The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
A SELECT COLLECTION
OF
OLD ENGLISH PLAYS.
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY ROBERT DODSLEY
IN THE YEAR 1744.
FOURTH EDITION,
NOW FIRST CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED, REVISED AND ENLARGED
WITH THE NOTES OF ALL THE COMMENTATORS,
AND NEW NOTES
BY
W. CAREW HAZLITT.
BENJAMIN BLOM, INC.
New York
CONTENTS
[ELVIRA.]
[EDITION.]
[INTRODUCTION.]
[DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.]
[ACT I.]
[ACT II.]
[ACT III.]
[ACT IV.]
[ACT V.]
[THE MARRIAGE NIGHT.]
[EDITION.]
[DODSLEY'S PREFACE.]
[DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.]
[ACTUS PRIMUS, SCENA PRIMA.]
[ACTUS SECUNDUS, SCENA PRIMA.]
[ACTUS TERTIUS. SCENA PRIMA.]
[ACTUS QUARTUS, SCENA PRIMA.]
[ACTUS QUINTUS, SCENA PRIMA.]
[THE ADVENTURES OF FIVE HOURS.]
[EDITIONS.]
[PREFACE.]
[TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE]
[THE FIRST SCENE IS THE CITY OF SEVILLE.]
[THE PROLOGUE AT COURT.]
[PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.]
[PROLOGUE.]
[DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.]
[ACT I.]
[ACT II.]
[ACT III.]
[ACT IV.]
[ACT V.]
[EPILOGUE.]
[ALL MISTAKEN;]
[EDITION.]
[DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.]
[ACT I., SCENE I.]
[ACT II.]
[ACT III.]
[ACT IV.]
[HISTORIA HISTRIONICA.]
[EDITION.]
[THE PREFACE.]
[A DIALOGUE, &c.]
[ERRATA]
[INDEX TO NOTES.]
[GLOSSARIAL INDEX.]
[A SELECT COLLECTION OF OLD ENGLISH PLAYS.]
[TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES]
ELVIRA
OR
THE WORST NOT ALWAYS TRUE.
[EDITION.]
Elvira: Or, The worst not always true. A Comedy, Written by a Person of Quality. Licenced May 15th, 1667, Roger L'Estrange. London, Printed by E. Cotes for Henry Brome in Little-Brittain. 1667. 4o.
[INTRODUCTION.]
George Digby, Earl of Bristol, was the author of the following play. He was, as Mr. Walpole[1] observes, "a singular person, whose life was one contradiction. He wrote against Popery, and embraced it; he was a zealous opposer of the Court, and a sacrifice for it; was conscientiously converted in the midst of his prosecution of Lord Strafford, and was most unconscientiously a prosecutor of Lord Clarendon. With great parts, he always hurt himself and his friends; with romantic bravery, he was always an unsuccessful commander. He spoke for the Test Act, though a Roman Catholic; and addicted himself to astrology on the birthday of true philosophy." The histories of England abound with the adventures of this inconsistent and eccentric nobleman who, amongst his other pursuits, esteemed the drama not unworthy of his attention. Downes, the prompter,[2] asserts that he wrote two plays between the years 1662 and 1665, made out of the Spanish; one called "'Tis better than it was," and the other entitled "Worse and Worse." Whether either of these is the present performance cannot now be ascertained. It is, however, at least probable to be one of them with a new title.[3] The same writer says he also joined with Sir Samuel Tuke in the composition of "The Adventures of Five Hours." "Elvira" was printed in the year 1667, and Mr Walpole imagines that it occasioned our author being introduced into Sir John Suckling's Session of Poets, a conjecture which, however, will by no means correspond with the time in which Lord Bristol and Sir John Suckling are supposed to have written the respective works before mentioned. From the notice taken of him by Sir John Suckling as a poet, he seems to have been the author of some pieces which are now lost to the world.[4] After a life, which at different periods of it commanded both the respect and contempt of mankind, and not unfrequently the same sentiments at one time, he died, neither loved nor regretted by any party, in the year 1676.
[A MS. note in one of the former editions says: "A play of pure intrigue.—Style feeble and drawling.—Plot extremely complicated, and quite unintelligible without a most fixed attention, which, however, the play has not merit enough to excite. July 1819.">[
FOOTNOTES:
[1] "Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors," ii. 25.
[2] "Roscius Anglicanus," 1708, p. 25.
[4] It is not easy to find out why this inference is drawn, since Sir J. Suckling only mentions him by name, with three others comparatively little known.
"Sands with Townshend, for they kept no order;
Digby and Shillingsworth a little further."
"Session of the Poets."—Collier. [But the Digby here mentioned was Sir Kenelm Digby, surely.]
[DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.]
- Don Julio Rocca.
- Don Pedro de Mendoça.
- Don Fernando Solis, in love with Donna Elvira.
- Don Zancho de Moneçes, in love with Donna Blanca.
- Fabio, servant to Don Fernando.
- Fulvio, servant to Don Pedro.
- Chichon, servant to Don Zancho.
- A Page.
- Donna Elvira, a beautiful lady, Don Pedro's daughter.
- Donna Blanca, a lady of high spirit, Don Julio's sister.
- Francisca, Donna Blanca's woman.
Scene, Valencia.
ELVIRA;
OR,
THE WORST NOT ALWAYS TRUE.[5]
[ACT I.]
The room in the inn.
Enter Don Fernando, and at another door his servant Fabio, both in riding-clothes.
Don F. Have you not been with him, Fabio, and given him
The note?
Fab. I found him newly got out of his bed;
He seem'd much satisfied, though much surpris'd,
With your arrival; and as soon as possibly
He can get ready, he'll be with you here.
He says he hopes some good occasion brings you
To Valencia, and that he shall not be
At quiet till he know it. 'Twas not fit
For me, without your orders, to give him
Any more light than what your ticket did.
Don. F. 'Tis well: go now, and see if Donna Elvira
Be stirring yet, for I would gladly have her
A witness, even at first, to what shall pass
Betwixt my friend and me in our concernments:
If she be still asleep, Fabio, make bold
To knock, and wake her; w' have no time to lose.
O, here she comes. Wait you Don Julio. [Exit Fabio.
Enter Donna Elvira.
Elv. Ah! can you think my cares and sleep consistent?
Slumber and tears have sometimes met in dreams;
But hearts, with such a weight as mine opprest,
Find still the heaviest sleep too light a guest.
Don F. Madam, though such least pity do deserve,
Who by their own unsteadiness have drawn
Misfortune on themselves, yet truly, Elvira,
Such is my sense of yours and my compassion,
To see a lady of your quality
Brought to such sad extremes in what is dearest,
As makes me even forget my own resentments,
Granting to pity the whole place of love;
And at that rate I'll serve you. Yet thus far
You must allow the eruption of a heart
So highly injur'd, as to tell you frankly,
'Tis to comply with my own principles
Of honour now, without the least relation
To former passion or to former favours.
Elv. Those you have found a ready way to cancel;
Your sullen silence, during all our journey,
Might well have spar'd you these superfluous words;
That had sufficiently instructed me
What power mere appearances have had,
Without examination, to destroy
With an umbrageous nature all that love
Was ever able on the solid'st grounds
To found and to establish. Yet, methinks,
A man that boasts such principles of honour,
And of such force to sway him in his actions,
In spite of all resentments, should reflect,
That honour does oblige to a suspense,
At least of judgment, when surprising chances,
Yet uninquired into, tempt gallant men
To prejudicial thoughts of those with whom
They had settled friendship upon virtuous grounds.
But 'tis from Heav'n, I see, and not from you,
Elvira must expect her vindication;
And until then submit to th' hardest fate
That ever can befall a generous spirit—
Of being oblig'd by him that injures her.
Don F. Nay, speak, Elvira, speak; you've me attentive:
[With a kind of scornful accent.
It were a wonder worthy of your wit
To make me trust my ears before my eyes.
Elv. Those are the witnesses, indeed, Fernando,
To whose true testimony's false inference
You owe my moderation and my silence,
And that I leave it to the gods and time
To make appear both to the world and you
The maxim false, that still the worst proves true.
Enter Fabio.
Fab. Don Julio is without.
Don F. Wait on him in—— [Exit Fabio.
And now, Elvira,
If you'll be pleas'd to rest yourself awhile
Within that closet, you may hear what passes
Betwixt my friend and me, until such time
As I by some discourse having prevented
Too great surprise, you shall think fit t' appear.
He is the man (as I have often told you
During my happy days) for whom alone
I have no reserves; and 'tis to his assistance
That I must owe the means of serving you
In the concernments of your safety and honour;
And therefore, madam, 'twill be no offence,
I hope, to trust him with the true occasion
That brings me hither to employ his friendship;
Observing that respect in the relation
Which I shall always pay you.
Elv. [Retiring as into the closet.] There needs no management in the relation.
I am indifferent what others think,
Since those who ought t' have thought the best have fail'd me:
Sir, I obey, resign'd up to your conduct,
Till mistress of my own. [Exit.
Enter Don Julio: Don Fernando and he embrace.
Don J. My joy to have my dear Fernando here
So unexpectedly, as great as 'tis,
Cannot make Julio insensible
Of th' injury you have done him, t' have alighted,
And pass'd a night within Valencia
At any other place than at his house:
Donna Blanca herself will scarce forgive it,
When she shall know it.
Don F. I hope she's well.
Don J. She is so, thanks to heaven:
But I must bid you expect a chiding from her.
Don F. You both might well accuse me of a failure,
Did not th' occasion of my coming hither
Bring with it an excuse, alas! too just,
As you will quickly find.
Don J. Nay, then you raise disquiet; ease me quickly,
By telling me what 'tis. Of this be sure:
Heart, hand and fortune are entirely yours
At all essays.
Don. F. [After pausing awhile.] It is not new t' ye that I was a lover,
Engaged in all the passion that e'er beauty,
In height of its perfection, could produce;
And that confirm'd by reason from her wit,
Her quality and most unblemish'd conduct;
Nor was there more to justify my love,
Than to persuade my happiness in her
Just correspondence to it, by all the ways
Of honourable admission, that might serve
To make esteem transcend the pitch of love.
Don J. Of all this I have not only had knowledge,
But great participation in your joys:
Than which I thought nothing more permanent,
Since founded on such virtue as Elvira's.
Don F. Ah, Julio! how fond a creature is the man
That founds his bliss upon a woman's firmness!
Even that Elvira, when I thought myself
Securest in my happiness, nothing wanting
To make her mine, but those exterior forms,
Without which men of honour, that pretend
In way of marriage, would be loth to find
Greater concession, where the love is greatest;
As I was sitting with her, late at night,
By usual admittance to her chamber,
As two whose hearts in wedlock-bands were join'd,
And seem'd above all other care, but how
Best to disguise things to a wayward father,
Till time and art might compass his consent;
A sudden noise was heard in th' inner room,
Belonging to her chamber: she starts up
In manifest disorder, and runs in,
Desiring me to stay till she had seen
What caus'd it. I, impatient, follow,
As fearing for her, had it been her father:
My head no sooner was within the room,
But straight I spied, behind a curtain shrinking,
A goodly gallant, but not known to me.
Don J. Heavens, what can this be?
Don F. You will not think that there, and at that hour,
I stay'd to ask his name. He ready as I
To make his sword th' expresser of his mind,
We soon determin'd what we sought: I hurt
But slightly in the arm; he fell as slain,
Run through the body: what Elvira did,
My rage allow'd me not to mark: but straight
I got away, more wounded to the heart
Than he I left for dead.
Don J. Prodigious accident! where can it end?
Don F. I got safe home where, carefully conceal'd,
I sought by Fabio's diligence to learn
Who my slain rival was, and what became
Of my unhappy mistress, and what course
Don Pedro de Mendoça took to right
The honour of his house.
Don J. You long'd not more
To know it then, than I do now.
Don F. All could be learn'd was this: that my rival,
Whom I thought dead, was likely to recover,
And that he was a stranger lately come
Up to the court, to follow some pretensions:
His name he either learn'd not perfectly,
Or did not well retain. As for Elvira,
That none knew where she was; and that Don Pedro
Had set a stop to prosecution
In any public way, with what reserves
Was not yet known.
Don J. More and more intricate.
Don F. I must now come to that you least look for.
I had but few days pass'd in my concealment
(Resentment and revenge still boiling in me)
When late one evening, as I buried was
In deepest thought, I suddenly was rous'd
By a surprising apparition, Julio—
Elvira in my chamber, speaking to me
With rare assurance thus:—Don Fernando,
I come not here to justify myself,
That were below Elvira towards one,
Whose action in deserting me hath shown
So disobligingly his rash judgment of me.
I come to mind you of honour, not of love:
Mine can protection seek from none but yours.
I've hitherto been shelter'd from the fury
Of my enrag'd father by my cousin Camilla:
But that's no place, you easily may judge,
For longer stay: I do expect from you
To be convey'd where, free from violence
And from new hazards of my wounded fame,
I may attend my righting from the gods.
Don J. Can guilt maintain such confidence in a maid?
Yet how to think her innocent, I know not.
Don F. 'Twere loss of time to dwell on circumstances,
Either of my wonder or reply: in short,
What I found honour dictated, I did.
Within two hours, I put her in a coach,
And, favour'd by the night, convey'd her safe
Out of Madrid to Ocana, and thence
In three days hither to Valencia,
The only place where (by your generous aid)
I could have hopes to settle and secure
Her person and her honour. That once done,
Farewell to Spain: I'll to the wars of Milan,
And there soon put a noble end to cares.
Don J. Let us first think how to dispose of her,
Since here you say she is; that done (which presses),
You will have time to weigh all other things.
Don F. My thoughts can pitch upon no other way
Decent or safe for her, but in a convent,
If you have any abbess here to friend.
Don J. I have an aunt, ruling the Ursulines,
With whom I have full power; and she is wise,
In case that course were to be fix'd upon.
But that's not my opinion.
Don F. What can
Your reason be?
Don J. Last remedies, in my judgment,
Are not to be used, till easier have been tried.
Had this strange accident been thoroughly
Examined in all its circumstances,
And that from thence she were convicted guilty,
Nought else were to be thought on but a cloister;
But, as things stand imperfectly discover'd,
Although appearances condemn her strongly,
I cannot yet conclude a person guilty
Of what throughout so contradictory seems
To the whole tenor of her former life,
As well as to her quality and wit;
And therefore let's avoid precipitation,
Let my house be her shelter for awhile;
You know my sister Blanca is discreet,
And may be trusted; she shall there be serv'd
By her and me with care and secrecy.
Don F. The offer's kind, but nowise practicable,
And might prove hazardous to Blanca's honour,
When it should once break out (as needs it must)
From servants seeing such a guest so treated.
Don J. That, I confess, I know not how to answer:
But, could Elvira's mind submit unto it,
I could propose a course without objection.
Don F. That she can soon resolve; what is it, Julio?
Don J. A gentlewoman, who waited on my sister,
Hath newly left her service for a husband,
And it is known she means to take another:
I have a ready way to recommend one—
By Violante, of whose love and mine
You are not ignorant, since that ere this
We had been married, had not kindred forc'd us
To wait a dispensation for 't from Rome.
Blanca (I am sure) will readily
Embrace any occasion of obliging her.
Don F. That were a right expedient indeed,
Could but Elvira's spirit brook it.
Enter Elvira as from the closet.
Elv. You have ill measures of Elvira's spirit,
Mistaken Don Fernando. Till Heaven's justice
Shall her entirely to herself restore,
The lowlier shape her fate shall hide her under,
The more 'twill fit her humour.
[Don Julio starts back as it were amazed.
Don J. [Aside.] O heavens! can guilt with such perfection dwell,
And put on such assurance? It cannot be.
Don J. [Addressing himself to her, and beginning; she holding out her hand and interrupting him.] Madam——
Elv. Spare compliments, and let your actions speak:
Those may oblige both him and me; your words
Cannot comply with both.
Don J. [Aside.] Did ever yet
Such majesty with misery combine,
But in this woman? [To her.] Madam, I obey,
And, since you're pleas'd t' approve what I proposed,
No moment shall be lost in th' execution.
[Exit Julio, Fernando accompanying him, and Fabio.
Elv. O, how unkindly have the heavens dealt
With womankind above all other creatures!
Our pleasure and our glory to have placed
All on the brink of precipices, such
As every breath can blow the least light of us
Headlong into, past all hopes of redemption:
Nor can our wit or virtue give exemption.
'Tis true, I lov'd; but justified therein
By spotless thoughts and by the object's merit,
I deem'd myself above the reach of malice;
When in an instant, by another's folly,
I am more lost than any by her[6] own.
Accurs'd Don Zancho, what occasion
E'er gave Elvira to thy mad intrusion?
Unless disdain and scorn incentives are
To make men's passions more irregular.
Ah, matchless rigour of the Pow'rs above!
Not only to submit our honour's fate
Unto the vanity of those we love,
But to the rashness even of those we hate. [Exit.
Enter Donna Blanca at one door, reading a paper, with great marks of passion and disturbance; and her waiting-woman Francisca at another, observing her.
Blan. Ah, the traitor!
Fran. What can this mean? [Aside.
Blan. Was this thy sweet pretension at Madrid,
Drawn out in length, and hind'ring thy return?
Thy fair pretence, thou shouldst have said, false man.
Fran. For love's sake, madam, what can move you thus?
Blan. For hate's sake, say, and for revenge, Francisca,
And so thou may'st persuade me to discover
My shame unto thee. Read, read that letter;
'Tis from your favourite Chichon.
[Francisca takes the letter and reads it.
"Madam, to make good my engagements of concealing nothing from you during this absence of my master, I am bound to tell you that some ten days since, late at night, he was left for dead, run through the body by another unknown gallant, in the chamber of a famed beauty of the court. Whilst the danger continued, I thought it not fit to let you know either the accident or the occasion; which, now he is recovered, and thinking of his return to Valencia, I must no longer forbear. I hope you will have a care not to undo me for being more faithful to you than to the master you gave me.—Your creature,
"Chichon."
Blan. Have I not a worthy gallant, think you?
Fran. Madam, this comes of being over-curious,
And gaining servants to betray their masters.
How quiet might you have slept, and never felt
What pass'd with your Don Zancho at Madrid!
His pale and dismal looks at his return,
Though caus'd by loss of blood in the hot service
Of other dames, might fairly have been thought
Effects of care and want of sleep for you,
And (taken so) have pass'd for new endearments.
Who ever pry'd into another's letter,
Or slyly hearken'd to another's whisper,
But saw or heard somewhat that did not please him?
'Twas Eve's curiosity undid us all.
Blan. Away with thy moralities,[7] dull creature!
I'll make thee see, and false Don Zancho feel,
That Blanca's not a dame to be so treated.
But who are those I hear without? Whoe'er
They be, they come at an unwelcome hour. [Francisca looks out.
Fran. Madam, it is a page of Violante's,
Ushering [in] a handsome maid.
Enter a Page with a letter, and Elvira. The Page presents the letter to Blanca; she addresses herself to Elvira, and she throws up her veil.
Blan. This letter is in your behalf, fair maid,
[Having read the letter.
There's no denying such a recommender;
But such a face as yours is needed none.
Page, tell your lady as much: and you, Silvia, [Turning.
(For so she says you are call'd) be confident
Y'are fallen into the hands of one that knows
How to be kind, more as your friend than mistress,
If your demeanour and good-nature answer
But what your looks do promise.
Elv.[8] Madam, it is the noble charity
Of those you cast upon me, not mine own,
To which I must acknowledge any advantage
I ever can pretend to, more than what
Fair Violante's meditation gives me.
Blan. She's strangely handsome, and how well
she speaks! [Aside to Francisca.
Fran. So, so, methinks: you know new-comers, madam,
Set still the best foot forward.
Blan. And know as well, that you decaying stagers
Are always jealous of new-comers, young
And handsome.
Fran. You may be as sharp upon me as you please;
I know to what t' attribute your ill-humour.
Blan. Francisca, entertain her: I'll go write
To Violante, and then rest awhile,
In hopes to ease the headache that hath seiz'd me;
That done, sweet Silvia, we shall talk at leisure. [Exit Blanca.
Fran. Sweet Silvia! kind epithets are for new faces. [Aside.
Elv. Now comes the hard part of my task indeed,
To act the fellow waiting-woman right.
But, since the gods already have conform'd
My mind to my condition, I do hope
They'll teach me words and gestures suitable.
[Aside. Francisca embraces Elvira.
Fran. Let me embrace thee, my sweet sister, and beg you
To be no niggard of a little kindness:
A very little serves, with such a face,
To gain what heart you please.
Elv. If it can help to gain me yours, I'll take it
For the best office that it ever did me,
And love it much the better.
Fran. Make much on't then, for that 't has done already.
Elv. If you will have me vain enough to think it,
You must confirm it by the proof of being
My kind instructor how to please my lady,
For I am very raw in service.
Fran. O, that
I were so too, and had thy youth t' excuse it.
But my experience, sister, shall be yours
By free communication. Come, let's in,
And rest us in my chamber; there I'll give you
First handsel of the frankness of my nature.
[Exeunt Elvira and Francisca.
Enter Don Zancho and Chichon his man, in riding-habits.
Don Z. I must confess, Chichon, the very smell
Of sweet Valencia has e'en reviv'd my spirits.
There's no such pleasure as to suck and breathe
One's native air.
Chi. Chiefly after being in so fair a way,
As you, of never breathing any more!
Don Z. Prythee, no more of that; since I have forgot it,
Methinks thou easily may'st.
Chi. Faith, hardly, sir, whilst still your ghastly face
Doth bear such dismal memorandums of it,
Apter to raise inquisitiveness in those
Knowing nothing of the matter, than t' allay
Remembrance in partakers.
Don Z. Heaven shield us from Donna Blanca's queries!
No matter for the rest.
Chi. You would not wish to find her so unconcern'd;
I'm sure you would not: faith, I long to hear
Th' ingenious defeats, I make account,
You are prepar'd to give to her suspicions.
Don Z. Let me alone for that: but, on thy life,
Be sure that nothing be screw'd out of thee,
Neither by her nor by her sly Francisca.
Chi. Be you, sir, sure, that from your true Chichon
They'll know no more to-day, than yesterday
They did; nor thence more to the world's end,
Than what they did before we left Madrid.
Don Z. Truly, Chichon, we needs must find the means
To get a sight of her this very night:
I die, if I should miss it.
Chi. Last week left gasping for Elvira's love.
And scarce reviv'd, when presently expiring
For Blanca's again! I did not think Don Cupid
Had been a merchant of such quick returns.
Don Z. Thou art an ass, and want'st distinctiveness
'Twixt love and love: that was a love of sport
To keep the serious one in breath.
Chi. Faith, sir, I must confess my ignorance,
That when I saw you grovelling in your blood,
I thought your love had been in sober sadness.
Don Z. Prythee, leave fooling, and let's carefully
Gain the back way into my house unseen,
That none may know of my return, till Blanca
Find me at her feet. And be you industrious
T' observe Don Julio's going forth this evening:
Doubtless he'll keep his usual hours abroad
At Violante's, since not married yet.
Chi. I shall observe your orders punctually. [Exeunt.
Enter Don Julio, and knocks as at Blanca's door.
Don J. What, sister, at your siesta[9] already? if so,
You must have patience to be wak'd out of it,
For I have news to tell you.
Enter Blanca.
Blan. No, brother, I was much more pleasingly
Employ'd—in serving you; that is, making
My court to Violante by receiving
To wait upon me, in Lucilla's place,
A gentlewoman of her recommending.
Don J. Where is she? let me see her.
Blan. 'Twere not safe:
She is too handsome. You think now I jest?
But, without raillery, she is so lovely,
That, were not Violante very assur'd
Of her own beauty and the strong ideas
That still upholds within you, one might question
Her wit to have set her in her gallant's way.
But what's the news you mean?
Don J. That our dear friend and kinsman, Don Fernando,
Is come to town, and going for Italy:
The secret of it doth so much import him,
It forc'd him to forbear alighting here,
And lodging with us, as he us'd to do;
But yet he says, nothing shall hinder him
From waiting on you in the dusk of th' evening:
I hope you'll find wherewith to regale[10] him.
Blan. As well as you have drain'd my cabinets
Of late in presents to your mistress, some
Perfumes will yet be found, such as at Rome
Itself shall not disgrace Valencia.
Don J. I know your humour, and that the best present
Can be given you is to give you the occasion
Of presenting; but I am come in now
Only to advertise you, and must be gone;
Yet not, I hope, without a sight of one
So recommended and commended so.
Blan. I should have thought you strangely chang'd in humour,
Should you have gone away so uncuriously.
Francisca, ho! [She knocks.
Enter Francisca.
Fran. What please you, madam?
Fran. Prythee, tell Silvia I would speak with her.
[Exit Francisca.
Well, clear your eyes, and say I have no skill,
If she appears not t' ye exceeding handsome.
Enter Francisca with Elvira. Don Julio salutes her.
Don J. Welcome, fair maid, into this family,
Where, whilst you take a servant's name upon you,
To do my sister honour, you must allow
Its master to be yours, and that by strongest ties,
Knowing who plac'd you here, and having eyes.
Elv. I wish my service, sir, to her and you
May merit such a happy introduction.
Don J. Farewell, sister, till anon: accompanied
As now you are, I think you'll miss me little. [Exit Julio.
Blan. I must confess, I ne'er could better spare you
Than at this time, but not for any reason
That you, I hope, can guess at.
Francisca, you and Silvia may retire,
[Exeunt Elvira and Francisca.
And entertain yourselves: I'll to my closet,
And try to rest, or (rather) to vent freely
My restless thoughts. O, the self-torturing part [Aside.
To force complaisance from a jealous heart! [Exit.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] The errors Dodsley committed, and Reed allowed to remain, in the course of this play, were very numerous: it has been thought worth while to point out only a few of them in the notes.—Collier.
[6] The substitution of my for her, in opposition to the authority of the old copy, till now made this passage unintelligible.—Collier.
[7] In former editions misprinted—
"Away with thy formalities, dull creature!"—
which destroys all the spirit of the exclamation.—Collier.
[8] The old copy inserts in the margin opposite Elvira the words by the name of Silvia merely to show more distinctly that Elvira was to pass by that name, which is inserted before what she says.—Collier.
[9] The heat of the day, from noon forwards. So called from Hora Sexta, noonday, a time when the Spanish ladies retire to sleep.
[10] It is singular that in the old copy the author should here have inserted the Spanish verb regalar instead of the English one.—Collier.
[ACT II.]
Scene changes to the room in the inn. Enter Don Julio and Don Fernando.
Don J. Albricias,[11] friend, for the good news I bring you:
All has fallen out as well as we could wish.
As to Elvira's settling with my sister,
So lucky a success in our first aims
Concerning her, I trust, does bode good fortune
Beyond our hopes; yet, in the farther progress
Of this affair——
Don F. There's no such thing in nature left as better,
Julio; the worst proves always true with me.
Yet prythee, tell, how does that noble beauty
(Wherein high quality is so richly stamp'd)
Comport her servile metamorphosis?
Don J. As one whose body, as divine as 'tis,
Seems bound to obey exactly such a mind,
And gently take whate'er shape that imposes.
Don F. Ah, let us mention her no more, my Julio!
Ideas flow upon me too abstracted
From her unfaithfulness, and may corrupt
The firmest reason. Above all, be sure
I do not see her so transform'd, lest that
Transform me too: I'll rather pass with Blanca
Both for unkind and rude, and leave Valencia
Without seeing her.
Don J. Leave that to me, Fernando;
But if you intend the honour to my sister,
It will be time: the night draws on apace.
Don F. Come, let's begone then.
[As they are going out, enter Fabio hastily.
Fab. Stay, sir, for heaven's sake, stay——
Don F. Why, what's the matter?
Fab. That will surprise you both, as much as me.
Don Pedro de Mendoça is below,
Newly alighted.
Don F. Ha! What say'st thou, sirrah?
Elvira's father?
Fab. Sir, the very same;
And he had scarcely set one foot to ground
When he inquired, Where lives Don Julio Rocca?
Don J. For my house, Fabio? It cannot be;
I never knew the man.
Don F. The thing does speak itself and my hard fate.
What else can bring him hither but pursuit
Of me and of his daughter, having learn'd
The way we took? and what's so easy, Julio,
Here at Valencia, as to know our friendship;
And then of consequence, your house to be
My likeliest retreat?
Don J. 'Tis surely so;
Let us apply our thoughts to best preventives.
Don F. Whilst we retire into the inner room
T' advise together, Fabio, be you sure
(Since unknown to him) to observe his motions. [Exeunt omnes.
Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter Don Zancho and Chichon, as in the street near Don Julio's house.
Don Z. Newly gone out, say you?
That is as lucky as we could have wish'd:
And see but how invitingly the door
Stands open still!
Chi. An open door may lead to a face of wood;
[Aside to Don Zancho.
But mean you, sir, to go abruptly in
Without more ceremony?
Don Z. Surprise redoubles (fool) the joys of lovers.
But stay, Chichon, let's walk aside awhile,
Till yonder coach be past. [Exeunt.
Scene changes to the room in the inn. Enter Don Julio and Don Fernando.
Don J. There's no safety in any other way.
You must not stir from hence, until w' have got
Some farther light what course he means to steer.
Let Fabio be vigilant: I'll get home
Down that back-stairs, and take such order there
Not to be found, in case he come to inquire,
As for this night at least shall break his measures;
And in the morning we'll resolve together,
Whether you ought to quit Valencia or no.
Don F. Farewell, then, for to-night: I'll be alert.
But see y' excuse me fairly to my cousin. [Exeunt.
Scene changes to Blanca's antechamber. Enter Donna Blanca and Francisca.
Blan. As well as Silvia pleases me, Francisca,
I'm glad at present that she is not well,
She would constrain me else: she has wit enough
To descant on my humour, and from thence
To make perhaps discoveries, not fit
For such new-comers.
Fran. If she has wit, she keep it to herself,
At least from me: of pride and melancholy
I see good store.
Blan. Still envious and detracting?
Enter Don Zancho and Chichon.
Fran. See who comes there, madam, to stop your mouth!
[Donna Blanca casting an eye that way, and Chichon clinging up close behind his master, and making a mouth.
Chi. Sh' has spied us, and it thickens in the clear.
I fear a storm: goes not your heart pit-a-pat?
[To his master, aside.
Blan. Ah, the bold traitor!—but I must dissemble,
And give his impudence a little line,
The better to confound him.
[Advancing to him, and as it were embracing him with an affected cheerfulness.
Welcome as unexpected, my Don Zancho.
Don Z. Nay, then we are safe, Chichon. [Aside to Chichon.
Incomparable maid! Heaven bless those eyes,
From which I find a new life springing in me;
Having so long been banish'd from their rays,
How dark the court appear'd to me without them;
Could it have kept me from their influence,
As from their light, I had expir'd long since.
Blan. Y' express your love now in so courtly a style,
I fear you have acted it in earnest there,
And but rehearse to me your country mistress.
Don Z. Ah, let Chichon but tell you how he hath seen me
During my absence from you.
Chi. I vow I have seen him even dead for love.
You might have found it in his very looks,
Before you brought the blood into his cheeks.
Blan. E'en dead (you say) for love! but say of whom?
Don Z. Can Blanca ask a question so injurious,
As well to her own perfections as my faith?
Blan. I can hold no longer. [Aside to Francisca.
My faithful lover, then it is not you—— [To him scornfully.
Chi. She changes tone: I like not, faith, the key,
The music will be jarring. [Aside to his master.
Blan. 'Tis not then you, Don Zancho, who, having chang'd
His suit at court into a love pretension,
And his concurrents into a gallant rival,
Fell by his hand, a bloody sacrifice
At his fair mistress' feet: who was it, then?
[Don Zancho stands awhile as amazed, with folded arms. Chichon behind his master, holding up his hands, and making a pitiful face; Francisca steals to him, and holding up her hand threateningly—
Fran. A blab, Chichon, a pick-thank, peaching varlet!
Ne'er think to look me in the face again. [Aside to Chichon.
Chi. In what part shall I look thee, hast thou a worse?
It is the devil has discover'd it—
Some witch dwells here: I've long suspected thee.
[Aside to Francisca.
Fran. I never more shall think thee worth my charms.
Blan. What, struck dumb with guilt? perfidious man!
That happens most to the most impudent,
When once detected. Well, get thee hence,
And see thou ne'er presum'st to come again
Within these walls, or I shall let thee see
'Tis not at court alone, where hands are found
To let such madmen blood.
[She turns as going away, and Don Zancho holds her gently by the gown.
Don Z. Give me but hearing, madam, and then if——
Don J. What, ho! no lights below-stairs? [Aloud, as below.
Fran. O heavens! madam, hear you not your brother?
Into the chamber quickly, and let them
Retire behind that hanging; there's a place,
Where usually we throw neglected things.
I'll take the lights and meet him: certainly
His stay will not be long from Violante
At this time of the night; besides, you know,
He never was suspicious.
[Don Zancho and Chichon go behind the hanging, and Donna Blanca, retiring to her chamber, says—
Capricious fate! must I who, whilst I lov'd him,
Ne'er met with checking accident, fall now
Into extremest hazards for a man,
Whom I begin to hate?
[Exit, and Francisca at another door with the lights.
Francisca re-enters with Don Julio.
Don J. Where's my sister?
Fran. In her chamber, sir,
Not very well; she's taken with a megrim.
Don J. Light me in to her.
[Exit Don Julio, Francisca lighting him with one of the lights. Chichon peeping out from behind the hangings.
Chi. If this be Cupid's prison, 'tis no sweet one.
Here are no chains of roses; yet I think
Y' had rather b' in 't than in Elvira's chamber,
As gay and as perfum'd as 'twas.
Don Z. Hold your peace, puppy; is this a time for fooling?
Enter Francisca, and Chichon starts back.
Fran. [Coming to the hanging.] Chichon, look out; you may, the coast is clear.
[Chichon looks out.
Could I my lady's near concerns but sever
From yours in this occasion, both of you
Should dearly pay your falsehood.
Chi. You are jealous too, I see; but help us out
This once, and if you catch me here again,
Let Chichon pay for all, faithful Chichon.
Fran. Y' are both too lucky in the likelihood
Of getting off so soon. Stay but a moment,
Whilst I go down to see the wicket open,
And see that there be nobody in the way. [Exit Francisca.
Chi. It is a cunning drab, and knows her trade.
Re-enter Francisca, and comes to the hanging.
Fran. There's now some witch o' th' wing indeed, Chichon,
Julio, that never till this night forbore
To go to Violante's, ere he slept,
And pass some hours there—Julio, who never
Inquired after the shutting of a door,
Hath lock'd the gate himself at 's coming in,
And bid a servant wait below till midnight,
With charge to say to any that should knock
And ask for him, that he's gone sick to bed!
What it can mean, I know not.
Chi. I would I did not; but I have too true
An almanac in my bones foretells a beating
Far surer than foul weather. He has us, faith,
Fast in Lob's-pound.[12] Heaven send him a light hand,
To whom my fustigation shall belong:
As for my master, he may have the honour
To be rebuk'd at sharp.
Fran. May terror rack this varlet; but for you, sir,
Be not dismay'd, the hazard's not so great.
Yonder balcony, at farther end o' th' room,
Opens into the street, and the descent is
Little beyond your height, hung by the arms:
When Julio is asleep, I shall not fail
To come and let you out; I keep the key.
In the meanwhile, you must have patience.
Chi. It were a nasty hole to stay in long.
Did not my fear correct its evil savour. [Aside.
Dame, you say well for him, with whom I think
Y' have measur'd length, you speak so punctually
Of his dimensions; but I see no care
For me, your pretty, not your proper man,
Who does abhor feats of activity. [To her.
Fran. I'll help you—with a halter!
[Exit Francisca, and Chichon retires.
Scene changes to Blanca's Bed-chamber. Enter Blanca and Elvira; and soon after Francisca, as in Blanca's chamber, she sitting at her toilet undressing.
Blan. My brother told me I should see him again,
Before he went to rest.
Fran. I think I hear him coming.
Blan. He'll not stay long, I hope; for I am on thorns
Till I know they are out. I' th' meanwhile,
We must persuade Silvia to go to bed,
Lest some odd chance should raise suspicion in her,
Before I know her fitness for such trusts.
Enter Don Julio. Elvira offers to unpin her gorget.
Blan. I prythee, Silvia, leave, and get thee gone
To bed: you ha'n't been well, nor are not yet;
Your heavy eyes betray indisposition.
Elv. Good madam, suffer me; 'twill make me well
To do you service.
Blan. Brother, I ask your help; [To Julio.
Take Silvia hence, and see her in her chamber.
This night she must be treated as a stranger,
And you must do the honour of your house.
[Julio goes to Elvira, and taking her by the hand, leads her away.
Elv. Since you will not let me begin to serve,
I will begin to obey. [Making a low curtsey.
Fran. Quaint, in good faith! [Bridling.
Don J. My sister's kinder than she thinks, to give me
[To Elvira, as he leads her.
This opportunity of telling Silvia
How absolutely mistress in this place
Elvira is. [Francisca whispers all this while with Blanca.
Elv. Good sir, forget that name.
[Exeunt Julio and Elvira.
Blan. If that be so, what shall we do, Francisca?
What way to get them out?
Fran. It is a thing so unusual with him,
It raises ominous thoughts, else I make sure
To get them off as well as you can wish;
But, if already awaken'd by suspicion,
Nothing can then be sure.
Blan. O, fear not that: what you have seen him do
Of unaccustom'd, I dare say relates
To quite another business.
Fran. Then set your heart at rest from all disturbance
Arising from this accident.
Blan. If you are certain
To get them off so clear from observation,
'Twill out of doubt be best: I'll tell my brother
Don Zancho is return'd, and had call'd here
This evening to have seen him; for my fears
Sprang only from the hour and the surprise,
Warm'd as he then had found me; since you know
How little apt he is to jealousy.
Fran. Madam, y' have reason; that will make all sure,
In case he should be told of's being here;
The time of's stay can hardly have been noted.
Enter Don Julio.
Don J. As an obedient brother, I have perform'd
What you commanded me.
Blan. A hard injunction from a cruel sister,
To wait upon a handsome maid to her chamber!
Don J. You see I've not abused your indulgence
By staying long; nor can I stay indeed
With you, I must be abroad so early
To-morrow morning; therefore, dear, good night.
Blan. Stay, brother, stay; I had forgot to tell you
[As he is going.
Don Zancho de Moneçes is return'd,
And call'd this evening here t' have kiss'd your hands.
Francisca spake with him.
Don J. I hope he's come successful in his suit:
To-morrow I'll go see him. [Exit Don Julio.
Blan. You see he's free from umbrage on that subject.
Fran. I see all's well, and may he sleep profoundly—
The sooner, madam, you are abed the better.
Blan. Would once my fears were over, that my rage
Might have its course.
Fran. I shall not stop it,
But after it has had its full career
'Twill pause, I hope, and reason find an ear. [Exeunt.
Scene changes to the room in the inn. Enter Don Fernando and Fabio.
Don F. Is he gone out?
Fab. No, sir, not as yet;
But seeing the servant he had sent abroad
Newly return'd, I listen'd at his door,
And heard him plainly give him this account—
That he had found Don Julio Rocca's house,
And having knock'd a good while at the door,
Answer was made him without opening it,
Don Julio's not at home; whereat Don Pedro
Impatient rose, and, calling for his cloak
And sword, he swore he'd rather wait himself
Till midnight at his door, than lose a night
In such a pressing business.—This I thought
Fit to acquaint you with, and that he spake
Doubtfully of his returning to lodge here.
Don F. You have done well, but must do better yet,
In following him, and being sure to lose
No circumstance of what he does.
Fab. To dog him possibly might be observ'd,
This moonlight, by his servant; but since, sir,
We're certain whither he goes, my best course
(I think) will be to go out the back-way,
And place myself beforehand in some porch
Near Julio's house, where I may see and hear
What passes, and then do as I shall see cause.
Don F. 'Tis not ill thought on; but how late soever
Your return be, I shall expect to see you,
Before we go to bed.