SCENE I.--_A Street, with a Temple at a distance.

_Enter_ GARCIA, _with a Letter in his hand_; XIMENA, _and_ CELIDEA.

_Gar._ May I believe you, 'tis Victoria's hand? For 'tis a strange request.

_Xim._ So may it move your noble mind to pity, As what the paper tells you is most true. She gave it me; and, with a thousand sighs, Begged me to recommend her life, her love, And all her hopes of happiness, to you.

_Gar._ To break my marriage off, renounce her bed, To stand excluded from my promised bliss, And as my proper act to do all this? Disdainful, faithless, and ungrateful maid!

_Cel._ Disdainful, and ungrateful; but not faithless. Because she never vowed nor promised love, But only to Alphonso.

_Xim._ They loved not as a brother and a sister, But as the fair and brave each other love; For sympathy of souls inspired their passion.

_Gar._ That sympathy, which made him love Victoria Has caused the same effect of love in me.

_Cel._ But not in her: She loved him first, my lord; And you besieged a town already his. As you for her, others may die for you; And plead that argument to hope your love, If the same reason hold.

_Gar._ No doubt it would, Were not my soul already prepossessed.

_Cel._ So is Victoria's soul for her Alphonso, And that's her plea for constancy to him.

_Gar._ My reason is convinced, but not my passion; For I must love, and, loving, must enjoy.

_Cel._ Others must not enjoy, and yet must love.

_Xim._ You cannot wed Victoria but by force; And force can only make her person yours. Think what a fatal doom you pass on her, To make yourself half happy.

_Gar._ When she's mine, I will pursue her with so dear a passion, So chafe her coldness with my warm embraces, That she shall melt at length, hard as she is; And run like stubborn metal.

_Cel._ No, my lord; Victoria is not formed of steel, but marble, Which is not made to melt, but flies the fire, And neither yields nor softens to the flames. Gain her esteem at least, her love is hopeless.

_Gar._ Esteem! a scanty, mean reward of passion, That pays not half the value of the loss!

_Cel._ Pay scorn with scorn, and make revenge a pleasure; So generous minds should do, and so should I. What needs there more? You see who loves you not, and----

_Xim._ And she would say, you may behold who loves you; But maiden bashfulness has tied her tongue: Look on her eyes, they speak.

_Cel._ [_Softly._] A language that they never spoke before.

_Xim._ Mark how she whispers, like a western wind, Which trembles through the forest; she, whose eyes Meet ready victory where'er they glance; Whom gazing crowds admire, whom nations court, And (did her praise become a mother's mouth) One who could change the worship of all climates, And make a new religion where she comes; Unite the differing faith of all the world, To idolize her face.

_Gar._ And well she may: Her eyes, her lips, her cheeks, her shape, her features, Seem to be drawn by Love's own hand; by Love, Himself in love: but oh, 'tis now too late, My eyes have drank a poison in before; A former basilisk has seen me first.-- Yet know, fair princess, if there were a part In all my breast, that could receive a wound, Your eyes could only give it.

_Cel._ So, helpless friends, when safe themselves ashore, Behold a vessel driven against a rock; They sigh, they weep, they counsel, and they pray, They stretch their unassisting hands in vain; But none will plunge into the raging main, To save the sinking passenger from death.

_Xim._ Already see the joyless bride appears. Grief, rage, disdain, distraction, and despair Are equal in my daughters' different fates; In one, to be constrained to be your wife; In one, to be refused.

_Enter_ VERAMOND, _and_ VICTORIA _led as to Marriage: A Train follows; and after it a Guard_.

_Cel._ Great nature, break thy chain, that links together The fabric of this globe, and make a chaos Like that within my soul! O heaven unkind! That gives us passions strong and unconfined, And leaves us reason for a vain defence; Too powerful rebels, and too weak a prince.

[GARCIA, XIMENA, CELIDEA, _mix with the Train, which walk, as in procession, towards the Temple_.

_Enter, on the sudden_, ALPHONSO _and_ CARLOS, _at the Head of their Party; the Soldiers attack the Guards and King, and drive them off the Stage_: ALPHONSO _fights with_ GARCIA, _grapples with him, and gets him under; in the mean time_, XIMENA, VICTORIA, _and_ CELIDEA _retire to a corner of the Stage: When_ GARCIA_ is fallen_, CELIDEA _runs, and kneels to_ ALPHONSO.

_Cel._ Oh spare him, spare the noble Garcia's life, Or take the forfeit in the loss of mine! How happy should I be to die for him, Who will not live for me!

_Alph._ [_To_ GARCIA.] Rise, and be safe; If you have any thanks to pay, reserve them To give this royal maid.

_Gar._ [_Rising._] You'd been more kind To take my life, for I would throw it off: Dishonoured as I am, 'tis worn to rags, Nor worth a prince's wearing. [_Exit_ GARCIA, _followed by_ CELIDEA.

_Re-enter_ VERAMOND, _disarmed, and led by_ CARLOS.

_Vera._ Ungrateful traitor!

_Alph._ Hold thy peace, old man! I do not love to insult on thy misfortunes, Though thou hast brought this ruin on thyself.

_Vera._ Avenging heaven----

_Alph._ I pr'ythee, curse me not, Because I held thee for my father once.

_Vera._ Then would I were thy father, that my curse Might take the surer place, and----

_Alph._ Guard him hence, But use no violence to his royal person.-- Call back the soldiers, Carlos, from the spoil. I have my wish in having my Victoria, And would no more of him, nor what is his.

[CARLOS _restores_ VERAMOND _his Sword with respect, and conducts him off_; XIMENA _follows him_: ALPHONSO _waits on them to the Door, and returns_.

_Vict._ What have you done, Alphonso?

_Alph._ What I ought; Obtained the glorious prize for which I fought, Redeemed you from a father's tyranny, And from a hated rival set you free. Remove, my fair, from this unhappy place; The scene of sorrows, sufferings, and disgrace; To my victorious camp with me remove, The scene of triumph, and rewarded love.

_Vict._ Mars has been present with your arms to-day, But Love and Hymen have been far away. You forced me from a rival's power, I know; But then you forced me from a father's too.

_Alph._ What words are these? I feel my vital heat Forsake my limbs, my curdled blood retreat. Too much amazed to speak, in this surprise, With silent grief, on yours I fix my eyes; To learn the reasons of your change from thence; To read your cruel doom, and my offence.

_Vict._ Your arms, and glorious action, I approve; Esteem your honour, and embrace your love.

_Alph._ My soul recovers, as a gentle shower Refreshes and revives a drooping flower. I'm yours so much, so little am my own, Your smiles are life, and death is in your frown.

_Vict._ But oh! a hard request is yet behind, Which, for my sake, endure with equal mind. Your debt of honour you have cleared this day; But mine, of duty, still remains to pay; Restore my liberty, and let me go To make a full discharge of all I owe.

_Alph._ What debts, but those of love, have you to clear? Are you not free, are you not sovereign here? And were you not a slave, before I broke Your fatal chains, and loosed you from the yoke?

_Vict._ 'Tis true, I was; but that captivity, Though hard to bear, was more becoming me. A slave I am; but nature made me so, Slave to my father, not my father's foe: Since, then, you have declared me free, this hour I put myself within a parent's power.

_Alph._ Cruel Victoria! would you go from hence, And leave a desolate, despairing prince? Is this the freedom you demand from me? Are these the vows, and this the constancy? Put off the mask; for I too well perceive Whom you resolve to love, and whom to leave. Go, teach me at my own expence, to find What change a day can make in womankind.

_Vict._ Think not a day, nor all my life, can make Victoria's heart her steadfast love forsake. I plighted you my faith; and I renew My vows once more, to love but only you.

_Alph._ You vowed no time our fortune should divide; And well 'twas kept, like all your vows beside, When e'en this hour you went to be a bride.

_Vict._ I went; but was securely first prepared; For this was my redemption, or my guard. [_Pulls out a Dagger._ Let this your causeless jealousy remove; And learn no more to doubt Victoria's love.

_Alph._ That fatal proof I never did desire.

_Vict._ And yet a proof more fatal you require, Which would with infamy my name pursue; To fly my father, and to follow you.

_Alph._ Your love you forfeit, if you go away.

_Vict._ I forfeit my obedience, if I stay.

_Alph._ You may transfer your duty, and be mine.

_Vict._ Yes, when my father shall his claim resign; For, when the nuptial knot our love assures, All, that was his before, is, after, yours.

_Alph._ Then, when you vowed your love, you falsely swore.

_Vict._ I love you much, but love my honour more.

_Alph._ You hate my rival, yet you take the way To make you his inevitable prey.

_Vict._ Beasts fear not more to be the hunters' spoil.

_Alph._ Then, sure, you would not run into the toil. How ill your actions with your words agree!

_Vict._ This friend is still at hand to set me free. [_Holding up the Dagger._

_Alph._ Let me not live to see that fatal hour! Rather return into your father's power; Rather return into his arms again, For whom your lost Alphonso you disdain. If one must die, to set your honour free, You have already cast the lot on me. Death is the only way to clear my fame, Which must be branded with a coward's name, If basely I resign Victoria's charms, And tamely give you to my rival's arms.

_Vict._ To give me to my father is no crime.

_Alph._ 'Tis still the same; your father gives you him. Ungrateful woman!

_Vict._ More ungrateful man! More than I ought I give, and all I can; But if my duty I prefer to you, Be satisfied with all that love can do.

_Alph._ Not satisfied; but yet your will shall be Like fate's inviolable law to me. Since my unhappy stars will have it so, Depart from hence, and leave your father's foe. Go then; but quickly go; for, while you stay, As on a rack I find myself decay, And every moment looks a part of me away.

_Vict._ I wish I with my duty could dispense; Heaven knows how loth I am to part from hence. So, from the seal is softened wax disjoined; So, from the mother plant, the tender rind. But take the latest pledge that love can give; Have courage, and for your Victoria live.

[_She offers him her hand, he kisses it. Exit_ VICTORIA, _he looking after her_.

_Enter_ RAMIREZ, _attended by_ CARLOS; RAMIREZ _embraces_ ALPHONSO.

_Ram._ Prop of my age, and pattern of my youth, But such as far excels the original, Ten thousand blessings on thee for this deed!

_Alph._ Heaven and my fate speak other language to me. No blessings, none, but millions of their curses, Like burning glasses, with contracted beams, Are pointed on my head.

_Ram._ What words are these, on this auspicious day?

_Alph._ Oh, fly me, fly me, sir; Lest the contagion of my woes Pollute my father's joys; Victoria's gone, And with her went Alphonso's life and soul.

_Ram._ You had her in your power, and were too easy.

_Alph._ Or, rather, she too cruel. Her duty forced her hence, in scorn of love.

_Ram._ You must resume your arms, And force her father's will, to make her yours. Why, like a woman, stand you thus complaining, Born to the strength, and courage of a man? Rouse up your spirits to a just revenge, Like lightning wasteful, and like thunder loud. Rivers of blood shall run about the town, For which you were so lavish of your own. Garcia shall die, and by his death remove The cause of jealousy, and injured love; The king himself, the ungrateful king, shall fall; Of all our ills the curst original.

_Alph._ Beseech you, sir, no more.

_Ram._ Your reason, son?

_Alph._ For you have given my soul so large a swing, That it bounds back again with double force, Only because you carried it too far. You've set an image of so vast destruction Before my sight, that reason shuns the approach, And dares not view the fearful precipice.

_Ram._ Is vengeance, which is said so sweet a morsel, That heaven reserves it for its proper taste, Is it so soon disrelished?

_Alph._ What have the people done, the sheep of princes, That they should perish for the shepherd's fault? They bring their yearly wool, to clothe their owners; And yet, when bare themselves, are culled for slaughter. Should I do this, what could the wolf do more, Than what the master did?

_Ram._ Then Garcia, must he 'scape?

_Alph._ 'Tis true, I had him at my mercy once; I should have killed him then, or, once forgiven, Should spare him now.

_Ram._ [_Aside._] His noble soul relents.

_Alph._ But then I give Victoria to his arms; And make my own destruction my own act. That fires my blood again--yet if she loves him, Is killing him she loves, the way to gain her? No, let him live--but Veramond shall die; Who, when he was my father as he thought, When I deserved his love, then hated me.

_Ram._ Oh, now the tempest drives another way. [_Aside._

_Alph._ No more deliberation,--there it goes; I'll kill him first, to satisfy my vengeance, And then, to atone her anger, kill myself. [_Seems going hastily._

_Ram._ Hold, hold, Alphonso! heaven, and earth, and I, Who have a father's title to your life, Forbid that parricide.

_Alph._ Would you refuse a madman leave to sleep? 'Tis sleep must cure me, and that sleep is death.

_Ram._ A madman must be cooled, to make him sleep. I have prepared a gentle opiate for you; One moment's patience, and I will infuse it. You see me dispossessed of all my state?

_Alph._ Yes, to my grief; and, to enhance that grief, 'Tis to my sword my father owes his ruin.

_Ram._ And 'tis that only sword that can restore me. It must, and ought; you owe it to your duty.

_Alph._ Duty was what Victoria urged to me: I hate that fatal word, because she used it, And, for a cruel father, left her love.

_Ram._ Could she do that for Veramond, a tyrant, Which you refuse to me? The conquering troops of Arragon are yours; You are their life, their idol, and their soul. Conduct me home, and, with their aid, restore me; And, that once done, we shall not need to treat: For Veramond himself will send, and sue For that alliance, which his pride now scorns.

_Alph._ Long ere that time, Victoria will be Garcia's: Her father will not lose one moment's space, To gratify his vengeance with my ruin, If I would force him, this must be the time; Which, since I now refuse, 'tis lost forever.-- Hear then, and take it as my last resolve: Lead you the troops; you need not fear their faith, The guilt of their rebellion makes them yours. With them, and with your own, restore yourself.

_Ram._ Then what becomes of you?

_Alph._ No matter what. Provide yourself of some more worthy heir, For I am lost, beyond redemption lost. Farewell the joys of empire, from this moment! Farewell the honours of the dusty field! Here I lay down this instrument of death, [_Ungirds his Sword, and lays it down._ And may it gird some happier soldier's side; For nothing, it could gain, can countervail To me, the loss of my Victoria's love. Your blessing, and farewell! [_Kneels._

_Ram._ Alas! I fear some fatal resolution Is harboured in your soul: If thus you leave me, My mind forebodes, we never more shall meet.

_Alph._ Give not so black an omen to this parting, For we may meet again, if heaven thinks fit: A beam of comfort, like the moon through clouds, Gilds the brown horror, and directs my way.-- Blast not my purpose, by refusing leave, Nor ask the means; but know, I will not die, Till I have proved the extremest remedy. And if, unarmed, I go to tempt my fate, Think my despair is from Victoria's hate. [_Exit_ ALPHONSO.

_Ram._ I might have used the power heaven gives to parents, And hindered his departure; But somewhat of divine controuled my tongue: For heroes' souls, irregular to us, Yet move like planets in their proper sphere; Performing even course, In paths uneven to beholders' eyes.-- [_Pauses a little._ [_To_ CARLOS.] His words, mysterious as they were, imported Some desperate design, which I must watch, And therefore dare not lead the forces far; But, camped without the town, at some small distance To expect the issue, and prevent his death.

_Carl._ Sir, what orders give you? for you are now our general.

_Ram._ Follow, and you shall know. [_Exit_ RAMIREZ.

_Carl._ Follow! whither? No plunder, when the town was fairly taken! there's a hopeful general to follow. The son and father are both gone away, without providing for me, who betrayed the city to them; a fine encouragement for virtue! Well, these monarchs make no more of us soldiers, when their turn is served, than we make of our old battered horses. To put us off for stallions, is the best that can become of us; and those indeed are my present circumstances. Dalinda will none, and Sancho is just mounting, if I get not between, and thrust him off; for which purpose I have insinuated to him that I have left Dalinda for his sake, and am upon another scent.----Yonder he comes: this, and another lie which I have ready coined, will go near to spoil his market.

_Enter_ SANCHO.

_San._ Well, Carlos, the hurly burly's quite over. I met Ramirez marching off the army; and just afterwards appeared a fellow in a fool's coat, on horseback with three trumpets. Herod, I think they called him; some such Jewish name.

_Carl._ A herald at arms you mean.

_San._ It may be so; but I should have taken him for some pardonner, for he scattered indulgences, by handfuls, to the people; but only they paid nothing for them.

_Carl._ But did he proclaim nothing?

_San._ Oh, yes; and now I remember, he began his speech with, O yes, too: he proclaimed a general pardon to all rebels, of which number, you know, you and I, Carlos, were two ring-leaders.

_Carl._ Then farewell Ramirez; even trudge on by yourself, for there is an end of my expedition. I will lay down my arms like a dutiful subject, and submit to his majesty, when I can rebel no longer.

_San._ Very good; and try the other touch for Dalinda, will you?

_Carl._ You know I have quitted her for your sake, and now am altogether for--let me see, what lady am I for?

_San._ Pump, pump, Carlos, for that's to be invented yet.

_Carl._ Only out of my head a little:--'tis the dead Count's sister; a great fortune since her brother died, but somewhat homely: she has already made some advances to me, or else I lie.

_San._ And will you say _To have and to hold_, with an ugly woman?

_Carl._ Yes, and _For better for worse_,--that is, for virgin, or for whore; as you will, Sancho, who are listing yourself into the honourable company of cuckolds.

_San._ What, a hero as I am, to be a cuckold?

_Carl._ Do not disdain your calling; Julius Cæsar was one before you. The Count has had her by her own confession; so she's a nobleman's dowager, for your comfort.

_San._ Pugh, she denied it afterwards; that was but a copy of her countenance.

_Carl._ What if it prove a copy of the Conde's countenance? do you think she had not a bastard by him?

_San._ That was only a plot betwixt us, to cheat her father.

_Carl._ Did her father know nothing of it?

_San._ Not a syllable.

_Carl._ Then, when he believed you to be the Count, how came he to charge you with enjoying her?

_San._ That is something to the purpose;--but now I think on't, 'tis nothing neither; 'tis but asking her the question, and I know she'll satisfy me.

_Carl._ And you are resolved to take her word?

_San._ Rather than yours; for you may have a mind to have a lick at the honey-pot yourself.

_Carl._ Farewell; you know I have other business upon the stocks. [_Seems going out._

_San._ Stay, Carlos; I am afraid you know something more of this bawdy business than you confess.

_Carl._ Fecks, not I.

_San._ Fecks! what a sneaking oath is that for a man of honour? swear me bloodily like a soldier, if you would be believed.

_Carl._ Without swearing, I believe her honest; therefore make sure of her immediately.

_San._ That is, take a rival's counsel, and make sure of being an antedated cuckold.

_Carl._ If you won't believe me, I cannot help it. But marry Dalinda, and be happy; for I may prevent you, if you make not haste.

_San._ Thou hast cheated me so often, that I cannot credit one syllable thou sayest.

_Carl._ [_Going out._] Then take your fortune.--

[CARLOS _pulls out his handkerchief to wipe his face, and drops a letter._

Yonder comes Dalinda; I know her by her trip. I'll watch their greeting. [_Exit._

_San._ The rogue's malicious, and would have me marry her in spite; besides he is off and on at so devilish a rate, a man knows not where to have him. Well, I am resolved, in the first place, not to follow the rogue's counsel. I will not marry her, because he advised me to it;--and yet I will marry her, because he counselled me not to marry her.--Hey-day! I will marry her, and I will not marry her! what's the meaning of this, friend Sancho? That's taking the rogue's advice one way or t'other. [_Sees the letter and takes it up._] What, has he dropt a letter! To whom is it directed? to Don Carlos D'Ybarra;--that is himself. [_Mutters, as reading to himself._

_Dalinda's fair, and a fortune; but marry her not; for to my knowledge_ (pox confound him for his knowledge) _she has had a_----(What a----Mr Friend? why--) _a bastard, by the late Conde_: (Ay, I thought as much.) _But his sister Leonora is in love with you._

Damn it, I will read no more: it agrees with what he first told me; and therefore it must be all orthodox. Here she comes, too, just in the nick of my revenge; but I shall be very laconic with her.

_Enter_ DALINDA.

_Dal._ Now, servant.

_San._ Now, cockatrice.

_Dal._ You're pretty familiar----

_San._ So have you been----

_Dal._ With your mistress.

_San._ With the Conde, of whoring memory.

_Dal._ A fine salutation!

_San._ A final parting.

_Dal._ What's the meaning of this? will you come in?

_San._ Will you go in?

_Dal._ Come, look upon me. [_She makes the_ doux yeux _to him_.

_San._ I have no eyes.

_Dal._ Then I must take you by the hand. [_She offers, and he pulls back._

_San._ I have no hands neither.

_Dal._ How's this? I have been but too kind----

_San._ Yes, to the Conde.

_Dal._ Pugh, that was a jest, you know.

_San._ 'Tis turned to earnest.

_Dal._ You know 'twas of my conception.

_San._ And of your bringing forth too.

_Dal._ What did I bring forth?

_San._ A bastard.

_Dal._ O impudent!

_San._ Woman.

_Dal._ What proof have you of that scandal?

_San._ This, with a pox t'ye. [_Throws her the letter._

Patience, oh ye gods! [_Exit._

[_She takes up the note, and, as she is reading it, re-enter_ CARLOS.

_Carl._ Much good may do you with your note, madam; now I think I am revenged at full: your cully has forsaken you.

_Dal._ Well, I did not expect this from you, cousin Carlos.

_Carl._ What did you take me for? King Log in Æsop's Fables, for you to insult me, and play at leap-frog over me? Did not you forsake me for a fool?

_Dal._ But was not this a terrible revenge of yours? must you needs shew him the letter, which has ruined my reputation, and lost my fortune? Am I the first frail creature, that had the misfortune of two great bellies, and yet afterwards was decently married, and passed for a virgin?

_Carl._ Nay, do not aggravate the matter: consult your note, and you will find but one bastard charged upon you; you see I was not for laying loaders.

_Dal._ A great courtesy, to bate me one, as if that was not enough to do my business.

_Carl._ Well, suppose I should discover this contrivance of mine, and set all right again?

_Dal._ [_Aside._] Contrivance! oh heaven! I have undone myself, by confessing all too soon.

_Carl._ If I should prove you innocent, you would prove ungrateful?

_Dal._ No, you know I always loved you.

_Carl._ You have shown it most abundantly, in choosing Sancho.

_Dal._ You speak more truly than you think. I have shewn it; for, since I must confess the truth to you, I am no fortune: my father, though he bears it high, to put me off, has mortgaged his estate: we keep servants for shew; and when we should pay their wages, pick a quarrel with their service, and turn them off pennyless. There is neither sheet nor shirt in the whole family; the lodging-rooms are furnished with loam; and bare mattresses are the beds. The dining-room plays the hypocrite for all the house; for all the furniture is there. When strangers dine with us, we eat before the servants, and then they fast; but when we dine alone, 'tis all a muss[59]: they scramble for victuals, before 'tis served up, and then we fast.

_Carl._ The spirit of famine comes upon me, at the very description of it.

_Dal._ Now, since neither you nor I have fortunes, what should we do together, unless we should turn canibals, and eat up one another? But if you would make up this foul business, and help me to that rich fool Sancho, I say no more, but----

_Carl._ But thou wouldst be kind to me? speak out, for I dare not trust thee, thou art such a woman.

_Dal._ You should----

_Carl._ What should I?

_Dal._ Why, you should----

_Carl._ Well, well, I will believe thee, though my heart misgives me plaguily. And therefore, in the first place, I beg your pardon for the scandal I have laid upon you. In the next, I restore your virginity and take away your bastard.

_Dal._ And you'll tell Sancho 'twas a forged letter?

_Carl._ No doubt on't; for I wrote it to myself; and out of revenge invented the whole story.

_Dal._ But suppose, dear cousin, that Sancho should not believe all this to be your invention; and should still suspect the letter to be true?

_Carl._ I can easily convince him, by writing the same hand again, in which that letter was indited.

_Dal._ That's an excellent expedient; but do it now; for a woman can never be cleared too soon.

_Carl._ But when you are cleared, you will forget your promise to me----

_Dal._ But if I am not cleared, I cannot marry him; nor be put in a way to keep my promise. Come, I'll hold my hand; write upon it, I always carry pen and ink about me.

_Carl._ Let me seal my affection first. [_Kisses her hand._] Now, what should I write?

_Dal._ Only these words at the bottom of the note, in the same character:--_This letter was wholly forged by me, Carlos_. [He kneels and writes.

_Carl._ There 'tis.----

[_Gives it her, she puts it in her pocket._

But now tell me truly, what made you confess a couple of bastards? have you indeed been dabbling?

_Dal._ Who, I confess it! Oh thou impudent fellow! I only soothed thee up in thy villainy, to make thee betray thy own plot. I confessed seemingly, to make thee confess really. Heaven and thy own conscience know I did. [_Seems to weep._

_Carl._ But when you're married, you'll remember your promise?

_Dal._ What promise?

_Carl._ That I should----

_Dal._ Should what?

_Carl._ Must I tell you?

_Dal._ No, I'll tell you; I said you should,--and so you shall,--be cozened in your expectation.

_Carl._ I foreboded this, and yet was fool enough to trust thee. Give me back my letter.

_Dal._ What, deliver up my evidence, that's the testimony of my virtue, and thy wickedness?

_Carl._ I'll search your petticoat.

_Dal._ Dare but touch my petticoat, and I'll cry out a rape against thee.

_Carl._ Oh thou Eve of Genesis! thou wouldst have tempted the serpent, if thou hadst been there.

_Dal._ The next news you hear is of my wedding; be patient, and you shall be invited to the dinner.

_Carl._ I say no more; but I'll go home and indite iambics: thou shalt not want for an epithalamium; I'll do thy business in verse.

[_Exit._

_Dal._ My comfort is, I have done your business in prose already.

The wittiest men are all but women's tools; 'Tis our prerogative, to make them fools. For one sweet look, the rich, the beaux, the braves, And all mankind, run headlong to be slaves. Ours is the harvest which those Indians mow; They plough the deep, but we reap what they sow. [_Exit._