University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE, a Chamber— Matilda and Cephisa, at the Tea Table.
[They rise and come forward laughing.
RECITATIVE.
Matil.
But apropos, child!—This same Hymen's torch—
'Twere time you think about it.

Ceph.
(somewhat disconcerted)
Think!—think, aunt?

Matil.
Yes, think—come, tell not me;—you girls, do think,
And oft'times think, the hours of celibacy
So many ages.

Ceph.
(confused)
Bless me, dear ma'am!

Matil.
Nay, nay,
Unless you think on't young, when old, you'll think,
And not be thought upon—why, here stand I now.
AIR.

RECITATIVE.
Ceph.
Alas! poor aunty.

Matil.
Why, the case is piteous; (sighing)

But you, my dear! are, by your father's will,
Secur'd against it.

Ceph.
(afflicted)
Oh! that will!—that will—
That—“if within the year no match be offer'd,
“To which my frightful guardian, Buffalo,
“Shou'd grant consent, I must, perforce, consent
“T' accept the odious brute himself.”

Matil.
Too true—
Further—“if you refuse, then your whole fortune
“Devolves on Buffalo;—and you, for life,
“Immur'd—in some lone cloyster's cell.”

Ceph.
(resentfully)
A cloyster!
AIR.

RECITATIVE.
Matil.
Choose quickly, then—you've but this night to choose in.
What do you purpose?

Ceph.
(embarrassed)
Purpose, aunt? I purpose—
That is, I wish—but no—and yet—a maiden—
You take me?—

Matil.
(ironically)
Doubtless, child—you're so explicit.
(serious)
D'ye purpose to take Buffalo?

Ceph.
(resolutely)
The veil first.

Matil.
Well judg'd! tho' both, perhaps, you yet might shun.

Ceph.
(eagerly)
How? How, dear aunt?

Matil.
(with a look of significance) (aside)
I'll try her— (to her)
pray Cephisa!
Last Sunday, in the circus, from our window—
AIR.

RECITATIVE.
Ceph.
(affecting indifference)
A pair of dappled greys! I think, I did.
Bow'd to us—

Matil.
Yes.

Ceph.
His name Folatre, an't it?
Lives—a-la-place Roiale?

Matil.
The same.

Ceph.
(with affected importance)
Well, aunt,
If this Folatre, with the dappled greys,
Lives, a-la-place Roiale—

Matil.
(impatiently)
He does—he does.

Ceph.
Then—I know—nothing of him.

[laughing.
Matil.
(pettishly)
'Psha, don't trifle.

Ceph.
(check'd)
Pardon, sweet aunt!—this little pleasantry;
And I'll confess— (hesitates)


Matil.
Out with it, child!

Ceph.
(in confusion)
That—I—
Do—know him—and—

Matil.
(smiling)
And—don't dislike him—eh?

Ceph.
Why—no—yes—can't you guess?—in short, dear aunt—
AIR.

Exit.
RECITATIVE.
Matil.
A clue, indeed.—Their flame, I find is mutual!
Equal their trust in me—I'll not forsake them—
Our don's a dolt, a vain chick-hearted bully:
His pride, with flatt'ry first, I'll sooth: that failing,
His fear I will alarm. Next, on his folly,
By stratagem, I'll practise—hush! I hear him—

[steps aside.
(Buffalo is heard blustering behind the scene.)
Buff.
(strutting in)
To day—'tis April Day—I will be wroth.
(calls aloud)

Hoa! Dunberblixen, charge my
blunderbuss—my rapier, Scolopendroz!

[swaggers
Enter a scald Ragamuffin, who kneels, and presents him a sword, then sneaks off, trembling; he draws it arrogantly.
Forth, Toledo!
(kissing the sword)
Now, by thy blade, thy fate-dispensing blade! (fiercely)

What Caitiff grins this day, shall grin in—death.

Matil.
(aside)
Swollen turkey cock! (laughing then advances with a low curtsy)

Magnanimous and sapient Don Buffalo!
(curtsies)
With all humility I crave an audience. (curtsies)


Buff.
(flinging himself proudly on a chair)
'Tis indulg'd thee—Say.

Matil.
(curtsy)
Signior, to you, as guardian of Cephisa,
I—modestly remonstrate that—my niece
Is now arriv'd at marriageable years— (curtsy)


Buff.
(superciliously)
The maid is nubile— (nods)
—on!

Matil.
(curtsies)
And—that—her term
For option—tends—this evening—to its close.

[curtsies.
Buff.
Proceed. (with a nod)


Matil.
(curtsies)
Then, Signior, is it your good pleasure
To doom her to the veil?

Buff.
(sullenly)
No.

Matil.
(chearfully)
You consent then,
She listens to the vows of—Count Folatre?

[curtsies.
Buff.
(starting up)
Folatre! (in a thundering tone)
No.

Matil.
(mildly, curtsying)
Your reason, Signior?

Buff.
(in rage)
Reason?
Reason from me? (strides about furious)


Matil.
(curtsying with a sneer)
True; pardon the mistake!

Buff.
My will—is reason—and my will it is,
Cephisa to exalt to—higher honours— (struts)


Matil.
Higher, Signior! (with affected surprize)


Buff.
Yea, to the first, my hand.

Matil.
(scornfully)
Your hand! the honour!

Buff.
(haughtily)
Woman! yes—an honour,
To set contesting princesses at variance.
AIR.

(He swaggers, she eyes him with the utmost disdain, then breaks out).
RECITATIVE.
Matil.
Valour!—thou whipping post! valour!—where slept it,
When on the grand parade, this same Folatre
Can'd you? and tweak'd your nose?

Buff.
(with strain'd importance)
He was ignoble;—
Wou'd ha' debas'd my sword.

Matil.
'Slife, he'd ha' broke it
Cross your thick skull.

Buff.
(with haughty solemnity)
Learn, thou impertinent!
That Buffalo delib'rates, ere he acts.

Matil.
(sneering)
So't seems.

[A sarcastical laugh.
Buff.
So, while I mus'd, his rashness,
How with due dignity—best to chastise,
The coward slunk away. (struts)


Matil.
(much exasperated)
Coward?—no, braggart!

AIR. DUET.
Matil.
That title's quite your own,
Your own—of right inherent;
Whereby so well you're known,
That he can claim no share in't.

Buff.
That he's a rank poltroon,
This sword shall make apparent;
He quakes, if I but frown.

Matil.
You frown on him! you daren't.

Matil., Buff.
That title's,
That he's, &c.
He's a pet of your niece's;
For which
I'll cut him to pieces.

Matil.
That tongue yo' 'ad best rein in—
D'ye itch
For t'other good caning?

Buff.
By Styx, when I meet him, I'll beat him.

Matil.
Yet, let me intreat you! not eat him.

Buff., Matil.
By Styx,
Yet let, &c.
You may find him plaguy tough.

Buff.
I shall find him, that's enough.

Matil., Buff.
You may,
I shall, &c.

[Exeunt severally.