, And fright your Pleasure with the Name of Sister—

Mar. Oh cursed Witch! [Aside.

Franc. What say you, Sir?

Silv. That Name has check’d my Joy— And makes it strangely silent and imperfect. [Walks away.

Franc. Why do you go, before you answer me? [Follows him into the Garden.

Mar. I’ll follow him, and kill them. [Comes out with a Dagger. 317 Oh, who would be allied unto a Woman, Nature’s loose Handy-Work? the slight Imploys Of all her wanton Hours?—Oh, I could rave now— Abandon Sense and Nature. Hence, all considerate Thoughts, and in their Room, Supply my Soul with Vengeance, that may prove Too great to be allay’d by Nature, or by Love. [Goes into the Garden after them.

Enter again _Silvio_ melancholy, followed by _Francisca_.

Franc. But will you lose this Opportunity, Her Lodgings too being so near your own?

Silv. Hell take her for her Wickedness. Oh that ten thousand Mountains stood between us, And Seas as vast and raging as her Lust, That we might never meet—Oh perfect Woman! I find there is no Safety in thy Sex; No trusting to thy Innocence: That being counterfeit, thy Beauty’s gone, Dropt like a Rose o’er-blown; And left thee nothing but a wither’d Root, That never more can bloom.

Franc. Alas, I fear I have done ill in this. [Aside.

Silv. I now should hate her: but there yet remains Something within, so strangely kind to her, That I’m resolv’d to give her one proof more, Of what I have vow’d her often; yes, I’ll kill her—

Franc. How, kill her, Sir? Gods, what have I done! [Aside.

Silv. Yes, can I let her live, and say I lov’d her? No, she shall tempt no more vain yielding Men.

Franc. Consider, Sir, it is to save your Life she does it.

Silv. My Life! ’Twere better she and I were buried Quick in one Grave, than she should fall to this, She has out-sinn’d even me in this Consent.

318 Enter _Marcel_ from amongst the Trees softly with his Dagger behind _Silvio_.

Mar. Oh, here they are—

Franc. My Lord, defend your self, your are undone else.

Silv. Hah, _Marcel!_ [Draws.

Franc. Help, help.

Mar. Hell take thy Throat.

Enter _Ambrosio_, _Clarinda_, _Cleonte_, and the rest of the House.

Amb. Hold, Villain, hold. How dar’st thou thus rebel—ungrateful Wretch?

Mar. This cause, Sir, is so just, that when you hear it, You’ll curse me, that I let him live thus long: He loves my Sister, Sir; and that leud Woman Repays his lustful Flame, and does this Evening Invite him to her Bed—Oh, let me kill him. [Offers to go to him.

Amb. That he should love _Cleonte_ I’ll allow, And her returns too, whilst they are innocent.

Mar. But, Sir, he does not love her as a Sister.

Amb. If that be all his Crime, I still forgive him.

Silv. Yes, Sir, ’tis true, I do adore my Sister, But am so far from that foul thing he nam’d, That could I think I had a secret Thought That tended that way, I would search it—thus— [Goes to stab himself.

Cleo. What mean you by this Desperation?

Silv. Oh, take away this Woman from my sight. [Pointing to _Cleonte_. For she will finish what this has ill begun. [Holds his Dagger up.

Franc. Thus low, Sir, for you Mercy I must kneel; [Kneels. Which yet I must despair of, when you know 319 How very very wicked I have been. [Weeps. _Cleonte_, Sir, is chaste as Angels are.

Silv. My Sister innocent! how soon I do believe thee!

Franc. Yes, Sir, nor knows of that vile Message which I brought you.

Silv. What Devil set thee on to tempt me then?

Franc. The worst of Devils, hopeless, raging Love; And you, my Lord, were the unhappy Object.

Mar. Oh sinful Woman, what was thy Design?

Cleo. What means all this? [Aside.

Franc. At least to have enjoy’d him once; which done, Thinking that it had been the fair _Cleonte_, It would have made him hate her.

Silv. Should all thy other Sins be unrepented, The Piety of this Confession saves thee. Pardon, _Cleonte_, my rude Thoughts of thee, [Kneels, she takes him up. I had design’d to have kill’d thee— Had not this Knowledge of thy Innocence Arriv’d before I’d seen thee next. And, Sir, your Pardon too I humbly beg, [To _Ambrosio_. With license to depart; I cannot live Where I must only see my beauteous Sister; That Torment is too great to be supported, That still must last, and never hope a Cure.

Amb. Since you are so resolv’d, I will unfold A Secret to you, that perhaps may please you.

Silv. Low at your Feet I do implore it, Sir. [Kneels.

Amb. Your Quality forbids this Ceremony. [Takes him up.

Silv. How, Sir!

Amb. Your Father was the mighty Favourite, the Count _d’Olivarez_; your Mother, _Spain’s_ celebrated Beauty, _Donna Margarita Spiniola_, by whom your Father had two natural Sons, _Don Lovis de Harro_, and your self _Don Roderigo_. The Story of his Disgrace, you know, with all the World; 320 ’twas then he being banisht from the Court, he left you to my Care then very young. I receiv’d you as my own, and as more than such educated you, and as your Father oblig’d me to do, brought you always up about their Majesties; for he hoped, if you had Beauty and Merits, you might inherit part of that Glory he lost.

Mar. This is wondrous.

Amb. This Truth you had not known so soon, had you not made as great an Interest at Court as any Man so young ever did, and if I had not acquitted my self in all Points as became the Friend of so great and brave a Man, as Count _d’Olivarez_: the Fortune he left you was two Millions of Crowns.

Silv. Let me embrace your feet for this blest News. Is not the fair _Cleonte_ then my Sister?

Amb. No, Sir, but one whom long since I design’d your Wife, if you are pleas’d to think her worthy of it. [Offers her.

Silv. Without her, Sir, I do despise my Being; And do receive her as a Blessing sent From Heaven to make my whole Life happy.

Amb. What say you, _Cleonte?_

Cleo. Sir, I must own a Joy greater than is fit for a Virgin to express.

Mar. Generous Don _Roderigo_, receive me as your Friend, and pardon all the Fault you found in me as a Brother. [Embraces him.

Silv. Be ever dear unto my Soul, _Marcel_.

Mar. Now is the time to present _Hippolyta_ and _Antonio_ to my Father, whilst his Humour is so good. And you, dear Brother, I must beg to join with us in so just a Cause.

Silv. You need not doubt my Power, and less my Will.

Mar. Do you prepare him then, whilst I bring them in: for by this I know my Confessor has made them one. [Exit _Marcel_.

Silv. Sir, I’ve a Suit to you.

321 Amb. You cannot ask what I can deny.

Silv. _Hippolyta_, Sir, is married to _Antonio_, And humbly begs your Pardon for her past fault.

Amb. _Antonio_ and _Hippolyta!_ oh, name them not.

Enter _Antonio_ and _Hippolyta_, a Fryar, and _Marcel_.

Mar. Pray, Sir, forgive them, your Honour being safe, Since Don _Antonio_ has by marrying her, Repair’d the Injury he did us all, Without which I had kill’d him.

Amb. Thou art by Nature more severe than I, And if thou think’st our Honour satisfy’d, I will endeavour to forget their Faults.

Ant. We humbly thank you, Sir, and beg your Blessing, At least bestow it on _Hippolyta_; For she was ever chaste, and innocent, And acted only what became her Duty; Since by a sacred Vow she was my Wife.

Amb. How cam’st thou then to treat her so inhumanly?

Ant. In pure revenge to Don _Marcel_ her Brother, Who forc’d my Nature to a stubbornness, Which whilst I did put on, I blush to own; And still between Thoughts so unjust, and Action, Her Virtue would rise up and check my Soul, Which still secur’d her Fame.

Hip. And I have seen in midst of all thy Anger, Thou’st turn’d away, and chang’d thy Words to Sighs; Dropt now and then a Tear, as if asham’d, Not of thy Injuries, but my little Merit.

Amb. How weak and easy Nature makes me—Rise, I must forgive you both. Come, Sir, I know you long to be secur’d Of what you say you love so much, _Cleonte_.

Franc. But, Madam, have you fully pardon’d me?

Silv. We will all join in your behalf, _Francisco_.

Cleo. I can forgive you, when you can repent. [Exeunt.

322