 | Love Triumphant ; or, Nature will Prevail |  |
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
The Scene a Street; with a Temple at a distance.Enter Garcia, with a Letter in his Hand; Ximena and Celidea.
Garcia.
May I believe you, 'tis Victoria's Hand?
For 'tis a strange Request.
Ximen.
So may it move your Noble Mind to pity,
As what the Paper tells you is most true.
She gave it me; and with a thousand sighs,
Begg'd me to recommend her Life, her Love,
And all her hopes of Happiness to you.
Garc.
To break my Marriage off, renounce her Bed,
To stand excluded from my promis'd Bliss,
And as my proper Act to do all this?
Disdainful, Faithless, and Ungrateful Maid!
Celid.
Disdainful and Ungrateful; but not Faithless.
Because she never vow'd nor promis'd Love;
But only to Alphonso.
Xime.
They lov'd not as a Brother and a Sister,
But as the Fair and Brave each other Love.
For sympathy of Souls inspir'd their Passion.
Gar.
That sympathy which made him Love Victoria,
Has caus'd the same effect of Love in me.
Celid.
But not in her: She Lov'd him first, my Lord;
And you Besieg'd a Town already his.
As you for her, others may Dye for you;
And plead that Argument to hope your Love,
If the same Reason hold.
Gar.
No doubt it wou'd,
Were not my Soul already prepossest.
So is Victoria's Soul, for her Alphonso.
And that's her Plea for Constancy to him.
Gar.
My Reason is convinc'd, but not my Passion.
For I must Love, and Loving must Enjoy.
Celid.
Others must not Enjoy, and yet must Love.
Xime.
You cannot Wed Victoria but by force:
And force can only make her Person yours.
Think what a fatal Doom you pass on her,
To make your self half happy.
Gar.
When she's mine
I will persue her with so dear a Passion,
So chafe her coldness with my warm Embraces,
That she shall melt at length, hard as she is;
And run like stubborn Mettal.
Celid.
No, my Lord,
Victoria is not form'd of Steel, but Marble,
Which is not made to melt, but flies the Fire;
And neither yields nor softens to the flames.
Gain her Esteem at least, her Love is hopeless.
Gar.
Esteem, a scanty, mean Reward of Passion,
That pays not half the value of the loss.
Celid.
Pay Scorn, with Scorn, and make Revenge a Pleasure;
So Generous Minds shou'd do, and so shou'd I;
What needs there more,
You see who Loves you not—And—
Xime.
And she wou'd say, you may behold who Loves you;
But Maiden Bashfulness has ty'd her Tongue:
Look on her Eyes, they speak.
Celid.
(softly.)
A Language which they never spoke before.
Xime.
Mark how she whispers, like a Western wind
Which trembles thro' the Forest; she, whose Eyes
Meet ready Victory where e're they glance;
Whom gazing Crowds admire, whom Nations Court,
And (did her Praise become a Mother's Mouth)
One who cou'd change the Worship of all Climates,
And make a New Religion where she comes;
Unite the differing Faith of all the World;
Gar.
And well she may:
Her Eyes, her Lips, her Cheeks, her Shape, her Features,
Seem to be drawn by Love's own Hand; by Love
Himself in Love; but oh, 'tis now too late,
My Eyes have drank a Poison in, before;
A former Basilisk has seen me first.
Yet know, Fair Princess, if there were a part
In all my Breast, that cou'd receive a wound,
Your Eyes cou'd only give it.
Celid.
So helpless Friends, when safe themselves a-shoar,
Behold a Vessel driv'n against a Rock,
They Sigh, they Weep, they Counsel, and they Pray,
They stretch their unassisting Hands in vain,
But none will plunge into the raging Main,
To save the sinking Passenger from Death.
Xime.
Already see the Joyless Bride appears;
Grief, Rage, Disdain, Distraction and Despair
Are equal in my Daughters diff'rent Fates:
In one, to be constrain'd to be your Wife;
In one, to be refus'd.
Enter Veramond and Victoria; led as to Marriage, a Train follows; and after it a Guard.
Celid.
Great Nature break thy Chain, that Links together
The Fabrick of this Globe, and make a Chaos
Like that within my Soul; Oh Heaven unkind
That gives us Passions, strong and unconfin'd;
And leaves us Reason for a vain Defence;
Too Pow'rful Rebels, and too weak a Prince.
[Garcia, Ximena, Celidea, mix with the Train, which walk as in Procession, towards the Temple.
Celid.
Oh spare him, spare the Noble Garcia's Life:
Or take the Forfeit in the loss of mine.
How happy shou'd I be to dye for him,
Who will not live for me!
Alph.
(to Garcia.)
Rise, and be safe:
If you have any Thanks to pay, reserve 'em
To give this Royal Maid.
Gar.
(rising.)
You'd been more kind
To take my Life, for I wou'd throw it off;
Dishonour'd as I am, 'tis worn to Rags,
Not worth a Prince's wearing.
[Exit Garcia follow'd by Celidea.
Re-enter Veramond disarm'd, and led by Carlos.
Vera.
Ungrateful Traytor!
Alph.
Hold thy peace, Old Man:
I do not love t'insult on thy Misfortunes.
Tho thou hast brought this Ruine on thy self.
Vera.
Avenging Heav'n—
Alph.
I prithee curse me not,
Because I held thee for my Father once.
Vera.
Then wou'd I were thy Father, that my Curse
Might take the surer place, and—
Alph.
Guard him hence;
But use no Violence to his Royal Person:
Call back the Souldiers, Carlos, from the Spoil.
And wou'd no more of him, nor what is his.
[Carlos restores to Veramond his Sword, with Respect, and conducts him off; Ximena follows him: Alphonso waits on them to the Door, and returns.
Vict.
What have you done, Alphonso?
Alph.
What I ought.
Obtain'd the Glorious Prize for which I fought;
Redeem'd you from a Father's Tyranny;
And from a hated Rival set you free.
Remove, my Fair, from this unhappy place;
The Scene of Sorrows, Suff'rings, and Disgrace:
To my Victorious Camp with me remove:
The Scene of Triumph, and Rewarded Love.
Vict.
Mars has been present with your Arms to day,
But Love and Hymen have been far away:
You forc'd me from a Rival's Pow'r, I know;
But then you forc'd me from a Father's too.
Alph.
What words are these! I feel my Vital Heat
Forsake my Limbs, my curl'd Blood retreat:
Too much amaz'd to speak, in this Surprize,
With silent Grief, on yours I fix my Eyes:
To learn the reasons of your Change from thence;
To read your cruel Doom, and my Offence.
Vict.
Your Arms, and Glorious Action, I approve:
Esteem your Honour, and Embrace your Love.
Alph.
My Soul recovers, as a gentle Show'r
Refreshes and revives a drooping Flow'r.
I'm yours so much, so little am my own;
Your Smiles are Life; and Death is in your Frown.
Vict.
But oh, a hard request is yet behind;
Which, for my sake, endure with equal Mind:
Your Debt of Honour you have clear'd this day;
But mine of Duty, still remains to pay:
Restore my Liberty, and let me go
To make a full Discharge of all I owe.
What Debts but those of Love have you to clear?
Are you not free, are you not Soveraign here?
And were you not a Slave, before I broke
Your fatal Chains, and loos'd you from the Yoke?
Vict.
'Tis true, I was; but that Captivity,
Tho hard to bear, was more becoming me.
A Slave I am; but Nature made me so,
Slave to my Father, not my Father's Foe:
Since, then, you have declar'd me Free, this hour
I put my self within a Parent's Power.
Alph.
Cruel Victoria! wou'd you go from hence,
And leave a desolate, despairing Prince?
Is this the Freedom you demand from me;
Are these the Vows, and this the Constancy?
Put off the Mask: for I too well perceive
Whom you resolve to love, and whom to leave:
Go, teach me at my own Expence, to find
What change a day can make in Womankind.
Vict.
Think not a day, or all my Life, can make
Victoria's Heart her stedfast Love forsake:
I plighted you my Faith: and I renew
My Vows once more, to love but only you.
Alph.
You vow'd no time our Fortune shou'd divide:
And well 'twas kept, like all your Vows beside;
When ev'n this hour you went to be a Bride.
Vict.
I went; but was securely first prepar'd:
For this was my Redemption or my Guard.
[Pulls out a Dagger.
Let this your causeless Jealousie remove;
And learn no more to doubt Victoria's Love.
Alph.
That fatal Proof I never did desire.
Vict.
And yet a Proof more fatal you require.
Which wou'd, with Infamy, my Name persue;
To fly my Father, and to follow you.
Alph.
Your Love you forfeit, if you go away.
Vict.
I forfeit my Obedience if I stay.
Alph.
You may transfer your Duty, and be mine.
Vict.
Yes, when my Father shall his Claim resign;
All that was his before, is, after, yours.
Alph.
Then, when you vow'd your Love, you falsly swore.
Vict.
I love you much, but love my Honour more.
Alph.
You hate my Rival, yet you take the way
To make you his inevitable Prey.
Vict.
Beasts fear not more to be the Hunter's Spoil.
Alph.
Then sure you wou'd not run into the Toyl.
How ill your Actions with your Words agree!
Vict.
This Friend is still at hand to set me free.
[Holding up the Dagger.
Alph.
Let me not live to see that Fatal Hour:
Rather return into your Father's Pow'r.
Rather return into his Arms again,
For whom your Lost Alphonso you disdain.
If one must dye, to set your Honour free,
You have already cast the Lot on me.
Death is my only way to clear my Fame;
Which must be Branded with a Coward's Name,
If basely I resign Victoria's Charms,
And tamely give you to my Rival's Arms.
Vict.
To give me to my Father is no Crime.
Alph.
'Tis still the same; your Father gives you him.
Ungrateful Woman!
Vict.
More ungrateful Man!
More than I ought I give, and all I can:
But if my Duty I prefer to you,
Be satisfi'd with all that Love can do.
Alph.
Not satisfi'd; but yet your Will shall be
Like Fates inviolable Law to me.
Since my Unhappy Stars will have it so,
Depart from hence, and leave your Father's Foe.
Go then; but quickly go; for while you stay,
As on a Rack I find my self decay;
And every Moment looks a part of me away.
Vict.
I wish I with my Duty cou'd dispence:
Heav'n knows how loath I am to part from hence:
So, from the Mother Plant, the tender Rind:
But take the latest Pledge that Love can give;
Have Courage; and for your Victoria Live.
[She offers him her Hand, he Kisses it: Exit Victoria, he Looking after her.
Enter Ramirez, Attended by Carlos, Ramirez Embraces Alphonso.
Ram.
Prop of my Age, and attern of my Youth,
But such as far excels th'Original;
Ten Thousand Blessings on thee, for this Deed.
Alph.
Heav'n and my Fate speak other Language to me;
No Blessings, none, but millions of their Curses,
Like burning Glasses, with contracted Beams,
Are pointed on my Head.
Ram.
What words are these, on this Auspicious Day!
Alph.
Oh fly me, fly me, Sir.
Lest the Contagion of my Woes,
Pollute my Father's Joys; Victoria's gone,
And with her, went Alphonso's Life, and Soul.
Ram.
You had her in your Pow'r; and were too easie.
Alph.
Or rather she too cruel.
Her Duty forc'd her hence, in scorn of Love.
Ram.
You must resume your Arms;
And force her Father's Will, to make her yours.
Why, like a Woman, stand you thus complaining,
Born to the Strength, and Courage of a Man?
Rouze up your Spirits to a just Revenge:
Like Lightning wastful, and like Thunder loud.
Rivers of Blood shall run about the Town;
For which you were so lavish of your own.
Garcia shall Dye; and, by his Death, remove
The cause of Jealousie, and Injur'd Love.
The King himself, th'ungrateful King, shall fall;
Of all our Ills, the curst Original.
Beseech you, Sir, no more.
Ram.
Your Reason, Son?
Alph.
For you have giv'n my Soul so large a swing,
That it bounds back again with double force:
Only because you carried it too far.
You've let an Image of so vast destruction
Before my sight, that Reason shuns th'approach;
And dares not view the fearful precipice.
Ram.
Is Vengeance, which is said so sweet a Morsel
That Heav'n reserves it for its proper Tast,
Is it so soon dis-relisht?
Alph.
What have the People done? The Sheep of Princes,
That they shou'd perish for the Shepherd's Fault?
They bring their yearly Wool, to cloath their owners,
And yet when bare themselves, are cull'd for Slaughter.
Shou'd I do this, what cou'd the Wolf do more,
Than what the Master did?
Ram.
Then Garcia, must he scape?
Alph.
'Tis true, I had him at my Mercy once;
I shou'd have Kill'd him then, or once forgiven,
Shou'd spare him now.
Ram.
(aside.)
His Noble Soul relents!
Alph.
But then I give Victoria to his Arms;
And make my own Destruction my own Act—
That fires my Blood again—yet if she Love him,
Is Killing him she Loves, the way to gain her?
No, let him Live—But Veramond shall Dye;
Who, when he was my Father as he thought,
When I deserv'd his Love; then hated me.
Ram.
(aside.)
Oh! now the Tempest drives another way.
Alph.
No more deliberation, there it goes:
I'le Kill him first, to satisfie my Vengeance:
And then t'Attone her Anger, Kill my self.
[Seems going hastily.
Ram.
Hold, hold, Alphonso, Heav'n and Earth and I,
Who have a Father's Title to your Life,
Forbid that Parricide.
Wou'd you refuse a Mad-Man leave to Sleep?
'Tis Sleep must cure me, and that Sleep is Death.
Ram.
A Mad-Man must be cool'd, to make him Sleep.
I have prepar'd a gentle Opiat for you,
One Moment's Patience, and I will infuse it:
You see me dispossest of all my State—
Alph.
Yes, to my Grief: and to enhance that Grief,
'Tis to my Sword, my Father ows his Ruin.
Ram.
And 'tis that only Sword that can restore me.
It must, and ought: you owe it to your Duty.
Alph.
Duty was what Victoria urg'd to me:
I hate that fatal word, because she us'd it;
And for a Cruel Father, left her Love.
Ram.
Cou'd she do that, for Veramond, a Tyrant,
Which you refuse to me?
The Conquering Troops of Arragon are yours:
You are their Life, their Idol, and their Soul.
Conduct me Home, and with their Aid Restore me;
And that once done, we shall not need to Treat,
For Veramond himself will send; and sue
For that Alliance, which his Pride now scorns.
Alph.
Long e're that time, Victoria will be Garcia's:
Her Father will not lose one moment's space,
To gratifie his Vengeance with my Ruine:
If I wou'd force him, this must be the time:
Which since I now refuse, 'tis lost for ever.
Hear then; and take it as my last resolve;
Lead you the Troops: you need not fear their Faith:
The Guilt of their Rebellion make 'em yours.
With them, and with your own, Restore your self.
Ram.
Then what becomes of you?
Alph.
No matter what.
Provide your self of some more worthy Heir.
For I am lost, beyond Redemption lost;
Farewel the Joys of Empire from this moment:
Farewel the Honours of the dusty Field;
Here lay I down this Instrument of Death.
[Ungirds his Sword, and lays it down.
For nothing it cou'd gain, can countervail
To me, the loss of my Victoria's Love.
Your Blessing, and farewel—
[Kneels.
Ram.
Alas, I fear some fatal Resolution
Is harbour'd in your Soul: if thus you leave me,
My Mind forbodes, we never more shall meet.
Alph.
Give not so black an Omen to this parting.
For we may meet again, if Heav'n thinks fit—
A Beam of Comfort, like the Moon thro' Clouds,
Gilds the brown Horrour, and directs my way.
Blast not my purpose, by refusing leave,
Nor ask the means: but know I will not Dye
Till I have prov'd th'extreamest Remedy.
And, if Unarm'd, I go to tempt my Fate:
Think my despair is from Victoria's Hate.
[Exit Alphonso.
Ram.
I might have us'd the Pow'r Heav'n gives to Parents,
And hindred his departure:
But somewhat of Divine controul'd my Tongue;
For Hero's Souls, irregular to us,
Yet move like Planets in their proper Sphere;
Performing even course,
In Paths uneven to beholders Eyes.—
[Pauses a little.
(To Carlos)
His words, mysterious as they were, imported,
Some desperate Design, which I must watch,
And therefore dare not lead the Forces far:
But Camp'd without the Town at some small distance;
T'expect the Issue, and prevent his Death.
Carlos.
Sir, what Orders give you? for you are now our
General.
Ram.
Follow, and you shall know—
Carl.
Follow! whither? No Plunder when the Town was
fairly taken, there's a hopeful General to follow; the Son and
Father are both gone away, without providing for me, who
betray'd the City to 'em; a fine Incouragement for Virtue;
their turn is serv'd, than we make of our old batter'd Horses;
to put us off for Stallions, is the best that can become of us:
and those indeed are my present Circumstances: Dalinda
will none, and Sancho is just mounting; if I get not between,
and thrust him off: for which purpose I have insinuated
to him that I have left Dalinda for his sake, and am upon
another Scent,—Yonder he comes: This, and another
Lye which I have ready coin'd, will go near to spoil his
Market.
Enter Sancho.
Sanch.
Well, Carlos, the Hurly Burly's quite over; I
met Ramirez marching off the Army; and just afterwards
appear'd a Fellow in a Fool's Coat on Horse-back, with
three Trumpets; Herod, I think they call'd him; or some
such Jewish Name.
Carl.
A Herauld at Arms you mean.
Sanch.
It may be so; but I shou'd have taken him for
some Pardonner, for he scatter'd Indulgences by handfuls to
the People, but only they paid nothing for 'em.
Carl.
But did he Proclaim nothing?
Sanch.
Oh, yes; and now I remember, he began his
Speech with, O Yes, too; he Proclaim'd a General Pardon
to all Rebels, of which number, you know, you and I,
Carlos, were two Ring-leaders.
Carl.
Then farewell Ramirez, e'en trudge on by your self,
for there's an end of my Expedition; I will lay down my
Arms like a Dutiful Subject; and submit to his Majesty
when I can rebel no longer.
Sanch.
Very good; and try t'other touch for Dalinda,
will you?
Carl.
You know I have quitted her for your sake, and
now am altogether for—Let me see, what Lady am
I for?
Sanch.
Pump, pump, Carlos; for that's to be invented
yet.
Only out of my Head a little: 'Tis the dead
Count's Sister; a great Fortune since her Brother died, but
somewhat homely: She has already made some Advances
to me, or else I lye.
Sanch.
And will you say To Have and to Hold, with an
ugly Woman?
Carl.
Yes, and For Better for Worse, that is, for Virgin
or for Whore, as you will, Sancho; who are listing your
self into the Honourable Company of Cuckolds.
Sanch.
What, a Hero as I am, to be a Cuckold?
Carl.
Do not disdain your Calling; Julius Cæsar was one
before you: The Count has had her by her own Confession;
so she's a Nobleman's Dowager for your Comfort.
Sanch.
Pugh, she deny'd it afterwards; that was but a
Copy of her Countenance.
Carl.
What if it prove a Copy of the Conde's Countenance,
do you think she had not a Bastard by him?
Sanch.
That was only a Plot betwixt us to cheat her
Father.
Carl.
Did her Father know nothing of it?
Sanch.
Not a Syllable.
Carl.
Then when he believ'd you to be the Count, how
came he to charge you with enjoying her?
Sanch.
That is something to the purpose; but now I think
on't, 'tis nothing neither; 'tis but asking her the Question,
and I know she'll satisfie me.
Carl.
And you are resolv'd to take her word?
Sanch.
Rather than yours; for you may have a mind to
have a lick at the Honey-pot your self.
Carl.
Farewel; you know I have other business upon
the Stocks.
[Seems going out.
Sanch.
Stay, Carlos; I'm afraid you know something more
of this bawdy business than you confess.
Carl.
Fecks, not I.
Sanch.
Fecks! what a sneaking Oath is that for a Man
of Honour? Swear me bloodily like a Souldier, if you
wou'd be believ'd.
Without Swearing, I believe her honest; therefore
make sure of her immediately.
Sanch.
That is, take a Rival's Counsel, and make sure
of being an Antedated Cuckold.
Carl.
If you won't believe me, I can't help it; but marry
Dalinda, and be happy; for I may prevent you, if you make
not haste.
Sanch.
Thou hast cheated me so often, that I can't credit
one Syllable thou say'st.
Carl.
(going out.)
Then take your Fortune.
[Carlos pulls out his Handkerchief to wipe his Face, and drops a Letter.
Yonder comes Dalinda; I know her by her Trip. I'll
watch their Greeting.
[Exit.
Sanch.
The Rogue's malicious, and wou'd have me marry
her in spight; besides he's off and on at so Devilish
a rate, a Man knows not where to have him: Well, I
am resolv'd in the first place not to follow the Rogue's
Counsel, I will not marry her because he advis'd me to't;
and yet I will marry her because he counsel'd me not to
marry her: Hey day, I will marry her, and I will not marry
her: what's the meaning of this, Friend Sancho? That's
taking the Rogue's advice one way or t'other.
[Sees the Letter, and takes it up.
What, has he dropt a Letter! To whom is it directed? to
Don Carlos D'Ybarra, that's himself.
Dalinda's Fair, and a Fortune; but marry her not; for to
my knowledge
(Pox confound him for his knowledge)
she
has had a—
(What A—Mr. Friend?)
why, a Bastard,
by the late Conde:
(Ay, I thought as much.)
But
his Sister Leonora is in Love with you.
Damn it, I'll read no more: It agrees with what he first
told me; and therefore it must be all Orthodox: Here she
be very Laconnick with her.
Enter Dalinda.
Dal.
Now Servant.
Sanch.
Now Cockatrice.
Dal.
You're pretty familiar—
Sanch.
So have you been—
Dal.
With your Mistress.
Sanch.
With the Conde, of Whoring Memory.
Dal.
A fine Salutation!
Sanch.
A final parting.
Dal.
What's the meaning of this! will you come in?
Sanch.
Will you go in?
Dal.
Come, look upon me.
[She makes the Doux Yeux to him.
Sanch.
I have no Eyes.
Dal.
Then I must take you by the Hand.
[She offers, and he pulls back.
Sanch.
I have no Hands neither.
Dal.
How's this! I have been but too kind—
Sanch.
Yes, to the Conde.
Dal.
Pugh, that was a Jest, you know.
Sanch.
'Tis turn'd to earnest.
Dal.
You know 'twas of my Conception.
Sanch.
And of your bringing forth too.
Dal.
What did I bring forth?
Sanch.
A Bastard.
Dal.
Oh Impudent!
Sanch.
Woman.
Dal.
What Proof have you of that Scandal?
Sanch.
This, with a Pox to ye.
[Throws her the Letter.
Patience, oh ye Gods!
[Exit.
[She takes up the Note, and as she is reading it, Re-enter Carlos.
Much good may do you with your Note, Madam;
now I think I am Reveng'd at full; your Cully has forsaken
you.
Dal.
Well, I did not expect this from you, Cozen Carlos.
Carl.
What did you take me for? King Log in Æsop's Fables,
for you to insult me, and play at leap Frog over me? Did
not you forsake me for a Fool?
Dal.
But was not this a terrible Revenge of yours? must
you needs shew him the Letter which has ruin'd my Reputation,
and lost my Fortune? Am I the first frail Creature,
that had the Misfortune of two Great Bellies, and yet afterwards,
was Decently Married, and pass'd for a Virgin?
Carl.
Nay, don't aggravate the Matter: consult your
Note, and you'l find but one Bastard charg'd upon you; you
see I was not for laying loaders.
Dal.
A great Curtesie to bate me one, as if that was not
enough to do my Business.
Carl.
Well, suppose I shou'd discover this Contrivance of
mine; and set all right again?
Dal.
(aside.)
Contrivance; oh Heaven! I've undone my
self, by confessing all too soon.
Carl.
If I shou'd prove you Innocent, you'd prove ungrateful?
Dal.
No, you know I always Lov'd you.
Carl.
You've shewn it most abundantly, in chusing Sancho!
Dal.
You speak more truly than you think: I have shewn
it. For, since I must confess the Truth to you, I am no Fortune:
my Father, tho' he bears it high to put me off, has
Mortgag'd his Estate: We keep Servants for shew, and
when we shou'd pay their wages, pick a Quarrel with their
Service, and turn 'em off Pennyless. There's neither Sheet
nor Shirt in the whole Family; the Lodging Rooms are furnisht
with Loam: and bare Mattresses are the Beds. The
Dining Room, plays the Hypocrite for all the House; for all
the Furniture is there: when Strangers Dine with us, we
Eat before the Servants, and then they Fast; but when we
Dine alone, 'tis all a muss: They scramble for the Victuals,
before 'tis serv'd up, and then we Fast.
The Spirit of Famine comes upon me, at the very
description of it.
Dal.
Now, since neither you nor I have Fortunes, what
shou'd we do together, unless we shou'd turn Canibals, and
Eat up one another? But if you wou'd make up this foul Business,
and help me to that Rich Fool Sancho, I say no more,
But—
Carl.
But thou wou'dst be kind to me; speak out; for I
dare not trust thee; thou'rt such a Woman.
Dal.
You shou'd.—
Carl.
What shou'd I?
Dal.
Why, you shou'd—
Carl.
Well, well, I will believe thee, tho my Heart misgives
me plaguily. And therefore, in the first place, I beg
your pardon for the Scandal I have laid upon you: In the
next, I restore your Virginity, and take away your Bastard.
Dal.
And you'l tell Sancho 'twas a forg'd Letter.
Carl.
No doubt on't; for I wrote it to my self; and out of
Revenge invented the whole Story.
Dal.
But suppose, Dear Cozen; that Sancho shou'd not
believe all this to be your Invention; and shou'd still suspect
the Letter to be true?
Carl.
I can easily convince him, by Writing the same Hand
again, in which that Letter was Indited.
Dal.
That's an excellent Expedient; but do it now; for a
Woman can never be clear'd too soon.
Carl.
But when you are clear'd, you'l forget your Promise
to me—
Dal.
But if I am not clear'd, I cannot Marry him; nor be
put in a way to keep my Promise. Come, I'le hold my Hand,
Write upon it, I always carry Pen and Ink about me.
Carl.
Let me Seal my Affection first:
[Kisses her Hand.
Now, what shou'd I write?
Dal.
Only these words at the bottom of the Note, in the
same Character.
This Letter was wholly forg'd by me, Carlos.
[He Kneels and Writes.
Carl.
There 'tis—
[Gives it her, she puts it in her Pocket.
Bastards, have you indeed been dabbling?
Dal.
Who, I confess it! Oh thou Impudent Fellow! I only
sooth'd thee up in thy Villany, to make thee betray thy own
Plot. Iconfess'd seemingly, to make thee confess really. Heav'n
and thy own Conscience, know I did.
[Seems to weep.
Carl.
But when you're Married, you'l remember your
Promise?
Dal.
What Promise?
Carl.
That I shou'd—
Dal.
Shou'd what?
Carl.
Must I tell you?
Dal.
No, I'le tell you; I said you shou'd; and so you shall,
be cozen'd in your Expectation.
Carl.
I foreboded this; and yet was Fool enough to trust
thee; give me back my Letter.
Dal.
What, deliver up my Evidence, that's the Testimony
of my Virtue, and thy Wickedness.
Carl.
I'le search your Petticoat.
Dal.
Dare but touch my Petticoat, and I'le cry out a Rape
against thee.
Carl.
Oh thou Eve of Genesis; thou wou'dst have Tempted
the Serpent, if thou hast bin there.
Dal.
The next News you hear, is of my Wedding; be Patient,
and you shall be Invited to the Dinner.
Carl.
I say no more, but I'le go Home and Indite Iambicks;
thou shalt not want for an Epithalamium; I'le do thy business
in Verse.
[Exit.
Dal.
My Comfort is, I have done your Business in Prose,
already.
'Tis our Prerogative, to make 'em Fools.
For one Sweet Look, the Rich, the Beaux, the Braves,
And all Mankind, run headlong to be Slaves.
Ours is the Harvest which those Indians mow;
They Plough the Deep; but we Reap what they Sow.
[Exit.
| Love Triumphant ; or, Nature will Prevail | |