University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Night. A Garden, illuminated with Lamps interspersed among the Trees. On one Side, a Fountain overhung by an Orange Tree, on the other, a Wall and Gate.
Enter Roderigo, Guzman, and Margaretta.
MARGARETTA.
I tell you both, such are my lady's orders.
As she suspects the stranger may attempt
This way to escape, she wills you here to watch,
And, if he try to pass, to bar his way.

RODERIGO.
Truly there seems no need of these precautions.
A fellow brought from rags and misery,
Cloath'd like a lord, and treated like a prince,
Will never run away from such good quarters.

MARGARETTA.
Be that as't may, my lady's orders are
That you keep guard. So see you do it well.

GUZMAN.
But, Mrs Marg'ret, surely our good lady
Has not reflected on the consequences
Which may ensue, if thus we stand expos'd
To the cold dews and noxious exhalations,
Which at this time of the year, are so injurious
To tender constitutions, such as mine.
(Coughs)
I do protest I've caught a cold already.

RODERIGO.
If that be all, the mischief is not great.

GUZMAN.
Not great? How can you say so, Roderigo?
I've known such instances of bad effects
Arising from a cold, it would amaze you.
I'll tell you a remarkable occurrence.
I had a patient once—

RODERIGO.
A patient, say'st thou?
Now tell me honestly. Did'st talk to him?

GUZMAN.
Aye marry did I.

RODERIGO.
And he still was patient?

GUZMAN.
Pa—patient—Oh! that's very good indeed!
Well, you're a wag.

MARGARETTA.
You know my lady's pleasure,
And will be watchful.
[Exit Margaretta.

GUZMAN.
Would I had bethought me,
As a preservative against these dews,
To bring with me a bottle—

RODERIGO.
Would thou had'st,
Full of rich malmsey—

GUZMAN.
What d'you talk of malmsey?
I mean my cordial water. You have heard
Of Signor Guzman's cordial water, which
Is universally confess'd to be
The only sov'reign remedy 'gainst catarrhs,
Obstructions and defluxions? 'Tis distill'd
From certain simples—

RODERIGO.
So I should suppose,
If you're the manufacturer.

GUZMAN.
Hey? How?
The manufacturer? Oh ho! that's good.
You had me there, I own.

RODERIGO.
Nay, worse than that—
I have you here.

GUZMAN.
Good, very good again!
There's no escaping you.

RODERIGO.
That's my complaint.
Would I could remedy it!—But silence—look—
Who's that approaching?

GUZMAN.
Where?

RODERIGO.
Among the trees—

GUZMAN.
'Tis he whom we must watch.

RODERIGO.
Then to your post.

(They stand aside.
Enter Montalban.
MONTALBAN.
I lose myself amid this labyrinth.
Here seems an op'ning—Ha! a gate and wall?
Should but the gate be open—Let me try—
No, strongly fasten'd—But what have we here?
(Perceives the picture-case hanging on the tree.
It seems as if inviting me to look
At it's contents. (Opens it)
Good heav'n! What is't I see?
Have I my senses?—Can it—Yes!—'Tis she!
'Tis my Victoria's self! just as she was,
When to my arms she came a virgin bride,
Array'd in native loveliness! This is a prize
Beyond my fondest hope.—How came it here?—
No matter how it came—It now is mine;
I'll lodge it next my heart, and keep it as
A talisman to guide me to herself.
Now for the wall—Let me but scale it once—

(As he is mounting the wall, he is seized by Roderigo and Guzman.
RODERIGO.
Who passes there?

MONTALBAN.
Confusion!—Who are you
Who thus presume—

RODERIGO.
We have authority.
My lady gave us orders. That's enough.

GUZMAN.
Aye, 'tis her own prescription.

MONTALBAN.
Give me way!
What right has she or you to keep me here?

RODERIGO.
You'd better ask that question of herself,
For lo! this way she comes.

Enter Victoria, veiled.
VICTORIA.
So, sir, 'tis well;
I find you are an honourable man,
Who may be trusted out on your parole.
(To Roderigo and Guzman)
—You've done your duty, and may now retire.
[Exeunt Roderigo and Guzman.
Is't thus you treat me, sir? Was't not enough
To meet with proud disdain my proffer'd love,
That thus with scorn augmented you attempt
To punish me for over-confidence?
Where can you go, ungrateful as you are,
Where love like mine, unfetter'd, unrestrain'd,
Courts your acceptance, and at once presents,
In lieu of poverty, neglect and ruin,
All you can hope of beauty, wealth and pow'r?

MONTALBAN.
True, madam; poverty, neglect and ruin
Have long been my companions: but were fate
To double ev'ry sorrow I've sustain'd,
And leave me yet more destitute of hope,
I'd still possess one treasure—conscious honour.

VICTORIA.
Keep it inviolate; but do me justice.
Whate'er opinion, sir, my recent conduct
May have induc'd you to conceive of me,
I am not one of those, whom madd'ning passion
Can tempt beyond the rigid line of virtue:
But fortune has enabled me to choose
The path best suited to my inclination;
And, though the world fastidiously may deem
The course I take unsuited to my sex,
I scorn a law which man, not heav'n, ordain'd—

MONTALBAN.
No more, I pray. How can you thus forget
The noblest attribute of female worth,
That native delicacy, which adorns
And dignifies your sex, thus to descend
To gain a heart devoted to another?
Had it but for a moment swerv'd from her,
This treasure, which kind providence has sent me,
Had kept me faithful to her. (Shewing the portrait.)
Look upon it—
As in a mirror trace the virtues there,
The candour, gentleness, and innocence,
Which won my heart, and follow her example.

VICTORIA.
When this was drawn, she was in youth's first bloom,
Years had not trac'd their wrinkles on her brow,
Nor care had faded those resplendent tints.
Were you to meet her now—

MONTALBAN.
She'd still be lovely,
Still more by ev'ry tie endear'd to me!
Age would but purify her spotless soul,
And ev'ry vestige of corroding care
Would prove a fond memorial of affection.

VICTORIA.
Have wealth and splendour then no charms t'allure you?
Has poverty no terrors?

MONTALBAN.
Not with her!
Were our poor dwelling some half ruin'd cot,
Whose mould'ring walls could scarce withstand the force
Of the sharp-piercing wind and beating rain,
Our food the scanty sustenance we drew
From the cold ling'ring hand of charity,
With her 'twere princely luxury to share it.

VICTORIA.
You speak as if a woman's constancy
Were proof 'gainst absence. Do you think that one
So fair, so young, as this resemblance shews her,
Has not been tempted? And, if tempted, think you
She has been able to maintain her faith?

MONTALBAN.
If innate purity and worth can warrant
A woman's faith, I am assur'd of her's.
That doubt, thank heav'n! never disturb'd my peace.
But, had she been forgetful of her vows,
Inconstant, false, lost to herself and me,
Though I had wept her fall, the dear remembrance
Of what she was had still preserv'd me her's.

VICTORIA.
No more, no more! My doubts are at an end!
Henceforth we'll live to joy!—Gen'rous Montalban!—

Enter Gomez, pursued by Don Lopez.
GOMEZ.
Help, help, good christians!—Will you murder me?

LOPEZ.
Give me my box, thou scapegrace! give it me!

GOMEZ.
I know nought of your box—'tis in your chamber.

LOPEZ.
What! rob me in my sleep?—Surrender it,
Or by Saint Anthony—

VICTORIA.
What mean you, sir?
Have you your senses?

LOPEZ.
Heyday! Who art thou,
Thus dizen'd out with a convenient veil?
No matter, so thou'lt help me to lay hold of
That pilf'ring varlet—Let him not get by thee—

VICTORIA.
What has he done?

LOPEZ.
He has robb'd me of a casket
Worth a king's ransom.

GOMEZ.
As I hope for mercy
I touch'd it not. He was stark drunk e'en now,
And is'nt sober yet.

LOPEZ.
I'll hamper thee—
Thou sha'n't escape me.— (To Victoria)
—Hark thee—thou art nimble—
Run to the castle, send some quickly hither
To apprehend the rogue. Meantime I'll watch him.
Nay, prithee, do not linger—I'll reward thee.

VICTORIA
(aside).
This turn is fortunate.— (To Lopez)
Well, sir, I'll go.
Stay here, and keep him safely. I'll send some
Who'll do your bus'ness.

LOPEZ.
That is kind. But hasten.

[Exit Victoria.
MONTALBAN
(aside).
Can I believe mine eyes? 'Tis he himself!

LOPEZ
(seizing Gomez).
Oh! have I caught thee, varlet? Now confess.
I'll put thee to the question.

(Draws his sword.
GOMEZ
(kneeling).
Pray thy mercy!
Put up thy sword—I cannot bear to look on't—
As I'm an honest man I took it not.

LOPEZ.
Honest, forsooth! Aye, 'tis a pretty proof
Of honesty, to take another's goods.
Wer't thou not trusted with it? Tell me, caitiff,
What can a breach of trust deserve, but hanging?

MONTALBAN
(advancing).
Aye, what indeed? Look on me.

LOPEZ
(dropping his sword).
How! Montalban!

MONTALBAN.
What makes thee tremble so? Hath conscious guilt
Robb'd thee of utt'rance? Speak to me, confess
Where is mine injur'd wife, where hast thou lodg'd
The treasures, which I credulously trusted
To thy perfidious care?

LOPEZ
(aside).
So, so! he knows not
Whose house this is!

MONTALBAN.
Wilt thou not answer me?
I'll make thee find thy speech.

LOPEZ.
I'm so amaz'd
To meet thee on a sudden, when I thought—
How cam'st thou here?

MONTALBAN.
This morning I was wreck'd
On the adjoining shore. I was alone
Preserv'd—

LOPEZ.
Did'st thou save nothing?

MONTALBAN.
Not a doit.
But cease this questioning, and answer plainly
To what I ask.

LOPEZ
(aside).
Let's see—Shipwreck'd, dost say?
Lost ev'ry thing?—'Tis well—I know my cue.
(To Montalban)
—Aye, aye, I'll answer thee.—Why such assurance
Surpasses all conception! Thou, Montalban?
My dearest friend, my worthiest benefactor?
Thou'rt an impostor!

MONTALBAN.
Dar'st thou face me down—

LOPEZ.
Aye, marry, thou shalt find I dare. Go to!
Did I not know Montalban?

GOMEZ.
So did I;
And, if I trust my eyesight, there he stands.

LOPEZ.
Away, thou base companion!

GOMEZ.
No, I won't—
A figo for thee! I'll believe my senses.
(To Montalban)
—Doth not your worship call to mind one Gomez,
Who once at Lagos was your faithful servant?

MONTALBAN.
Full well do I remember thee.

GOMEZ.
I said so!
Well, what have you to say, Don Gongora?
I'm valiant, now I've got a friend to back me.

LOPEZ.
An I lay hold of thee—

Enter Ferdinand.
FERDINAND.
What's here to do?
Is this a brothel or a carrier's inn,
That thus ye clamour?—Who are ye? Don Lopez!

LOPEZ.
I'm glad you're come. I have been robb'd, sir, robb'd,
And might have been assassinated too,
Had you not succour'd me.

FERDINAND.
Been robb'd of what?

LOPEZ.
A casket, sir, more precious than my life.
There stand the culprits.

GOMEZ.
Pray, your honour, hear me.
'Tis a false charge. I'm his own servant, sir.

FERDINAND.
That makes the matter worse, if it be true.

LOPEZ.
Aye, so it does, young gentleman.—A word—
Examine them apart. While they're together
You'll ne'er get at the truth. Begin with him,
My varlet there. Trust t'other rogue to me,
I'll give a good account of him, I warrant.

Enter Roderigo and Guzman.
RODERIGO.
Is there one here who calls himself Montalban?

MONTALBAN.
That is my name.

RODERIGO.
Then am I order'd, sir,
To put this precious casket in your hands.

LOPEZ.
'Tis mine! I'll have it!

RODERIGO
(to Lopez).
Keep your distance, sir.
(To Montalban)
Take it, and keep it, sir; 'tis fairly yours.
It holds a statement of your dealings with him.

MONTALBAN.
This is indeed most wonderful.

LOPEZ.
'Tis false!
Merely a base contrivance to defraud me.
(To Ferdinand)
Don't let 'em, worthy sir, impose on you.
This fellow, sir, is a confederate.

RODERIGO.
I'll shew you what I am. I've something more
To say to you. You are my pris'ner, sir.
You have offended 'gainst our Spanish laws.
That casket holds a proof of breach of trust,
For which you'll answer in another place.

LOPEZ.
Hush, hush, I pray thee. Do not speak so loud.
Thou art an honest fellow, Roderigo;
I know thou'st sense enough to understand me.
I'll give thee fifty ducats to release me.

RODERIGO.
What's that you say?

LOPEZ.
I'll make 'em up an hundred—
Two hundred—wo'n't that do?—Three—four—five hundred—

RODERIGO.
Would'st make 'em up five millions, I'd not take 'em.
Dost think to bribe me?

GOMEZ.
So! the tide is turn'd.
Who's the rogue now? Who's turn is't to be hang'd?

GUZMAN.
There seems indeed to be a strange revulsion.
'Tis a most sudden crisis, which denotes
A speedy termination of your case.
There is but one prescription now remaining—
A quantum sufficit of hemp. Probatum est.

LOPEZ.
(To Roderigo)
Help me to kneel, I pray thee.— (To Montalban)
—I confess
I have offended. Be not too severe—
Consider I'm a poor old man, bow'd down
With much infirmity. I will restore
All I possess of thine with interest—
'Tis all thou can'st require. What can it profit
To hang a miserable wretch like me?

MONTALBAN.
Thy meanness now exceeds thy former guilt.
Let that of which thou wrong'd'st me be restor'd,
And live disgrac'd. There are some other matters,
Of infinite importance to my peace—

LOPEZ.
I'll tell thee ev'ry thing.

MONTALBAN.
Look thou dost so.
But they're too delicate to be discuss'd
Unless in private. Hence! I'll see thee soon.
I pray you, gentlemen, let him be guarded
'Till he perform his promise.

LOPEZ
(to Roderigo).
Help me up!
I'm now, it seems, to learn a new vocation,
That of refunding. 'Tis a bitter pill,
Hard of digestion. Humph!—Well, after all,
I have enough remaining to console me!

[Exeunt Lopez, Roderigo, Guzman, and Gomez.
FERDINAND.
See that you keep him safely.—What a compound
Of insolence and meanness!— (To Montalban)
—But for you, sir,
If, when I knew not of your quality,
I paid you less respect than was your due,
I hope to have your pardon.

MONTALBAN.
Nay, good sir,
You acted like a noble gentleman.
But hold—I surely cannot be mistaken—
Are you not?—Yes—you are my brave preserver,
Whose gen'rous kindness sav'd me from the waves.

FERDINAND.
Sav'd you, sir? Are you then the shipwreck'd man,
Whom heav'n permitted me to save? In truth,
I knew you not again.

MONTALBAN.
I marvel not;
I am so chang'd, I hardly know myself.
But the strong likeness, which you bear to one
Whose dear remembrance rests upon my heart,
Insures my recollection. May I ask
Who were the parents bless'd by such a son?

FERDINAND.
I'm a poor orphan, one who never knew
A parent's tenderness. On the wide world,
Without a friend to cherish or support me,
I had been cast, had not the noble lady,
Who owns this castle, pitied and sustain'd me.
She, like my guardian angel, rescued me
From want and mis'ry; her indulgent care
Rear'd me to manhood, taught me to become
Such as I am—

MONTALBAN.
Such goodness might atone
For frailties greater far than those she owns.
Enter Victoria veiled, and Clara.
(To Victoria)
Lady, we spoke of you and of your virtues.
This worthy youth, whose feeling heart o'erflows
With gratitude, hath told me what he owes you.
Heav'n, that delights in works of charity,
Will show'r its amplest blessings on your head.

VICTORIA.
Next to th' approval of my heart, your praise
Is grateful to my feelings. Nay, believe me.
Whate'er of my past conduct you may deem,
The moment's come, when, all disguise thrown off,
In my true character I shew myself.
If, to repay the mis'ries I've sustain'd,
Heav'n yet has blessings in reserve for me,
'Tis by thy hand alone it can bestow them.
I've tried thee, I have prov'd thee, my Montalban!
Thou'rt true to love and thy Victoria,
And thus (unveiling)
I hold thee to my heart!

MONTALBAN.
Thou art,
Thou art mine own Victoria! Yes, I hold thee
To my fond heart which beats alone for thee!
My lov'd, my long lost wife! thus once again
To view thee—Heav'nly pow'rs! it is too much
For my enfeebled senses to sustain!
Oh my best love, give me a moment, least
My throbbing breast burst with excess of joy
Too exquisite for man!

VICTORIA.
Oh! let these arms
Support thee, let thy too long widow'd wife
Hail the return of peace and happiness!
And yet I dread—Dearest Montalban! can you—
Can you forgive me for the stratagem
I plann'd to try your truth?

MONTALBAN.
I can't forgive,
Where there's no cause for blame. Joy, gratitude
And endless love now occupy my soul,
Scarce leaving me remembrance of the past.

VICTORIA.
Come, Ferdinand, and you, my dearest Clara,
Behold my long lamented lord restor'd
To happiness.

MONTALBAN.
They seem as if kind nature
Had form'd them for each other.

VICTORIA.
True—Nay, Clara,
You need not blush. You know you have confess'd—

CLARA.
Dear madam, surely you don't mean to tell him—

VICTORIA.
Are you asham'd, my love, to own the truth?

CLARA.
Asham'd, ma'am? No—but I feel so confus'd—
It is so awkward all at once, you know—

VICTORIA.
Take courage, dearest—I have seen your love,
From your first infancy have trac'd its course,
And in the prospect of your future bliss
Found the sole consolation of my cares.

FERDINAND.
Do you then sanction my presumptuous hopes?

VICTORIA.
I do most fully.

FERDINAND.
Oh for words to speak
The feelings of my soul!—And you, my Clara,
Will you confirm my transports?

CLARA.
Can you doubt
If Clara's heart be your's?—There is my pledge—

(Gives her hand.
FERDINAND.
For ever be it sacred!— (To Victoria)
My best friend!
My gen'rous patroness!

VICTORIA.
Postpone your thanks.
One sacred duty yet must be fulfill'd
Ere she can be your bride: for know, young man,
I have a solemn vow, witness'd in heav'n,
That she in holy church shall ne'er be your's,
Until your union shall be ratified
By him, whose judgment should decide your fate.

FERDINAND.
Who is this unknown arbiter?

VICTORIA.
Your father!

FERDINAND.
My father!—Who—where is he?

VICTORIA
(pointing to Montalban).
There, behold him!

FERDINAND
(kneeling).
My father!

MONTALBAN.
Thou? Art thou indeed my son?
Come to thy father's arms, and take his blessing!
Was I for this preserv'd? Mysterious heav'n!
'Twas thine all-working providence that led him
To snatch his father from a wat'ry grave,
And crown him with excess of happiness!

FERDINAND.
Extatic thought! To save a parent's life,
To hear him call me his deliverer,
To have his blessing— (to Victoria)
Oh my more than mother,
Speak to me—sooth the transports of my soul
Rack'd with excess of joy! (Kneels to her.)


VICTORIA.
Rise, my best lov'd,
My gallant Ferdinand! and turn to him,
Whose sanction must confirm your cherish'd hope
Of happiness.— (To Montalban)
I have impos'd upon you
A pleasing duty—

MONTALBAN.
Gladly I fulfil it.
Thus let me join the hands of those, whose hearts
Love has united. Now let pleasure reign,
Be ev'ry face around us grac'd with smiles
To crown the transports of this happy day!

[Exeunt Omnes.