University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

The Scene throughout the Play is an Anti Chamber.
Enter Vincentio in a Moorish-Dress, his Skin black'd over, assuming the Name of Morat. Zemet his Servant.
Mor.
Ah! poor Vincentio, alter'd more by Passions
Than by this new Disguise, who now cou'd know thee?
Thou'rt grown a Stranger to thy very self.
'Tis scarce a Year since I fled hence to Afric;
But oh! how Sorrow, Sickness, and Fatigue,
And most my anxious Love, since that, have chang'd me.
I doubt I wear this borrow'd Black and Dress
Rather to try Placentia, thus unknown,
Than to reclaim and save my wicked Brother.

Zemet.
You're but too kind to him, my Lord. I hear,
That when a fatal Duel forc'd you hence,
He stab'd the Friend who strove to get your Pardon,
To hinder your Return.

Mor.
With what unnat'ral Joy, he, in the Morning,
Heard us confirm the Tidings of my Death!

Zem.
My Lord, if he's as wicked as he's thought,
'Twou'd have been ill in him to have done better.
Bad Men still act themselves in ev'ry thing that's bad,
And are not to be blam'd for barb'rous Actions,
More than the Beasts of Prey for Cruelty:
Nor is it for their Vices, but their Natures,
We shou'd destroy 'em both.

Mor.
Yes, he's my Shame;
But still my Brother; therefore yet a while
Let Lisbon think me dead, as I'm reported.
In this Disguise I thought fit to confirm it;
For, shou'd they think I live, the King wou'd never
Grant him his Pardon for Don Carlo's Murther.

Zem.
It seems he's sure of it, for he has left
The Sanctuary, and lords it in your House.

Mo.
Upon the confirmation of my Death,
The King has sign'd the Warrant for his Pardon;
So to prevent th'Extinction of our Name,
Which Royal Gratitude still makes him value.
Then let him revel, till the Seals are past,
As a sole Brother in my large Estate;
That done, I will revive, a severe check
On all his future Life.

Zem.
I wish yours be secure, my Lord!
Tools of Destruction still stand ready prest
To a bad hand, and Murther watches sure.
Then, give me leave to fear.

Mo.
I'll keep Prevention's Eye upon the Watch;
But I disdain to fear. For Death must come,
And 'tis no matter when: Once in the Grave,
Long Life and short are both become the same.
Death levels all: Age, Beauty, Wealth, and Titles,
Lye undistinguish'd, huddled up together,
And none complain of what, or when, or how.
Oh! I cou'd wish my Dust with thy dead Parent
Lay blended in one Urn on Africk's Shore,
Rather than languish thus in hopeless Love,
And see my Father's Glory
Turn rusty in this Brother.

Zem.
Ah! my Lord,
That rusts not, since it shines so bright in you.

Mor.
Zemet, no more. I here expect Placentia;
This is her way from Chappel—
See, she comes.—Withdraw.
[Exit Zemet.
She comes, and weeps for me,
For the false News I brought her. Cruel Fate,
Deal me less Pity, and some Love—

Enter Placentia Weeping.
Mor.
to himself.]
I shiver—
How my Heart beats! Ev'n thro' this hue, I fear,
She'll read my Soul's Disorder—Now I burn.
Let Love be drawn no more with golden Darts,
But arm'd with Fires: I feel him in my Veins.
How shall I speak?

Plac.
Oh! gen'rous Don Vincentio,
As soon shall I forget my self as thee.

Mo.
aside.]
Now, by my Love, there's Life in that kind Sorrow;
It bids me hope, and speak.
To her.]
Why, Madam, will you lavish thus your Tears
On my dead Friend? He ne're cou'd gain your Love;
Yet, if departed Souls see things on Earth,
Placentia is Vincentio's present Object,
And not one Tear she sheds but he must prize
At a much greater Value than his Life.

Plac.
Can I do less than weep for that brave Lord?
Oh! Sir, you were a Stranger to his worth.

Mor.
No, Madam; none cou'd know Vincentio better
Than did Morat; and you will think so too,
When I relate some Passages he told me,
He said, you were the Cause of all those Sighs
He had betray'd so often, and I pitied;
He said, such Beauty and such Cruelty
Ne're met in one before; and yet methinks
Your Tears and Sorrow contradict his Words—
Aside.]
If I talk long, I shall betray my self.

Plac.
Since my best Lord (for so I always call'd him)
Made you no Stranger to those humble Thoughts,
The only Blemish of his noble Life,
I will a little clear that passage to you—
His Vertuous Mother, for what Cause I know not,
Took me from humble Birth, to breed me as her Child.

Mor.
Madam, he told me this, and that his Mother
Had made your Fortune equal to her Daughters;
Commanding him to see you nobly married, or a Nun.
But Love, he said, doubled that Pious Charge,
And he ne'er wish'd for any Wife but you.
Oh! why did you refuse to make him happy?

Plac.
To clear my self to you, I'll tell you that
Which shou'd not be reveal'd, were he still living.

Mor.
aside.]
Now I begin to tremble.

Plac.
His Mother found out that unhappy Love;
And, lest it shou'd dishonour his great Name,
Taught me t'obey him, as my Lord and Brother;
But charg'd me, as I tender'd Heav'n, my Soul,
Her Memory, or any Thing that's Sacred,
I ne're shou'd marry him.

Mor.
aside.]
Oh! Patience Heav'n!

Plac.
This was her daily, and her last Request;
And, that I might Religiously perform it,
Resolving with my self a single Life,
I solemnly did swear, Never to wed above my humble Birth.

Mor.
aside.]
'Twill be in vain to live after this Story.
Oh! Mother—you mix'd the worst of Curses with that Breath
That gave your wretched Son his latest Blessing.

Plac.
You're strangely mov'd!—But see Ricardo!
I wou'd shun him.

Enter Ricardo. Servants after him.
Ric.
You were my Brother's Servants; I dismiss you—
Placentia, stay.

Serv.
My Lord, our Wages.

Ric.
Do Men like me pay Wages?

Serv.
My Lord—

Ric.
Talk with my Steward! hence! Be gone!
[Ex. Servants.
Well, Madam?

Plac.
My Lord.

Ric.
So scornful still! I will no longer bear it.

Pla.
asi.]
How I dread his vile Love, since now he's Master here!

Ric.
How now, Morat? What, you've been talking now
Of my dead Brother, and the Creature weeps.
'Tis true, the humble Fop indulg'd her Pride
With honourable Love, tho' still she scorn'd him.

Mo.
asi.]
Hold! Patience yet! Thus most Heirs treat the Dead.
To Ric.]
My Lord, I was your Brother's worthless Friend,
And know how much he did esteem this Lady,
As I believe, not without due desert.

Ric.
Oh, dull Morat! thou dost not know this Trifle;
Thou art a Moor, and look'st on outward Toys,
Fine Cloaths and Jewels; why, these Things are mine;
I'll strip her of 'em all, if she consents not
To yield to my Embraces.

Mor.
My Lord, I fancy 'tis not in your Power.

Ric.
Hark you, Morat; I suffer'd you my House
For the good News this Morning you confirm'd.
But ne're believe I made you of my Council.

Mor.
No; if you had, I shou'd advise you better
Than thus to forfeit all your House's Honour
By most ignoble Actions.

Ric.
How's this, Slave?

Mo.
By all my former Honour, that Name Slave,
Did not you share your noble Brother's Blood,
Shou'd cost the dearest Drop about your Heart.

Ric.
Sure, he's run mad—Out of my House, thou Frenzy.

Mor.
I will not stir.
Your Brother made me Joynt-Executor
With this fair Lady; I'll soon prove his Will,
And till I've seen it all perform'd, I'll stay.

Ric.
You mean, till th'Inquisition seizes you.
Do you not, Moor? you two Executors!

Mor.
Laugh not too fast, my Lord: Your Inquisition
Can't fright me; for tho' my Complection's black,
My Soul is white and Christian, which, I fear,
The Holy Font has not made yours.

Ric.
Insolent Slave! who waits! what hoa! not one
Of my new Train to rid me of this Moor?
Nay, then I'll do't my self.

[Draws, Mor. closes with him, and disarms him.
Mor.
Inhospitable Wretch!

Plac.
Hold! help! help!

Mor.
Here, take your Sword, and put it up, proud Lord,
But oh! insult no further, if you'd live.

[Gives him back his Sword.
Enter Servants and Zemet.
Ric.
aside.]
Disarm'd! and by a Moor! But he's not worth
A second Danger. I've some trusty Bravo's,
Who safely shall correct his Insolence.
To his Servants.]
Hence, Slaves! there's now no need of you.

Exeunt Servants and Zemet.
Mor.
My Lord, yet think from what great Stock you sprung,
And how a Nobleman shou'd keep that Name:
'Tis not to be preserv'd by dead Mens Actions;
You must have living Vertues, or 'tis lost—
Come, I perceive that you attend with shame
My too severe Reproof, and I repent it;
I'll leave you to repent too for the Cause.
Madam, some other Time I'll wait on you.
Exit Morat.

Pla.
aside, and going.
A brave good Man, well worth Vincentio's Friendship!

Ri.
Stay, scornful Thing.

Pla.
I must not.

Ri.
Must not?

Pla.
No—you've forfeited at last all the Respect I ow'd you.

Ri.
Yes, you shall stay: I'll know what you've been hatching,
That I'm thus brav'd with a forg'd Will. 'Tis vain:
Your Reign is out; The Fool my Brother's dead,
And I'll command what hitherto I begg'd.
You're now my Ward, my Prisoner if I please:
You're not in those cold Climes, where Maids and Wives
Rove where they please, as shameless as unquestion'd,
To wrong the dull contented Herd of Men.
If you'll be paid my Mother's Legacy,
That lavish Gift, a Portion for a Princess,
Your proud pretended Vertue laid aside,
Meet my Embraces willingly to morrow,
Or soon by Force you shall. Till then think of it.

Pla.
I'll think on Daggers for the Ravisher,
To cool his Fires, or save my self from shame.
Yes, ev'n the fam'd Lucretia I'll out-vye;
Not let the Tarquin force the brutal Joy,
But kill him first, or with my Honour dye.
[Exit Placen.

Ri.
Thou fir'st me so, that for Revenge
I cou'd—I cou'd even marry thee, young Fury.
But at a cheaper Rate I'll ease my Rage:
She and my Sisters harden one another
In rigid Coyness, and in hate of me,
But they shall Wed, and leave this House to morrow;
Then by Wiles, Threats, or Force, I'll deal with t'other.
Who waits?

Enter Servant.
Serv.
My Lord!

Ric.
Call both my Sisters.

Serv.
Yes, my Lord.
[Exit Servant.

Ric.
I must prepare 'em to receive new Lovers;
Tho' now few Women need such Preparations.

Enter Morella and Melinda.
Ric.
Still weeping!
D' you grieve at my good Fortune? Come, I've got
Young Husbands for you: That, I take to be
The surest way to dry a Virgin's Tears.
To morrow Don Fabiano shall be yours,
Morella; and Don Paulo yours, Melinda.

Mel.
aside.]
His lewd Friend Paulo!

Morel.
Fabiano! poor Placentia's Lover!

Ric.
What, Dumb? Are they not Noble, Rich, and Young?

Morel.
Oh! Let us hear of nothing, Sir, but Grief.
Alas! we cannot even think of those
My Brother's Choice design'd us once for Husbands.

Ric.
You need not: For, their hopes, like him, must dye.
No more—Compose your Looks to meet my Friends.

Enter a Servant.
Ser.
Don Ferdinand, My Lord, is just a lighting

Ric.
aside.
The Governor! He brings his Son Fabiano!
I'll meet him—Sisters stay till I return.

[Exit Ric. and Serv.
Morel.
Oh! dismal News! now we indeed are wretched.
Compleatly wretched. Alas poor Vincentio!
How soon we feel thy Loss, thou best of Brothers!

Enter Placentia.
Plac.
Dear Orphan Ladies, let us mingle Sorrows.
Alas, I'm an unhappy Orphan too.
Like you, methinks, I mourn a Brother's Loss,
And what's yet more, a Friend's.

Morel.
A Friend's indeed! alas, my Dear, I doubt
Your Tears, like ours, will flow from several Springs.
I'm bid to wed to morrow your Fabiano.

Plac.
Hah! But why am I startled and disorder'd?
Tho', to my Soul's eternal dear Disquiet.
We love each other, ev'n to meer Distraction,
My hopes are lost, for I must keep my Vow.
I wish a mutual Love might link your Fates.

Morel.
Oh! wish not this, my Dear, my Heart is fix'd:
Don Philip, or a Cloyster.

Enter Don Ferdinand, D. Fabiano, Ricardo.
Plac.
Fabiano, with his Father! Oh my Heart!
I must not stay; yet I am rooted here.

Ric.
Sister Morella, let my Lord be us'd
As his great Merit, and my Choice deserve.

Ferd.
Son, scorn Ignoble Love! See there your better Fate.

Ri.
aside to Ferd.
Let's not seem to observe 'em, while he whispers
His first Love-Complement. All Infancies are bashful,
And that of Love is most.

Pla.
aside.]
Amazement! sure he loves her! how they whisper!
What do I feel? 'tis more than Love; 'tis Jealousie, I fear.
Am I then Jealous? What, of him I'd lose?
I will not: Sure he came in hopes to see me.
Away, curst Jealousie! Thou needless Physick,
That turn'st our Health to voluntary Sickness,
I dash thee from me like a Poyson—yet I will look.

Mel.
aside to Plac.]
My Dear, you're Jealous?

Pla.
aside.
Not at all—yet I must gaze—I'm rack'd—I cannot bear it.
Exit Placentia.

Mel,
aside.
I must follow her.
[Exit Mel.

Ferd.
What's that bright Vision which now shot from hence,
Swift as a Star?

Ric.
A falling one, a glaring fatal Meteor,
The worthless Creature of my Mother's Favour,
Her Fortune ample, but her Birth unknown.

Ferd.
'Tis a fair Destruction!
I blush to own I've heard my Son was dazled
By her deluding Beams. This made me hasten
To fix him quickly in a nobler choice:
Which was my Motive to demand your Sister
When I engag'd to get your Pardon sign'd.

Fa.
aside to Morel.]
Madam, you know the tye upon my Heart,
The longings of my Soul, Placentia's Love:
My Trust in your kind Pity brought me hither,
Which all my Father's Threats cou'd scarce have done.
Then let's retire, since by your gen'rous Suff'rance
I may see her once more: For, if I stay,
I shall act Love so ill, it will betray us.

[Ex. Fa. and Morel.
Ric.
She's his, My Lord: The Conqu'ror leads his Prize.

Ferd.
aside.]
Now, as I love bright Honour, this sight charms me,
And makes my Age, in spight of Time, run back.
'Tis true, this Lord has dimm'd his House's Glory;
But now I hope 'twill clear. High Birth, tho' clouded
With fashionable Vices, will at last
Exert it self and shine.

Enter a Servant to Ricardo.
Ser.
My Lord, a Lady in a Veil desires to speak with your Lordship.

Fer.
My Lord, I'll leave you, and in an Hour return.

Ri.
Your Lordship's Servant—
[Ex. Ferd. and Servant.
To his Serv.]
Conduct the Lady in—
I fear 'tis Laura—But why shou'd I fear?
She's kind, she's fair—But oh! I'm bound to wed her:
I on that score, was trusted with her Fortune,
And lost it all at Play. She's heard the News,
And comes prepar'd to share my Joys—I dread her:
Let me wed nothing but variety.
But I'll dissemble yet; for tho' when pleas'd
She's smiling as the Morn, cool as the Evening,
And calm as is the Night, when urg'd, she rages
Like the Meridian Sun's collected Beams;
Proud of her Charms, tho' lavish of her Love;
Gen'rous, and free, and daring, like a Man;
But Jealous and Revengeful, like a Woman—
'Tis she—
Now help me, Cunning, once to feign
A Joy as great as hers—My Laura!

Enter Laura.
Lau.
Fly off my Veil! Oh! let me rush at once
Into his Heart, into his very Soul.

Ri.
My Life, my all!

Lau.
Oh let me gaze—I cannot speak for Joy—Oh happy Change!
When the Profuseness of my Love had left me
Nothing to give to save thy Life, but mine,
To see thee rais'd at once to Honour, Wealth, and Freedom,
From Shame, from Death, and Ruine,
'Tis Rapture, 'tis Delight transcending Words,
Too vast for Thought, and ev'n too strong for Souls,
'Tis perfect Joy, and Pleasure in extream.

Ri.
Oh! do not talk of Honour, Wealth, and Freedom:
Your self, your self's the greatest, dearest Blessing.

Lau.
In being so to thee, thy Laura's blest,
Life of my Life, and Genius of my Soul;
Thy very Shadow brings me more delight
Than all the Substance of the World besides;
For I've no Being, when I'm torn from thee;
Or, if I find I've one, 'tis only by my Pains.

Ri.
Oh! sympathy of Hearts! My only Joy!
'Twas not less Pain to me to be forc'd from thee,
Than now 'tis Pleasure thus to meet thee kind.

Lau.
Oh! now I hope we're met to part no more.
Let me no longer hear nor think of Absence.
Absence to some gives Relish to their Joy,
A breathing to their Pleasures; but to me
'Twas Death, when to the Monast'ry you fled,
And to be safe lay hid.

Ri.
Ah! Madam—

Lau.
Madam! Fye, leave this dull Formality.
Does it suit Love of such a Growth as ours?
I shou'd abhor it, came it not from thee.

Ri.
Oh! stop this Torrent of unbounded Love.
Joy came before but like a quick'ning Shower
On a parch'd Soil, and greedily I drunk it;
But now I'm overwhelm'd, and drown'd in Joy—
Thus now all Lovers lye to one another.

[Aside.
Lau.
Dear Man, thou'rt doubly pleas'd
Now thou can'st raise me
As I wou'd thee, were but thy Fortune mine;
For thou'rt no needy younger Brother now,
Thy Laura shall no longer have the Pleasure
Of lavishing her Wealth on Love, and thee.
Indeed she cou'd not.

Ri.
Extravagance of Goodness!

Lau.
Alas! I fear'd that Lisbon wou'd have seen me
With those two little Orphans, my poor Children,
A forc'd Dependant on the cold loath'd Alms
Of proud upbraiding Friends: For all I've left
Is threaten'd to be seiz'd. The Thought on't damps my Joy;
But let it dye with all our former Sorrows.
I'm rich enough, since I've thy Love, that can command thy Wealth
Soon as the Priest has ratified our Contract,
Which now now your Brother's dead, and my first Year
Of Widowhood expir'd, need be no Secret.
We'll live like Gods. Say, shall we not? Methinks
Thou art not glad enough.

Ri.
Excess of Joy, like that of Grief, is dumb;
“And, like vast Streams, too deep for Noise, flows silent,
“While shallow Torrents roar, then cease to be.
I fear she'll find me out.

[Aside.
Lau.
“But tell me, when shall be the happy Day?

Ri.
“Soon as some short Formalities of Law
“Have giv'n me full Possession of th'Estate,
“The best Artificers shall strain, to hasten
“The wish'd-for Time, and make our Nuptials sumptuous.

Lau.
“Then, like a Palace, we'll this House adorn.
“The Walls shall scorn with Arras to be cloath'd,
“Unless the Gold shames there the shading Silk.
“Amazing Wonders that dissemble Life
“In each Apartment, shall beguile the Gazers.
“The Spoils of India, and more distant Climes
“Shall croud, and rear their Fronts on rival Rarities,
“In antique Order, various as their Make;
“And ev'n the fragrant Wood, which in Compartments
“Floors the vast Rooms, seem proud to bear the Load.

Ri.
“Oh! Elegance in Luxury! Oh! Sex refin'd in Fancy—
Aside.]
“To undo the other.

Lau.
Oh! now methinks we solemnize our Nuptials,
A num'rous Train with all melodious Sounds
Salute us and the Morn. Then we, far brighter,
Ascend our Coach, or Love's Triumphal Chariot.
Garlands and Arches grace and roof our way,
And flow'ry Sweets, profusely strow'd, perfume it.
Joy in each Face, and Blessings in each Mouth.

Ri.
Oh! Theme for ever charming—To a Widow.

[Aside.
Lau.
Then, my Ricardo, then—

Ri.
Oh! then my Laura—

Lau.
The crowded Board shall tempt our num'rous Guests
With all that can indulge Luxuriant Taste.
“Conduits shall lavish Wine, and richer Liquors,
And all the Muses labour to Inchant us.

Ri.
And then at Night my Goddess—

Lau.
Ten thousand Tapers shall revive the Day,
While at a solemn Ball, the Pride of Lisbon
Shall shine and revel—

Ri.
And tir'd at last with all these smaller Joys,
Leave us to perfect Pleasure. Thus, my Goddess,
Thus will Ricardo ravish all thy Senses;
Unpeople th'Elements to Feast thy Taste,
To charm thy Ears, rob ev'n the Spheres of Musick,
Tire Art and Nature to regale thy Sight,
Inform thy Brain with ev'ry grateful Odor,
Thy Touch with Bliss, and ravish ev'ry Pow'r,
Till in one sence we lose the other four.

[Embraces her.
Enter two Monks.
1. Monk.
My Lord.

Ri.
What mean these Monks?

1. Monk.
My Lord, We've weighty Business,
That claims your private Ear with utmost speed.

Lau.
Some dead Man's Alms—

1. Monk.
Hear us this Moment, if you love your self.

Ri.
Then follow me—pray pardon me, dear Madam.
I'll strive to meet you here again this Moment—
Or at your own House rather.
To himself.]
'Twas well dissembl'd: But I'm glad I'm eas'd.
How loath'd a thing must a fond Woman be!
Ev'n Monks are welcome, when from her they free.

[Ex. Ric. and Monks.
Lau.
Curs'd be the Holy Duns! Those bold Intruders
Into the Privacies of blinded Mortals,
Self-privileg'd to break-in on the Great!
Those craving Idlers, who preach Charity,
Yet never had one Spark for one another!
Presumptuous Beggars, who with Saint-like Mein,
With proud Humility, and sawcy Meekness
Can seem at best but impudently good.
The Doatards know (for well they know our Sex)
That what a Woman never will forgive
Is an Intruder, whose preventing Words
Force from her Arms her Lover to remove,
In the wild Sallies of unfinish'd Love.

Exit.