Chapter 15

_Enter two Servants of Don_ RODORICK'S, _placing chairs, and talking as they place them_.

_1 Serv_. Make ready quickly there; Don Manuel And his fair sister, that must be our lady, Are coming in.

_2 Serv_. They have been long expected; 'Tis evening now, and the canonic hours For marriage are past.

_1 Serv_. The nearer bedtime, The better still; my lord will not defer it: He swears, the clergy are no fit judges Of our necessities.

_2 Serv_. Where is my lord?

_1 Serv_. Gone out to meet his bride.

_2 Serv_. I wonder that my lady Angelina Went not with him; she's to be married too.

_1 Serv_. I do not think she fancies much the man: Only, to make the reconcilement perfect Betwixt the families, she's passive in it; The choice being but her brother's, not her own.

_2 Serv_. Troth, were't my case, I cared not who chose for me.

_1 Serv_. Nor I; 'twould save the process of a tedious passion, A long law-suit of love, which quite consumes An honest lover, ere he gets possession: I would come plump, and fresh, and all my self, Served up to my bride's bed like a fat fowl, Before the frost of love had nipped me through. I look on wives as on good dull companions, For elder brothers to sleep out their time with; All, we can hope for in the marriage-bed, Is but to take our rest; and what care I, Who lays my pillow for me?

_Enter a Poet with verses_.

_1 Serv_. Now, what's your business, friend?

_Poet_. An epithalamium, to the noble bridegrooms.

_1 Serv_. Let me see; what's here? as I live, [_Takes it_. Nothing but downright bawdry: Sirrah, rascal, Is this an age for ribaldry in verse; When every gentleman in town speaks it With so much better grace, than thou canst write it? I'll beat thee with a stave of thy own rhymes.

_Poet_. Nay, good sir--[_Runs off, and Exit_.

_2 Serv_. Peace, they are here.

[_Enter_ Don RODORICK, _Don_ MANUEL, JULIA, _and Company_.

_1 Serv_. My lord looks sullenly, and fain would hide it.

_2 Serv_. Howe'er he weds Don Manuel's sister, yet I fear he's hardly reconciled to him.

_Jul_. I tremble at it still.

_Rod_. I must confess Your danger great; but, madam, since 'tis past, To speak of it were to renew your fears. My noble brother, welcome to my breast. Some, call my sister; say, Don Manuel, Her bridegroom, waits.

_Man_. Tell her, in both the houses There now remains no enemy but she.

_Rod_. In the mean time let's dance; madam, I hope You'll grace me with your hand.--

[_Enter_ LEONORA, _woman to_ ANGELINA; _takes the two men aside_.

_Leon_. O sir, my lady Angelina--

_Rod_. Why comes she not?

_Leon_. Is fallen extremely sick.

_Both_. How?

_Leon_. Nay, trouble not yourselves too much; These fits are usual with her, and not dangerous.

_Rod_. O rarely counterfeited. [_Aside_.

_Man_. May not I see her?

_Leon_. She does, by me, deny herself that honour. [_As she speaks, steals a note into his hand_. I shall return, I hope, with better news; In the mean time she prays, you'll not disturb The company. [_Exit _LEONORA.

_Rod_. This troubles me exceedingly.

_Man_. A note put privately into my hand By Angelina's woman? She's my creature: There's something in't; I'll read it to myself.-- [_Aside_.

_Rod_. Brother, what paper's that?

_Man_. Some begging verses, Delivered me this morning on my wedding.

_Rod_. Pray, let me see them.

_Man_. I have many copies, Please you to entertain yourself with these. [_Gives him another paper_. MANUEL _reads_.

SIR, _My lady feigns this sickness to delude you: Her brother hates you still; and the plot is, That he shall marry first your sister, And then deny you his_.--

_Yours_, LEONORA.

POSTSCRIPT.

_Since I writ this, I have so wrought upon her, (Who, of herself, is timorous enough) That she believes her brother will betray her, Or else be forced to give her up to you; Therefore, unknown to him, she means to fly: Come to the garden door at seven this evening, And there you may surprise her; mean time, I Will keep her ignorant of all things, that Her fear may still increase_.

_Enter_ LEONORA _again_.

_Rod_. How now? How does your lady?

_Leon_. So ill, she cannot possibly wait on you.

_Man_. Kind heaven, give me her sickness!

_Rod_. Those are wishes: What's to be done?

_Man_. We must defer our marriages.

_Rod_. Leonora, now! [_Aside to her_

_Leon_. My lady, sir, has absolutely charged, Her brother's should go forward.

_Rod_. Absolutely!

_Leon_. Expressly, sir; because, she says, there are So many honourable persons here, Whom to defraud of their intended mirth, And of each others company, were rude: So, hoping your excuse--[_Exit_ LEONORA.

_Rod_. That privilege of power, which brothers have In Spain, I never used, therefore submit My will to hers; but with much sorrow, sir, My happiness should go before, not wait On yours: Lead on.

_Man_. Stay, sir; though your fair sister, in respect To this assembly, seems to be content Your marriage should proceed, we must not want So much good manners as to suffer it.

_Rod_. So much good manners, brother?

_Man_.--I have said it. Should we, to show our sorrow for her sickness, Provoke our easy souls to careless mirth, As if our drunken revels were designed For joy of what she suffers?

_Rod_. 'Twill be over In a few days.

_Man_. Your stay will be the less.

_Rod_. All things are now in readiness, and must not Be put off, for a peevish humour thus.

_Man_. They must; or I shall think you mean not fairly.

_Rod_. Explain yourself.

_Man_. That you would marry first, And afterwards refuse me Angelina.

_Rod_.--Think so.

_Man_. You are--

_Rod_. Speak softly.

_Man_. A foul villain.

_Rod_. Then--

_Man_. Speak softly.

_Rod_. I'll find a time to tell you, you are one.

_Man_. 'Tis well. Ladies, you wonder at our private whispers, [_To the company_. But more will wonder when you know the cause; The beauteous Angelina is fallen ill; And, since she cannot with her presence grace This day's solemnity, the noble Roderick Thinks fit it be deferred, 'till she recover; Then, we both hope to have your companies.

_Lad_. Wishing her health, we take our leaves. [_Exeunt company_. _Rod_. Your sister yet will marry me.

_Man_. She will not: Come hither, Julia.

_Jul_. What strange afflicting news is this you tell us?

_Man_. 'Twas all this false man's plot, that when he had Possest you, he might cheat me of his sister.

_Jul_. Is this true, Roderick?--Alas, his silence Does but too much confess it: How I blush To own that love, I cannot yet take from thee! Yet for my sake be friends.

_Man_. 'Tis now too late: I am by honour hindered.

_Rod_. I by hate.

_Jul_. What shall I do?

_Man_. Leave him, and come away; Thy virtue bids thee.

_Jul_. But love bids me stay.

_Man_. Her love's so like my own, that I should blame The brother's passion in the sister's flame. Rodorick, we shall meet.--He little thinks I am as sure this night of Angelina, As he of Julia. [_Aside. Exit_ MANUEL.

_Rod_. Madam, to what an ecstasy of joy Your goodness raises me! this was an act Of kindness, which no service e'er can pay.

_Jul_. Yes, Rodorick, 'tis in your power to quit The debt you owe me.

_Rod_. Do but name the way.

_Jul_. Then briefly thus; 'tis to be just to me, As I have been to you.

_Rod_. You cannot doubt it.

_Jul_. You know I have adventured, for your sake, A brother's anger, and the world's opinion: I value neither; for a settled virtue Makes itself judge, and, satisfied within, Smiles at that common enemy, the world. I am no more afraid of flying censures, Than heaven of being fired with mounting sparkles.

_Rod_. But wherein must my gratitude consist?

_Jul_. Answer yourself, by thinking what is fit For me to do.

_Rod_. By marriage, to confirm Our mutual love.

_Jul_. Ungrateful Rodorick! Canst thou name marriage, while thou entertain'st A hatred so unjust against my brother?

_Rod_. But, unkind Julia, you know the causes Of love and hate are hid deep in our stars, And none but heaven can give account of both.

_Jul_. Too well I know it: for my love to thee Is born by inclination, not by judgment; And makes my virtue shrink within my heart, As loth to leave it, and as loth to mingle.

_Rod_. What would you have me do?

_Jul_. Since I must tell thee, Lead me to some near monastery; there (Till heaven find out some way to make us happy) I shall be kept in safety from my brother.

_Rod_. But more from me; what hopes can Rodorick have, That she, who leaves him freely, and unforced, Should ever of her own accord return?

_Jul_. Thou hast too great assurance of my faith, That, in despite of my own self, I love thee. Be friends with Manuel, I am thine; 'till when My honour's. Lead me.

[_Exeunt_.