SCENE II.—Don Cæsar's.Victoriaentersl.,perusing a letter;enterOlivia, r.
SCENE II.—Don Cæsar's.Victoriaentersl.,perusing a letter;enterOlivia, r.
Oliv.[Speaks as entering.] If my father should inquire for me, tell him I am in Donna Victoria's apartment.—Smiling, I protest! my dear gloomy cousin, where have you purchased that sun-shiny look?
Vict.It is but April sunshine, I fear; but who could resist such a temptation to smile? a letter from Donna Laura, my husband's mistress, styling me her dearest Florio! her life! her soul! and complaining of a twelve hours absence, as the bitterest misfortune.
Oliv.Ha! ha! ha! most doughty Don! pray, let us see you in your feather and doublet; as a Cavaleiro, it seems, you are formidable. So suddenly to rob your husband of his charmer's heart! you must have used some witchery.
Vict.Yes, powerful witchery—the knowledge of my sex. Oh! did the men but know us, as well as we do ourselves;—but, thank fate they do not—'twould be dangerous.
Oliv.What, I suppose, you praised her understanding, was captivated by her wit, and absolutely struck dumb by the amazing beauties of—her mind.
Vict.Oh, no,—that's the mode prescribed by the essayists on the female heart—ha! ha! ha!—Not a woman breathing, from fifteen to fifty, but would rather have a compliment to the tip of her ear, or the turn of her ancle, than a volume in praise of her intellects.
Oliv.So, flattery, then, is your boasted pill?
Vict.No, that's only the occasional gilding; but 'tis in vain to attempt a description of what changed its nature with every moment. I was now attentive—now gay—then tender, then careless. I strove rather to convince her that I was charming, than that I myself was charmed; and when I saw love's arrow quivering in her heart, instead of falling at her feet, sung a triumphant air, and remembered a sudden engagement.
Oliv.[Archly.] Would you have done so, had you been a man?
Vict.Assuredly—knowing what I now do as a woman.
Oliv.But can all this be worth while, merely to rival a fickle husband with one woman, whilst he is setting his feather, perhaps, at half a score others?
Vict.To rival him was not my first motive. The Portuguese robbed me of his heart; I concluded she had fascinations which nature had denied to me; it was impossible to visit her as a woman; I, therefore, assumed the Cavalier, to study her, that I might, if possible, be to my Carlos, all he found in her.
Oliv.Pretty humble creature?
Vict.In this adventure I learnt more than I expected;—my (oh, cruel!) my husband has given this woman an estate, almost all that his dissipations had left us.
Oliv.Indeed!
Vict.To make him more culpable, it was my estate; it was that fortune which my lavish love had made his, without securing it to my children.
Oliv.How could you be so improvident?
Vict.Alas! I trusted him with my heart, with my happiness, without restriction. Should I have shown a greater solicitude for any thing, than for these?
Oliv.The event proves that you should; but how can you be thus passive in your sorrow? since I had assumed the man, I'd make him feel a man's resentment for such injuries.
Vict.Oh, Olivia! what resentment can I show to him I have vowed to honour, and whom, both my duty and my heart compel me yet to love.
Oliv.Why, really now, I think—positively, there's no thinking about it; 'tis among the arcana of the married life, I suppose.
Vict.You, who know me, can judge how I suffered in prosecuting my plan. I have thrown off the delicacy of sex; I have worn the mask of love to the destroyer of my peace—but the object is too great to be abandoned—nothing less than to save my husband from ruin, and to restore him, again a lover, to my faithful bosom.
Oliv.Well, I confess, Victoria, I hardly know whether most to blame or praise you; but, with the rest of the world, I suppose, your success will determine me.
EnterGasper, l.
EnterGasper, l.
Gasp.Pray, madam, are your wedding shoes ready? [ToOlivia.]
Oliv.Insolence!——I can scarcely ever keep up the vixen to this fellow. [Apart toVictoria.]
Gasp.You'll want them, ma'am, to-morrow morning, that's all—so I came to prepare ye.
Oliv.I want wedding shoes to-morrow! if you are kept on water gruel till I marry, that plump face of yours will be chap-fallen, I believe.
Gasp.Yes, truly, I believe so too. Lackaday, did you suppose I came to bring you news of your own wedding? no such glad tidings for you, lady, believe me.—You married! I am sure the man who ties himself to you, ought to be half a salamander, and able to live in fire.
Oliv.What marriage, then, is it, you do me the honour to inform me of?
Gasp.Why, your father's marriage. You'll have a mother-in-law to-morrow, and having, like a dutiful daughter, danced at the wedding, be immured in a convent for life.
Oliv.Immured in a convent! then I'll raise sedition in the sisterhood, depose the abbess, and turn the confessor's chair to a go-cart.
Gasp.So, the threat of the mother-in-law, which I thought would be worse than that of the abbess, does not frighten ye?
Oliv.No, because my father dares not give me one.—Marry, without my consent! no, no, he'll never think of it, depend on't; however, lest the fit should grow strong upon him, I'll go and administer my volatiles to keep it under.
[Exitl. h.
Gasp.Administer them cautiously then: too strong a dose of your volatiles would make the fit stubborn. Who'd think that pretty arch look belonged to a termagant? what a pity! 'twould be worth a thousand ducats to cure her.
Vict.Has Inis told you I wanted to converse with you in private, Gasper?
Gasp.Oh, yes, madam, and I took particular notice, that it was to be in private.——Sure, says I, Mrs. Inis, Madam Victoria has not taken a fancy to me, and is going to break her mind.
Vict.Whimsical! ha! ha! suppose I should, Gasper?
Gasp.Why, then, madam, I should say, fortune had used you devilish scurvily, to give you a gray-beard in a livery. I know well enough, that some young ladies have given themselves to gray-beards, in a gilded coach, and others have run away with a handsome youth in worsted lace; they each had their apology; but if you run away with me—pardon me, madam, I could not stand the ridicule.
Vict.Oh, very well; but if you refuse to run away with me, will you do me another favour?
Gasp.Any thing you'll order, madam, except dancing a fandango.
Vict.You have seen my rich old uncle in the country?
Gasp.What, Don Sancho, who, with two thirds of a century in his face, affects the misdemeanors of youth; hides his baldness with amber locks, and complains of the tooth-ache, to make you believe, that the two rows of ivory he carries in his head, grew there?
Vict.Oh, you know him, I find; could you assume his character for an hour, and make love for him? you know, it must be in the style of King Roderigo the First.
Gasp.Hang it! I am rather too near his own age; to appear an old man with effect, one should not be above twenty; 'tis always so on the stage.
Vict.Pho! you might pass for Juan's grandson.
Gasp.Nay, if your ladyship condesends to flatter me, you have me.
Vict.Then follow me; for Don Cæsar, I hear, is approaching—in the garden I'll make you acquainted with my plan, and impress on your mind every trait of my uncle's character. If you can hit him off, the arts of Laura shall be foiled, and Carlos be again Victoria's.
[Exeunt,r.
EnterDon Cæsar,followed byOlivia, l.
EnterDon Cæsar,followed byOlivia, l.
Cæsar.No, no, 'tis too late—no coaxings; I am resolved, I say.
Oliv.But it is not too late, and you shan't be resolved, I say. Indeed, now, I'll be upon my guard with the next Don—what's his name? not a trace of the Xantippe left.—I'll study to be charming.
Cæsar.Nay, you need not study it, you are always charming enough, if you would but hold your tongue.
Oliv.Do you think so? then to the next lover I won't open my lips; I'll answer every thing he says with a smile, and if he asks me to have him, drop a courtesy of thankfulness.
Cæsar.Pshaw! that's too much t'other way; you are always either above the mark or below it; you must talk, but talk with good humour. Can't you look gently and prettily, now, as I do? and say, yes, sir, and no, sir; and 'tis very fine weather, sir; and pray, sir, were you at the ball last night? and, I caught a sad cold the other evening; and bless me! I hear Lucinda has run away with her footman, and Don Philip has married his housemaid?—That's the way agreeable ladies talk; you never hear any thing else.
Oliv.Very true; and you shall see me as agreeable as the best of them, if you won't give me a mother-in-law to snub me, and set me tasks, and to take up all the fine apartments, and send up poor little Livy to lodge next the stars.
Cæsar.Ha! if thou wert but always thus soft and good-humoured, no mother-in-law in Spain, though she brought the Castiles for her portion, should have power to snub thee. But, Livy, the trial's at hand, for at this moment do I expect Don Vincentio to visit you. He is but just returned from England, and, probably, has yet heard only of your beauty and fortune; I hope it is not from you he will learn the other part of your character.
Oliv.This moment expect him! two new lovers in a day?
Cæsar.Beginning already, as I hope to live! ay, I see 'tis in vain; I'll send him an excuse, and marry Marcella before night.
Oliv.Oh, no! upon my obedience, I promise to be just the soft, civil creature, you have described.
Enter aServant, l.
Enter aServant, l.
Ser.Don Vincentio is below, sir.
[Exit,l.
Cæsar.I'll wait upon him——well, go and collect all your smiles and your simpers, and remember all I have said to you;—be gentle, and talk pretty little small talk, d'ye hear, and if you please him, you shall have the portion of a Dutch burgomaster's daughter, and the pin-money of a princess, you jade, you. I think at last, I have done it; the fear of this mother-in-law will keep down the fiend in her, if any thing can.
[Exit,l.
Oliv.Hah! my poor father, your anxieties will never end till you bring Don Julio. But what shall I do with this Vincentio?—I fear he is so perfectly harmonized, that to put him in an ill temper will be impracticable.—I must try, however; if 'tis possible to find a discord in him, I'll touch the string.
[Exit,r.
SCENE III.—Another Apartment.EnterCæsarandVincentio, l.
SCENE III.—Another Apartment.EnterCæsarandVincentio, l.
Vin.Presto, presto, signior! where is the Olivia?—not a moment to spare. I left off in all the fury of composition; minums and crotchets have been battling it through my head the whole day, and trying a semibreve in G sharp, has made me as flat as double F.
Cæsar.Sharp and flat!—trying a semibreve!—oh—gad, sir! I had like not to have understood you; but a semibreve is something of a demi-culverin, I take it; and you have been practising the art military.
Vin.Art military!—what, sir! are you unacquainted with music?
Cæsar.Music! oh, I ask pardon: then you are fond of music——'ware of discords! [Aside.]
Vin.Fond of it! devoted to it.—I composed a thing to-day, in all the gusto of Sacchini, and the sweetness of Gluck. But this recreant finger fails me in composing a passage in E octave; if it does not gain more elastic vigour in a week, I shall be tempted to have it amputated, and supply the shake with a spring.
Cæsar.Mercy! amputate a finger, to supply a shake!
Vin.Oh, that's a trifle in the road to reputation—to be talked of, is the summum bonum of this life.—A young man of rank should not glide through the world, without a distinguished rage, or, as they call it in England—a hobby-horse.
Cæsar.A hobby horse!
Vin.Yes; that is, every man of figure determines on setting out in life, in that land of liberty, in what line to ruin himself; and that choice is called his hobby-horse. One makes the turf his scene of action—another drives about tall phaetons, to peep into their neighbour's garret windows; and a third rides his hobby-horse in parliament, where it jerks him sometimes on one side, and sometimes on the other; sometimes in, and sometimes out; till at length, he is jerked out of his honesty, and his constituents out of their freedom.
Cæsar.Ay! Well, 'tis a wonder, that with such sort of hobby-horses as these, they should still outride all the world, to the goal of glory.
Vin.This is all cantabile; nothing to do with the subject of the piece, which is Donna Olivia;—pray give me the key note to her heart.
Cæsar.Upon my word, signor, to speak in your own phrase, I believe that note has never yet been sounded.—Ah! here she comes! look at her.—Isn't she a fine girl?
Vin.Touching! Musical, I'll be sworn! her very air is harmonious!
Cæsar.[Aside.] I wish thou may'st find her tongue so.
EnterOlivia,courtesies profoundly to each.r.
EnterOlivia,courtesies profoundly to each.r.
Daughter, receive Don Vincentio—his rank, fortune, and merit, entitle him to the heiress of a grandee; but he is contented to become my son-in-law, if you can please him. [Crosses,r. Oliviacourtesies again.
Vin.Please me! she entrances me! Her presence thrills me like a cadenza of Pachierotti's, and every nerve vibrates to the music of her looks.
Her step andante gently moves,Pianos glance from either eye;Oh how larghetto is the heart,That charms so forté can defy!
Donna Olivia, will you be contented to receive me as a lover?
Oliv.Yes, sir—No, sir.
Vin.Yes, sir! no, sir! bewitching timidity?
Cæsar.Yes, sir, she's remarkably timid,—She's in the right cue, I see. [Aside.]
Vin.'Tis clear you have never travelled.—I shall be delighted to show you England.—You will there see how entirely timidity is banished the sex. You must affect a marked character, and maintain it at all hazards.
Oliv.'Tis a very fine day, sir.
Vin.Madam!
Oliv.I caught a sad cold the other evening.—Pray, was you at the ball last night?
Vin.What ball, fair lady?
Oliv.Bless me! they say, Lucinda has run away with her footman, and Don Philip has married his house-maid. Now, am I not very agreeable?
[Apart toDon Cæsar.
Cæsar.O, such perverse obedience!
Vin.Really, madam, I have not the honour to know Don Philip and Lucinda—nor am I happy enough, entirely to comprehend you.
Oliv.No! I only meant to be agreeable—but, perhaps, you have no taste for pretty little small talk!
Vin.Pretty little small talk!
Oliv.A marked character you admire; so do I, I dote on it.—I would not resemble the rest of the world in any thing.
Vin.My taste to the fiftieth part of a crotchet!—We shall agree admirably when we are married!
Oliv.And that will be unlike the rest of the world, and therefore, charming!
Cæsar.[Aside.] It will do! I have hit her humour at last. Why didn't this young dog offer himself before?
Oliv.I believe, I have the honour to carry my taste that way, farther than you, Don Vincentio. Pray, now, what is your usual style in living?
Vin.My winters I spend in Madrid, as other people do. My summers I drawl through at my castle——
Oliv.As other people do!—and yet you pretend to taste and singularity, ha! ha! ha! Good Don Vincentio, never talk of a marked character again. Go into the country in July, to smell roses and woodbines, when every body regales on their fragrance! Now, I would rusticate only in winter, and my bleak castle should be decorated with verdure and flowers, amidst the soft zephyrs of December.
Cæsar.[Aside.] Oh, she'll go too far!
Oliv.On the leafless trees I would hang green branches—the labour of silk worms, and therefore, natural; whilst my rose shrubs and myrtles should be scented by the first perfumers in Italy. Unnatural, indeed, but, therefore, singular and striking.
Vin.Oh, charming! You beat me, where I thought myself the strongest. Would they but establish newspapers here, to paragraph our singularities, we should be the most envied couple in Spain!
Cæsar.[Aside.] By St. Antony, he is as mad as she is!
Vin.What say you, Don Cæsar? Olivia, and her winter garden, and I and my music.
Oliv.Music, did you say? Music! I am passionately fond of that!
Cæsar.She has saved my life! I thought she was going to knock down his hobby-horse. [Aside.]
Vin.You enchant me! I have the finest band in Madrid—My first violin draws a longer bow than Giardini; my clarionets, my viol de gamba——Oh, you shall have such concerts!
Oliv.Concerts! Pardon me there—My passion is a single instrument.
Vin.That's carrying singularity very far indeed! I love a crash; so does every body of taste.
Oliv.But my taste isn't like every body's; my nerves are so particularly fine, that more than one instrument overpowers them.
Vin.Pray tell me the name of that one: I am sure it must be the most elegant and captivating in the world.—I am impatient to know it.—We'll have no other instrument in Spain, and I will study to become its master, that I may woo you with its music. Charming Olivia! tell me, is it a harpsichord? a piano forte? a pentachord? a harp?
Oliv.You have it, you have it; a harp—yes, a Jew's-harp is, to me, the only instrument. Are you not charmed with the delightful h—u—m of its base, running on the ear, like the distant rumble of a state coach? It presents the idea of vastness and importance to the mind. The moment you are its master—I'll give you my hand.
Vin.Da capo, madam, da capo! a Jew's-harp!
Oliv.Bless me, sir, don't I tell you so? Violins chill me; clarionets, by sympathy, hurt my lungs; and, instead of maintaining a band under my roof, I would not keep a servant, who knew a bassoon from a flute, or could tell whether he heard a jigg, or a canzonetta.
Cæsar.Oh thou perverse one! you know you love concerts—you know you do. [In great agitation.]
Oliv.I detest them! It's vulgar custom that attaches people to the sound of fifty different instruments at once; 'twould be as well to talk on the same subject, in fifty different tongues. A band; 'tis a mere olio of sound! I'd rather listen to a three-stringed guitar serenading a sempstress in some neighbouring garret.
Cæsar.Oh you——Don Vincentio, [Crosses,c.] this is nothing but perverseness, wicked perverseness. Hussy!—didn't you shake, when you mentioned a garret? didn't bread and water, and a step-mother, come into your head at the same time?
Vin.Piano, piano, good sir! Spare yourself all farther trouble. Should the Princess of Guzzarat, and all her diamond mines, offer themselves, I would not accept them, in lieu of my band—a band, that has half ruined me to collect. I would have allowed Donna Olivia a blooming garden in winter; I would even have procured barrenness and snow for her in the dog-days; but, to have my band insulted!—to have my knowledge in music slighted!—to be roused from all the energies of composition, by the drone of a Jew's-harp, I cannot breathe under the idea.
Cæsar.Then—then you refuse her, sir!
Vin.I cannot use so harsh a word—I take my leave of the lady.—Adieu, madam—I leave you to enjoy your solos, whilst I fly to the raptures of a crash.
[Exit,l.
[Cæsargoes up to her, and looks her in the face; then goes off without speaking,l.
Oliv.Mercy; that silent anger is terrifying: I read a young mother-in-law, and an old lady abbess, in every line of his face.
EnterVictoria, r.
EnterVictoria, r.
Well, you heard the whole, I suppose—heard poor unhappy me scorned and rejected.
Vict.I heard you in imminent danger; and expected Signor Da Capo would have snapped you up, in spite of caprice and extravagance.
Oliv.Oh, they charmed, instead of scaring him. I soon found, that my only chance was to fall across his caprice. Where is the philosopher who could withstand that?
Vict.But what, my good cousin, does all this tend to?
Oliv.I dare say you can guess. Penelope had never cheated her lovers with a never-ending web, had she not had an Ulysses.
Vict.An Ulysses! what, are you then married?
Oliv.O no, not yet! but, believe me, my design is not to lead apes; nor is my heart an icicle. If you choose to know more, put on your veil, and slip with me through the garden, to the Prado.
Vict.I can't, indeed. I am this moment going to dressen hommeto visit the impatient Portuguese.
Oliv.Send an excuse; for, positively, you go with me. Heaven and earth! I am going to meet a man! whom I have been fool enough, to dream and think of these two years, and I don't know that ever he thought of me in his life.
Vict.Two years discovering that?
Oliv.He has been abroad. The only time I ever saw him was at the Duchess of Medina's—there were a thousand people; and he was so elegant, so careless, so handsome!—In a word, though he set off for France the next morning, by some witchcraft or other, he has been before my eyes ever since.
Vict.Was the impression mutual?
Oliv.He hardly noticed me. I was then a bashful thing just out of a convent, and shrunk from observation.
Vict.Why, I thought you were going to meet him.
Oliv.To be sure; I sent him a command this morning, to be at the Prado. I am determined to find out if his heart is engaged, and if it is——
Vict.You'll cross your arms, and crown your brow with willows?
Oliv.No, positively; not whilst we have myrtles. I would prefer Julio, 'tis true, to all his sex; but if he is stupid enough to be insensible to me, I shan't for that reason, pine like a girl, on chalk and oatmeal.—No, no; in that case, I shall form a new plan, and treat my future lovers with more civility.
Vict.You are the only woman in love, I ever heard talk reasonably.
Oliv.Well, prepare for the Prado, and I'll give you a lesson against your days of widowhood. Don't you wish this the moment, Victoria? A pretty widow at four-and-twenty has more subjects, and a wider empire, than the first monarch upon earth. I long to see you in your weeds.
Vict.Never may you see them! Oh, Olivia! my happiness, my life, depend on my husband. The fond hope of still being united to him, gives me spirits in my affliction, and enables me to support even the period of his neglect with patience.
[Exeunt,r.
ACT III.SCENE I.—A long Street.Julioenters from a Garden Gate in flat, with precipitation; aServant,within, fastens the Gate.
ACT III.SCENE I.—A long Street.Julioenters from a Garden Gate in flat, with precipitation; aServant,within, fastens the Gate.
Julio.Yes, yes, bar the gate fast, Cerberus, lest some other curious traveller should stumble on your confines.—If ever I am so caught again—
Garciaentersl.;going hastily across,Julioseizes him.
Garciaentersl.;going hastily across,Julioseizes him.
Don Garcia, never make love to a woman in a veil.
Gar.Why so, pr'ythee? Veils and secrecy are the chief ingredients in a Spanish amour; but in two years, Julio, thou art grown absolutely French.
Julio.That may be; but if ever I trust to a veil again, may no lovely, blooming beauty ever trust me. Why dost know, I have been an hour at the feet of a creature, whose first birth-day must have been kept the latter end of the last century, and whose trembling, weak voice, I mistook for the timid cadence of bashful fifteen!
Gar.Ha! ha! ha! What a happiness to have seen thee in thy raptures, petitioning for half a glance only, of the charms the envious veil concealed!
Julio.Yes; and when she unveiled her Gothic countenance, to render the thing completely ridiculous, she began moralizing; and positively would not let me out of the snare, till I had persuaded her she had worked a conversion, and that I'd never make love—but in an honest way, again.
Gar.Oh, that honest way of love-making is delightful, to be sure! I had a dose of it this morning; but, happily, the ladies have not yet learned to veil their tempers, though they have their faces.
EnterDon Vincentio, r.
EnterDon Vincentio, r.
Vin.Julio! Garcia! congratulate me!—Such an escape! [Crosses toc.]
Julio.What have you escaped?
Vin.Matrimony.
Gar.Nay, then our congratulations may be mutual. I have had a matrimonial escape too, this very day. I was almost on the brink of the ceremony with the veriest Xantippe!
Vin.Oh, that was not my case—mine was a sweet creature, all elegance, all life.
Julio.Then where's the cause of congratulation?
Vin.Cause! why she's ignorant of music! prefers a jig to a canzonetta, and a Jew's-harp to a pentachord.
Gar.Had my nymph no other fault, I would pardon that, for she was lovely and rich.
Vin.Mine, too, was lovely and rich; and, I'll be sworn, as ignorant of scolding, as of the gamba!—but not to know music!
Julio.Gentle, lovely, and rich! and ignorant only of music?
Gar.A venial crime indeed! if the sweet creature will marry me, she shall carry a Jew's-harp always in her train, as a Scotch laird does his bagpipes. I wish you'd give me your interest.
Vin.Oh, most willingly, if thou hast so gross an inclination; I'll name thee as a dull-souled, largo fellow, to her father, Don Cæsar.
Gar.Cæsar! what Don Cæsar?
Vin.De Zuniga.
Gar.Impossible!
Vin.Oh, I'll answer for her mother. So much is Don Zuniga, her father, that he does not know a semibreve from a culverin!
Gar.The name of the lady?
Vin.Olivia.
Gar.Why you must be mad—that's my termagant!
Vin.Termagant!—ha! ha! ha! Thou hast certainly some vixen of a mistress, who infects thy ears towards the whole sex. Olivia is timid and elegant.
Gar.By Juno, there never existed such a scold!
Vin.By Orpheus, there never was a gayer tempered creature!—Spirit enough to be charming, that's all. If she loved harmony, I'd marry her to-morrow.
Julio.Ha! ha! what a ridiculous jangle! 'Tis evident you speak of two different women.
Gar.I speak of Donna Olivia, heiress to Don Cæsar de Zuniga.
Vin.I speak of the heiress of Don Cæsar de Zuniga, who is called Donna Olivia.
Gar.Sir, I perceive you mean to insult me.
Vin.Your perceptions are very rapid, sir, but if you choose to think so, I'll settle that point with you immediately: But for fear of consequences, I'll fly home, and add the last bar to my concerto, and then meet you where you please. [Crosses,l.]
Julio.Pho! this is evidently misapprehension. [Crosses,c.] To clear the matter up, I'll visit the lady, if you'll introduce me, Vincentio;—but you shall both promise to be governed in this dispute, by my decision.
Vin.I'll introduce you with joy, if you'll try to persuade her of the necessity of music, and the charms of harmony.
Gar.Yes, she needs that——You'll find her all jar and discord.
Julio.Come, no more, Garcia; thou art but a sort of male vixen thyself. Melodious Vincentio, when shall I expect you?
Vin.This evening.
Julio.Not this evening; I have engaged to meet a goldfinch in a grove—then I shall have music, you rogue!
Vin.It won't sing at night.
Julio.Then I'll talk to it till the morning, and hear it pour out its matins to the rising sun. Call on me to-morrow; I'll then attend you to Donna Olivia, and declare faithfully the impression her character makes on me.—Come, Garcia, I must not leave you together, lest his crotchets and your minums should fall into a crash of discords.
[Exeunt,Vincentio, l., JulioandGarcia, r.
SCENE II.—The Prado.EnterDon Carlos, r.
SCENE II.—The Prado.EnterDon Carlos, r.
Car.All hail to the powers of burgundy! Three flasks to my own share! What sorrows can stand against three flasks of burgundy? I was a damned melancholy fellow this morning, going to shoot myself, to get rid of my troubles.—Where are my troubles now? Gone to the moon, to look for my wits; and there I hope they'll remain together, if one cannot come back without t'other. But where is this indolent dog, Julio? He fit to receive appointments from ladies! Sure I have not missed the hour—No, but seven yet—[Looking at his watch.]—Seven's the hour, by all the joys of burgundy! The rogue must be here—let's reconnoitre.
[Retires,r.
EnterVictoriaandOlivia,veiled,l. u. e.
EnterVictoriaandOlivia,veiled,l. u. e.
Oliv.Positively, mine's a pretty spark, to let me be first at the place of appointment. I have half resolved to go home again, to punish him.
Vict.I'll answer for its being but half a resolution—to make it entire, would be to punish yourself.—There's a solitary man—is not that he?
Oliv.I think not. If he'd please to turn his face this way——
Vict.That's impossible, while the loadstone is the other way. He is looking at the woman in the next walk. Can't you disturb him?
Oliv.[Screams.] Oh! a frightful frog!
[Carlosturns onr.
Vict.Heavens, 'tis my husband!
Oliv.Your husband! Is that Don Carlos?
Vict.It is indeed.
Oliv.Why, really, now I see the man, I don't wonder that you are in no hurry for your weeds. He is moving towards us.
Vict.I cannot speak to him, and yet my soul flies to meet him.
Car.Pray, lady, what occasioned that pretty scream? I shrewdly suspect it was a trap.
Oliv.A trap! ha! ha! ha!—a trap for you!
Car.Why not, madam? Zounds, a man near six feet high, and three flasks of burgundy in his head, is worth laying a trap for.
Oliv.Yes, unless he happens to be trapped before. 'Tis about two years since you was caught, I take it—do keep farther off!—Odious! a married man!
Car.The devil! is it posted under every saint in the street, that I am a married man?
Oliv.No, you carry the marks about you; that rueful phiz could never belong to a bachelor. Besides, there's an odd appearance on your temples—does your hat sit easily?
Car.By all the thorns of matrimony, if——
Oliv.Poor man! how natural to swear by what one feels—but why were you in such haste to gather the thorns of matrimony? Bless us! had you but looked about you a little, what a market might have been made of that fine, proper, promising person of yours.
Car.Confound thee, confound thee! If thou art a wife, may thy husband plague thee with jealousies, and thou never be able to give him cause for them; and if thou art a maid, may'st thou be an old one! [Going,r.meetsDon Julio.] Oh, Julio, look not that way; there's a tongue will stun thee!
Julio.Heaven be praised! I love female prattle. A woman's tongue can never scare me. Which of these two goldfinches makes the music?
Car.[Crosses toVictoria.] Oh, this is as silent as a turtle—[TakingVictoria'shand.]—only coos now and then,—Perhaps you don't hate a married man, sweet one?
Vict.You guess right; I love a married man.
Car.Hah, say'st thou so? wilt thou love me?
Vict.Will you let me?
Car.Let thee, my charmer! how I'll cherish thee for't. What would I not give for thy heart!
Vict.I demand a price, that, perhaps, you cannot give—I ask unbounded love; but you have a wife.
Car.And, therefore, the readier to love every other woman; 'tis in your favour, child.
Vict.Will you love me ever?
Car.Ever! yes, ever; till we find each other dull company, and yawn, and talk of our neighbours for amusement.
Vict.Farewell! I suspected you to be a bad chapman, and that you would not reach my terms. [Going.]
Car.Nay, I'll come to your terms, if I can;—but move this way; [Crosses,l.] I am fearful of that woodpecker at your elbow—should she begin again, her noise will scare all the pretty loves that are playing about my heart. Don't turn your head towards them; if you like to listen to love tales, you'll meet fond pairs enough in this walk.
[Forcing her gently off.
Julio.I really believe, though you deny it, that you are my destiny—that is, you fated me hither. See, is not this your mandate?
[Taking a letter from his pocket.
Oliv.Oh, delightful! the scrawl of some chambermaid: or, perhaps, of your valet, to give you an air. What is it signed? Marriatornes? Tomasa? Sancha?
Julio.Nay, now I am convinced the letter is yours, since you abuse it: so you may as well confess?
Oliv.Suppose I should, you can't be sure that I do not deceive you.
Julio.True; but there is one point in which I have made a vow not to be deceived; therefore, the preliminary is, that you throw off your veil.
Oliv.My veil!
Julio.Positively! if you reject this article, our negotiation ends.
Oliv.You have no right to offer articles, unless you own yourself conquered.
Julio.I own myself willing to be conquered, and have, therefore, a right to make the best terms I can. Do you accede to the demand?
Oliv.Certainly not.
Julio.You had better.
Oliv.I protest I will not.
Julio.[Aside.] My life upon't, I make you. Why, madam, how absurd this is!—yet, 'tis of no consequence, for I know your features, as well as though I saw them.
Oliv.How can that be?
Julio.I judge of what you hide, by what I see—I could draw your picture.
Oliv.Charming! pray begin the portrait.
Julio.Imprimis, a broad high forehead, rounded at the top, like an old-fashioned gateway.
Oliv.Oh, horrid!
Julio.Little gray eyes, a sharp nose, and hair, the colour of rusty prunella.
Oliv.Odious!
Julio.Pale cheeks, thin lips, and——
Oliv.Hold, hold, thou vilifier! [Throws off her veil; he sinks on one knee.] There! yes, kneel in contrition for your malicious libel.
Julio.Say, rather, in adoration. What a charming creature!
Oliv.So, now for lies on the other side.
Julio.A forehead formed by the graces; hair, which cupid would steal for his bow-strings, were he not engaged in shooting through those sparkling hazel circlets, which nature has given you for eyes; lips! that 'twere a sin to call so; they are fresh gathered rose leaves, with the fragrant morning dew still hanging on their rounded surface.
Oliv.Is that extemporaneous, or ready cut, for every woman who takes off her veil to you?
Julio.I believe, 'tis not extemporaneous; for Nature, when she finished you, formed the sentiment in my heart, and there it has been hid, till you, for whom it was formed, called it into words.
Oliv.Suppose I should understand, from all this, that you have a mind to be in love with me; would not you be finely caught?
Julio.Charmingly caught! if you'll let me understand, at the same time, that you have a mind to be in love with me.
Oliv.In love with a man! Heavens! I never loved any thing but a squirrel!
Julio.Make me your squirrel—I'll put on your chain, and gambol and play for ever at your side.
Oliv.But suppose you should have a mind to break the chain?
Julio.Then loosen it; for, if once that humour seizes me, restraint won't cure it. Let me spring and bound at liberty, and when I return to my lovely mistress, tired of all but her, fasten me again to your girdle, and kiss me while you chide.
Oliv.Your servant—to encourage you to leave me again?
Julio.No; to make returning to you, the strongest attraction to my life. Why are you silent?
Oliv.I am debating, whether to be pleased or displeased, at what you have said.
Julio.Well?
Oliv.You shall know when I have determined. My friend and yours are approaching this way, and they must not be interrupted.
Julio.'Twould be barbarous—we'll retire as far off as you please.
Oliv.But we retire separately, sir; that lady is a woman of honour, and this moment of the greatest importance to her. You may, however, conduct me to the gate, on condition that you leave me instantly.
Julio.Leave her instantly—oh, then I know my cue.
[Exit together,r. u. e.