 | Love Triumphant ; or, Nature will Prevail |  |
ACT II.
SCENE I.
The Scene is a Bed-Chamber, a Couch prepar'd, and set so near the Pit that the Audience may hear.Alphonso enters with a Book in his hand, and sits; reads to himself a little while: Enter Victoria, and sits by him, then speaks.
Victo.
If on your Private Bus'ness I intrude,
Forgive th'excess of Love that makes me rude:
I hope your sickness has not reacht your Heart;
But come to bear a suff'ring Sister's part:
Yet, lest I shou'd offend you by my stay,
Command me to depart, and I obey.
Alphon.
The Patient who has pass'd a sleepless night,
Is far less pleas'd with his Physician's sight:
Welcome thou pleasing, but thou short Reprieve;
To ease my Death, but not to make me live.
Welcome, but welcome as a Winter's Sun,
That rises late, and is too quickly gone.
Victo.
You are the Star of Day, the publick Light:
And I am but your Sister of the Night:
Eclips'd when you are absent from my sight.
Alphon.
Death will for ever take me from your Eyes;
But grieve not you, for when I Sett, you Rise.
Don Garcia has deserv'd to be your Choice,
And 'tis a Brother's Duty to rejoyce.
Victo.
And yet methought you gave him not your Voice.
Alph.
You saw a sudden Sickness left me weak;
I had no Joy to give, nor Tongue to speak:
And therefore I withdrew, to seek Relief
In Books, the fruitless Remedies of Grief.
But tell me what Philosopher you found
To cure your Pain?
Alph.
The fittest for my Wound;
Who best the gentle Passions knows to move;
Ovid, the soft Philosopher of Love:
His Love Epistles for my Friends I chose;
For there Ifound the Kindred of my Woes.
Victo.
His Nymphs the Vows of Perjur'd Men deplore;
One in the Woods, and one upon the Shoar:
All are at length forsaken or betray'd;
And the false Hero leaves the faithful Maid.
Alphon.
Not all: for Linus kept his Constancy:
And one, perhaps, who more resembled me.
Victo.
That Letter wou'd I view: in hope to find
Some features of the Fair that rules your Mind.
Alph.
Read, for the guilty Page is doubled down:
The Love too soon will make the Lover known.
[Giving her the Book.
Read, if you dare, and when the Crime you see,
Accuse my cruel Fate, but pity me.
Victo.
(aside.)
'Tis what I fear'd, th'unhappy Canace!
Read you; for to a Brother 'twas design'd,
[To him.
And sent him by a Sister much too kind.
Alphonso takes the Book, and reads.
Why did thy Flames beyond a Brother's move?
Why lov'd I thee with more than Sister's Love?
[He looks upon her, and she holds down her Head.
He reads again.
My Cheeks no longer did their Colour boast:
My Food grew loathsom, and my Strength I lost:
Still, e're I spoke, a sigh wou'd stop my Tongue:
Short were my slumbers, and my Nights were long.
I knew not from my Love those Griefs did grow:
Yet was, alas! the thing I did not know.
[She looks on him, and he holds down his Head.
Victo.
No more: We know our mutual Love too well.
[Both look up, and meet each others Eyes.
Alph.
Two Lines in reading had escap'd my sight:
Shall I go back, and do the Poet right?
Victo.
Already we have read too far, I fear:
But read no more than Modesty may bear.
Alphonso
reading.
For I lov'd too, and knowing not my wound,
A secret Pleasure in thy Kisses found.
[He offers to kiss her, and she turns her Head away.
May we not represent the Kiss we read?
Victo.
Alphonso, no: Brother, Ishou'd have said!
Alphonso
reading again.
When half denying, more than half content,
Embraces warm'd me to a full Consent:
Then, with tumultuous Joys, my Heart did beat:
And Guilt that made 'em Anxious, made 'em Great.
[She snatches the Book, and throws it down, then rises and walks, he rises also.
Victo.
Incendiary Book, Polluted Flame,
Dare not to tempt the Chast Victoria's Fame.
I love, perhaps, more than a Sister shou'd:
And Nature prompts; but Heav'n restrains my Blood.
Heav'n was unkind to set so strict a Bound:
And Love wou'd struggle to forbidden Ground.
Oh let us gain a Parthian Victory;
Our only way to conquer, is to fly.
Alph.
No more, Victoria; tho my Love aspires
More high than yours, and fiercer are my Fires:
I cannot bear your looks; new Flames arise
From ev'ry Glance; and kindle from your Eyes.
Pure are the Beams which from those Suns you dart;
But gather blackness from my sooty Heart:
Then let us each with hasty steps remove;
Nor spread Contagion, where we meant but Love.
Hear Heav'n and Earth, and witness to my Vows;
And Love, thou greatest Power that Nature knows;
This Heart, Alphonso, shall be firmly thine;
This Hand shall never with another joyn.
Or if by force my Father makes me wed;
Then Death shall be the Bridegroom of my Bed.
Now let us both our shares of Sorrow take;
And both be wretched for each others sake.
Alph.
By those relentless Power that rule the Skies;
And by a greater Power, Victoria's Eyes,
No Love but yours shall touch Alphonso's Heart;
Nor Time, nor Death, my vow'd Affections part.
Nor shall my hated Rival live to see
That hour which envious Fate denies to me.
Now seal we both our Vows with one dear Kiss.
Victo.
No, 'tis a hot, and an incestuous Bliss!
Let both be satisfi'd with what we swore;
I dare not give it, lest I give you more.
[Exit Victoria looking back on him, and he gazing on her.
Alph.
Oh Raging, Impious, and yet hopeless Fire;
Not daring to possess what I desire.
Condemn'd to suffer what I cannot bear;
Tortur'd with Love, and Furious with Despair.
Of all the Pains which wretched Mortals prove,
The fewest Remedies belong to Love:
But ours has none: for if we shou'd enjoy,
Our fatal Cure must both of us destroy.
Oh Dear Victoria, cause of all my Pain!
Oh Dear Victoria, whom I wou'd not gain!
Victoria, for whose sake I wou'd survive:
Victoria, for whose sake I dare not live.
Enter Garcia with Attendants. The two Princes salute, but Alphonso very coldly.
Garci.
I come to shew my grief for your Distemper:
For if my Noble Brother saw my Heart,
Unmixt with Interest, equally partaking
Of what affects you, both of good and ill.
Alphon.
I thank you; but my Malady increases
At your approach; I have no more to say,
But wish you better health than I can boast;
And to my self a lonely Privacy.
Garci.
I find I am not welcome to your sight:
But know not from what cause.
Alphon.
(angrily.)
My surest Remedy is in your absence:
'Tis hard my Lodgings cannot be my own;
But importun'd with Visits, undesir'd;
And therefore, I must tell you, troublesom.
Garci.
'Tis an odd way of entertaining Friends.
But since I find you discompos'd with sickness,
That shall excuse your Humours; where I go
I hope for better Welcome.
Alphon.
Sir, I must ask whom you pretend to visit?
Garci.
My Mistress, Prince.
Alphon.
Your Mistress! who's that Mistress?
Garci.
What need I name Victoria?
Alphon.
Who? my Sister?
Garci.
Whom else cou'd you imagine?
Alphon.
Any other.
Garci.
And why not her?
Alphon.
Because I know not if she will admit you.
Garci.
Her Father has allow'd it.
Alph.
But not she;
Or if both have, yet my consent is wanting.
You take upon you in a Foreign Kingdom,
As if you were at home in your Navarre.
Garci.
And you, methinks,
As if you had no Father, or no King.
Farewell, I will not stay.
Alphon.
You shall not go:
Thus as I am, thus single, thus unarm'd,
And you with Guards attended—
You Teach me to forget the Rule of Manners.
Alph.
I mean to Teach you better.
[As Garcia is going to pass by him, Alphonso runs to one of his Attendants, and snatches his Sword away, then steps between Garcia and the Door.
Enter Veramond and Ximena, Attended.
Vera.
What means this rude Behaviour in my Court?
As if our Arragon were turn'd to Thrace;
Unhospitable to her Guests, and thou
Alphonso, a Lycurgus.
Alphon.
He would pass
Without my Sister's leave, into her Lodgings.
By Heav'n, if this be suffer'd to proceed,
The next will be, to Treat the Royal Maid
As coursly, as she were some Suburb Girl.
Gar.
(to Vera.)
Had I not your Permission, Sir?
Vera.
You had.
But these, Alphonso, are thy Russian Manners.
How dar'st thou, Boy, to break my Orders,
And then asperse thy Sister with thy Crime?
Alphon.
She said his Presence was unpleasing to her.
Vera.
Come, thou bely'st her Innocence and Duty:
She did not, durst not, say it.
Alph.
If she did not,
I dare, and will maintain to all the World,
That Garcia, is not worthy of my Sister.
Vera.
Not worthy?
Alphon.
No; I say once more, not worthy.
Garcia.
Not in my self; for who deserves Victoria?
But, since her Royal Father bids me hope,
Not less unworthy than another Prince.
(To Ver.)
And none, with your permission, Sir, shall dare
To interpose, betwixt my Love and Me.
Alph.
Sure a less Price than our Infanta's Bed,
Might pay thee for thy Mercenary Troops.
Vera.
Peace, Insolent, too long I have indur'd
But, if I Live, this shall not pass unpunisht;
Darkness and Chains, are Medicines for a Madman.
Ximena.
My Lord, I humbly beg you, spare your Son;
And add not Fury to a Raging Fire.
He soon will recollect his scatter'd Reason;
Which Heat of Youth, and Sickness, and Fatigues,
Have dissipated in his boyling Blood.
Give him but time, and then his Temperate Humour
Will soon return into the Native Channel;
And, unoppos'd, be calm.
Vera.
No, never more:
The Moon has roul'd above his Head, and turn'd it;
As Peals of Thunder sow'r the generous Wine.
(To Alph.)
Hence from my Presence thou, no more my Son.
Ximena.
If he be Mad, be Madness his excuse;
And Pardon Nature's Error, not his own.
Vera.
Ximena, you have fonded him to this;
I Prophesied; and now 'tis come to pass.
Gar.
Perhaps, I interrupted him too rudely:
And since I caus'd, my self, that ill Reception,
Forgive our mutual Faults.
Vera.
You shall prevail;
Tho' he deserves not such an Intercessor:
(To Alphon.)
Retire, Alphonso, to your inmost Lodgings;
And there inclose your self, and mourn your Crimes:
Be this your last Relapse; the next is Fatal.
Alphon.
I will retire.
But, if I am a Madman, as you say;
And as I half believe, expect no Cure,
But in Alphonso's Death.
[Alphonso goes in.
Ximena
(aside.)
It works apace:
But whither it will tend, Heaven only knows.
[Veramond sees the Book upon the Ground, and takes it up.
Vera.
This Book he left; go bear it after him.
Yet stay, I know not why, but somewhat prompts me
To Read this folded Page.
(To Garcia.)
Go, Royal Youth,
But Lovers need no Guide to their Desires:
And Love no Witness, but himself Requires.
[Exeunt the King and Queen one way, with their Attendants, and Don Garcia with his, another.
The SCENE, A Street.
Enter Carlos, before Don Lopez his Door.
Carlos.
That's the Door of Lopez, and Sancho must come
out this way; now Fool sit fast, for thou shalt not want for
pestilent Advice: But first, I must know, how far thou hast
proceeded with the Father and the Daughter, that I may
know what Drugs I must prepare, for the present Condition
of my Patient; oh, the Door opens already, and he bolts out
single, as I wisht.
Enter Sancho, picking his Teeth.
Sancho.
What, Carlos, you have Din'd before me; but, it
may be, you ha'not far'd so well.
Carlos.
The best part of your Entertainment, I suppose,
was the Dessert of the Fair Dalinda after Dinner; and how,
and how, go Matters?
Sancho.
Better than thou wou'dst have 'em, thou wou'dst
have put a spoke in my Wheel, I know it.
Carlos.
No, Fortunne always sets those of your Admirable
Understanding uppermost; but remember, Dalinda was once
mine, however.
Sancho.
Thou wou'dst not have me give the Box away,
when I have thrown Seven? Come, set upon it what thou dar'st,
and I'le give thee leave to do thy worst.
Carlos.
You are very confident of your good Luck.
Sancho.
Thou know'st, I have a perpetual ascendant over thee.
And you are sure to carry her?
Sanch.
She is fond of my Person; she ogled me all Dinner
time; she put her foot under the Table, and trod upon
mine; and if these are not certain Symptoms of Passion,
the Devil's in Womankind.
Carl.
And her Father?
Sanch.
The goodest Old Man; he drank my Health to
his Daugther; and I, to comply with my Obligation, answer'd
the Challenge; there I think I was with her again.
Carl.
You have no more to do but to take out a Licence.
Sanch.
Indeed I have her Licence for it.
Carl.
What, quibbling too in your Prosperity? If you
let another I shall be inrag'd. But you have not told me
that her Father is consenting.
Sanch.
In a manner: But—
Carl.
But what; is he not absolutely yours?
Sanch.
There's a small demur upon the matter; in short,
he hit me in the Teeth with a damnable Rich Old Conde;
who, I find, has been dabbling with this Covetons Old
Huncks; but, bating him, Don Lopez tells me I shall be
the welcomest Man alive.
Carl.
Do you know that Conde's Name?
Sanch.
Don something de Cardona, whom the Devil confound.
Carl.
My old Acquaintance; he charged with me in
the Battel, but what became of him I know not; if he
be the Man, despair betimes, Sancho, he'll revenge my
Quarrel, and carry her in spight of you.
Sanch.
I am cunning, you know; and I believe he nam'd
that cursed, Conde only to draw me on the faster.
Carl.
And do you think a Gentleman can succeed against
a Conde, with a Woman?
Sanch.
Why not?
Carl.
No more than a Conde against a Duke, and so upwards.
Sanch.
No; I am resolute.
Carl.
To be the Shoeing-horn for the Conde?
Sanch.
I confess, I wou'd not be the Shoeing-horn to draw
him on.
Carl.
No; for that's to be a Pimp for him.
Sanch.
Right; therefore I will leave her.
Carl.
Then go back; and quarrel with her, and her Father;
Go, I say, immediately before your Virtue cools.
Sanch.
I'll give 'em their own, I'll warrant 'em: what,
make a Shoeing-horn of a Man of Honour?
Carl.
(alone.)
If the Conde be in Love, then why shou'd
Lopez admit of Sancho for a Suitor; if not, the Fool is
in the right, that it was only feign'd to draw him on.
However, my advice will strike on both sides; for if
Sancho quarrels he's discharged, and for the Conde—stay
a little—What if I shou'd play this Conde? I know
him, and can Mimmick him exactly, 'tis but a Jest if I
am discovered; and if the Conde loves her, and she him,
then I marry her in his shape—Oh, they are coming
out to quarrel in the open Air; for the House is grown
too liot for 'em; but I dare not stay to see the Battel, for
fear of getting blows on both sides.
Enter Lopez, Dalinda, and Sancho.
Lopez.
I'll wait upon you out of my House, however.
Sanch.
Father-in-Law, that might have been, no more
Ceremonies, I'll be no Shoeing-horn for any Man.
Lop.
You wou'd not be my Daughter's hinderance?
Sanch.
There's no more to be said on't; but either a Bargain,
or no Bargain.
Lop.
A Bargain, if the Conde comes not on.
Sanch.
Then as he comes on, I must go off, with a Pox
to you; and to your Daughter.
At least if shall not be a Pox of your giving.
Sanch.
The Conde's Pox take you then; that's an Honourable
Pox descended in a right Line from Don Rodoric the
Goth, I'll warrant you.
Lop.
Indeed, if your Estate were as great as his—
Sanch.
Nay, for that matter I can drop Gold with him,
as little as I care for her.
Dalind.
But then his Title?
Sanch.
I have more Gold yet, to weigh down his Parchment.
And then my Wit against a Conde's Wit, that's for
Overplus; for tho I say it—
Lop.
Who shou'd not say it.
Sanch.
Yet I do say it, and will say it, especially as
Lords go now: Come, there's no more to be said, Lopez;
but take back your Trumpery, I mean your Daughter; or
I'll send for the Scavenger with a Dung Cart.
Lop.
This is insufferable: and by this Honourable Beard—
Sanch.
Which I'll pull off by handfuls, if you swagger—
Lop.
(aside to Dalinda.
What shall we do with this Madman, Daughter?
Dalind.
You shou'd send for an Alguazile to order him, if
I were sure that the Conde wou'd come on again; but since
that's uncertain, go in, Father, and let me alone with him,
if I make him your Son-in-Law, that's Punishment sufficient
for him.
Lop.
Well, Cavalier, you may chance to hear of me.
Sanch.
Yes, and of your Daughter too, in the next Lampoon,
I doubt not—
(To Dalinda.)
Why don't you
follow him? What do you and I together, Madam Countess?
Dalind.
Nay, I know not.
Sanch.
Nor I neither.
Dalind.
I hope you will not beat me.
[She looks languishingly upon him.
Sanch.
I can't tell that—Thou hast a damnable kind
of lear that wou'd provoke me to something—I say
not what.
Beat me with my own hand, if I deserve it,
there 'tis for you.
[Gives him her hand, and squeezes his.
Sanch.
If I should beat thee now, as thou hast deserv'd
richly, I cou'd make thee satisfaction.
Dalind.
Indeed, they say an old Man shou'd never beat
a young Woman, because he cannot make her satisfaction.
Sanch.
Abominable Chuck. If I did not hate thee mortally,
I cou'd be content to love thee for a quarter of an
hour, or so—Why, what's here to do? You are at your
old tricks again: Prithee, sweet Devil, do not ogle me,
nor squeeze my Palm so feelingly, thou dear infernal, do
not.
Dalind.
Why, do I hurt you?
Sanch.
No, but thou ticklest me to the very Heart-strings,
most wickedly.
Dalind.
You command me then to leave you?
[Seems to be going.
Sanch.
Not command you neither, not absolutely.
Dalind.
I go then—
Sanch.
Then I do command thee—I mean, to stay
a little longer. Thou hast fir'd my blood most horribly,
with that squeezing; hast not thou the Itch? speak, Damnation,
I think I have got the Infection of thee—
[He shakes his hands.
Dalind.
I'll go and comfort my poor old Father, for the
Affront you gave him.
Sanch.
No, Perverseness; I'll make thee stay, in very
spight of thy proud Sex I'll humble thee.
Dalind.
But was not you a grievous Man to use him so?
You shall tell me, or I break your Fingers.
Sanch.
Not a word, to save thee from Perdition; I am
as dumb as a Heathen Oracle.
Dal.
Then I must squeeze it out of you—
[Pressing his hand again.
Sanch.
Ah, ah, it runs through me like Wild Fire—
[Panting.
Did not Carlos give you this naughty Counsel?
San.
I shou'd not answer thee, I know it. Heartlykins,
this is just cramping a Man when he's asleep, to make
him tell his Dream; let go my hand, and Carlos did not
advise me, but hold it, and he did; now will you be at quiet
with me?
Dal.
Not, till you promise me to be Friends with my
Father.
San.
Well, confound thee, I am Friends with him.
Dal.
And to banish Carlos for an Evil Counsellor.
San.
Upon condition, you'l discharge the Count from seeing
you.
Dal.
No Conditions, either surrender upon Discretion, or
I'le put you to the Sword.
San.
Pox on thee, for being so Tyrannical, but I can't help
my self, and therefore I totally submit.
Dal.
Now then, you shall perceive how Gracious a Princess
I intend to be; my Father dotes upon this Count, but I
despise him.
San.
That's a good Girl; for Love of me, I'le warrant you.
Dal.
You think I cokes you now.
San.
No, I know my own Merit too well for that.
Dal.
Then do what I advise you; my Father has not often
seen this Count; what if you shou'd pass for him?
San.
Hum, I do not apprehend thee.
Dal.
A Man of your Wit, and be so stupid; you shall
counterfeit the Count.
Sanch.
Counterfeit the Count, that's a pure quibble, but I
can make no more on't.
Dal.
He's an Old Fellow, and a Fool; now, you shall take
upon you to be this Count, to deceive my Father; and I'le
keep your Counsel, and Teach you how to Represent him.
San.
Oh, now I understand you; but 'tis impossible for me
to counterfeit a Fool.
Dal.
I'le warrant you, trust Nature.
San.
A Man of my Sense, can never hide his Parts.
Dal.
No, but you may shew 'em; go back to your Lodgings,
I'le provide you Cloaths, and send you Directions in
One word more, be sure you manage this in private, and shut
out Carlos, lest he should discover our Intriegue.
San.
Well, I will strive for once to get the better of my
Wit, and play the Natural as naturally as I can, but you had
better come your self and Teach me, for you have put me in
a pure way of taking your Instructions.
Dalind.
(alone.)
When I consider what has pass'd between
the Count and me, there's little Reason to believe, a Man
shou'd put on a foul Shirt again, when he has put it off already,
and has change of Linnen by him; however, my
Father shall know nothing of this Disguise, for he that sold
my first Maidenhead to the Lord, may sell my second to the
Fool; and that wou'd be too much in Conscience, that a
Woman once in twice, shou'd not have the Letting her own
Freehold; and therefore, I will have the Selling of my self,
and Sancho, shall have the refusal of the Bargain.
Fools, for the last Relief of Womankind.
Two Married Wits, no quiet can enjoy:
Two Fools together wou'd the House destroy.
But Providence, to level Humane Life,
Made the Fool Husband, for the Witty Wife.
[Exit Dalinda.
| Love Triumphant ; or, Nature will Prevail | |