University of Virginia Library

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.