Chapter XI: Part 11

_Beau._ Why, in Dressing, Drinking, Whoring, Claps, Dice, and Scriveners. What do you think of me now, old Gentleman?

_Esop._ Pray, what do you think of yourself?

_Beau._ I don't think at all: I know how to bestow my Time better.

_Esop._ Are you married?

_Beau._ No----have you ever a Daughter to bestow upon me?

_Esop._ She wou'd be well bestow'd.

_Beau._ Why, I'm a strong young Dog, you old Put, you: She may be worse coupled----

_Esop._ Have you then a Mind to a Wife, Sir?

_Beau._ Yaw, _Mynheer_.

_Esop._ What wou'd you do with her?

_Beau._ Why, I'd take Care of her Affairs, rid her of all her Troubles, her Maidenhead, and her Portion.

_Esop._ And, pray, what Sort of Wife wou'd you be willing to throw yourself away upon?

_Beau._ Why, upon one that has Youth, Beauty, Quality, Virtue, Wit and Money.

_Esop._ And how may you be qualified yourself, to back you in your Pretensions to such a one?

_Beau._ Why, I am qualified with----a Perriwig----a Snuff-box--a Feather----a----smooth Face----a Fool's Head----and a Patch.

_Esop._ But one Question more: What Settlements can you make?

_Beau._ Settlements!--Why, if she be a very great Heiress, indeed, I believe I may settle----myself upon her for Life, and my Pox upon her Children for ever.

_Esop._ 'Tis enough; you may expect I'll serve you, if it lies in my Way. But I wou'd not have you rely too much upon your Success, because People sometimes are mistaken----

As for Example----

_An Ape there was of nimble Parts,
A great Intruder into Hearts,
As brisk, and gay, and full of Air,
As you or I, or any here;
Rich in his Dress, of splendid Shew,
And with an Head like any Beau:
Eternal Mirth was in his Face;
Where'er he went,
He was content,
So Fortune had but kindly sent
Some Ladies----and a Looking-glass.
Encouragement they always gave him,
Encouragement to play the Fool;
For soon they found it was a Tool
Wou'd hardly be so much in Love,
But that the mumbling of a Glove,
Or tearing of a Fan, wou'd save him.
These Bounties he accepts as Proof
Of Feats done by his Wit and Youth;
He gives their Freedom gone for ever,
Concludes each Female Heart undone,
Except that very Happy One
To which he'd please to do the Favour.
In short, so smooth his Matters went,
He guess'd, where'er his Thoughts were bent,
The Lady he must carry:
So put on a fine new Cravat,
He comb'd his Wig, he cock'd his Hat,
And gave it out he'd marry.
But here, alas! he found to 's Cost,
He had reckon'd long without his Host:
For wheresoe'er he made th' Attack,
Poor Pug with Shame was beaten back.
The first fair She he had in Chace,
Was a young Cat, extremely rich,
Her Mother was a noted Witch;
So, had the Daughter prov'd but civil,
He'd been related to the Devil.
But when he came
To urge his Flame,
She scratch'd him o'er the Face.
With that he went among the Bitches,
Such as had Beauty, Wit and Riches,
And swore Miss Maulkin, to her Cost,
Shou'd quickly see what she had lost:
But the poor, unlucky Swain
Miss'd his Shepherdess again;
His Fate was to miscarry.
It was his Destiny to find,
That Cats and Dogs are of a Mind,
When Monkies come to marry._

_Beau._ 'Tis very well;----'tis very well, old Spark; I say, 'tis very well. Because I han't a Pair of plaid Shoes, and a dirty Shirt, you think a Woman won't venture upon me for a Husband----Why, now to shew you, old Father, how little you Philosophers know of the Ladies, I'll tell you an Adventure of a Friend of mine.

_A Band, a Bob-Wig, and a Feather,
Attack'd a Lady's Heart together.
The Band, in a most learned Plea,
Made up of deep Philosophy,
Told her, if she wou'd please to wed
A Reverend Beard, and take, instead
Of vigorous Youth,
Old solemn Truth,
With Books and Morals into Bed,
How happy she wou'd be.
The Bob, he talk'd of Management,
What wondrous Blessings Heaven sent
On Care, and Pains, and Industry;
And, truly, he must be so free
To own, he thought your airy Beaux,
With powder'd Wigs, and dancing Shoes,
Were good for nothing (mend his Soul!),
But prate, and talk, and play the Fool.
He said, 'twas Wealth gave Joy and Mirth;
And that to be the dearest Wife
Of one, who labour'd all his Life,
To make a Mine of Gold his own,
And not spend ~Sixpence~ when he'd done,
Was Heaven upon Earth.
When these two Blades had done, d' ye see,
The Feather (as it might be me)
Steps out, Sir, from behind the Skreen,
With such an Air, and such a Mien,
Look you, old Gentleman, in short,
He quickly spoil'd the Statesman's Sport.
It prov'd such Sunshine Weather,
That you must know, at the first Beck
The Lady leapt about his Neck,
And off they went together._

_To ~Esop~._] There's a Tale for your Tale, old Dad, and so----_Serviteur_.

[_Exeunt._

THE

FALSE FRIEND.

A

COMEDY.

PROLOGUE.

Spoken by Capt. _Griffin_.

_You dread Reformers of an impious Age, }
You awful Cat-o'-nine Tails to the Stage, }
This once be just, and in our Cause engage. }
To gain your Favour, we your Rules obey, }
And treat you with a moral Piece to-day; }
So moral, we're afraid 'twill damn the Play. }
For tho' y' ave long been leagu'd (as People tell)
To reduce the Power exorbitant of Hell;
No Troops you send, t' abate it in this Field,
But leave us still expos'd, to starve or yield.
Your Scouts, indeed, sometimes come stealing in,
T' observe this formidable Camp of Sin,
And whisper, if we'll piously declare,
What Aids you then will send, to help us thro' the War.
To this we answer, We're a feeble State, }
And cannot well afford to love or hate, }
So shou'd not meddle much in your Debate. }
But, since your Cause is good, thus far we'll go,
When ~Portugal~ declares, we'll do so too.
Our Cases, as we think, are much alike,
And on the same Conditions, we should strike;
Send to their Aid a hundred Men of War,
To ours, a hundred Squadrons of the Fair;
Rig out your Wives and Daughters all around,
(I mean, wh' are fit for Service, tight and sound)
And, for a Proof our Meaning is sincere, }
See but the Ships are good, and if you fear }
A Want of Equipage, we'll mann them here. }
These are the Terms on which you may engage
The Poet's Fire, to batter from the Stage:
Useful Ally! whose Friendship lets you in,
Upon the weak and naked Side of Sin.
Against your old Attack, the Foe's prepar'd,
Well fortify'd, and always on his Guard;
The sacred Shot you send are flung in vain; }
By Impious Hands, with insolent Disdain, }
They're gather'd up, and fir'd at you again. }
Thro' baffled Toils, and unsuccessful Cares, }
In Slaughter, Blood and Wounds, and pious Snares, }
Y' ave made a ~Flanders~ War these fifteen hundred Years. }
Change then your Scheme, if you'll your Foe annoy,
And the infernal ~Bajazet~ destroy;
Our Aid accept,
W' ave gentler Stratagems which may succeed;
We'll tickle 'em where you'd make 'em bleed:
In Sounds less harsh, we'll teach 'em to obey; }
In softer Strains the evil Spirit lay, }
And steal Immorality away._ }

Dramatis Personæ.

MEN.

Don _Felix_, a Gentleman of _Valencia_, Capt. _Griffin_.
Don _Pedro_, } { Mr. _Wilks_.
Don _Guzman_, } Lovers of _Leonora_, { Mr. _Mills_.
Don _John_, } { Mr. _Cibber_.
_Lopez_, Servant to Don _John_, Mr. _Pinkethman_.
_Galindo_, Servant to Don _Guzman_, Mr. _Bullock_.

WOMEN.

_Leonora_, Daughter to Don _Felix_, Mrs. _Rogers_.
_Isabella_, her Friend, and Sister to }
_Guzman_, } Mrs. _Kent_.
_Jacinta_, Woman to _Leonora_, Mrs. _Oldfield_.

+SCENE+, at _Valencia_.

THE
FALSE FRIEND.

+ACT+ I. +SCENE+ I.

+SCENE+, _Don ~John~'s Lodgings._

_Enter Don ~John~ beating ~Lopez~._

_Lop._ Hold, Sir, hold; there's enough in all Conscience; I'm reasonable, I ask no more; I'm content.

Don _John._ Then there's a double Content, you Dog, and a Brace of Contents more into the Bargain. Now is't well?

[_Striking again and again._

_Lop._ O, mighty well, Sir; you'll never mend it; pray leave it as 'tis.

Don _John._ Look you, you Jackanapes, if ever I hear an Offer at your impertinent Advice again----

_Lop._ And why, Sir, will you stifle the most useful of my Qualifications?

Don _John._ Either, Sirrah, I pass for a very great Blockhead with you, or you are pleas'd to reckon much upon my Patience.

_Lop._ Your Patience, Sir, indeed is great: I feel at this Time forty Proofs on't upon my Shoulders: But really, Sir, I wou'd advise you to----

Don _John._ Again! I can bear thee no longer. Here, Pen and Ink, I'll give thee thy Discharge: Did I take you for a Valet, or a Privy-Counsellor, Sir?

_Lop._ 'Tis confess'd, Sir, you took me but for humble Employment; but my Intention was agreeably to surprize you with some superior Gifts of Nature, to your faithful Slave. I profess, my noble Master, a most perfect Knowledge of Men and Manners. Yours, gracious Sir, (with all Respect I speak it) are not irreprehensible. And I'm afraid in Time, Sir, I am indeed, they'll riggle you into some ill-favour'd Affair, whence, with all my Understanding, I shall be puzzled to bring you off.

Don _John._ Very well, Sir.

_Lop._ And therefore, Sir, it is, that I, poor _Lopez_ as I am, sometimes take leave to maralize.

Don _John._ Go, go, moralize in the Market-place: I'm quite worn out. Once more, march.

_Lop._ Is the Sentence definitive?

Don _John._ Positive.

_Lop._ Then, pray, let us come to account, and see what Wages are due.

Don _John._ Wages! Refund what you have had, you Rascal, you, for the plague you have given me.

_Lop._ Nay, if I must lose my Money; then let me claim another Right: Losers have leave to speak. Therefore, advance, my Tongue, and say thy Pleausure; tell this Master of mine, he shou'd die with shame at the Life he leads: So much unworthy of a Man of Honour: Tell him----

Don _John._ I'll hear no more.

_Lop._ You shall indeed, Sir.

Don _John._ Here, take thy Money, and begone.

_Lop._ Counters all; adieu, you glistring Spangles of the World; farewel, ye Tempters of the Great, not me. Tell him----

Don _John._ Stay.

_Lop._ Go on; tell him he's worse among the Women than a Ferret among the Rabbits; at one and all, from the Princess to the Tripe-Woman; handsome, ugly, old Women and Children, all go down.

Don _John._ Very well.

_Lop._ It is, indeed, Sir, and so are the Stories you tell them to bring them to your Matters. The Handsome, she's all Divinity, to be sure; the Ugly, she's so agreeable, were it not for her Virtue, she'd be over-run with Lovers; the light, airy, Flipflap, she kills him with her Motions; the dull, heavy-tail'd Maukin melts him down with her Modesty; the scragged, lean, pale Face has a Shape for Destruction; the fat over-grown Sow has an Air of Importance; the tall aukward Trapes with her Majesty wounds; the little, short Trundle-tail shoots a _Je-ne-sçay-quoy_: In a Word, they have all something for him----and he has something for them all.

Don _John._ And thus, you Fool, by a general Attack, I keep my Heart my own; lie with them that like me, and care not Sixpence for them that don't.

_Lop._ Well said, well said; a very pretty Amusement, truly! But, pray, Sir, by your leave (Ceremony aside) since you are pleas'd to clear up into Conversation, what mighty Matters do you expect from boarding a Woman, you know, is already Heart and Soul engag'd to another?

Don _John._ Why, I expect her Heart and Soul shou'd disengage in a Week. If you live a little longer with me, Sirrah, you'll know how to instruct your next Master to the purpose; and therefore, that I may charitably equip you for a new Service, now I'm turning you out of my own, I'll let you know, that when a Woman loves a Man best, she's in the most hopeful way of betraying him; for Love, like Fortune, turns upon a Wheel, and is very much given to rising and falling.

_Lop._ Like enough: But as much upon the Weathercock as the Ladies are; there are some the Wind must blow hard to fetch them about: When such a sturdy Hussy falls in your Honour's way, what account may Things turn to then, an't please ye?

Don _John._ They turn to a Bottle, you Puppy.

_Lop._ I find they'll always turn to something; but when you pursue a poor Woman, only to make her Lover jealous, what Pleasure can you take in that?

Don _John._ That Pleasure.

_Lop._ Look you there, again.

Don _John._ Why, Sirrah, d'ye think there's no Pleasure in spoiling their Sport, when I can't make my own?

_Lop._ O! to a good-natur'd Man, be sure there must; but, suppose, instead of 'fending and proving with his Mistress, he shou'd come to----a----parrying and thrusting with you; what becomes of your Joy, then, my noble Master?

Don _John._ Why, do you think I'm afraid to fight, you Rascal?

_Lop._ I thought we were talking of what we lov'd, not what we fear'd, Sir.

Don _John._ Sir, I love every Thing that leads to what I love most.

_Lop._ I know, Sir, you have often fought upon these Occasions.

Don _John._ Therefore, that has been no stop to my Pleasures.

_Lop._ But you have never been kill'd once, Sir; and when that happens, you will for ever lose the Pleasure of----

Don _John._ [_Striking him._] Breaking your Head, you Rascal, which will afflict me heartily. See who knocks so hard.

[_Knocking._

_Lop._ Somebody that thinks I can hear no better than you think I can feel.

_Enter Don ~Guzman~._

Don _Guz._ Don _John de Alvarada_, is he here?

_Lop._ There's the Man. Shew me such another, if you can find him.

[_Aside._

Don _Guz._ Don _John_, I desire to speak with you alone.

Don _John._ You may speak before this Fellow, Sir; he's trusty.

Don _Guz._ 'Tis an Affair of Honour, Sir.

Don _John._ Withdraw, _Lopez_.

_Lop._ Behind the Door I will, and no farther. [_Aside._] This Fellow looks as if he came to save me a broken Head.

[_~Lopez~ retires._

Don _Guz._ I call myself _Don Guzman de Torrellas_; you know what Blood I spring from; I am a Cadet, and by consequence, not rich; but I am esteem'd by Men of Honour: I have been forward to expose myself in Battles abroad, and I have met with Applause in our Feasts at home.

_Lop._ So much by way of Introduction.

[_Aside._

Don _John._ I understand your Merit, Sir, and shou'd be glad to do as much by your Business.

Don _Guz._ Give Attention, and you'll be instructed. I love _Leonora_, and from my Youth have done so. Long she rejected my Sighs, and despised my Tears, but my Constancy at last hath vanquish'd. I have found the way to her Heart, and nothing is wanting to compleat my Joy, but the Consent of her Father, whom I cannot yet convince, that the Wants in my Fortune are recompens'd by the Merits of my Person.

_Lop._ He's a very dull Fellow, indeed.

[_Aside._

Don _Guz._ In the mean while, the Object of my Vows is a sharer in my Grief, and the only Cordial we have is the Pleasure of a secret Conversation, thro' a small Breach I have made in a thin Partition that divides our Lodgings. I trust you, Don _John_, with this important Secret; Friend or Enemy, you are noble, therefore keep it; I charge your Honour with it.

_Lop._ You cou'd not put it in better Hands.

[_Aside._

Don _Guz._ But more; my Passion for this Lady is not hid; all _Valencia_ is acquainted with my Wishes, and approves my Choice. You alone, Don _John de Alvarada_, seeming ignorant of my Vows, dare traverse my Amour.

Don _John._ Go on.

_Lop._ These Words import War; lie close, _Lopez_.

[_Aside._

Don _Guz._ You are the _Argus_ of our Street and the Spy of _Leonora_; whether _Diana_ by her borrow'd Light supplies the Absence of the _Astrea_ of Day, or that the Shades of Night cover the Earth with impenetrable Darkness; you still attend till _Aurora_'s Return, under the Balcony of that adorable Beauty.

Don _John._ So?

Don _Guz._ Wherever she moves, you still follow as her Shadow, at Church, at Plays: Be her Business with Heaven or Earth, your Importunity is such, you'll share it.

_Lop._ He is a forward Fellow, that's the Truth on't.

[_Aside._

Don _Guz._ But what's still farther, you take the Liberty to copy me; my Words, my Actions, every Motion is no sooner mine, but your's. In short, you ape me, Don; and to that point, I once design'd to stab myself, and try if you wou'd follow me in that too.

_Lop._ No, there the Monkey wou'd have left you.

[_Aside._

Don _Guz._ But to conclude.

Don _John._ 'Tis Time.

Don _Guz._ My Patience, Don, is now no more; and I pronounce, that if henceforth I find you under _Leonora_'s Window, who never wish'd, fond Man, to see you there; I, by the ways of Honour, shall fix you in another Station. I leave you to consider on't.----Farewel.

[_Exit ~Don~ Guz._

Don _John._ Hold, Sir, we had e'en as good do this honourable Deed now.

_Re-enter ~Lopez~._

_Lop._ No, pray, Sir, let him go, and maybe you mayn't have Occasion to do it at all.

Don _John._ I thought at first the Coxcomb came upon another Subject, which wou'd have embarrassed me much more.

_Lop._ Now this was a Subject wou'd have embarrass'd me enough in all Conscience.

Don _John._ I was afraid he came to forbid me seeing his Sister, _Isabella_, with whom I'm upon very good Terms.

_Lop._ Why, now, that's a hard Case, when you have got a Man's Sister, you can't leave him his Mistress.

Don _John._ No, Changeling, I hate him enough, to love every Woman that belongs to him: and the Fool has so provok'd me by this Threatning, that I believe I shall have a Stroke at his Mother, before I think myself even with him.

_Lop._ A most admirable way to make up Accounts, truly!

Don _John._ A Son of a Whore! s'death, I did not care Sixpence for the Slut before, but now I'll have her Maidenhead in a Week, for fear the Rogue shou'd marry her in ten Days.

_Lop._ Mum; here's her Father: I'll warrant this old Spark comes to correct our Way of living too.

_Enter Don ~Felix~._

Don _Fel._ Don _John!_

Don _John._ Don _Felix!_ do I see you in my poor Dwelling? Pray, to what lucky Accident do I owe this Honour?

Don _Fel._ That I may speak to you without Constraint, pray send away your Servant.

_Lop._ What the Pox have I done to 'em, they are all so uneasy at my Company?

[_Aside._

Don _John._ Give us Chairs, and leave the Room.

_Lop._ If this old Fellow comes to quarrel with us too, he'll at least do us less harm.

[_Aside._

Don _Fel._ Won't you retire, Friend?

[_Looking behind._

Don _John._ Be gone, Sirrah.

_Lop. aside._] Pox take ye----you old Prig, you: But I shall be even with you.

[_Lopez hides himself._

Don _Fel._ You know me, Sir?

Don _John._ I do, Sir.

Don _Fel._ That I call myself----

Don _John._ Don Felix.

Don _Fel._ That I am of the House of----

Don _John._ _Cabrera_, one of the first of _Valencia_.

Don _Fel._ That my Estate is----

Don _John._ Great.

Don _Fel._ You know that I have some Reputation in the World?

Don _John._ I know your Reputation equals your Birth.

Don _Fel._ And you are not ignorant, that Heaven, for the Consolation of my grey Hairs, has given me an only Daughter, who is not deform'd?

Don _John._ Beauteous as Light.

Don _Fel._ Well shap'd, witty, and endow'd with--

Don _John._ All the good Qualities of Mind and Body.

Don _Fel._ Since you are satisfy'd with all this, hearken, I pray, with Attention, to the Business that brings me hither.

Don _John._ I shall.

Don _Fel._ We all know, Don _John_, some by their own Experience, some by that of others, how nice a Gentleman's Honour is, and how easily tarnish'd; an _Eclaircissement_ manag'd with Prudence, often prevents Misfortunes, that, perhaps, might be upon the Point of attending us. I have thought it my Duty to acquaint you, that I have seen your Designs upon my Daughter: You pass Nights entire under her Window, as if you were searching an Opportunity to get into my House; there is nobody in the Town but has taken Notice of your Proceedings; you give the Publick a Subject for disadvantageous Discourse; and tho' in reality _Leonora_'s Virtue receives no Prejudice by it, her Reputation daily runs some Risque. My Years have taught me to judge right of Things; and yet, I have not been able to decide what your End can be; you can't regard my Daughter on a foot of Gallantry; you know her Virtue, and my Birth too well; and for a Wife you seem to have no Thought, since you have yet made no Demand to me: What then is your Intention? You have heard, perhaps, I have hearken'd to a Gentleman of _Toledo_, a Man of Merit. I own I have, and I expect him daily here; but, Don _John_, if 'tis that which hinders you from declaring in form, I'll ease you of a great deal of Trouble, which the Customs of the World impose upon these Occasions, and, in a Word, I'll break with him, and give you _Leonora_.

_Lop._ Good.

[_Aside._

Don _Fel._ You don't answer me! What is't that troubles you?

Don _John._ That I have been such a Sot, old Gentleman, to hear you with so much Patience.

[_Rising._

Don _Fel._ How, Don! I'm more astonish'd at your Answer, than I was with your Silence.

Don _John._ Astonish'd! Why han't you talk'd to me of Marriage? He asks me to marry, and wonders what I complain of!

Don _Fel._ 'Tis well----'tis well, Don _John_, the Outrage is violent! You insult me in your own House. But, know, Sir----

[_Rising._

Don _John._ But, know, Sir, there needs no Quarrel, if you please, Sir; I like your Daughter very well; but for marrying her----_Serviteur_.

Don _Fel._ Don _Guzman de Torrellas_ has not less Merit than you, Don.

Don _John._ Agreed; what then?

Don _Fel._ And yet I have refus'd him my Daughter.

Don _John._ Why then, you have used him better than you have done me, which I take very unkindly.

Don _Fel._ I have us'd you, Sir----

Don _John._ Us'd me, Sir? you have us'd me very ill, to come into my own House to seduce me.

Don _Fel._ What Extravagance!

Don _John._ What Persecution!

Don _Fel._ Am I then to have no other Answer?

Don _John._ Methinks, you have enough in all Conscience.

Don _Fel._ Promise me, at least, you'll cease to love my Daughter.

Don _John._ I won't affront your Family so far, neither.

_Lop._ I'gad my Master shines to-day.

[_Aside._

Don _Fel._ Know, Don, that I can bear no more.

_Lop._ If he cou'd, I think there's no more to lay upon him.

[_Aside._

Don _Fel._ If I find you continue to importune _Leonora_, I shall find a way to satisfy my offended Honour, and punish your Presumption.

Don _John._ You shall do what you please to me, provided you don't marry me.

Don _Fel._ Know, _Alvarada_, there are ways to revenge such outrageous Affronts as these.

Don _John._ I won't marry.

Don _Fel._ 'Tis enough.

[_Exit Don ~Felix~._

_Re-enter ~Lopez~._

_Lop._ So; the old Fellow's gone at last, and has carry'd great Content along with him.

[_Aside._

Don _John._ _Lopez_.

_Lop._ Sir----

Don _John._ What dost think? He wou'd have marry'd me!

_Lop._ Yes, he had found his Man. But you have been even with him.

Don _John._ What! thou hast heard us then?

_Lop._ Or I were no Valet: But, pray, what does your Honour intend to do now? Will you continue the Siege of a Place, where, 'tis probable, they will daily augment the Fortifications, when there are so many open Towns you may march into, without the Trouble of opening the Trenches.

Don _John._ I am going, _Lopez_, to double my Attacks: I'll beat up her Quarters six Times a-night; I am now downright in Love: the Difficulties pique me to the Attempt, and I'll conquer or I'll die.

_Lop._ Why, to confess the Truth, Sir, I find you much upon my Taste in this Matter: Difficulties are the Rocambole of Love; I never valu'd an easy Conquest in my life. To rouse my Fire; the Lady must cry out, as softly as ever she can, Have a Care, my Dear, my Mother has seen us: My Brothers suspect me; my Husband may surprize us: O, dear Heart, have a Care, I pray! Then, I play the Devil: But, when I come to a Fair-one, where I may hang up my Cloak upon a Peg, get into my Gown and Slippers--

Don _John._ Impudent Rogue!

[_Aside._

_Lop._ See her stretch'd upon the Couch, in great Security, with--My Dear, come kiss me, we have nothing to fear--I droop, I yawn, I sleep.

Don _John._ Well, Sir, whatever you do with your Fair-one, I am going to be very busy with mine; I was e'en almost weary of her, but _Guzman_ and this old Fellow have reviv'd my dying Fire; and so, have at her.

_Lop._ 'Tis all mighty well, Sir; mighty well, Sir, as can be in the World. But, if you wou'd have the Goodness to consider _en passant_, or so, a little now and then about Swords and Daggers, and Rivals and old Fellows, and Pistols and great Guns, and such like Baubles, only now and then at leisure, Sir, not to interrupt Things of more Consequence.

Don _John._ Thou art a cowardly Rascal, I have often consider'd that.

_Lop._ Ay, that's true, Sir; and yet a Blunderbuss is presently discharged out of a Garret-Window.

Don _John._ Come, no more Words, but follow me: How now! what Impertinence have we here now, to stop me?

_Enter Don ~Pedro~._

_Lop._ 'Tis Don _Pedro_, or I'm a Dog.

Don _John._ Impossible! Don _Pedro_ return'd!

Don _Ped._ 'Tis I, my dearest Friend; I'm come to forget all the Miseries of a long Absence in one happy Embrace.

[_They embrace._

Don _John._ I'm overjoy'd to see you.

Don _Ped._ Mine's not to be exprest. What, Friend _Lopez_ here still! How dost do, _Lopez_? What, dost not know me?

_Lop._ As well as my Father's Seal, Sir, when he sends me a Bill of Exchange.

Don _Ped._ Just as he was, I find, Galliard still.

_Lop._ I find it very unwholesome to be otherwise, Sir.

Don _John._ You have then quitted the Service in _Flanders_, I suppose.

Don _Ped._ I have so, Friend! I have left the Ensigns of _Mars_, and am listing myself in a softer Militia.

Don _John._ Explain, pray.

Don _Ped._ Why, when your Father's Death oblig'd you to leave _Brussels_, and return hither to the plentiful Fortune he left you; I stay'd in _Flanders_, very trist for your Lost, and past three Years in the Trade of War. About two Months since, my Father writ to me from _Toledo_, that he was going to marry me very advantageously at _Valencia_: He sent me the Picture of the Lady, and I was so well pleased with it, that I immediately got my _Congé_ and embark'd at _Dunkirk_; I had a quick Passage to the _Groyne_, from whence, by the way of _Madrid_, I am come hither with all the Speed I cou'd. I have, you must know, been two Days in Town, but I have lain _Incognito_, that I might inform myself of the Lady's Conduct I'm to marry; and I have discover'd, that she's serv'd by two Cavaliers of Birth and Merit. But tho' they have both given many Proofs of a most violent Passion, I have found, for the Quiet of my Honour, that this virtuous Lady, out of Modesty or Prudence, has shewn a perfect Indifference to them and their Gallantries; her Fortune is considerable, her Birth is high, her Manners irreproachable, and her Beauty so great, that nothing but my Love can equal it.

Don _John._ I have hearken'd to you, Don _Pedro_, with a great deal of Attention, and Heaven's my Witness, I have a mighty Joy in seeing you; but the Devil fetch me, it makes my Heart bleed, to hear you are going to be married.

Don _Ped._ Say no more of that, I desire you; we have always been Friends, and I earnestly beg we ever may be so; but I am not come to ask Counsel about my Marriage; my Party is taken, and my Inquiries have so much heightened my Desire, that nothing can henceforth abate it. I must, therefore, expect from you, dear Friend, that you won't oppose it, but that you'll aid me in hast'ning the Moment of my Happiness.

Don _John._ Since 'tis so impossible for you to resolve for your own Good, I must submit to what you'll have me: But are not we to know the Name of this Piece of Rarity, that is to do you this good Turn?

Don _Ped._ You'll know it presently; for I'm going to carry you to her House.

Don _John._ You shall tell me, at least, who are her two Gallants.

Don _Ped._ One, they cou'd not tell me his Name; t' other is----But before we talk any more of these Affairs, can you let me dispose of _Lopez_, till the Return of a Servant, I sent three Days ago to----

Don _John._ Carry News of you to _Papa_, I suppose.

Don _Ped._ You are right; the good Man is thirty Leagues off, and I have not seen him these six Years.

Don _John._ _Lopez_, do you wait upon Don _Pedro_.

_Lop._ With all my Heart. It's at least a Suspension of Boxes of the Ear, and Kicks of the Backside.

[_Aside._

Don _Ped._ Then, honest _Lopez_, with your Master's Leave, go to the New-Inn, the King of _France_ on Horseback, and see if my Servant's return'd; I'll be there immediately, to charge thee with a Commission of more Importance.

_Lop._ I shall perform your Orders, Sir, both to your Satisfaction, and my own Reputation.

[_Exit ~Lopez~._

Don _John._ Very quaint. Well, old Acquaintance, you are going to be married then? 'Tis resolved: Ha!

Don _Ped._ So says my Star.

Don _John._ The foolishest Star that has said any Thing a great while.

Don _Ped._ Still the same, I see! Or, more than ever, resolv'd to love nothing.

Don _John._ Love nothing! Why, I'm in Love at this very Time.

Don _Ped._ With what?

Don _John._ A Woman.

Don _Ped._ Impossible!

Don _John._ True.

Don _Ped._ And how came you in love with her?

Don _John._ Why, I was ordered not to be in love with her.

Don _Ped._ Then, there's more Humour than Love in't.

Don _John._ There shall be what you please in't. But I shan't quit the Gentlewoman, till I have convinced her there's something in't.

Don _Ped._ Mayn't I know her Name?

Don _John._ When you have let me into your conjugal Affection.

Don _Ped._ Pray, stay here but till I have sent _Lopez_ to my Father-in-law; I'll come back, and carry you with me in a Moment.

Don _John._ I'll expect you.

Don _Ped._ Adieu, dear Friend! May I in earnest see you quickly in Love!

[_Exit Don ~Pedro~._

Don _John._ May I, without a Jest, see you quickly a Widower.

_Don ~John~ solus._

He comes, he says, to marry a Woman of Quality that has two Lovers----If it should be _Leonora_----But, why she? There are many, I hope, in that Condition in _Valencia_----I'm a little embarrass'd about it, however----

_Friendship, take heed; if Woman interfere,
Be sure the Hour of thy Destruction's near._

[Exit.

+ACT+ II.

+SCENE+, _Leonora_'s Apartment.

_Enter ~Leonora~, ~Isabella~, and ~Jacinta~._

_Leon._ Dear _Isabella_, come in: How I am plagu'd with this troublesome Wretch! _Jacinta_, have you shut the outer Gates?

_Jacin._ I have, Madam.

_Leo._ Shut the Window too; we shall have him get in there, by and bye.

_Isab._ What's this you are in such Apprehensions of, pray?

_Leo._ Nothing worth naming.

_Isab._ You dissemble: Something of Love in the Case, I'll warrant you.

_Leo._ The Reverse on't; 'tis Aversion. My Impertinent Star has furnish'd me with a Lover for my Guard, who is never from my Window; he persecutes me to Distraction; I affront him fifty Times a day; which he receives with a Bow down to the Ground: In short, all I can do, is doing nothing at all: He still persists in loving me, as much as I hate him.

_Isab._ Have a Care he don't get the better on't, for all that; for when a Man loves a Woman well enough to persevere, 'tis odds but she at last loves him well enough to make him give it over. But I think I had as good take off my Scarf; for, since my Brother Don _Guzman_ knows I'm with you, he won't quarrel at my return, for the Length of my Visit.

_Leo._ If he shou'd, I shou'd quarrel with him, which few Things else wou'd make me do. But methinks, _Isabella_, you are a little melancholy.

_Isab._ And you a little thoughtful.

_Leo._ Pray, tell me your Affliction.

_Isab._ Pray don't conceal yours.

_Leo._ Why, truly, my Heart is not at ease.

_Isab._ Mine, I fear, never will.

_Leo._ My Father's marrying me against my Inclination.

_Isab._ My Brother is hind'ring me from marrying with mine.

_Leo._ You know I love your Brother, Don _Guzman_.

_Isab._ And you shall know, I'm uneasy for Don _John de Alvarada_.

_Leo._ Don _John_!

_Isab._ The same.

_Leo._ Have you any Reason to hope for a Return?

_Isab._ I think so.

_Leo._ I'm afraid, my Dear, you abuse yourself.

_Isab._ Why?

_Leo._ Because he is already in Love with----

_Isab._ Who?

_Leo._ Me.

_Isab._ I wou'd not have you too positive in that, Madam, for I am very sure that----

_Leo._ Madam, I am very sure that he's the troublesome Guest I just now complain'd of: And you may believe----

_Isab._ Madam, I can never believe he's troublesome to any Body.

_Leo._ O, dear Madam! But I'm sure I'm forc'd to keep my Windows shut, till I'm almost dead with Heat; and that, I think, is troublesome.

_Isab._ This Mistake is easily set right, _Leonora_; our Houses join, and when he looks at my Window, you fancy 'tis at your's.

_Leo._ But, when he attacks my Door, Madam, and almost breaks it down, I don't know how in the World to fancy 'tis your's.

_Isab._ A Man may do that to disguise his real Inclination.

_Leo._ Nay, if you please, believe he's dying for you. I wish he were; then I shou'd be troubled no more with him. Be sure, _Jacinta_, you don't open a Window to-night.

_Isab._ Not while I'm here, at least; for if he knows that, he may chance to press in.

_Leo._ Look you, _Isabella_, 'tis entirely alike to me, who he's fond of; but I'm so much your Friend, I can't endure to see you deceiv'd.

_Isab._ And since I have the same Kindness for you, _Leonora_, know, in short, that my Brother is so alarm'd at his Passion for me, that he has forbid him the Street.

_Leo._ Bless my Soul! and don't you plainly see by that, he's jealous of him upon my Account?

_Isa._ [_Smiling._] He's jealous of his Honour, Madam, lest he shou'd debauch his Sister.

_Leo._ I say, he's jealous of his Love, lest he shou'd corrupt his Mistress.

_Isab._ But why all this Heat? If you love my Brother, why are you concern'd Don _John_ shou'd love me?

_Leo._ I'm not concern'd: I have no Designs upon him; I care not who he loves.

_Isab._ Why then are you angry?

_Leo._ Why do you say he does not care for me!

_Isab._ Well, to content you then, I know nothing certain, but that I love him.

_Leo._ And to content you; I know nothing so certain, as that I neither love him, nor ever can love him: And so I hope we are Friends again.

_Isab._ Kiss me, then, and let us never be otherwise.

_Leo._ Agreed: [_They kiss._] And now, my Dear, as my Misfortune's nearest, I am first to be pity'd; I am the most wretched Woman living. My Father every Moment expects a Gentleman from _Flanders_, to whom he has resolv'd to marry me. But neither Duty, nor Prudence, nor Danger, nor Resolution, nor all I can summon to my Aid, can drive your Brother from my Heart; but there he's fix'd to ruin me.

_Jacin._ Madam, here's Don _Guzman_ at the Chamber-Door; he begs so passionately to come in, sure you can't refuse him.

_Leo._ Heav'ns! But does he consider to what he exposes me?

_Jacin._ Madam, he considers nothing; if he did, I'd say he were an impudent Fellow, to pretend to be in Love with you.

_Leo._ Shall I venture, _Isabella_?

_Isab._ You know best.

_Enter Don ~Guzman~._

_Jacin._ Marry, methinks he knows best of us all, for here he comes.

Don _Guz._ Forgive me, lovely _Leonora_; 'tis the last Time, perhaps, that I may beg your Pity. My Rival is not far off: Excess of Modesty is now our Ruin. Break through it, for this Moment you have left, and own, to your old Father, how you love. He once did so himself; our Scene of Sorrow may, perhaps, recall some small Remembrance of his tender Years, and melt him into Mercy.

_Leo._ Alas! Don _Guzman_----

_Jacin._ O Heavens! Madam----

_Leo._ What's the Matter?

_Jacin._ Y' are undone; here's your Father.

_Isab._ What an unlucky Accident!

_Leo._ Has he seen Don _Guzman_?

_Jacin._ Nay, the deuce knows.

_Isab._ Where shall he hide himself?

_Jacin._ In the Moon, if he can get thither.

_Enter Don ~Felix~._

Don _Guz._ I must e'en stand it now.

Don _Fel._ Good News, my Daughter, good News; I come to acquaint you, that----How now? What's the Meaning of this? Don _Guzman_ in my Daughter's Chamber!

Don _Guz._ I see your Surprize, Sir, but you need not be disturb'd; 'twas some sudden Business with my Sister brought me here.

Don _Fel._ 'Tis enough, Sir: I'm glad to find you here; you shall be a Witness, that I know how to preserve the Honour of my Family.

Don _Guz._ What mean you, Sir?

Don _Fel._ To marry _Leonora_ this Moment.

Don _Guz._ How say you?

Don _Fel._ I say, you shall have nothing left to ask of me.

Don _Guz._ Is't possible? O Heavens! what Joy I feel!

Don _Fel._ _Leonora_, prepare your Hand and Heart.

_Leo._ They both are ready, Sir; and in giving me the Man I love, you charge me with a Debt of Gratitude can never be repay'd.

Don _Guz._ [_Kneeling._] Upon my Knees, I thank the best of Men, for blessing me with all that's blest in Woman.

_Isab._ How well that kind, that gentle Look becomes him!

_Jacin._ Now, methinks he looks like an old Rogue; I don't like his Looks.

[_Aside._

_Enter ~Lopez~._

_Lop._ To all whom it may concern, greeting, Don _Pedro Osorio_, acknowledging himself most unworthy of the Honour intended him, in the Person of the fair _Leonora_, addresses himself, by me, his small Ambassador, to the Generosity of Don _Felix_, for leave to walk in and take Possession.

Don _Fel._ I had already given Order for his Entrance.

Don _Guz._ What is't I hear?

_Leo._ Support me.

_Isab._ She faints.

Don _Guz._ Look, Tyrant, here, and, if thou can'st, be cruel!

[_Holding her._

Don _Fel._ Bring in Don _Pedro_.

Don _Guz._ Barbarian!

_Jacin._ Look up, Madam, for Heaven's sake; since you must marry the Fellow, e'en make the most on't.

_Leo._ Hoh----

_Enter Don ~Pedro~ and Don ~John~._

_Jacin._ So----How d'ye do now? Come, chear up. See, here he comes. By my Troth, and a pretty turn'd Fellow. [_Aside._] He'll set all to rights by to-morrow Morning, I'll answer for him.

Don _Fel._ Don _Pedro_, you are welcome; let me embrace you.

Don _Ped._ In what Terms, Sir, shall I express what I owe you for the Honour you do me? And with what Prospect of Return can I receive this inestimable Present? Your Picture, Madam, made what Impression Art cou'd stamp, but Nature has done more. What Wounds your Sex can give, or ours receive, I feel.

Don _Fel._ Come, Son, (for I'm in haste to call you so)----But what's this I see? ~Alvarada~ here! Whence, Sir, this Insolence; to come within my Doors, after you know what has past? Who brought you here?

Don _Ped._ 'Twas I, Sir.

Don _Fel._ But do you know that he----

Don _Ped._ Sir, he's the best of my Friends.

Don _Fel._ But do you know, I say, that he wou'd----

Don _Ped._ Hinder this Marriage, 'tis true.

Don _Fel._ Yes, because he design'd----

Don _Ped._ I know his Design, Sir; 'tis to hinder all his Friends from marrying. Pray forgive him.

Don _Fel._ Then to prevent for ever his Designs here, come hither, _Leonora_, and give Don _Pedro_ your Hand.

Don _John._ Keep down, my kindling Jealousy: I've something tortures me I never felt but now.

[_Aside._

Don _Ped._ [_To ~Leo~._] Why this Backwardness, Madam? Where a Father chooses, a Daughter may with Modesty approve. Pray, give me your Hand.

Don _Guz._ I cannot see it.

[_Turning from 'em._

Don _Fel._ [_To ~Leo.~ aside._] Are you distracted? Will you let him know your Folly? Give him your Hand, for Shame.

_Leo._ Hoh! Don _Guzman_, I am yours.

[_Sighing, and giving carelesly her Hand._

Don _Guz._ Madam!

[_Turning._

Don _Fel._ What a fatal Slip!

[_Aside._

_Leo._ 'Twas not to you I spoke, Sir.

Don _Ped._ But him it was she nam'd, and thought on too, I fear. I'm much alarm'd.

Don _Fel._ [_To ~Leo~._] Repair what you have done, and look more chearful on him.

_Leo._ Repair what you have done, and kill me.

Don _Fel._ Fool.

_Leo._ Tyrant.

_Jacin._ A very hum-drum Marriage this.

[_Aside._

Don _Guz._ Pray, Sister, let's retire; for I can bear this Sight no longer.

_Isab._ My Dear, farewel; I pity you, indeed.

_Leo._ I am indeed an Object of your Pity.

[_Exit Don ~Guz.~ and ~Isab.~_

Don _Fel._ Come, Daughter, come, my Son, let's to the Church, and tie this happy Knot.

Don _Ped._ I'll wait upon you, Sir.

[_Exit Don ~Fel.~ leading ~Leo.~_

Don _John._ I love her, and I'll love her still. Fate do thy worst, I'll on.

[_Aside._

Don _Ped._ To name another Man, in giving me her Hand!

Don _John._ [_Aside._] How am I rackt and torn with Jealousy?

Don _Ped._ 'Tis doubtless so, Don Guzman has her Heart.

[_Aside._

Don _John._ [_Aside._] The Bridegroom's thoughtful. The Lady's Trip has furnish'd him with some Matrimonial Reflections: They'll agree with him at this Time perhaps, better than my Company. I'll leave him. Don _Pedro_, adieu, we shall meet again at Night.

Don _Ped._ Pray stay: I have need of a Friend's Counsel.

Don _John._ What, already!

Don _Ped._ Already.

Don _John._ That's to say, you have already enough of Matrimony.

Don _Ped._ I scarce know what I have, nor am I sure of what I am.

_Enter ~Lopez~._

_Lop._ An't please your Honour, yonder's your Man _Bertrand_ just arriv'd; his Horse and he are so tired of one another, that they both came down upon the Pavement at the Stable-Door.

Don _Ped._ [_To Don ~John~._] He brings News from my Father.

_Lop._ I believe he does, and hasty News too; but if you stay till he brings it hither, I believe it will come but slowly. But here's his Packet; I suppose that will do as well as his Company.

[_Gives a Letter._

Don _Ped._ [_Reads to himself._] My dear friend, here's ill News.

Don _John._ What's the Matter?

Don _Ped._ My poor old Father's dying.

Don _John._ I'm mighty sorry for't; 'tis a weighty Stroke I must confess; the Burden of his Estate will almost bear you down. But we must submit to Heaven's good Will.

Don _Ped._ You talk, _Alvarada_, like a perfect Stranger to that Tenderness methinks every Son shou'd feel for a good Father: For my part, I've receiv'd such repeated Proofs of an uncommon Affection from mine, that the Loss of a Mistress could scarce touch me nearer. You'll believe me, when you see me leave _Leonora_ a Virgin, till I have seen the good old Man.

Don _John._ That will be a Proof, indeed; Heaven's Blessing must needs fall upon so dutiful a Son; but I don't know how its Judgments may deal with so indifferent a Lover.

Don _Ped._ O! I shall have Time enough to repair this seeming small Neglect: But before I go, pray a Word or two with you alone. _Lopez_, wait without. [_Exit ~Lop~._] You see, my dearest Friend, I am engag'd with _Leonora_; perhaps I have done wrong; but 'tis gone too far, to talk or think of a Retreat; I shall I go directly from this Place to the Altar, and there seal the eternal Contract. That done, I'll take Post to see my Father, if I can, before he dies. I leave then here a young and beauteous Bride; but that which touches every String of Thought, I fear, I leave her wishing I were _Guzman_. If it be so, no doubt he knows it well; and he that knows he's lov'd by _Leonora_, can let no fair Occasion pass to gain her; my Absence is his Friend, but you are mine, and so the Danger's balanc'd. Into your Hands, my Dear, my faithful _Alvarada_, [_Embracing him._] I put my Honour, I put my Life; for both depend on _Leonora_'s Truth. Observe her Lover, and----neglect not her. You are wise, you are active, you are brave and true. You have all the Qualities that Man shou'd have for such a Trust; and I by consequence have all the Assurance Man can have, you'll, as you ought, discharge it.

Don _John._ A very hopeful Business you wou'd have me undertake, keep a Woman honest!--'Sdeath, I'd as soon undertake to keep _Portocarero_ honest. Look you, we are Friends, intimate Friends; you must not be angry if I talk freely. Women are naturally bent to Mischief, and their Actions run in one continued Torrent till they die. But the less a Torrent's check'd, the less Mischief it does; let it alone, perhaps 'twill only kiss the Banks and pass; but stop it, 'tis insatiable.

Don _Ped._ I wou'd not stop it; but cou'd I gently turn its Course where it might run, and vent itself with Innocence, I wou'd. _Leonora_ of herself is virtuous; her Birth, Religion, Modesty and Sense, will guide her Wishes where they ought to point. But yet, let Guards be what they Will, that Place is safest that is ne'er attack'd.

Don _John._ As far as I can serve you, in hind'ring _Guzman_'s Approaches, you may command me.

Don _Ped._ That's all I ask.

Don _John._ Then all you ask is granted.

Don _Ped._ I am at ease, farewel.

Don _John._ Heaven bring you safe to us again.

[_Exit Don ~Ped~._

_Don ~John~ solus._

Yes, I shall observe her, doubt it not. I wish no body may observe me, for I find I'm no more Master of myself. Don _Guzman_'s Passion for her adds to mine; but when I think on what Don _Pedro_ will reap, I'm Fire and Flame. Something must be done: What, let Love direct, for I have nothing else to guide me.

_Enter ~Lopez~._

_Lop._ [_Aside._] Don _Pedro_ is mounting for his Journey, and leaves a young, warm, liquorish Hussy with a watry Mouth, behind him----Hum--If she falls handsomely in my Master's Way, let her look to her----hist--there he is. Doing what? Thinking? That's new. And if any Good comes on't, that will be newer still.

Don _John._ [_Aside._] How! Abuse the Trust a Friend reposes in me? And while he thinks me waking for his Peace, employ the stretch of Thought to make him wretched?

_Lop._ Not to interrupt your pious Meditations, Sir, pray have you seen----Seen what, Fool? Why he can't see thee. I'gad, I believe the little blind Bastard has whipt him through the Heart in earnest.

Don _John._ [_Aside._] _Pedro_ wou'd never have done this by me----How do I know that?----Why----he swore he was my Friend----Well; and I swore I was his----Why then if I find I can break my Oath, why should not I conclude he will do as much by his?

_Lop._ [_Aside._] His Countenance begins to clear up: I suppose Things may be drawing to a Conclusion.

Don _John._ [_Aside._] Ay, 'tis just so: And I don't believe he wou'd have debated the Matter half so long as I have done: I'gad I think I have put myself to a great Expence of Morality about it. I'm sure, at least, my Stock's out. But I have a Fund of Love, I hope may last a little longer. O, are you there, Sir!

[_Seeing ~Lop~._

_Lop._ I think so, Sir; I won't be positive in any thing.

Don _John._ Follow me: I have some Business to employ you in, you'll like.

[_Exit Don ~John~._

_Lop._ I won't be positive in that neither. I guess what you are going about--There's Roguery a-foot: This is at _Leonora_, who I know hates him; nothing under a Rape will do't----He'll be hang'd----And then, what becomes of thee, my little _Lopez_?----Why, the Honour to a----dingle dangle by him. Which he'll have the Good-nature to be mighty sorry for. But I may chance to be beforehand with him: If we are not taken in the Fact, they'll perhaps do him the Honour to set a Reward upon his Head. Which if they do, Don, I shall go near to follow your moral Example, secure my Pardon, make my Fortune, and hang you up for the Good of your Country.

[_Exit._

+ACT+ III.

+SCENE+, _Don_ Felix's _House_.

_Enter Don ~Felix~, Don ~Pedro~, ~Leonora~, and ~Jacinta~._

Don _Fel._ How, Son! oblig'd to leave us immediately, say you?

Don _Ped._ My ill Fortune, Sir, will have it so.

_Leo._ [_Aside._] What can this be?

Don _Fel._ Pray, what's the Matter? You surprise me.

Don _Ped._ This Letter, Sir, will inform you.

Don _Fel._ [Reads.] _My dear Son, ~Bertrand~ has brought me the welcome News of your Return, and has given me your Letter; which has in some Sort reviv'd my Spirits in the Extremity I am in. I daily expect my Exit from this World. 'Tis now six Years since I have seen you; I shou'd be glad to do it once again before I die: If you will give me that Satisfaction, you must be speedy. Heaven preserve you._

[_~To Don~ Ped._] 'Tis enough: The Occasion I'm sorry for, but since the Ties of Blood and Gratitude oblige you, far be it from me to hinder you. Farewel, my Son, may you have a happy Journey; and if it be Heaven's Will, may the sight of so good a Son revive so kind a Father. I leave you to bid your Wife adieu.

[_Exit ~Don~ Fel._

Don _Ped._ I must leave you, my lovely Bride; but 'tis with bitter Pangs of Separation. Had I your Heart to chear me on my Way, I might with such a Cordial run my Course: But that Support you want the Power to give me.

_Leo._ Who tells you so?

Don _Ped._ My Eyes and Ears, and all the Pains I bear.

_Leo._ When Eyes and Ears are much indulg'd, like favourite Servants they are apt to abuse the too much Trust their Master places in 'em.

Don _Ped._ If I'm abus'd, assist me with some fair Interpretation of all that present Trouble and Disquiet, which is not in my Power to overlook, nor yours to hide.

_Leo._ You might methinks have spar'd my Modesty; and without forcing me to name your Absence, have laid my Trouble there.

Don _Ped._ No, no, my Fair Deluder, that's a Veil too thin to cover what's so hard to hide; my Presence not my Absence is the Cause. Your cold Reception at my first Approach, prepar'd me for the Stroke; and 'twas not long before your Mouth confirmed my Doom: Don _Guzman_, I am yours.

_Leo._ Is't then possible the Mouth shou'd utter one Name for another?

Don _Ped._ Not at all, when it follows the Dictates of the Heart.----

_Leo._ Were it even so, what Wrong is from that Heart receiv'd, where Duty and where Virtue are its Rulers?

Don _Ped._ Where they preside, our Honour may be safe, yet our Minds be on the Rack.

_Leo._ This Discourse will scarce produce a Remedy; we'll end it, therefore, if you please, and leave the rest to Time: Besides, the Occasion of your Journey presses you.