University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Donna Victoria's Chamber.
Donna Victoria and Margaretta discovered.
VICTORIA.
Leave me, my Mar'gret, I'm unfit for converse;
Leave me to brood o'er the distressing thoughts
Which rack my bosom.

MARGARETTA.
Dearest lady! do not
Give way to useless grief.

VICTORIA.
Term it not so.
You heard what this mysterious stranger said.
Whose likeness could he find in the dear youth
On whom he gaz'd, but mine?

MARGARETTA.
Nay, that is sure.
From the first moment when I swaddled him,
And bore him privately from Lagos Castle
For fear his infant cries should reach your father,
I noted his resemblance to yourself.
He had your brow, the dimple on your cheek,
And, when he rais'd his eyes and smil'd upon me,
I could have sworn it was yourself in little.
But how can this poor stranger—

VICTORIA.
Who but one,
Upon whose mind the features of the mother
Had an indelible impression made,
Could in her offspring such resemblance find?
Oh lost Montalban! from my constant heart
Nor time nor absence can thine image blot!

MARGARETTA.
I grieve you thus should speak. Can you forget
How ill Montalban has deserv'd your love?

VICTORIA.
Alas! too well I know it; yet, in spite
Of all his falsehoods, still my heart is faithful:
By day I think of him, and, when at night
Sleep seals my eyes, I see him in my dreams,
As he was then, when first my yielding heart
Confess'd his pow'r, and own'd him as its lord.

MARGARETTA.
Nay, ma'am, that letter from his correspondent
The great Peruvian merchant, which Don Lopez
De Gongora, his factor here, once shew'd you,
Containing the detail of his new nuptials,
Is evidence enough of his deceit.
If farther still were wanting, you have that,
Which afterwards he wrote himself, denying
To Lopez that you was his wife, and daring,
Aye, daring you to th' proof of it.

VICTORIA.
Too well
He knew I could bring none. Our only witness,
The holy priest who join'd our hands, was dead,
Ere to Peru his haughty father sent him
To break those ties his pride disdain'd to sanction.
Cruel Montalban! was it not enough
To make me wretched? What had our child done,
Thus to be made an outcast, thus to lose
At once his name, inheritance and station?
The very thought is madness!

MARGARETTA.
In good truth
I hardly could believe it.—But those letters—
There's no resisting them—and yet it may be—
Are you quite certain, madam, of Don Lopez?

VICTORIA.
Why ask you that?

MARGARETTA.
I know not; but there's something
In his appearance, and his manners too,
May lead one to suspect he may have motives—

VICTORIA.
You know how much Montalban trusted him,
And, since he left his native land, maintain'd
Close correspondence with him.

MARGARETTA.
True, yet still
Doubts will arise—

VICTORIA.
What int'rest can he have
Thus to calumniate one, who, as he owns,
Has ever prov'd himself his firmest friend?
Let's think no more of him, but of some means
To clear away the gloom which thus involves me.
Perhaps this stranger—

MARGARETTA.
What do you hope from him?

VICTORIA.
Nothing—or ev'ry thing!—Could I but see him—
What if we visit him?

MARGARETTA.
Nay, I beseech you—
As yet, the myst'ry which attends your marriage
Is known to Lopez and myself alone.
Should you improvidently drop a hint
Which may create suspicion—Be advis'd.

VICTORIA.
Your caution's just. Perhaps the trial might
Prove more than I can bear. Do you, my friend,
Go and converse with him. You know the whole
Of my sad story.

MARGARETTA.
Marry, that I do.

VICTORIA.
Go then, and try to ascertain the truth.
Whatever the result may be, 'twill sooth
My heart to know it.

MARGARETTA.
Trust to me. I warrant
I'll bring you full intelligence.

VICTORIA.
Come then.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Inside of Teresa's Cottage.
Montalban discovered, reclining on a miserable Pallet, Guzman and Teresa standing by him.
MONTALBAN.
I thank you, sir, and you my worthy hostess!
Methinks I'm much reviv'd, and would not tax
Your services beyond what need requires.

TERESA.
You may feel better, but you yet are weak.
While we can be of use to you, I'm sure
Our time is heartily at your disposal.

GUZMAN.
Our time indeed! Pray answer for yourself,
Good woman! Mine, I'd have you know, is precious.

MONTALBAN.
Then stay not here, I pray. A shipwreck'd man,
Like me, can't recompense your services.

GUZMAN.
That's like enough.—Well, I may call again,
Or I may not, as my occasion suits.
Let's see—you've had a med'cine, to recruit
Your wasted strength—you now require repose.
Here's a narcotic, which will make you sleep
Soundly, I'll answer for't.—Dame, see he take it.
I'll send you by and by a fresh prescription,
A nostrum of mine own—

MONTALBAN.
I shall not need it.

GUZMAN.
How's that? Not need it? Mighty fine indeed!
Pray who's the better judge, sir, you or I?

MONTALBAN.
Nay, sir, I do not question your endowments.
You may be very learned.

GUZMAN.
Wiser heads
Than yours have found me so; and yet, forsooth,
You take upon you to dispute with me!

MONTALBAN.
There's no offence, I hope.

GUZMAN.
Yes, but there is.
When such a man as I demeans himself
T'attend on one like you—

MONTALBAN
(rising).
He should remember
That breeding and humanity become him.

GUZMAN.
What's that you say, sir?—Here's a pretty bus'ness!
One, whom from charity I condescend
To visit and relieve, to dictate to me!
One who has not a ryal in his pocket,
The poor fee-simple of whose whole possessions
Would fail to pay the prime cost o'th' drugs
He has already swallow'd—

MONTALBAN.
Look you, sir,
For that assistance you've afforded me
I pay you with the only coin I have,
My thanks; but for your most uncourteous railing,
The sole return it merits is contempt.
Take it, and go your way.

GUZMAN.
Mighty fine, truly!
A pretty treatment this for Signor Guzman,
A doctor graduate of Salamanca,
And body surgeon to my lady here!
But I am rightly serv'd—this 'tis to wait
On vagrants—

MONTALBAN.
How!

TERESA.
You'd better go, good Guzman.

GUZMAN.
You are a fool!—Insult me at this rate!
I'd have you know—

MONTALBAN.
I would not counsel you,
For your own sake, to try my patience farther.
I may be poor, sir, but I am a man.
Once more, be gone!

GUZMAN.
Well, sir, since you're so gruff,
You've my free leave to cure or kill yourself—
'Tis no concern of mine. So, sir, your servant.
[Exit Guzman.

TERESA.
Ne'er heed him—thus he's always to the poor,
Who must perforce submit and truckle to him,
Or go without his med'cines when they're sick.
They say he can bow low enough, and cringe,
When he's in company with those above him;
But, by the mass! he's proud enough with us.

MONTALBAN.
I've long been us'd to suff'ring, my good dame,
And only wonder, that my mind has strength
Enough remaining to resent his rudeness.
I find I yet have much to learn, before
My feelings can be properly subdued.

TERESA.
Aye, it's a sorry world for such as we.

MONTALBAN.
No, no, good dame, the world is not in fault,
Nor the great pow'r that rules it. 'Tis a stage,
Where all have parts; it matters not which falls
To any of us, for our scene is brief,
And, if we act it well, our recompense
May be expected in a better place.

TERESA.
I think so sometimes, when I'm cold and hungry,
And the reflection gladdens me.—Who's there?
[A knocking at the door.
Come in, I pray.
[Montalban sits musing on the pallet.
Enter Margaretta.
Oh madam!

MARGARETTA.
Hist! Come here.
(Aside)
—I bring some things for the poor shipwreck'd stranger,
And would converse with him; but, do you mark me,
I wish him not to know me.

TERESA.
Aye, you are
A charitable lady!

MARGARETTA.
Leave us, pray.
[Exit Teresa.
Save you, good sir—Nay, stir not, I beseech you;
Your weakness needs repose. Here is a seat,
On which I will sit by you.— (Sits)
—I have heard
Of your misfortune, and have brought some trifles,
Which may perhaps supply your present wants.

MONTALBAN.
I will not wrong you, madam, by extolling
Your gen'rous condescension to a stranger.
You will have better praise than I can give you.

MARGARETTA.
Your suff'rings have been great, and you may need
More succour than Teresa can afford you.

MONTALBAN.
My corp'ral suff'rings scarce require a thought.
(Rising)
—Some slight contusions, and a little weakness,
Are all I can complain of.

MARGARETTA.
Pardon me;
I should suspect there are some other evils,
If I may guess from your appearance, which
By many would be counted burthensome.

MONTALBAN.
What, poverty! the lack of rich attire?
Call not those evils—they're of small account.
Villains may boast their wealth, bear on their backs
The spoils of provinces, and deck their tables
With feasts that might supply an hospital,
While honesty, in such a garb as mine,
Houseless, expos'd to all the winds of heav'n,
Would scorn their fellowship.

MARGARETTA.
You speak as if
You had experience of the world's injustice.

MONTALBAN.
I've had experience of the world's reverses.
From the bright summit of prosperity
To be the wretch you now behold I fell:
I once had riches, now am I a beggar;
I boasted rank, and am a nameless outcast;
I had a friend—he cheated and undid me—

MARGARETTA.
Those were indeed hard trials; yet consider,
Riches and dignities are fleeting things,
And falsehood in a friend, when known, grows harmless.

MONTALBAN.
I had sustain'd these patiently, if more
And worse had not remain'd. Appriz'd at length
Of the foul frauds of him I thought my friend,
With my remaining pittance I embark'd
For Barcelona. Scarce had I descried
The shores of Spain, when from Algiers a pirate
Bore me to harsh captivity.

MARGARETTA.
Take comfort;
Your mis'ries now are o'er.

MONTALBAN.
I would they were.
A man like me, long season'd to misfortunes,
May bear with constancy all outward ills;
But there are poisons, which assail the heart,
And mock all antidote. Could you but know
What passes here, you'd own I have strong cause
For doubt and apprehension.

MARGARETTA.
May you not
O'errate those apprehensions?

MONTALBAN.
No—Where'er
I turn, my destiny seems almost hopeless.
Oh madam! you're a woman, and can feel.
Judge what must be my anguish, when I tell you
I had a wife, dear to me as my soul—
I pray forgive the weakness that unmans me.

MARGARETTA.
Alas for pity!—Is your wife living, sir?

MONTALBAN.
There, there you probe my mis'ry to the core.
Oh! she was loveliness and truth itself;
Her very soul seem'd mine; my bosom knew
No other joy, no other hope but her;
Yet was she torn from me!—As I hung o'er her,
And press'd her to my agonizing breast,
Scarce could her pale and quiv'ring lips pronounce
Her last, last sad farewell!—Oh recollections
Of happiness, for ever, ever lost,
Why rush ye like a torrent on my soul!
Why wring my heart with images of bliss,
Vanish'd, and never—But I crave your pardon—
Why should I trouble you with my distresses?

MARGARETTA.
They are so weighty, that my heart can feel
An int'rest for them, as they were mine own.
They tempt me to enquire—excuse me pray—
What name you bear?

MONTALBAN.
I wish not to conceal it.
Montalban is my name.

MARGARETTA.
Montalban!

MONTALBAN.
Yes—
A name once great and dignified, but now
Link'd to calamity.

MARGARETTA.
And what your wife's?

MONTALBAN.
That is a secret, which my honour guards
More strictly than my life. I swore to keep it,
'Till more propitious fortune should allow me
In the world's face to claim her.—But enough—
I know not how it is—your kindness led me
To call to my remembrance sad events
Which, as my strength as yet is unconfirm'd,
Have somewhat shaken me. With your good leave,
I would go forth, and taste a freer air.

MARGARETTA.
Teresa!
Enter Teresa.
Here—take up this seat, and place it
Before your door. A little change of scene
And the fresh breezes may recruit your guest.
Be of good courage, sir; things yet may mend.
Nay, do not look so sad. If you deserve
A better fortune, it may yet await you.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

An Apartment in De Silva Castle.
Enter Donna Victoria.
VICTORIA.
An hour and more are past, since Margaret
Left me to visit this mysterious stranger;
And still she comes not. Why thus palpitates
My woe-worn heart? Is it because a ray
Of hope breaks forth, to dissipate the gloom
Which long each flatt'ring prospect has obscur'd?
Howe'er delusive it may prove, I'll court
It's cheering influence—

Enter Donna Clara.
CLARA.
Who d'you think's arriv'd?
I'm sure I should have just as soon expected
The Grand Inquisitor himself—

VICTORIA.
As whom?

CLARA.
He liv'd at such a monstrous distance from us—
He has such a name too—'tis Don something—

VICTORIA.
Prithee
Speak out at once, nor keep me in suspense.

CLARA.
Stay—Don—Don—now I have it—'tis Don Lopez,
Lopez de Gongora, from Barcelona.
Ar'n't you surpriz'd?

VICTORIA.
There's nothing sure surprising,
That one I've known so long should visit me.
I thought at first it might have been another.

CLARA.
I wish it had been; for I ne'er saw one
Whom I felt less dispos'd to like than him.
I met him in the entrance, and before
I could effect my escape, he rudely stopt me,
And stunn'd me with a flood of fulsome nonsense
About my brilliant eyes and my complection,
Gloating and staring on me with a look
So forward that I shudder'd. Still he held me,
'Till Ferdinand came up to my relief,
And made him quit me.—As I live, he comes.

Enter Don Lopez and Ferdinand.
LOPEZ
(to Ferdinand).
You'll give me leave to tell you, young Signor,
You have no right to meddle— (seeing Victoria)
Ah my queen!
Queen of De Silva! see your faithful servant
From Barcelona comes to pay his court.

VICTORIA.
You're welcome, sir.

LOPEZ.
I'faith! I should be so,
For I've sustain'd more perilous adventures
Than any of your heroes in romance,
O'er hill and dale, by water and by land—
(Seeing Clara)
Ah my sweet little rose-bud! have I caught you?

CLARA.
Pray, sir, keep off—

VICTORIA.
Nay, Clara, don't be shy—

LOPEZ.
There, do you hear? Come, we shall be good friends.
So, now, your hand—

CLARA.
Protect me, Ferdinand!

LOPEZ.
Oh ho! Is that the case?— (to Ferdinand)
—Stand aside, boy!
A little more respect would best become you.

FERDINAND.
'Twould more become you, sir, to leave her quiet,
Nor thus forget the rev'rence of your age.

LOPEZ.
Why thus it ever is. These smooth-fac'd boys,
Who think they're men because they're whipt no longer,
Conclude that lusty manhood must be old.

FERDINAND.
If you dispute it, sir, I apprehend
Your mirror or your feelings may convince you
You bear about you symptoms strong of age.

LOPEZ.
I tell thee I am young, and stout to boot.
Symptoms of age indeed! A puling child
Like thee to tutor me! Od'slife, young sir,
If thou once anger me—

FERDINAND.
Stop, sir, in time;
I may be else provok'd. This lady's presence
Prevents me from replying.—Come, my Clara,
Let us retire—

LOPEZ.
Nay, an you quit me thus—

[Exeunt Clara and Ferdinand.
VICTORIA.
Now, sir, perhaps, you will vouchsafe to tell me
What urgent bus'ness makes you visit me.

LOPEZ.
What urgent business, say you? You shall know.
I'faith, madonna! I am glad to see you
With such a countenance, so fresh and blooming.
By good St. Anthony, you look not older,
Than when that runnagate, beshrew him for it!
That wild Montalban play'd you such a trick.

VICTORIA.
That is a subject, sir, I would avoid.

LOPEZ.
Nay, 'twas a foul one. What could he discover
In that far southern world to equal you?
Yet, strange as 'tis, I find he still doats on her,
And on her swarthy brood.

VICTORIA.
Have you then heard
Aught new respecting him?

LOPEZ.
Aye, marry, have I;
But nothing likely to afford you pleasure.

VICTORIA.
That may be, sir; but I should wish to hear it.

LOPEZ.
An you will know—A vessel from Peru,
Which touch'd at Barcelona lately, brought me
A letter from himself. Unless your heart
Hath ceas'd to feel for him as it was wont,
You'd best not ask its purport.

VICTORIA.
Speak it boldly:
I am prepar'd for all.

LOPEZ.
Thus then it is.
After detailing all his present comforts,
He talk'd about his wife, sung forth her praises
With all the ardour of a doating husband,
And prattled of his children—he has six of 'em—
As if I felt an int'rest in the brats.
But this was a mere trifle to what follow'd.

VICTORIA.
What can be worse?

LOPEZ.
Nay, so I thought you'd say.
But you will know it—Thus then he went on.
I owe, says he, a duty to my children,
And wish to bring them and my wife to Spain;
But, while she lives who has a tie upon me—
Meaning yourself no doubt—you know I cannot
Adventure to produce them: tell me therefore,
Adds he with earnestness, if fav'ring fortune
Hath disencumber'd me from that dead weight.

VICTORIA.
That soon will be! I wanted only this
To break my suff'ring heart. To be despis'd!
Treated as a mere drawback on his pleasures!

LOPEZ.
From what he adds of his wife's wish to come,
I should not marvel, if her strong intreaties
O'ercame his scruples, and prevail'd on him
To hasten home—

VICTORIA
(aside).
It is, it must be so!
That vessel bore them!—They are lost!—Oh heav'n!

[She throws herself on a sofa, weeping.
LOPEZ
(aside).
So, so, it works—the bait went glibly down.
Go to—all favours me. Montalban's safe
In the strong clutches of his Moorish master,
And ne'er will come to claim from me his wealth,
Or give the lie to my ingenious fictions.
I sail before the wind. Now's the fit time
To broach the purpose of my visit here.

VICTORIA
(starting up).
Who waits?
Enter Page.
Send Roderigo hither.
[Exit Page.

LOPEZ.
Nay,
Now we are private you had better hear me.
What I've to say is pleasanter than that
On which we have convers'd.

VICTORIA.
Excuse me now
I pray. Whatever be your cause of coming,
Think yourself welcome—
Enter Roderigo.
Mark me, Roderigo,
Wait on this gentleman, provide him all
He may require or wish.— (To Lopez)
—Use your good pleasure
While here you sojourn, and take some repose
After your journey.
[Exit Victoria.

LOPEZ.
Take repose, quotha!
I will take that, and some refreshment too.
(To Roderigo)
What station hold you in your lady's service?

RODERIGO.
That which may haply best your purpose suit.
Her steward.

LOPEZ.
What! thou bear'st the household keys,
Presidest o'er the butt'ry and the kitchen,
Sole governor of all the ample butts
Of gen'rous sherry and rich malvoisie?
Give me thine hand. I reverence thy functions.

RODERIGO.
Would'st take a nap first, to refresh thyself,
Or have a slight repast, to stay thy stomach
'Till dinner comes?

LOPEZ.
Let dogs sleep, an they will:
I'm hungry, monstrous hungry.

RODERIGO.
They shall bring thee
Some delicate conserves.

LOPEZ.
A steward thou!
Think'st thou this bulk is nourish'd on conserves?
I tell thee—What's thy name?

RODERIGO.
'Tis Roderigo.

LOPEZ.
Then, master Roderigo, you mistake me.
Such puny cates suit not my constitution.
An thou would'st prove my friend indeed, conduct me
To thine own regions, to the land of plenty,
The fragrant kitchen, and the well stor'd cellar.

RODERIGO.
Take thine own pleasure. We have store enough.

LOPEZ.
I'm glad to hear on't.—Lead the way, brave steward!

[Exeunt.