University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

The Garden of Donna Clara's House.
Enter Donna Clara and Beatrice.
BEATRICE.
Well, after all, ma'am, were I fit to advise you,
I'd counsel you to give up this Ramirez,
And vex and plague yourself no more about him.
To palm himself upon you for Don Juan,
To sigh and swear eternal constancy,
'Till he had drawn you to consent to marriage,
And then, beshrew him for't, to run away,
Forsooth, to marry one, who, I'll be sworn,
No more deserves to be compar'd to you—

CLARA.
Could I take counsel only of my judgment,
I certainly should follow your advice:
But, ah! my Beatrice, I confess with shame
This truant has an interest in my heart—

BEATRICE.
What, madam, after all his perjuries,
After the letter, which, when he was flown,
I chanc'd to meet with from one Don Alonzo,
Another rakehell like himself I warrant,
Stiling him Don Ramirez, and announcing
That all was ready for his instant marriage
With rich Don Guzman's daughter of this town—

CLARA.
Had it not been for that my heart had burst;
But now my pride is listed in the cause,
And every passion, which can urge a woman
To vindicate her love, her fame, impels me
To break the trammels which have drawn him hither,
And bring the traitor back to his allegiance.

BEATRICE.
Since things are so, I have no more to say.
But surely 'tis a singular disguise
You mean t'adopt—To quit your rank and station,
And to propose yourself as the duenna
Of this Don Guzman's daughter—

Enter Bertran.
CLARA.
Welcome, good Bertran! Well, what have you done?

BERTRAN.
Let me put off this pedagogue's disguise,
And then I'll answer you.
(Takes off his hat, wig, and cloak.)
Now I can speak.
Whether 'tis zeal, or merely heat o'th'weather
That warms me so, I know not.

CLARA.
Prithee tell me,
Have you succeeded?

BERTRAN.
If it be success,
To strip you for a season of your rank,
And veil your peerless beauties in a cloud,
I have succeeded fully. You are now
I'th' highway to preferment.

CLARA.
Thanks, good Bertran!
Ten thousand thanks!

BERTRAN.
Nay, it is something, look you,
To rise at once to be the only daughter
Of Sancho Perez, schoolmaster at Olmez,
(That's I, I pray you mark) who've lately lost
Your husband, Vincent Nunez, a rich farmer—

BEATRICE.
Have you assign'd no part to me?

BERTRAN.
Oh, yes!
You are my wife—my second wife observe you,—
Who, for some family reasons, not inclining
To keep a widow'd step-daughter at home,
Have counsell'd me to seek for her some station,
Where she may be protected from the arts
Of wicked men.

CLARA.
And this account pass'd current?

BERTRAN.
Like a new ducat. You have nought to do,
But prank you in your grave habiliments,
And hasten with me to Don Guzman's house,
Who waits with more impatience to receive you,
Than sun-burnt fallows do a summer show'r.

CLARA.
Come, girl, let's lose no time: I'm all impatience
To enter on my functions. Do you think
You can discharge your part?

BEATRICE.
Never fear me,
I've not been chambermaid so long for nothing.

[Exeunt.