Chapter VI: Act V (1)

_Enter +Don Julio+ talking to himself, and at another
door +Fernando+ who, perceiving it, stands close._

+Don J.+ Bless'd be the gods that yet my honour's safe
Amidst such strange perplexities, from which
Fortune and wit (I think) together join'd,
With all their strength, could hardly an issue find.
To temper, comfort, or to serve my friend
What argument? what means? how to assist
Don Pedro in his aims, and to comply
With what I owe the duke, I see as little;
And less conceive, how to behave myself,
As ought a gentleman towards a lady,
With whose protection he hath charg'd himself,
And brought her to his house on that assurance;
Whom to expose cannot consist with honour,
However she may have expos'd her own;
And (least of all) how to repair to Blanca
The injury I have done her, whose high spirit,
I fear, will be implacable. O heavens!
What a condition's mine?

[_He stands pausing, and startles, seeing +Don Fernando+._

_Enter +Don Fernando+._

+Don F.+ Pardon, dear cousin, if, to avoid one rudeness,
I have another unawares committed.
Whilst fearing t' interrupt, I have o'erheard;
Yet nothing, cousin, but the self-same things
My thoughts have been revolving all this night,
Concern'd for you, much more than for myself;
For I, upon reflection, find I am
Much easier than I was; by certainty
Freed from the sorest weight, perplexity.
In the first place you must forgive your friend
The high distemper of last night's transportments:
I hope you'll find me well recovered from them,
And that my morning resolutions are
Such as will make amends.

+Don J.+ Make no excuses, dear friend: such provocations
Surprising are above philosophy;
And 'tis no small experiment of yours,
If after them you can have brought yourself
So soon to fix a judgment what to do.

+Don F.+ I have fix'd on that, which I am sure will serve
All interests but my own, as heretofore
I understood my happiness; but now
I shall no longer place it in anything
Dependent on the wild caprice[17] of others.
No, Julio,
I will be happy even in spite of fate,
By carrying generosity up to th' height.
Elvira shall her dear bliss owe to me,
Not only by desisting, but by making
Her lov'd Don Zancho marry her: his refusal
Alone can make me kill him o'er again.

+Don J.+ Since that unhappy maid, with all her beauty
And that high quality, hath made herself
Unworthy of your marriage, certainly
None but Fernando ever could have pitch'd
Upon so noble a thought: but think withal,
What difficulties are likely to obstruct it!

+Don F.+ Say what occurs to you.

+Don J.+ Don Zancho is a man of wit and courage;
And though his passion out of doubt be great,
Since it hath made him do so wild an action,
As that of coming twice into my house
After so strange a manner; yet, Fernando,
You cannot but imagine such a one
Likely to have quite different reflections
Upon Elvira's conduct for a wife,
From what he has upon it for a mistress:
They are two notions very differing.
Besides, should the proposal but appear
In the least kind to spring from your desire,
Whose former commerce with her's not unknown,
It were the only way to drive him off
Past all recal. I think few have accepted
Wives recommended to them by their rival.

+Don F.+ In that y' have reason, I confess; but, Julio,
Think of the way; for marry her he must,
Or die, and by no other hand but mine.

+Don J.+ [_Pausing._] I am thinking of it, and, I hope, to purpose.[18]
What interposer can be found so fit
As Blanca in this business, since Don Zancho
Has long been her particular acquaintance?
And what can be more natural, than for her
To take to heart Elvira's chief concernment,
Whom he finds here retir'd in her misfortune,
As to her surest friends?

+Don F.+ Y' have lighted, cousin, on the only way;
And lose no time, I beg you.

+Don J.+ The least that may be; but you must consider
In what a predicament I am likely
To be with Blanca at present.

+Don F.+ I understand you (since the jealousy
You expressed of her); but 'tis to be hoped
The peace will not be long a-making.

+Don J.+ You little know her spirit, once inflam'd.
But as I'll lose no time, so I'll omit
No art to bring her to a temper fit
To hear and to advance the proposition.

+Don F.+ Heaven give you good success!

+Don J.+ [_Turning back to +Fernando+._]
I had forgot to tell you that I think
It will be necessary that, as soon
As I have weather'd Blanca's storm, I make
A visit to Don Pedro, to prevent
His coming hither to disorder us,
Before we have set [all] things right.

+Don F.+ 'Twas not ill thought on: and till you return
I shall keep close in your apartment;
For Blanca has not seen me, and Elvira
Has too great cares upon her to be curious. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Blanca+ and +Francisca+; +Blanca+ with a gay
air, as in her antechamber._

+Blan.+ Say, my Francisca, can romances equal
Our last night's adventure? was there ever
Such a come-off! Our sex has us'd to boast
Presence of mind in exigents of love;
But I believe none of us ever match'd
Don Zancho's readiness in an occasion
So sudden and so critical.

+Fran.+ Ever give me the man of ready parts.

+Blan.+ But prythee, whilst we give Don Zancho 's dues,
Let us be just, too, to poor Silvia's merit;
Was ever anything so generous
Or so obliging to a mistress!

+Fran.+ So it appears, madam, I must confess;
But the excess of it makes it suspicious.

+Blan.+ Fie, leave this humour of detracting still,
And call her to me, that I may embrace,
And thank her; that done, consider how
To bring her off, who's brought us off so well. [_Offers to go out._

_Enter +Don Julio+._

+Fran.+ Stay, I beseech you, and compose yourself
To act a part quite of another nature;
Here comes Don Julio, towards whom I hope
You'll tune yourself to a far differing key
From that of thanks and kindness.

+Blan.+ Let me alone for that: I'll play the dragon.

[_As +Don Julio+ advances, +Blanca+ turns from him with a
furious countenance, and flies out of the room, +Don
Julio+ following her._

+Don J.+ Dear sister, stay, and hear me.

+Blan.+ Detested brother, leave me.
[_She makes as if she were going, and he holds her._

+Don J.+ Hear me but, Blanca, and then vent your passion
Against a brother that condemns himself
As much as you can do; but hear me speak.

+Blan.+ Your actions, Julio, have spoke loud enough
To echo through the world your shame and mine.
Has all the tenor of my life been such,
With such exactness of unblemish'd conduct,
That malice might have stain'd the noonday sun
More easily than tarnish'd Blanca's honour,
And must that honour now be prostitute
By the caprice of an unworthy brother?
Should any other have invaded it,
Had not you righted her, she has a heart
Would have found ways to right herself; but you
Th' aggressor, what remedy but rage?
[_She flings from him and exit._

+Fran.+ She acts it rarely. [_Aside._

+Don. J.+ Was ever man so unfortunate as I? [_To +Francisca+._
I must confess she has reason, and the sense
She thus expresses of my fault becomes her;
But it must be your work, my dear Francisca,
To pacify. When once you shall but know
All that has pass'd these nights, I am certain
You'll say no human confidence could e'er
Be proof against such circumstances.

+Fran.+ Alas! my offices can signify
But little. But I'm sure the occasion
Gives me a sad heart. O my dear lady! [_As if she were crying._

+Don J.+ I love good-nature; but I prythee, leave,
And come in with me, that I may tell thee all. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+, as in his lodging._

+Don P.+ A' God's name, Fulvio, what has been thy meaning,
To make me sit up almost all last night
Expecting thee, when such impatience held me?
Thou wert not wont to be so negligent
In things of so great weight.

+Fulv.+ Nor have I been it now: 'tis overcare
Of your commands hath held me so long from you.
You know the orders that you gave me, sir,
To watch Don Zancho's motions? accordingly
I sat all day in my observing-place,
Till about twilight I saw him and 's man
Steal as it were abroad: I as warily
Dogg'd them from street to street, till, sir, at length
He made a stand up close against a wall,
Whilst that his servant entertain'd a woman
Close-veil'd, who was come out, I think, on purpose,
From an adjacent house; soon after, he
Accosted her himself. Their conference
Lasted but little; she made haste away
To th' house from whence she came, and he as much
To follow her in.

+Don P.+ Where was't? and why cam'st thou not presently,
To give me notice, as you were directed?

+Fulv.+ At that you will not wonder, when you know
Whose house he enter'd; but at this you'll wonder--
It was Don Julio's.

+Don P.+ [_Starting._] Ha! Don Julio's, say'st thou?-- [_He pauses._
But, now I think on't, 'tis no marvel, Fulvio,
Since newly come to town; for I remember
Don Julio told me, that Don Zancho and he
Had always liv'd in friendly correspondence.

+Fulv.+ Visits, sir, only of fair civility,
After long absence, are not usually
Begun by twilight in such cautious manner;
Nor usher'd in by female veil'd conductors.
But pray, sir, hear the rest.

+Don P.+ What can this be? [_Aside._] Say on then quickly.
[_To +Fulvio+._

+Fulv.+ I presently concluded with myself
That, since Don Julio was the friend on whose
Assistance you relied against Don Zancho,
You ne'er would think, sir, of attacking him,
As he came out from thence: I judg'd it, therefore,
My wisest course to stay, and mark the issue.
And stay I did, till it was after midnight;
About which time, walking from side to side,
That I might see both issues of the house,
It being as light almost as day, I saw
The gallant and his man leap from the wall
Of Julio's garden, and from thence in haste
Make home.

+Don P.+ 'Sdeath, man, thou dream'st! Don Zancho from Don Julio's
In that manner? Awake, fool, and speak sense.

+Fulv.+ I say but what I saw, as I see you.

+Don P.+ O, the devil! what, the same villain
Found the affronter of my friend too here
In the same kind! Give me my cloak and sword,
I must know the bottom of this. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Blanca+ and +Francisca+, as in her antechamber._

+Blan.+ I come from seeing and caressing Silvia;
But with most strange surprise at her comportment
Towards me.

+Fran.+ How, madam!

+Blan.+ My words and actions both expressing to her,
Not only highest gratitude and kindness,
But a solicitude in the concerns
Of her honour, equal to what she had shown
In mine, they were receiv'd with such a coldness,
With such an air of melancholy pride,
With half replies, and those not half to th' purpose,
As make me with amazement to conclude,
That either she has lost her understanding,
Or that there's somewhat in't we understand not.

+Fran.+ She is a maid of an odd composition;
And besides that, I needs must tell you, madam,
That having had my observation freer
Than you, perhaps, during last night's adventure,
I remark'd somewhat, both in her demeanour
And in Don Zancho's, makes me confident
They met not there strangers to one another,
As you imagine. But there's time enough
To think and talk of that: what presses now,
Is your right ordering of Don Julio:
You have begun as well as can be wish'd.

+Blan.+ Say, did I not do my part? [_Jollily._

+Fran.+ Beyond imagination;
But take heed now of overdoing it,
'Tis time to tack about to reconcilement,
And thought of drawing those advantages
From the embroilment, as may for the future
Secure you from like accidents.

+Blan.+ You say well; but how?

+Fran.+ The first step must atonement be between you,
Of which he hath so earnestly conjur'd me
To be an instrument that, you consenting
To give him a hearing through my mediation,
I am made for ever, and settled in the power
Of serving you by better cosening him:
Besides, he tells me, he hath that to say
And to propose unto you, as shall not only
Excuse him with you, but prevent all danger
Of prejudicial rumours, which might rise
From last night's accident.

+Blan.+ Agreed; let's in,
And play the second part. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+, as in his own
house._

+Don Z.+ Were we not born with cauls upon our heads?[19] [_Jollily._
Think'st thou, Chichon, to come off twice a-row
Thus rarely from such dangerous adventures?

+Chi.+ Rather, I think, with combs, so oft to venture.

+Don Z.+ Thou coxcomb, say, had I not my wits about me?

+Chi.+ 'Twere too uncomplaisant to deny that.
You know I love not to talk seriously,
But tell me now in earnest, are you satisfied
To have come off so? is there no qualm remaining
Upon your gentle heart for leaving i' th' suds
A poor distressed virgin? Who she is,
I neither know nor care; but I am sure,
Had generous Chichon, to save his life,
Play'd a sweet innocent lady such a trick,
He would have pass'd but for a recreant knight;
And much the more, she having shown herself
So gallant as, to save her lady's honour,
T' expose her own. Say, true Don Galor,[20] say,
Were your part found in a romance or play,
Whose character would it not dislustre?

+Don Z.+ How soon a fool's bolt's shot without distinction?
Of what's the mark! Thou censur'st without knowing,
Who th' exposed lady is. Know, then, Chichon,
And wonder! 'tis Elvira!--that Elvira
For whom I sighed like to have sigh'd my last,
On her score at Madrid--Don Pedro's daughter.

+Chi.+ You raise enchanted castles in the air;
But were it as you say, that makes the thing
More inexcusable. You had been to blame
T' have us'd a stranger so; but so t' have serv'd
A lady[21] you had once profess'd to love,
Raises the fault above all heightening.

+Don Z.+ Nay, then, I see I must once play the fool,
In answering a fool seriously.
The things thou say'st are heightenings indeed,
Not of my fault, but merit in the action,
Towards my Blanca; since, to save her honour,
I did not only sacrifice Elvira's,
But thus expose mine own. Time may recover
Elvira's fame, and mine this quickly shall.
[_Clapping his hand on his sword._
Here, take this letter, and employ your wit
In finding out the means with secrecy
To give it Don Fernando unobserv'd.
I shall not stir from home, till I've his answer.

+Chi.+ You found him, sir, a man of quick dispatch,
In your last business with him at Madrid! [_Exit +Don Zancho+._

How honourable 'tis to serve a Don!
What petty Basque on t' other side the mountains
Durst have aspir'd to the high dignity
Of carrying a cartel? A monsieur
Would sooner have put up a twinge by the nose,
Than sent a challenge by a serving-man. [_Exit._

_Enter +Blanca+ furiously, and, running to the cabinet, takes
out thence a stiletto; and +Francisca+ earnestly after her,
as in +Blanca's+ closet._

+Blan.+ Villains shall find I am not unprovided
Wrongs to revenge, that cannot be forgiven.

+Fran.+ I thought the strange constraint upon herself,
Wherewith she heard her brother, would serve in the end
But to make rage break out with greater fury;
Yet it is well she kept it in so long
As to get rid of him. [_Aside._
Good madam, moderate yourself a little.

+Blan.+ Preach temper to the damned souls in hell,
That they may teach the traitor moderation,
When I have sent him thither with his devil.

+Fran.+ I do confess the provocation such,
As more than justifies all these transportments;
And therefore I beseech you think not, madam,
In what I say, I can the least aim have
Of saving him from the extremest fury
Of your resentment, or preserving her,
Who has had the impudence to abuse you so,
Under pretence of serving. May they perish!
But let it be in such a way, as may not
Draw a more dismal ruin on yourself:
Let swift destruction seize them; yet let not,
Madam, your hand, but head dispense their fate.
What can the issue be of such an action,
As that of which I see that shining steel
And flaming eyes of yours the threat'ning comets?
I beg but the reflection of a moment!

[_+Blanca+ walking upon the stage with enraged gestures
pauses, at length sheathing and putting her stiletto in
her sleeve with a sober, composed, tone_:

+Blan.+ Francisca, I thank you for recalling me
Thus to myself: I will be temperate,
[_Aside._] But it shall be to make revenge the surer.

+Fran.+ Her tone nor gestures cannot cosen me,
They both seem to disguise a black design;
But I shall watch you: 'tis a half-gain'd cause
In fury's course to have begot a pause. [_Aside._

+Blan.+ Do what I bid you presently, Francisca.
Send to Don Zancho, and let him know from me,
I earnestly desire to speak with him.

+Fran.+ Lord, madam, what d'ye mean?

+Blan.+ To make the pleasing proposition to him,
As I told my brother I would. Say, am I not moderate?
But do without reply, what I command.

+Fran.+ Madam, I shall obey. But [_aside_] observe you so withal,
As to prevent the mischief, if I can. [_Exit +Francisca+._

+Blan.+ Ye gods, assist me in my just revenge,
Or you will make an atheist. My first work
Must be, before Don Zancho comes, to speak
With his sweet mistress; and with words and looks,
As false as hers have been, so to delude her
With hopes of what she wishes, that they both
May jointly fall my honour's sacrifice. [_Exit._

_Enter +Don Fernando+, as in +Don Julio's+
private apartment._

+Don F.+ Since generosity hath so far got
The mastery, as to have made me fix
Upon a resolution so unheard of,
I long to see it executed. But stay:
I think I hear Elvira's voice without,
And Blanca's too. Here curiosity
To overhear is pardonable.

[_He makes as if he hearkened, and then exit, as to
go where he may better hear._

_Enter +Elvira+ and +Blanca+ as in the antechamber,
and +Fernando+ peeping as from behind a door._

+Don F.+ Here not a word can 'scape me.

+Elv.+ Madam, you wrong my zeal in serving you,
Whilst you attribute to any other motive
My yesterday's behaviour.

+Blan.+ Such niceties, Elvira, are, out of season.

[_In a tone that may show what she says to be
forced._

I seek your satisfaction in a love,
Wherein it seems you have been long engag'd.
[_+Elvira+ looking round, and +Fernando+ starting back._

+Don F.+ I hope she did not see me. [_Aside._

+Elv.+ My satisfaction, say you, in my love?
Of whom, for heaven's sake? If you mean Don Zancho,
Y'are very far from guessing at my thoughts.

+Don F.+ By heaven, sh' has seen me, and plays the devil still.
[_Aside._

+Elv.+ By all that's good, I am far from loving him--
I say not worse [_aside_], because I know she loves him.

+Don F.+ Ah, Elvira! this is too much, yet not enough
To change in me a noble resolution. [_Aside._
[_A noise is heard, as of people coming up stairs._

+Blan.+ I hear some coming up stairs: should it be Don
Zancho, I am not yet ready for him.--
[_Aside._
I see we are likely to be interrupted here, [_To +Elvira+._
Elvira, we shall be better in my closet. [_Exit +Blanca+._

+Elvi.+ Madam, I'll follow you.
What can she mean? since that she needs must think
I know the passion she herself[22] has for him.

[_+Elvira+ having stayed awhile behind, as she is going
to follow +Blanca+, enter her father +Don Pedro+ and
+Fulvio+: she starts, and stands confounded; he, seeing
her, draws out his dagger, and makes at her._

+Don P.+ Vile stainer of my blood, have I here found thee?

[_+Elvira+ perceiving the door a little open, where +Don
Fernando+ is, flies thither, and gets in._

+Don F.+ This makes it clear she saw me.
[_Aside, as +Elvira+ thrusts in._

[_+Don Pedro+ seizes the door, before it be quite shut, and
they struggle, he to pull it open, and +Don Fernando+
to shut it: after some contest, +Don Fernando+ gets it
close, and bolts it within: +Don Pedro+, as an enraged
person, pulls and bounces at the door._

+Don P.+ In vain should mountains interpose between
Her and her punishment.

[_He bounces still, as to break down the door._

_Enter +Blanca+._

+Blan.+ What Bedlam have we here, and where's Elvira?

+Don P.+ You have one here will know how to revenge
Conspiracies t' affront him: and you, lady,
Whoe'er you are, that seem to take upon you,
Y' had best produce the wicked thing you've named,
Or by this steel-- [_+Blanca+ cries out._

+Blan.+ Ho! brother, brother! help against a madman!

_Enter +Don Julio+._

+Don J.+ Peace, Blanca, peace, you know not what you say:
Don Pedro is master here.

+Blan.+ I know not your Don Pedro; but I'm sure
One to be tied in chains could do no more,
That he has done.

+Don J.+ Have patience, sister: 'tis Elvira's father,
With cares enough upon him to justify
Any distemper.

+Blan.+ Precious! Elvira's father?--
Nay, then I leave you. [_+Blanca+ flings out of the room._

+Don F.+ O the unluckiness of his coming
So unseasonably! 'Twas to prevent that,
I went abroad to seek him. [_Aside._

+Don P.+ What's this, Don Julio? can a gentleman
Of blood and honour use another thus?
What, after such engagements to the Duke
And to myself to be my friend and helper,
To prove the shelter of my shame's chief author?
I do not wonder now Don Zancho himself
Should have been here at midnight.

+Don J.+ I am hard put to't: help, wit, to bring us off. [_Aside._
Be as distemper'd as you please, Don Pedro,
It shall not alter me! but yet methinks
It would not ill become your gravity,
To think a while, before you make a judgment,
And rashly frame injurious conclusions
From things, wherein a friend has merited from you.
Do but consider, and then say, what Julio
Could do of more advance to what you wish,
Than, having found your daughter, to have brought her
To his own house, where she might be with honour
Accompanied, and serv'd as such by Blanca,
Until such time as, things maturely weigh'd,
You should a final resolution take.
And since Don Zancho's being here last night,
I see 's no secret t' ye, methinks you ought
T' have been so just to me, as to believe
That, since I admitted him within these walls,
It was in order to the serving you.

+Don P.+ Noble Don Julio, you must pity have
Of an old man's distemper in affliction.
I see I was in the wrong; pray, pardon it.

+Don J.+ O, this is more than needs. And now, good sir,
If you'll be pleas'd to walk a turn or two
I' the garden, I'll there give you a full account
How I have laid things for your satisfaction.

+Don P.+ I'll wait on you.

+Don J.+ Go, sir, there lies your way;
And you, boy, fail not, when Don Zancho comes,
[_Turning to the Page._
To give me notice of it in the garden. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Don Zancho+, and passes over the stage with +Chichon+
after him: and enter +Francisca+, and pulling +Chichon+,
stays him._

+Fran.+ Stay, stay, Chichon, a word w' ye: it imports--
[_She whispers with him._

+Chi.+ I hope you are not in earnest.

+Fran.+ By my soul, I am--
There is no other way, but for us both
To get up the back-way, and there to watch
The time to interpose.

+Chi.+ Can she be such a fury? her looks are
All milk and honey.

+Fran.+ You cannot fancy anything so tragic,
But she is capable of executing,
When once provok'd in point of love and honour
Beyond her bounds of temper.

+Chi.+ Lead the way--
I'll have the pleasure to bold up the fright [_Aside._
She's in, since I am sure there is no danger,
Knowing, as I do, my master's mind towards Blanca:
Besides, 'tis to be hop'd, that these disorders
May produce somewhat that may put an end
To my master's quarrel, or afford me means
To give Fernando his letter. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Don Fernando+, +Elvira+ lying upon the couch
in the private apartment._

+Don. F.+ This last dissimulation moves me more
Than all the rest; but yet it must not alter
What honour hath inspir'd. See, how she lies,
And how, scarce brought to life from her dismay,
She resumes scorn, to have been sav'd by me!
But multiply what injuries thou wilt,
Perfidious maid, thou shalt not disappoint
Fernando of the glory that he aims at:
Of making thy proud heart, Elvira, owe
Its happiness to him. But I hear again [_He peeps_
A noise without--It is Don Zancho,
And I see Blanca coming towards him.
This falls out luckily, that I may hear
What passes; for certainly their meeting
Avowedly thus can be no other subject,
But what Don Julio has proposed to Blanca. [_Exit as to hearken._

_Enter +Don Julio+ and +Don Pedro+, as in the garden._

+Don J.+ That's all the remedy, that in these cases
The wisest can propose unto themselves:
His fortune's strait, 'tis true.

+Don P.+ That's what I least regard in this occasion,
So honour be but safe: the less they have,
The more will be her penance for her folly.
But should Don Zancho, upon any umbrage
From what has pass'd between them, prove so insolent
As to reject the marriage, then I trust--

+Don J.+ O, say no more of that: rely upon't,
Should he be guilty of that horrid outrage,
This sword should pierce his heart, though th' only friend
I have i' the world should interpose his own.
And, sir, to let you see my frank proceeding,
Come along with me; I'll bring you to a place
Where, jointly overhearing all that passes
'Twixt him and Blanca, should he play the villain,
His life may pay for't, ere he stir from thence.

+Don P+. May heaven repay such generous acts of friendship! [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Don Zoncho+, and +Fernando+ appears as behind
the door._

+Don Z.+ For her so suddenly and so avowedly
To send for me hither, is very strange:
What can it mean?

_Enter +Blanca+._

+Blan.+ Now lend me temper, Heaven, but for a moment,
Till calmly I have drawn him to pronounce
The sentence of his own too noble death
For such a traitor-- [_Aside._
I think you come not without some surprise,
[_To him with an affected cheerfulness._
Don Zancho, at my sending for you so:
But let's sit down, for I have much to say t' ye.

[_She takes him by the hand and seats him in one chair, and
she sits herself in the other close to him on his right
hand, and fumbles in her sleeve._

I'm so well plac'd I cannot miss the mark. [_Aside._

+Don Z.+ Good madam, what's the matter? for I see
Disorder in you: put me out of pain.

+Blan.+ That I shall quickly do: [_Aside._
Know then, Don Zancho,
In the first place, you must not interrupt me,
Whatever you shall hear; I'll take it ill else.
When I have done, then speak your mind at leisure.
I come not to argue, but conclude.

+Don Z.+ Your will's a law to me;
But whither tends all this? [_Aside._

+Blan.+ I do for once allow you to remember
All that has pass'd between us:
The folly of my love, the falsehood of yours;
That done, and never to be thought on more--

+Don Z.+ For Heaven's sake, madam--

+Blan.+ Break not the rule was set:
Know I instructed am in all your story,
And am so far grown mistress of myself,
That I, who th' other day could scarce o'ercome
The sense of a slight failure at Madrid,
Can here at home suffer indignities,
And tell you calmly and with unconcern'dness,
Be you Elvira's and Elvira yours.
I come to do a part you little look'd for
From Blanca's spirit: I must make the marriage.
All things are ready, and her father here.
Now you may speak, Don Zancho; but the thing
Admits of no delay.

+Don Z.+ But can this be in earnest? sure, it cannot.
What needs these trials of so firm a faith? [_Pausing awhile._

+Blan.+ Leave trifling; 'tis no longer time for tricks.
It is not in the pow'r of fate to alter
The resolution taken. [_+Don Zancho+ pauses._

+Don. F.+ She has put it home. [_Aside._

+Don Z.+ Madam, you use me hardly; this demeanour
Passes my skill, to judge from whence it springs.
You say it is not in the pow'r of fate
To change your resolutions; but I'm sure,
If they be such, 'twill less be in its pow'r
To alter mine: but yet, before I die,
You must be left without excuse by knowing
The truth of all.

+Don F.+ Here it imports indeed to be attentive. [_Aside._

+Don Z.+ Madam, 'tis true that, absent at Madrid,
The custom of the court and vanity
Embark'd me lightly in a gallantry
With the most fam'd of beauties there, Elvira:
Those and no other the true motives were
To all my first addresses, till her scorns,
Which should have stopp'd them, had engag'd me more,
And made a love in jest a point of honour.
I bore all her disdains without transportment,
Till, having gain'd her waiting-woman's kindness,
I learn'd from her that all Elvira's slightings
She would have thought had sprung from severe maxims
And preciousness of humour, were th' effects
Of deep engagement in another love
With a young gallant, Don Fernando Solis,
With whom the cruel dame was so far gone,
As to admit him almost[23] every night
Into her chamber.

+Don F.+ Bless'd gods, what do I hear? [_Aside._

+Don Z.+ [_continuing_] I, scarce believing the thing possible,
Urg'd my intelligencer to do for me
That which her lady for another did,
And to admit me to her chamber where,
By being eye-witness of her lady's actions,
I might transfer my entire love to herself.
She granted my request, and late one night,
Somewhat before the gallant's usual hour,
She brought me a back-way up to[24] her chamber,
Within Elvira's. My stay had not been long,
When, having found the truth of what she'd told me,
Converting rage into appearing kindness
To my informer, and expressing it
Uncautiously, we made a sudden noise,
With which Elvira alarm'd, and coming in,
Follow'd by Don Fernando, that fell out,
Which you have heard before.

[_+Don Julio+ beckoning +Don Pedro+ after him,
passing over one corner of the stage._

+Don J.+ By this time, I suppose, she will have made
The proposition to the full, and we
Shall come at the just time to hear his answer.
[_Exeunt +Don Pedro+ and +Don Julio+._

+Don Z.+ [_Continuing._] If since that hour I have ever seen
Or thought upon her, till last night's surprise,
May I for ever perish: and methinks
The use of that to your advantage
Might challenge from you a more just construction.

+Blan.+ I told you at first, I came not here to argue,
But to conclude. Say, will you marry her?

[_+Don Julio+ and +Don Pedro+ peep out as from
behind the hanging._

+Don J.+ W'are come, you see, just as we could have wish'd. [_Aside._

+Don P.+ His fate hangs on his lips. [_Aside._

+Don Z.+ You are mistress of your words and actions, madam,
And may use me as you please; but this hand
Shall sooner pierce this heart than e'er be given
In marriage to Elvira.

[_+Don Pedro+ and +Don Julio+ rush in with their swords and
daggers drawn, and +Don Zancho+ draws too._

+Don P.+ Then, villain, die! Heav'n is too weak to save thee
By any other means. [_+Don Fernando+ draws, and rushing out._

+Don F.+ But here is one that shall--
Or all by his side.

+Don P.+ O heavens! what's this?
Don Fernando Solis protecting him!
Nay, then the whole world conspires against my honour.

+Blan.+ For heaven's sake, gentlemen! [_+Blanca+ runs in between._

+Chi.+ Now, by my grandame's pantable,[25] 'tis pretty!
[_From behind._
I'll brush their coats, if once it come to fighting.
Fernando's of our side.

+Francisca+, _and +Chichon+ with a long broom,
run out also from behind the hanging._

+Don J.+ What frenzy's this, Fernando? was't not you
Engaged me to effect the marriage? Sure, w'are all
Bewitch'd.

+Don F.+ Stay, my Don Julio, stay,
And let Don Pedro have patience but to hear me--
'Tis true; but you know well upon what grounds:
Those are quite chang'd by my having overheard
All that hath pass'd; for my Elvira, Julio,
Proves spotless in her faith, as in her beauty,
And I the only guilty, to have doubted.
What have I then to do, but here to prostrate
Myself at her offended father's feet,
And beg his pardon? that obtain'd, t' implore
His help to gain me hers, as to a person
In whom respect for him hath always held
Proportion with my passion for his daughter.

+Don P.+ You know, Don Julio, when I spake with you,
The terms of estimation and respect,
Wherewith I mention'd t' ye this gentleman;
And, therefore, since in his address t' Elvira
There was no other fault, but making it
Unknown to me, and that I see his thoughts
Are truly noble, honour thus engaged,
That ought to be forgot, and I to think
Myself most happy in such a son-in-law.
But where's Elvira?

+Don F.+ She's there within, where I dare not appear
Before her, knowing now such guilt upon me.
If Blanca would employ her interest
And eloquence, perhaps she might prevail
To get her hither, when she shall have told her
What changes a few minutes' time have wrought.

+Blan.+ I never went on a more pleasing errand. [_Exit +Blanca+._

+Fran.+ I am struck dumb with wonder. [_Exit._

+Don F.+ Now Blanca is away, I'll take this time
To spare her blushes, Julio, and tell you,
Though I have broke one marriage for Don Zancho,
You needs must give me leave to make another;
To which, unless I'm very much deceiv'd,
You'll find on neither part repugnancy.

+Don J.+ I understand you; and I thank the gods
They did not make me understand the wrong,
Till they have made it none, since I observe
Don Zancho's looks joining in your desires.

+Don Z.+ A heart so full of love, as mine for Blanca,
Does best express itself when it speaks least.

_Enter +Donna Blanca+, +Donna Elvira+, and +Francisa.+ +Elvira+
casts herself at her father's feet._

+Elv.+ Now that the justice of the gods at length
Hath clear'd me from suspicions derogatory
To th' honour of your blood, I hope a cloister
May expiate my fault as to a father.

+Don P.+ Rise, child. The enclosure I condemn you to [_Raising her._
Is Don Fernando's arms: give him your hand.

+Elv.+ 'Tis yours, sir, to dispose of, I confess,
And if it be your will, I must submit;
But let him know, who could suspect Elvira,
She never could be his but by obedience.

+Don F.+ I am thunderstruck. [_+Elvira+ giving him her hand._

+Elv.+ Be not dismay'd, Fernando,
Since I profess this a mere act of duty;
Another duty may Elvira move
To reinflame on better grounds her love.

+Don J.+ [_ironically._] Blanca, I fear you'll hardly be persuaded
To give yours to Don Zancho; but a brother
For once may play the tyrant. Give it him:
It must be so. [_They join hands._

+Don F.+ I now renounce old maxims: having you,
Elvira, I am sure the very best proves true.

+Chi.+ Hold there, I beg you, sir: that will appear
By that time you have married been a year. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[17] Without any sufficient reason, and to the evident injury of the metre, of which the author has nowhere been very careful, he here and elsewhere preferred the Spanish word _capricho_, to the English word _caprice_.--_Collier._

[18] Dodsley and Reed very absurdly gave this line to Don Fernando, when it is evidently a reply by Don Julio to the request of his friend. The old copy did not mislead the former editors.--_Collier._

[19] _Cauls_ are little membranes, found on some children, encompassing the head, when born. The vulgar opinion has generally been, that every person possessed of one of these _cauls_, whether originally belonging to him, or obtained by purchase, would be fortunate, and escape dangers. "Lampridius tells us, that the midwives sold _cauls_ at a good price to the advocates and pleaders of his time; it being an opinion, that while they had this about them, they should carry with them a force of persuasion which no judge could withstand: the canons forbid the use of it, because some witches and sorcerers, it seems, had abused it."--See ["Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," 1870, iii., 139-42.]

Sir T. Brown ("Vulgar Errors," b. v., ch. 21) quotes "the life of Antonius delivered by Spartianus" on the subject. The caul, a "sillyhow" (as Sir T. Brown terms it), is still considered a preservative against danger, and especially against drowning. Notices of the sale of them used to be daily posted on the Royal Exchange, and they are bought by captains of ships and others going to sea, and great prices given for them. The _Times_ newspaper of March 17, 1827, has the following advertisement:--"A child's caul, well worth £20, to be sold for £14. Apply at Academy," &c.--_Collier._

[20] He calls him Sir Galor in reference to the character this knight sustained in the old romances. He was sometimes known by other names.--_Collier._ [More properly, Sir _Galaor_. He was a brother of Amadis of Gaul.]

[21] [Old copy, _lady whom_, which injures the metre. The latter, however, is not very regular or correct in this play.]

[22] _Herself_, omitted by Dodsley and Reed.--_Collier._

[23] _Almost_ omitted by Dodsley and Reed.--_Collier._

[24] [Old copy _into_.]

[25] Or _pantofle_. In "Damon and Pithias" [iv. 67,] we have seen it called _pantacle_.--_Collier._

THE MARRIAGE NIGHT.

_Edition._

_The Marriage Night. Written by the Lord Viscount Fawkland._

_Scientia non habet Inimicum
Præter Ignorantiam._

_London. Printed by W. G. for R. Crofts at the Crown in
Chancery-Lane under Sergeants-Inne._ 1664. 4º.

The "Marriage Night" was excluded from the second and third editions of Dodsley's collection. The punctuation of the old copy, and of the reprint of 1744, is very corrupt; but the text itself seems to be unusually free from errors.

DODSLEY'S PREFACE.

+Henry Cary+, +Viscount Falkland+, was the son of him who is commonly called the Great Lord Falkland. He was a person very eminent for his extraordinary parts and heroic spirit. When he was first elected to serve in Parliament, some of the members opposed his admission, urging that he had not sowed his wild oats. "Then it will be the best way," replied he, "to sow them in the House, where there are geese enough to pick them up." He died in 1643, being cut off in the prime of his years, as much missed when dead, says Langbaine, as beloved when living. I am informed from very good hands, that it was he who wrote the epilogue to Lord Rochester's "Valentinian." And I believe the same person wrote the copy of verses, which is prefixed to Sandys' tragedy, entitled, "Christ's Passion," translated, or rather imitated, from the Latin of Hugo Grotius.

_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._

+The King.+
+De Bereo+, _a duke, brother to the king._
+De Castro+, }
+Dessandro+, } _counts, brothers._
+De Flame+, _a count._
+Pirez+, }
+Sampayo+, } _two lords._
+De Loome+, }
+La Gitterne+, } _attendants to the duke._
+Silliman+, _steward to the duchess._
Two Judges.

+Claudilla+, _a duchess._
+Cleara+, _sister to De Flame._
+Torguina+, }
+De Prate+, } _ladies to the duchess._
Attendants.

_Scene, Castile._

THE MARRIAGE NIGHT.

ACTUS PRIMUS, SCENA PRIMA.

_Enter +Pirez+ and +Sampayo+._

+Pir.+ Is't possible?
Dessandro quit from his command o' th' citadel?
So sharply too? Brushing times, my lord!
Pray, by virtue of what offence?

+Samp.+ It may be treason to ask their wisdoms that;
But the huge mountebank, the vulgar rout,
Quarrel'd with's religion; 'cause 'tis not in the
Smallest print: and the king----was to say nothing.

+Pir.+ Good King! I could wish something;
And heartily, if I durst: Well, from grave hypocrisy
And beardless wisdom, good heaven deliver us!
Nothing in his great father's memory to hold him
Worthy of his place.

+Samp.+ That makes him taste it
To the extremity of sense and anger.

+Pir.+ Let us but slight some gull; or his gay dress,
Whose clothes and folly are his sense of honour;
How will it conjure up his blood, and bend his brow?
And can Dessandro want a just and valiant anger
To feel the merits of so brave a father,
And his own too (kept at a noble height)
Rendered disgraced and sullied? He may believe
H' has deserv'd better, both in himself and father:
But how does his resolution take it?

+Samp.+ As fire and air compress'd when (struggling) they
Break forth in thunders; or the vexed wind, amongst
A grove of trees, spending his scorn and rage.

+Pir.+ Men of his soul and constitution cannot
Play with their passions, and stroke 'em tame,
When so provok'd. The duke!

_Enter +Duke De Bereo+, passing over the stage, +De Castro+
whispering with him, +De Loome+, +La Gitterne+, and other
Attendants._

+Duke.+ Let him be confident of me, in something
More worthy of himself than the command
H' has lost; and bid him use my promise.

+De C.+ We are the creatures
Of your favour; and but own our lives
T' acknowledge it. [_Exeunt._

+Pir.+ Here's state embroidery!
But pray'e, what holiday things be they that spread
So in his train? I don't remember I left
Such faces in the court.

+Samp.+ The first of them
Stalks in a knighthood, like a boy
In a Dutch burgher's doublet; and 'tis as much
Too wide for him; he has travell'd, and speaks languages,
As a barber's boy plays o' th' gittern; and those gay clouts, sir,
Came out of's father's shop.

+Pir.+ His remnants.
The other? That looks like the age to come,
Which must be worse than this.

+Samp.+ His fortune and industry
Has preferr'd him to be barber and pimp;
Two men's places, till of late our noblemen,
Growing frugal, do find one may do
Both the employments.

+Pir.+ It is both thriving and genteel.

+Samp.+ Genteel indeed; for they have produc'd knights,
And made statesmen of broken citizens with the help
Of a wife. But he, whose youth and sorrow shows him
Like a fair day, set in a cloudy evening is----

+Pir.+ The Lord de Castro--I know him: and methinks
Some sparks of his father, great Velasco's, character
Shines in this young man through all the darkness
Of his fate.

+Samp.+ That name alone has glory enough
To make him a brave presage to us.
The duke's father's character was deriv'd,
And circled in himself; and a full age
Of men shall rarely show another of
So much great and balanc'd man in't.

+Pir.+ They are all court-fancies; pageants of state:
And want allowance both of brain and soul,
To make their blood and titles weight

+Samp.+ He was strangely
Shuffled to the block.

+Pir.+ That blow did bleed Castile too weak,
And left us in a faint and sickly pang.

+Samp.+ The pulse, sir, of Castile beats in another temper,
Than when you left it.

+Pir.+ I find it: The city wears a cap, and looks
As if all were not right there.

+Samp.+ Except their wives.

+Pir.+ The court, methinks, has strangely chang'd
Complexion too.

+Samp.+ Those that deride us say the clergy
Has catch'd the falling-sickness: the court, a deep
Consumption; and that the commons have the spleen.

+Pir.+ I know not what disease the court has; but the Lords
Look as if they had oversat themselves at play,
And lost odds, so scurvily--

+Samp.+ How does your lordship find
The ladies?

+Pir.+ I ha' not been amongst 'em yet
To take up my arrears: only had the court-happiness
To kiss her hand, who in herself contracts them all
For grace and lustre, the widow-duchess Claudilla.

+Samp.+ Why, there my admiration leaves you; I grant her
A brave and courtly girl; has trim and dazzle,
Enough of white and red, to attract the eye,
Like an indifferent copy, flourish'd with golden trails.
But place your judgment nearer, it retreats,
And cries you mercy for the mistake. At distance,
She is a goodly landskip.

+Pir.+ Alas, her blooming beauties
Yet languish and pine o'er her husband's hearse,
Like roses scatter'd from the morning's brow
Into the day's parch'd lap.

+Samp.+ Their spring will shine again; grow glorious
And fruitful in the arms of her De Flame;
It is my hearty wish to their affections;
That count does bear an honour'd character
From all that know him.

+Pir.+ A brave young man; and one that is more honour
To his title, than it to him. But when
Must their hymeneal tapers flame, and she
Offer her turtle pantings at the altar,
Purpling the morn with blushes, as she goes;
And scatter such bright rays, as the sun may
Dress his beams with for that day's glory?

+Samp.+ After
He has deliver'd his sister to Dessandro's hand,
He will not defer those minutes long; and he thinks himself
Behind in some expression of their friendship,
Until the knot meet there.

+Pir.+ Cleara is a lady
Of a sweet and honour'd fame.

+Samp.+ All other of her sex
Are dull and sullied imitations, pale glimmerings,
Set by her. Whate'er the modest fictions
Of sweet'ned pens has meant, she is their moral.

+Pir.+ You speak like one that knows what virtue is,
And can love it.

_Enter +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+ to them._

+Des.+ I thank the duke; he has a right soul.
But, prythee, no more of these sad consolations;
They hang upon my heart like pond'rous weights
At trembling wires; or like the dull labourings
Of that clock, which groan'd out our dear father's
Fatal minute.

+De C.+ I have done.

+Des.+ I could chide this tame and phlegmy vapour
From my blood. Our passions melt into soft
Murmurs, like hollow springs:
The manhood of cold hinds would not be tempted
To this sense, but leap with rage into their eyes;
Brother, it would; and wake 'em into tempests.
A wretched fly would show its spleen.

+De C.+ This anger will but show men, where you bleed,
And keep the wound still green.

+Des.+ The scar will stick for ever.
O, the dark hypocrisy and juggling of our times!
Great men are slaves to slaves; and we are theirs:
The law's a tame wolf cowards and fools
May stroke with giving hands: while he shall
Couchant lie, and wag the tail; but show
His fangs at you and I. A noble wish
Is dangerous: is't not, my lord?

+Pir.+ What, Dessandro?

+Des.+ The vulgar's a kennel of black-mouth'd dogs,
That worry men's deserts and fame: my curse
Fester in their temples!

+De C.+ Prythee, Dessandro, collect these scatter'd thoughts.

+Des.+ I'll hollow them through all the world, and say't
Again. Worth and honour now are crimes, and giants
'Gainst the state. My lords, shall's be merry,
And talk something the hangman may thank
Us for?

+Pir.+ Treason? I vow, Dessandro, I speak the worst
_Ex tempore_ of any man living.

+Samp.+ I could mutter it well enough; but I'm to marry
A city widow, and buy a place at court.

+Pir.+ When I have sold my land, we'll venture on
A merry catch, and ever subscribe your servant,
Noble Dessandro.

+Des.+ I shall find a time and place to pay your lordship
The accompt of my engagements.

+De C.+ Brother, my attendance calls me to the king;
I'll wait upon your lordship, if y'are for the court.

+Pir.+ Your lordship's servant thither. [_Exeunt._

+Des.+ So streams divide, and ruffle by their banks.
My brother's of a safe contracted bosom:
Can strangle his labouring rages in their thought;
When they do tug like poisons at my breast,
Until I give them air. But I'll observe,
And creep into men's souls: hug my dear anger
To myself, until it gnaw my entrails through,
That men may court my patience and discourse,
As now they shun it.
And when black night has stretch'd her gloomy limbs,
And laid her head upon some mountain-top,
Bound up in foggy mists, then keep my haunts
By some dull-groaning stream, with screeching owls
And bats; there pay my broken thoughts
Unto thy ghost, Velasco!----
Echo shall wake, and midnight, to help me curse their souls
That thrust thee to thy grave; whilst I will hang
About night's neck, until the moon do wake
To rescue her.

_Enter the +Duke+._

+Duke.+ Dessandro,
You must not be angry my power came short
Of my desires to serve you: we'll try some other way.
You see by what engines the times move;
The king refers all to his council; and though
They do not tie his hands, they hold 'em by a strange
Courtesy. I'm but a single looker-on: perhaps
They may take notice of me for his brother;
That is, when they please, too; but this
Came nearest to me; upon the engagement of my honour
To deny my friend, and one, whose single faith
Had been enough for all the kingdom's safety--
The holding of such a trifle as the citadel.

+Des.+ It has recompens'd me in part to know, where
That close annoy lay which wounded me i' th' dark:
I shall now collect myself against it; and know,
My lord, where my poor life and powers are
To be prostrate. Could I enlarge them to my wish,
They might appear, sir, to your highness' use.

+Duke.+ I know how far you can, bravest man;
Your worth has taken fire here, where I will
Preserve it in a noble flame.
My greatest thirst of fame is my expression
To men of your merit, who cannot want
A friend, whilst I have power to be one:
But I am scanted and weak'ned in my desires,
Else fam'd Velasco had not yet slept in his dust
To please the common hangman; nor men of glorious
Parts live shrouded in obscure homes, like
Pamphlets out of date.

+Des.+ You are the patron of our honoured actions,
And all their glory meets and circles in
Your fame.

+Duke.+ I will disengage you from this forc'd compliment:
It keeps me at too great a distance from that
Bosom, where I would lodge a friend, Dessandro:
I must take't unkindly too, that in the scroll
Of all your friends I stand dash'd out, a stranger
To your joys.

+Des.+ My lord!

+Duke.+ But you shall not steal the day so: I'll be
One at the ceremony, though the bride tell me
In a blush, I came unwish'd-for.

+Des.+ 'Tis but the busy voice that, like the nightmare,
Rides men, and can find strange shapes and prodigies
I'th' clouds. I must confess, Cleara has the
Engagement of all her virtues and a brother's on me.
When it concerns me nearer, it must not be a secret
To your highness, to whom all that's deriv'd
To my poor life and fortune is a just debt.

+Duke.+ You know the way unto a friend--if you can think
I have power enough to make me so.

+Des.+ Sir, I was only showed to the world to be talk'd on:
Fortune (I thank her) has given me many knacks
To play with in her mood, but taken 'em away again scurvily,
To tell me I was not born to any real purpose;
And I wish nothing she can give me.

+Duke.+ She will acknowledge her mistake, and put
On her smiles to court your merits.
La Gitterne, is the king come from's sport? [_+La Gitterne+ waits._

+La G.+ He dines abroad, my lord.

+Duke.+ Colonel, this day you shall bestow on me:
I owe the Duchess Claudilla a visit;
Make ready straight; we'll spend a dinner-time
There, and the afternoon at tennis. [_Exeunt._

+A Song.+

_That done, +Claudilla+ and +De Flame+ discovered sitting in a
rich couch; at each end a lady waiting._

+De F.+ This does but find our melancholy out,
And cast it in a minute's trance; when one
Soft accent from Claudilla's voice leaves nought
That's earth about me. My soul's in her Elysium,
And every sense immortal, dilated into joys:
Heaven becomes attentive, and the soft winds
Put on their perfum'd wings to hover near those lips.
That blush does show the sparkles of some incensed thought!
My poor expressions rob ye; but I appeal
To this white hand for pardon.