University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Scene the GROVE.
Enter Vilarezo, Catalina, Ansilva, Attendants.
Vilar.
Be Patient, O be Patient!
I yet will find a way to make thee happy.

Cata.
Name it no more! happy without Antonio?
O Contradiction never to be solv'd!
Alas! I am more Wretched now than ever.
Had he continu'd here, with sighs and tears
I might have softn'd his obdurate Heart,
As drops of Rain in time will wear through Marble.
But y'ave unkindly forc't him hence, and now
My hopes and Charms are vain.
What Plague, what Torture is like Love despis'd?
O 'tis too much! I will not, cannot bear it—
I'll bleed, I'll burn! run mad, despair and Dy,
But I will make 'em all as curst as I!

Vilar.
Once more I say be patient and observe me,
By Heav'n you else shall perish in your Folly.
I bring you Comfort and you spurn it from you.

Cata.
O on my Knees I beg you to forgive me,
[Kneels.
For letting Love thus get the start of Duty.
But what's the Comfort you have brought me? speak!
[Rising.
And ease a wretched Heart that else must break.

Vilar.
Thinking you cou'd not brook Antonio's absence,
I've sent a Messenger to fetch him back,
And let him know, I'm sorry that my Rage
Transported me so far;
And that if he Return I'll make him happy.

Cata.
O worse and worse! Despair instead of Comfort!
And where? O where will my Afflictions end?
To make him happy? that's in plain terms
To let him know you'll give Berinthia to him,
He can't believe y'ave any other meaning.

Vilar.
I wou'd not have him.

Cata.
Then a long farewel
To Worldly Comfort, all my Hope ends here.

Vilar.
Rash Girl, no, here thy happyness begins,
If you'll but be assisting to your self.
'Tis true, he'll think that I intend Berinathia.
For him, nor must he yet be undeceiv'd:
Therefore, when next you meet him,
Behave your self as freely as you can;
Let him not see you wear a mournful look,
Or drop a tear, but bear him still in hand
As if all mov'd according to his wish.

Cata.
Alas I can't dissemble, thro' my Eyes
He'll see my Heart, the Blushes too will rise,
And shew my easyness is all Disguise.

Vilar.
You must attempt it if you'd happy prove,
Mean to please me, or have the man you Love.
[Exit Vilar.

Cata.
Have him? Heav'n knows 'tis firmly my design:
But take your Method, and I'll follow mine.
My sister? yes, that Bar must be remov'd,
Or I can never hope to be belov'd.

Ansil.
What mean you, Madam?

Cata.
Mean? I thought y'ad known.
Sebastian and Alphanta on their Knees
Have to my Father mov'd Antonio's suit,
And half prevail'd to make the match go on,
For tho' he did deny 'em, 'twas with tears:
The next assault, perhaps, they make him yield,
Berinthia triumphs, and I lose the Field
O killing thought! but e're that day does come,
My sure revenge shall seal her fatal Doom.

Ansil.
Consider, Madam, that one Mother bore you.

Cata.
Away, preach no Consideration to me,
That were the way to melt me into Pity,
Which now must be a stranger to my Breast;
While I had Pity I cou'd have no rest.

Ansil.
But Conscience, Madam.

Cata.
Conscience, foolish Girl?
The Covetous, th'Ambitious and the Jealous
Know no such thing.

Ansil.
Think of the Danger then.

Cata.
There can be none,
If thou art faithful to me.

Ansil.
D'ye doubt me Madam?

Cata.
No, by Heav'n I do not,
For you have promis'd fair.—here—here's more Gold.
The fatal War's begun; between us two
Love, Nature, Pity and Remorse must cease,
And curst be she that first proposes Peace.
[Exit Cata.

Ansil.
What have I done?
I am in Love my self, and can I yield
To Poison one whose frailty is the same?
Tho' undertook it must not be perform'd,
If not perform'd I'm ruin'd—This Fool too?
He finds me in ill Humor.

Enter Gerardo.
Gerar.

Dear soft Tempter well met.—Ha! What? not a word? Melancholy?
if the perpetual Clack of thy Tongue has left moving y'are in an ill
case I can tell you that now.

Ansil.

And if you provoke that Clack to move you are in a worse case, I
can tell you that too.

Gerar.

And that I shall do, Child, I shall provoke thee, my Desires stand
a tip toe, and—

Ansil.
I shall humble 'em, by Heav'n I shall.

Gerar.
Yes, yes, they that raise the Devil may lay him again, that's Certain.

Ansil.
Does this Behaviour suit with your grey hairs?
O Heav'n! how can the Youthful chuse but fall,
When Age does go before and give the call?

Gerar.
Nay, if thou art turn'd Preacher 'tis time for the wicked to reform.
I ha' done, I ha' done.

Ansil.
And so y'ad best: but, since I'm in my Lecture,
Prepare to hear the rest, and mark me well.
If e'er you attempt my Chastity agen,
I'll use thee as thou art, the worst of Men.
In all Bruits else,
When Age comes on, decrease of Lust we find,
But it does last till Death in—

Gerar.
Womankind.

Ansil.
Swine! Monkey! Toad!
[Exit Ansil.

Gerar.

She is in earnest I find—and with very little pains has made an Ass
of me: done like a Woman—trick't me of my money—like a Woman still
—broke her Promise—more of the Woman. Baulk'd a good opportunity
—gad! that was not like a Woman at all. Well, this is my Comfort, I
have made love once in vain, and many a Coxcomb does it all his Life time.—
Ha! who comes yonder? the very young Dog that makes me

Enter Diego.

fish in troubl'd Water: This Page's flesh is swallow'd more glibly than my
Gold–Draw, Sir, d'ye apprehend me? Draw.

Diego.

What mean you, good Gerardo?

Gerar.

'Tis no matter what I mean—neither, indeed, has sighting any
great store of meaning in't.—Draw, Sir.

Diego.

You'll let me first know why.

Gerar.

That were to break a Custom, 'tis never done now adays—
A Man is now whipt through the Lungs before he knows any thing of a Quarrel.
Come, come, draw, or I shall give you your Dispatch, Sir.

Diego.

The Dotard makes me angry—Well, what now, Sir?

[Draws.
Gerar.

Nay that's all—now you may put up agen if you please: (the Rogue
has mettle I find). But I shall take the Liberty to tell you y'are sawcy for attempting,
her Love that has mine, Sir.

Diego.

O sits the Wind there?

Gerar.

One that deserves—

Diego.

More than you can give her however.

Gerar.

How now Sawce-Box? how d'ye know that? did I ever make love
to you that thus you pretend to be a Judge of Abilities?—
In short she's meat for your Masters.

Diego.

Well, granting that, I hope 'twill be no dishonour to you to have a
Taster.

[Exit Diego.

Gerar.

Smart and home Faith—and if to have Tasters in that sense cou'd
make us of the Blood-Royal, gad I believe most men wou'd be Princes.

Enter Alonzo, Vilander, Boy.
Alon.
Hear me, Pluto.

Gerar.
What, does he take me for the Devil?

Vilan.
Ay, and for the Master Devil too.

Gerar.
Hum—there's some civility even in that, tho'.

Alon.
Hear me infernal Monarch, by the Pow'rs
That chain'd thee down in this abyss for ever,
To dwell in glimmering Flames of Liquid sulphor,
I'll pluck thee from thy ever-burning Throne,
And lash thee worse than Furies do the damn'd,
Unless you give me Justice.

Gerar.
You shall have it.

Alon.
Why, who art thou?

Vilan.
The same you take him for—or, at least, a very good Servant of his.

Alon.
How can I have Justice then from thee?
I've Faith, and that has arm'd me. Thou hast heard
How Hercules, the Monster-killer, took
The Tripple-headed Porter from thy Gate,
And drag'd him up to Light:
What hinders me to do the same to Thee?
Nothing—then Tyrant come along with me.

[Shoulders him.
Gerar.
Hold, hold.—if I am the Devil the Devil take me.

Vilan.
Ha! ha! ha!—there's some civility even in this too.

Gerar.

As much as in your laughing—Death! he did not consider that,
like an old watch, I have been twenty times new set together.

Vilan.

Ay, always mending and still growing worse and worse—but come,
we'll see him again when he's in better Temper.—I begin to suspect—but
I'll watch him narrowly.

[Exeunt Vilan. Gerar.
Enter Alphanta, Clara, Boy.
Alphan.

It was an Error, but 'tis now beyond my Power to redress,—
Where hast thou brought me?

Alon.

The Song, Boy.

[Aside to the Boy.
Boy
Sings.

Alon.

Will Inconstancy make her live e'er the longer? or give a
sweeter relish to her Pleasures? Can it keep her freer from the fear of
future punishment? or lull her Conscience into a softer security than
Peace? Ha! Boy.

Clara.
I need not tell you that Alonzo loves you
Ev'n to madness, wou'd it not grieve your Soul
To see him thus? and yet, alas! who knows
To what your scorn and his despair may drive him?

Alphan.

Prithee, no more, thou and a guilty Conscience will distract
me—come, away.

Alon.
O leave me not, thou life-reviving Beauty!
Your Presence has reduc'd my Mind to Reason.
Gazing on you,
I've lost the sense of all my Woes and Cares,
As Vapors vanish when the Sun appears.

Clara.
What was it first occasion'd your misfortune?

Alon.
Love! Love! the Tirant Love! that God! that Devil!
That sometimes does assume a Charming shape,
Shews us a painted Scene of smiling Joy,
And says 'tis all our own; when straight we see
Our Hopes were vain, our Pleasures but a shadow,
As I will instance in a mournful Story.

Alphan.
I tremble! O what Wretch wou'd e'er be wicked?

[Aside.
Alon.
There were two Lovers, none more blest than they,
The Man was faithful, and the Woman fair;
Kind were the hours, and, wing'd with pleasures, flew
So fast away, that Months appear'd but Days.
What others do but dream of future Bliss,
And soft Elisian Joys, they tasted here:
And these in such a plenteous measure given,
No Mortal State before so near resembl'd Heaven.
—But, Oh!—

Clara.
Go on.

Alon.
How vain are Womens Vows?
After all this, she in a trice forsook him,
Forgot the everlasting Love sh'had sworn,
And, like a Traytress, left him for another,
Because more Wealthy, and false Fortune's Darling.
But Ah! will Riches ever buy her Peace?
Or make Content wait on her Pomp and Splendor?
No! no!—or if it shou'd, let all Men be
As wicked as they please, for Heav'n is blind,
And Vertue but a Notion.

Alphan.
Let us go!
There's something in his words that shocks my Soul!

Clara.
Pray, Madam, have a moment's patience—well,
And what became of the forsaken Lover?

Alon.
At the same time he heard the killing News,
His Eyes erect towards Heav'n, he challeng'd all
The strictest Niceties and Rules of Love
To say, h'ad done the slightest thing that might
Provoke her scorn: then, pensive and alone,
In solitary Musings past his hours,
Thoughts met with Thoughts, and overpow'r'd his Reason;
And now he ranges through the Fields and Forrests,
The Wildest Creature there;
His Body expos'd to all the wrath of Heav'n.
Instead of Beds of Down,
A Clod of damp unwholsom Earth's his Pillow.
Instead of Cloth that comes from neighbouring Spain,
He's wrap't in coursest Rags.
Instead of Food that Luxury invents,
And sprightly Wines, he eats and drinks with Bruits.

Clara.
Ingrateful Woman—pray what is her Name?

Alon.
A blank—I have bequeath'd it to oblivion:
Tho' she is cruel, I'll not be malicious,
And make her failings publick: but the Man,
The hapless man that was so much abus'd,
Is call'd—Alonzo.

[Plucks off his Disguise.
Alphan.
Alonzo! O my eyes, are now unseal'd!
I see and know! Alonzo! Oh Alonzo!

[Swoons.
Alon.
Help! Clara! help! chafe, chafe her Temples gently.
To thy Contrivance I owe this, and if
I live I will reward thee—Ha! she comes,
Her blood begins to rise, her Cheeks to glow.

Enter Vilander behind 'em.
Vilan.

What's here to do?—ha! frenzy and folly in conjunction—
O sweet Women! worth and honour make their application in vain: but
Fools and Madmen may plead their merit to your favour.

[Aside.
Alphan.
Where am I now?

Alon.
In your Alonzo's arms.

Alphan.
There let me lie for ever—O my Love!
O how shall I attone this breach of virtue?

Alon.
This recompence you make has cancel'd all.

Vilan.

One might safely swear, if there were distinction of Sexes in the
Stars, there are not two Females in the whole Firmament.

[Aside.
Alphan.
If a Repentance but to end with Life
Can expiate my offence, it shall be done.

Alon.
O my Alphanta! dare I call you mine?
I must, I will—there is no Heav'n without thee.
O be no more consenting to my ruine.

Alphan.
Not for the wealth that both the Indies hold:
No, if I ruine thee it shall be thus,
Thus on thy neck to cling, and breath my Vows
Into thy bosom, to be broke no more.
O that my Tongue cou'd but express the Transport
That my heart feels!

Alon.
And I too am all Rapture!
Come close, close to my Breast, my Soul not dearer,
My Joy! my Life! my all!

[Embrace.
Clara.
Ay, now 'tis as it shou'd be.

Vilan.

No, not just as you wou'd have it neither; tho', in truth, 'tis
something near it.—I'll be gone, for fear of the worst.

[Exit Vilan.

Clara.
O Heav'n! your Brother, Madam, comes this way!
Nay hast, y'are ruin'd by a moments stay.

[Exeunt.
Enter Antonio.
Anto.
Methinks I feel not that uncommon pleasure
Which us'd, at other times, to warm my Heart,
Mount to my Eyes, and revel in my Veins,
When the soft Charmer of my Soul was near:
Something instead of it sits heavy here.
Enter Catalina Veil'd.
But see! she comes! why Dearest this disguise?
Unveil, unveil, and feed my famish'd eyes.
Ha!

[Starts.
Cata.
There's something strangely hideous, sure, in me,
That thus can make Antonio start to see.

Anto.
Madam, you are what all men else adore:
My heart you know was long engag'd before.
Had I but seen you first,
You first had kindl'd the same lasting Fire;
But I'm so far advanc'd I can't retire.

Cata.
I praise your Constancy,—but cannot be
So fond to love the Man, that loves not me;
No longer then let that remain your fear:
A more important thing is now my care.
True, had you kindly the Proposal heard
My Father made, y'ad met with my regard,
To name no more:
But since my Sister you to me prefer,
That Flame's extinct, I leave you all to her:
And may your Love be equal to her Charms,
And both grow old in one another's Arms.

Anto.
Blest be thy Charming Voice! thy gen'rous Prayer
Must needs prevail, the God of Love will hear,
Heav'n ne'er denies Petitioners so Fair.

Cata.
And next, Antonio, to shew that He
I've once esteem'd, shall ne'er unhappy be,
If ought that may prevent it lies in me.
I have (concern'd to see Berinthia mourn)
Desir'd my Father that you might return,
That he wou'd joyn your Hands, and make you one:
Which he has freely granted shall be done.

Anto.
What Angel's Voice cou'd warble softer sounds!
At once it Charms, amazes, and confounds,
And my unruly Pleasure knows no bounds!
Thus on my knees,
(For under such a favour who can stand?)
With eager Transport let me press your hand!
Here print my thanks with many an earnest kiss,—
And sure Berinthia will not grudge you this.

Cata.
How blest were I were all this kindness shown
To me? and that these Kisses were my own?
But, as it is, it turns upon a Hinge
That gives the stronger swing to my Revenge.

[Aside.
Anto.
But (may I ask you) does your Sister know
What to your matchless goodness she does owe?
And that her Father's mind is alter'd?

Cata.
No.

Anto.
Then far the happy News I need not bear,
For, by Appointment, she's to meet me here.
Yes, Madam (since y'are now declar'd a Friend)
This hour we meant to give our fears an end,
The Priest, hard by, does but our call attend:
In Duty now we'll wait a Father's time,
And mount the Genial Bed without a Crime.

Cata.
Nay stay not now your happy News to tell,
And doubt not but from me 'twill do as well.
For your return my Father waits at home,
And will be all impatience till you come.
Hast then, my Lord, be happy while you may,
'Tis Love and Pleasure call—

Anto.
And I obey.

[Exit Anto. bowing.
Cata.
Mount to the Genial Bed? first sink to Hell!
I'd rather have thee Circl'd round with Fire,
Than with Berinthia's Arms—but see! she comes,
And I'm with fresh Revenge and Rage inspir'd.
Her Lover I have pleas'd,
But rougher usage to her share must fall;
He had the sweets, but she shall have the Gall.

Enter Berinthia.
Berin.
My Sister! what can be her business here?
At once she moves my anger, and my fear:
If the design's discover'd, we're undone,
And if she stay, 'twill certainly be known.

[Aside.
Cata.
Alone? how idly do the Lovers prate,
That say no Turtle lives without its Mate?

Berin.
I now am not alone, but wou'd be so:
Why don't you, now you hear 'twill please me, go?

Cata.
False wretch! I know you wou'd not be alone,
But must, for he that you expect is gone.

Berin.
That I expect?

Cata.
Yes, yes, I have releas'd
Him, and his useless Rosie colour'd Priest.

Berin.
W'are ruin'd, how shou'd she the secret learn?
Curst Chance! but I must stifle my concern.

[Aside.
Cata.
What! does it grieve, because her Bird is flown?
Indeed she's likely now to lye alone:
Weak head to lay so shallow a Design.—
An even Wager that the Man is mine.

Berin.
'Tis but a Suitor gone then, let him go;
I'm not the first that has been cozen'd so.
Why shou'd the loss of a false Love be wept;
Whose Heart's not worth the Charge of being kept?
It is not fit a Maid shou'd sigh and sue;
Or if it be, I leave that Task to you,
Who, tho' not to be woo'd, know what it is to woo.

Cata.
[Aside ...]
No more concern'd! she cuts me to the heart!
O curse on curse! but she shall have her part,
I'll reach her yet, in spight of all her Art. [... aside.]

Well, if I woo, I've done it with success,
Ev'n you that have been woo'd, will find y'ave lest.
Had the hard Fate been mine,
Thus to be trick'd of him I lov'd so dear,
I wou'd have drain'd my Eyes of ev'ry Tear,
You bear it tamely, like a mourning Heir;
So tamely, had I no way else to prove
The Truth, I'd swear you never were in Love:
And who wou'd think Berinthia cou'd appear
So easie, and this outward smoothness wear,
When she's within struck thro' the Soul with grief?
And, I thank Heav'n, can never hope relief.

Berin.
She grates so deep, that I can bear no more!
And yet to stoop beneath her rage were poor:
Tho' youngest, I will not be overborn,
But meet her rage with rage, and scorn with scorn.
[Aside.
Shou'd all the ills you wish upon me seize,
Amid'st 'em all, this thought shou'd give me ease:
My loss is not your gain; if false he be,
He's not so blind, to make the Change for thee.
But he is true, and not one thought will give
From me, tho' sure an Empress wou'd receive:
Then All the spiteful Darts you throw at me
Rebound, with a redoubl'd strength, on thee:
So Envy, in her rage, and her dismay,
Feeds on her self, when she's depriv'd of Prey.
But above all,
To vex thy Soul, and to encrease thy pain,
I'm pleas'd, and laugh to see thee Love in vain;
Tho' who wou'd think your Charms cou'd meet disdain?

Cata.
[Aside...]
O Heav'n! I know not what to do, or say!
Too strong to bend, too haughty to obey,
I've rais'd a Devil, that I cannot lay! [... aside]

My Charms, vain Wretch! here,
[Offering a Pocket-Glass.
Be your self the Judge.
What is there in that Face,
That is not with advantage writ in mine?
Does the Rose there wear a Diviner Blush?
Or can the Lilly shew a softer Tincture?

Berin.
I boast not what I am, Pride's worst disease,
I please, without the taking pains to please:
The little Arts of Paint, and Patch, and Dress,
I leave to you that need 'em.

Cata.
Confusion! Death, and Hell!

Berin.
Rave on, rave on,
No more I'll tremble at a Sister's frown—

Cata.
You will not.

Berin.
No, by Heav'n,
But rather make that Sister shake at mine.

Cata.
Bravely resolv'd.

Berin.
And I'll as bravely do it.

Cata.
You will?

Berin.
I will.

Cata.
Blast me with Lightning, Heav'n,
Send Thunder down, and nail me to the Centre,
If thus I tamely bear these vile reproaches,
If you dare urge me further.

Berin.
Send down, ye Powr's, the same afflictions on me,
If ought that she can do I value more
Than this frail breath of Air—which now is nothing.

Cata.
Be gone, lest you provoke my rage too far,
And draw that vengeance on your guilty head,
Which yet you may avoid.

Berin.
I tell thee, once again, I do not fear thee:
So far from it, that if you rail much more,
You'll find I'm not so tame as you imagine.

Cata.
Shall find it?

Berin.
Ay, is not that Language plain?

Cata.
'Tis wond'rous well, ye Gods, 'tis wond'rous well!

Berin.
No, 'tis not well to see you walk in State,
Admire your haughty Meen, and twirl those Curls
That do so ill become you.

Cata.
Ill become me?

Berin.
Yes, if again you'll hear it—ill become you.
Or else, sure, among all the Race of Men,
Long since, some Fool or other had been found,
That wou'd have thought you worthy of his Love,
And pluck'd the Rose before it had been wither'd.

Cata.
I can endure no more!
Look back, thou wretch, look back on me and tremble!
[Shews a Dagger.
Flye from my sight, this very moment leave me,
Dare not to speak, or make the least reply,
Be still as if the sleep of Death had seiz'd thee!
I'll bury else this Dagger in thy Heart,
And let the hot blood out, that thus does brave me.

Berin.
Dare not to speak?

Cata.
No, dare not for thy Soul!

Berin.
Ha! ha! ha! ha!

Cata.
D'ye laugh, Minx?

Berin.
Yes, I do,
And—(to give you yet more torture) 'tis at you.

Cata.
Nay, then it is vain to trifle longer,
You've drawn my vengeance to the highest bent,
And thus I let it loose.

[Moves toward her.
Berin.
And thus I meet it.
[Shews her Dagger.
D'ye start?—I'm now provided for you.
Yes, here I throw the tame observance off
That's due to Elder blood:
Thy haughty Carriage shall no longer aw me:
For so, proud Wretch, may I be blest, or curst,
As here I stand and dare, fearless your worst.

Cata.
Where got she all this Spirit? or is mine
Transfus'd into her breast? her rage does flow,
And mine begins to ebb—let me consider—
[Aside.
Taking her Life may now endanger mine:
No, my Revenge must work a closer way.
But why do I thus vex and chafe my self?
The Fatal Draught already is prepar'd:
[Aside.
Her next sleep is her last.

Berin.
What, Madam, are you cool again?

Cata.
I am.

Berin.
Then I have got a Cordial that will warm you.
Tho' I am banish'd from Antonio's sight,
I'll banish him from thine.
Or, say it be thy chance to see him more,
Thou shalt be met with scorn, but I with Love,
With all the Love that longing Maids can wish for.
Nay, in your sight I'll pant upon his Breast,
Die in his Arms, melt into Charms away,
And think of nothing but of Love and Pleasure!
While you, despis'd, unpittied, and forlorn,
Hang down your head, and curse our happy State,
But curse in vain, for all the Pow'rs above
Shall brand you with his Hate, and Crown me with his Love.

Cata.
Have you said all?

Berin.
What if I have, or have not?

Cata.
I wou'd have beg'd your leave to've made my Answer.

Berin.
You'll take it, I suppose.

Cata.
I will, by Heav'n!
And every word I speak shall make thee pale:
The shrieks of Owls, the groans of dying Men,
Compar'd with what I tell thee, shall be Musick:
That dear lov'd man, that Idol of your Heart,
That Spring from whence you drink whole draughts of Love,
And, never satisfy'd, still thirst for more,
Shall never lie with Rapture in your Arms,
Ne'er taste the Sweets of his belov'd Berinthia;
Ne'er languish with delight, or faint with pleasure:
To summ up all in one Prophetick word,
(A word which, like an angry Thunderbolt,
Shall all thy Faculties of Sense destroy)
The Man you Love, you never shall enjoy.

[Exit Cata.
Berin.
She's gone! and her last words a passage find
To my sad Soul, and leave a sting behind:
I went too far, yet scarce can be reprov'd,
Angels had done so, had they so been mov'd.

[Exit.