SCENE III.

The Hall in the Castle.

Enter FLORA and JEROME.

Flora. Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Jerome. Ha, ha, ha, ha—But is all this matter of fact?

Flora. As true as I am alive, Jerome—I have done nothing but laugh ever since I heard it—But do you think, Jerome, she'll be drest all over like a man?

Jerome. To be sure.

Flora. What, every thing?

Jerome. Yes—Every thing—Egad, I long to have a peep at her!

Flora. Aye, and so would Antonio too, if he knew.—

Jerome. Aye, that he would—he'd be so fond of the young Marquis there would be no keeping him away from her—but he does not know of it, you say?

Flora. No; no soul knows of it yet but my Lady and I, and now I have told it to you; and I am to tell it to all the servants as soon as she comes, that they may not think my Lady has broken her vow, by admitting a man—Lord, I wonder how I should look in men's clothes!

Jerome. There's the Priest's old great cloak, doublet, and jack-boots hanging up behind that door, if you have a mind to try, and I'll step out of the way till you have put them on.

( A loud rapping at the door. )

Flora. Here she is—Here she is—Oh dear—Oh dear—how ashamed I am for her.

Jerome. And I wish I may die if so ben't I.

( Covering his eyes. )

Flora. And yet somehow I long to see her!

( Another rapping. )

Flora. Run, Jerome, run.

Jerome. This moment ( turning back ) but I am so afraid I shall laugh.

Flora. O no—Don't laugh—if you do you will spoil all, and my Lady will never forgive you.

Jerome. Well—I won't—I won't, if I can help it—I'll look so—just so, if I can—as serious as a judge—will that do? ( looking serious. )

Flora. Yes; that will do. ( Rapping again. )

Jerome. ( Going. ) Ha, ha, ha, ha—I can't help laughing a little though—but not before her—I'll be as serious as a judge before her. ( aside ) Egad I am afraid—I am afraid I shall laugh.

( Exit, stifling a laugh. )

Flora. Now where shall I run to have a peep at her?—in here.[ Exit Flora.

Enter JEROME, bowing before the MARQUIS, with his face on one side, as if he was afraid to look at him for fear he should laugh.

Marquis. Let Don Antonio know I have letters for him.

Jerome. Yes, your Honour—Lordship. ( Lifting up his eyes, looking at him with side glances, and with difficulty stifling a laugh. ) Your Honour, your Lordship—Let Don Antonio—know—you—have—letters—for—him. ( Suppressing a laugh. )

Marquis. Yes; is not that plain?

Jerome. Yes. ( still suppressing a laugh. ) And he'll be very glad to wait upon your Honour.

[ Laughs right out and exit.

Marquis. A strange fellow this—How my heart beats!

Flora. ( from a door. ) Oh that she would but turn this way, that I might see her face—Oh the impudent slut.

Enter JEROME with a grin on his face.

Jerome. Noble Lord, Don Antonio will be here immediately. ( Then laughs and stares at him from head to foot. ) Here he is.

Enter ANTONIO.

( The Marquis bows very respectfully whilst Jerome is laughing and making faces behind. )

Marquis. Letters, my Lord, from your brother at Madrid.

Antonio. Signior. ( Taking the letters. )

Marquis. ( aside while Antonio reads. ) Heavens, whence this palpitation? If such are the feelings of my bosom on knowing myself in the same house with her, what must be my agitation on a nearer approach!

Antonio. My letters inform me it is the Marquis who does me the honour of this visit—My Lord, your Lordship—

Jerome. Ha, ha, ha.

Antonio. What's the matter with you?

Jerome. Sir, I was only—

Antonio. Only what? Leave the room.

Jerome. ( Aside. ) Well I thought the old Don would have found out a woman in any disguise. [ Exit.

Antonio. My Lord, you may command my services and friendship, but I fear you will not rate them so highly as I could wish, as you must be debarred the acquaintance and society of my niece—You are no stranger to the vow she has taken?

Marquis. I am not—and yet I flatter myself the manner in which I am spoken of in these letters—

Antonio. Be certain, Sir, my niece shall receive them, urged with all my authority for an interview. Will your Lordship take a turn in the garden while I deliver them and enforce their contents?

Marquis. I will—and should you prove successful, Don Antonio, I shall ever retain the deepest sense of the obligation. [ Exit Marquis.

Enter the COUNTESS.

Antonio. Niece, I was this moment coming to you, to bring you these letters from your uncle at Madrid, which you will find recommend, in the strongest manner, to your acquaintance, no other than the young Marquis our neighbour—as fine a youth as ever I saw.

Countess. Ha, ha, ha—is he arrived?—

Antonio. Now in the house—What is the matter?—Did you hear of his intended visit?

Countess. Yes—Ha, ha, ha—how does he look?

Antonio. Delightfully—I don't think I ever saw a handsomer man.

Countess. Man! —Ha, ha, ha, I dare say he looks a little awkward?

Antonio. Aukward! No; he is as elegant in his deportment, and as fine, as finished a young fellow as ever I saw.

Countess. ( After looking over the letter. ) Certainly, I shall comply with my uncle's request—Let his Lordship be admitted.

Antonio. Niece, I always knew you could not keep your vow—I always knew the very first man that came in your way—crash it would go directly, but let me persuade you to break it by degrees, and not let the world say you made no struggle first.

Countess. Struggle! Now, my dear Uncle, with all your deep discernment, particularly in regard to our sex, to see you at last imposed upon delights me.

Antonio. Imposed upon!

Countess. Yes; for this self-same Marquis is a woman.

Antonio. A woman!

Countess. Yes; this "fine, elegant creature."

Antonio. That is, then, the very reason why I thought her so—"a fine creature,"—now that is intuition, instinct, love without knowing it—But, my dear niece, are you sure you are right? Are you sure you don't deceive me? Don't disappoint me—I can't bear a disappointment in a matter like this—I am vastly pleased, and a disappointment might be fatal.

Countess. I assure you again a woman—sister to the Marquis—and has undertaken this scheme purely to make love to me, and turn me into ridicule.

Antonio. Now I think of it again, she was devilish awkward—and I believe wore her sword on the wrong side.

Countess. It is she herself depend upon it.

Antonio. To be sure it is—and I'll be hang'd if it did not strike me to be a woman the moment I laid my eyes on her—for she came up to me slipping and sliding, and tossing her head, just as the fine ladies do. ( Mimicks. ) Well—But what do you intend to do? I know what I intend to do.

Countess. I shall carry on the scheme, and pretend to be deceived, till I turn the joke she designs for me, on herself.

Antonio. Yes; and I intend to have my joke too.

Countess. But you must keep the secret.

Antonio. I wo'nt say a word.

Countess. Take his Lordship into the saloon, and I'll wait upon him immediately.

Antonio. Aye, my dear—and you need not be in a hurry—Egad, I like the joke of all things.[ Exit.

Enter JEROME and FLORA.

Flora. Dear my Lady, have you seen her?

Countess. Not yet.

Flora. Well, I declare she looks as like a man!

Countess. I shall certainly laugh in her face.

Jerome. Oh no, don't laugh—Never give your mind to laughing—I did not even smile, but kept my countenance as steady—just thus—Did not I, Flora? Oh—'tis such a weakness to laugh—Look just so—as I do now—

Countess. I must away to the trial, however—come with me to the door, Flora.

Jerome. And be sure you don't laugh—Think on me, and keep your countenance—if you can.

( Exit Countess and Flora on one side and Jerome on the other. )