 | The Successfull Straingers |  |
Enter Dorothea and Feliciana.
Fel.
What fall in Love with a Stranger?
Dor.
Well Tyrant, well:
Fel.
Nay, upon my Conscience 'tis a Judgment upon thee;
You that could slight the worthyest of our Countrey,
And walk in State through Lands of bleeding hearts:
Dor.
Sister, the time may come when I may give you back this
Triumph.
Fel.
Not for my loving a Stranger Dorothea:
Dor.
I am sure he is a Gentleman:
Fel.
Nay, he may be Jove for ought I know in disguise:
'Tis not the first time the Deiety has plaid Truant above to divert himself
here.
Dor.
For shame Feliciana.
Fel.
For Grace Dorothea, do not throw thy self away thus:
How can I help it?
Fel.
Help what?
Dor.
Being in love:
Fel.
I don't blame thee for loving, but I discommend thy choice.
Dor.
He has in Appearance all that woman can be fond of.
Fel.
Have a care of that; some lay he's an Italian, and he is not the
first of that Country in Breeches that has wanted somewhat of all a woman
would be fond of.
Dor.
Fye, Fye, you'r wicked:
Fel.
Well, I wish his behaviour may reward the great faith you have
in him.
Dor.
Well I have told you my mind, and what I desire of you: I do
love and must love him, let my Future fate be what it will. And you
may choose a Rich Gay thing for your self out of the Dons you spoke of.
Fer.
Thank you for what you can't eat, Madam, Bless me from such
motions of men: why they're so fond of themselves, that unless it be
you, their eyes survey nothing else; what should I do with such waxwork?
They're sit for nothing but to set off a mantle-tree, or furnish
out a Closet.
Dor.
Wou'd they had you in a closet to stop your mouth.
Fel.
By my faith I don't believe I should cry out for 'em, why, they
can do nothing to a woman but stare at her, nature never intended these.
Animals for anything but ornament, like Swans they make a shew, but
are good for nothing—they are pretty Parrot-keyts to hold in ones
hand, or to be strok'd like Squirrills.
Dor.
Have a care of their Tales Sister.
Fal.
Do you look after your own; and if thou art Conquer'd by
this Silvio, who may be a Tinker for ought thou knowst, we may find
the effects of his love in three months, and see you carry his Budget before
you.
Enter Farmosa.
Far.
Madam Don Silvio:
Dor.
Prithee retire:
Fel.
I am gone—but I will have a peep at him, tho' my Curiosity
prove as fatall as Acteons; it may be a stranger I have seen, and I should
be loath to Jump in a fancy with her.
[Exit
Dor.
What shall I do?
Oh Silvio, I would Indulge thee,
But let me not be thought too easy by it.
Farmosa retires.
Silvio.
Thus Pilgrims after many a weary march,
When they have reach'd the purpose of their Travails,
Bow to the Shrine their eager zeal had sigh'd for,
Paying like me their reverend Acknowlegements.
Dor.
Rise Sir, I can forgive your Flattery,
Since 'tis the Generall practise of your Sex.
Sil.
To Flatter here would be a Crime indeed,
Nor know I how, if it would help my cause,
Yet I could talk for ever on the Theame:
The God entices us to shew our follys,
And prove his powers too high for words to reach,
For when our thoughts Engage to search the wonder
Like notions of Eternity they're Puzled,
Brought back to their first fond Imagination,
Admiring what they cannot Comprehend.
Dor.
How his Tongue charmes me.
Sil.
Oh Dorothea, If a Love like mine could be related,
'Twould disgrace its passion:
If thou art angry with me I must love
For I'm a Biggot in the Mistery;
And have a faith defys all Arguments.
Dor.
Sir, you mistake the Intention of my Message.
If you surmise that Love directed it;
I sent to you out of a Generous pitty,
Unwilling (being a Stranger) you should fall
Under the Error of your Courtesy;
Nor do you know—
Sil.
Alas I would not know;
Wretches that dread their doom endure enough,
Without the terrour of a Confirmation;
Therefore I beg that I may only fear;
Fears may have hopes:
Hope is the only Cordiall for our fears,
A vain uncertainty by Errors nourish'd;
A fond opiniator of it self:
Cheated by distant probability.
Dor.
You ought to fear my frown, and hope my pardon:
Not back one Insolence with another,
Daring to think of Love to one yo've Injur'd.
Sil.
To one I've Injur'd, then my Love's a fault!
Dor.
Know you not Spain's notorious for Resentment,
Nay even the woman often suffers Death,
For the presumption of the man she knows not;
What are you that expose your person thus,
Under the vanity of an Admirer?
Sil.
I am a Gentleman of Spanish blood;
Tho' born out of the Country.
My family's well known when I shall name 'em.
They sent me forth being fond of my Improvement
To see what the reputed parts o'th world
Could store my Observation with:
But oh the wonders which I thought I had seen,
Are as far short, of what I now behold,
As I am in my hopes of gaining it.
Dor.
They're nearer then thou think'st for:
[Aside
He steals upon my Soul too hastily;
I find I yield too fast, yet cannot help it:
Sil.
Inform me Dorothea how to please thee,
I am like a Travailer in unknown land,
Where severall beaten ways confound his choice;
Direct my Soul in its perplexity,
And guide it to the Paradice it seeks for.
Dor.
I know not how to shun or meet my wishes,
It must be done; but why so hard to do?
Like one that's to a tedious Journy bound,
Tyres e're half his Travel is perform'd,
Fond of his end but troubled to get to't.
Sil.
May I not hope a word?
Dor.
You are too bold;
Yet I forgive what's past;
But leave the Town, and never see me more.
Sil.
Oh heavy task, impossible to undertake or do!
Dor.
Do you think the prize so easy to be won,
Or that your face can meet with no denyall?
Or can you think so meanly of my worth
To give the least Encouragement to one,
Who only is acquainted with my eyes?
No; could you like Deitys create your self,
Master of all the Graces in the world;
Each should present it self in full perfection;
E're I would listen to the tale of love.
So Sir retire, and tell the world that once
You met a woman could withstand your Charms:
Sil.
And tell how fatally her own has used me.
Dor.
I'le speak no more:
Sil.
Yet stay and hear a little more,
My Souls contriving some way to obey thee;
And it would soften too some way thy Judgment:
That I must leave thee, in thy eyes I read it:
I see thy Pride disdains my Sacrifice:
'Tis thrown aside like common Offerings,
It has but to thy number added one,
And lyes without distinction with the Mass:
Oh! If I never must behold thee more,
Let my Bless'd Rivall rid thee of this Monster:
I want the power to Execute thy will;
I shall be fond of Living whilst thou art here,
For Heaven is only Certain, where thou art.
Dor.
Will you not go?
Sil.
I cannot stir; I would obey thee, but my Limbs
Refuse me.
Dor.
Mine like their standing too.
Sil.
Oh why you powers did you direct me hither?
Fond of beholding more, I have lost all,
which my Enquiry has so long pursu'd,
So fares it with the Merchant, who his store
Would fain Encrease by ventering for more,
Sends out his Laden Barque to some new shore,
But oh like me Shipwrackt upon the way,
Curses himself, his fate, the winds and Sea.
Dor.
Oh Silvio:
Sil.
What said you Madam?
My Sinking Soul flyes upward to that Sound,
Like one upon its Journey to destruction,
When the bless'd voice of a Repreiv's behind it.
Dor.
Out nice Impertinence; Stubborn Usurper,
Thou Sullen honour why dost bind me thus?
Sil.
Did you not call, or did I dream being fond
Of wishing it?
Dor.
Who can deserve me better then the man I love?
It must be Silvio.
Sil.
I am here.
Dor.
So thou art here indeed, out with it then, Silvio.
Sil.
Dorothea:
Dor.
Silvio!
Sil.
Dorothea!
Oh I can nothing sound but Silvio, Silvio!
Sil.
Dorothea, Dorothea, Dorothea.
[Embraces
Oh let me clasp thee ever in this Circle,
Like Antony I could despise the world,
And in thy Charms let all ambition perish.
Dor.
Oh! I have gone too far.
Sil.
Thou never wert so near thy self as now,
Dor.
I trust thy honour, do not wrong my faith;
Nor give my easy Soul a misconstruction.
I could have held out longer for Condition,
Like Towns when the Besiegers are in doubt,
At best Discretion make their Articles;
But trust me Silvio, I abhor the guile
My Subtle Sex approve so Politick;
At thy first setting down before me, I resign,
Hoping to make thee by it faster mine.
Sil.
Oh I will study more then can be ask't,
My Gratitude shall struggle with thy Love
Which shall exceed:
My diligence shall still be at thy call,
And give thee more if possible then all.
Dor.
The Match 'twixt me and Carlos is broke off;
Prove thy self worthy of my Fathers choice:
Nothing can barr our bliss.
Sil.
Oh I will give him firm Security, I am
Worthy of thy blood, tho' not thy Love.
Enter Farmosa.
Far.
Madam your Father has enquir'd for you,
I sent him to the Garden!
Dor.
Then we must part?
Sil.
But with design that our next meeting may be longer.
Dor.
To morrow I shall be at Chappell, There we may Feast our
Eyes and fancy more; be watchfull of your self, and at Night be where
you were this Evening, and you shall be conducted here again.
Sil.
Be swift ye Fiery Steeds and mount the day,
Or get the Night to exchange with thee for once,
The Tedious hours I'le wast in fancied Scenes
Of the past passages of our Extreams:
Call on to Morrow, oh to morrow come,
And give my Soul a prospect of its home,
Hug thee in thought whilst my delighted Tongue
In Raptures shall express thee all Night long:
And Dorothea be my only Song.
Exeunt.
| The Successfull Straingers | |