University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A Wood.
Enter Volante, and several of the Count's Servants masqued.
Volante.

That 's he, stealing down the pathway
yonder. Put on your vizors—and remember, not a
word! (They retire, and enter Rolando.)
Now
I shall be even with your hemp-beating.

[Exit Volante.

Rolando.
Here am I come to be a woman's toy,
And, spite of sober reason, play the fool.—
'T is a most grievous thing that a man's blood
Will ever thwart his noble resolution,
And make him deaf to other argument
Than the quick beating of his pulse. (They come forward and surround him.)
Hey-day!
Why, what are these? If it be no offence,
May I enquire your business?
(They hold a pistol to each side of his head.)
Now I can guess it. Pray reserve your fire!—
(They proceed to bind him.)
What can this mean?—Mute, gentlemen—all mute?
Pray were ye born of women?—Still ye are mute!
Why, then, perhaps you mean to strangle me.
(They bind him to a tree and go off.)
How! gone? Why what the devil can this mean?
It is the oddest end to an amour!—

Enter Volante, and other Women.
Volante.
This is the gentleman we 're looking for.

Rolando.
Looking for me? You are mistaken, ladies:
What can you want with such a man as I am?
I am poor, ladies, miserably poor;—
I am old too, though I look young; quite old,
The ruins of a man. Nay, come not near me!
I have the plague! my breath is venomous!
My touch will, like a witch, breed ugliness!
For the next fifteen generations, ladies,
You will be all as mute as unbeat drums!

Volante.

Fear not; we'll rather be beat than be
silent.

Rolando.
Stand off, I say!

Volante.
Nay, he can't scratch.

Rolando.
Nay, but I'll bite!—
I would for you I were a porcupine,
And every quill a death!

Volante.

By my faith, he rails valiantly, and has
a valiant sword too, if he could draw it! Was
ever poor gentleman so near a rope without being
able to hang himself!

Rolando.
I could bear being bound in every limb,
So ye were tongue-ty'd.
That I could cast out devils to torment you!—
Though ye would be a match for a whole legion.

Volante.
Come, come.

Rolando.
Nay, ladies, have some mercy: drive me not
To desperation:—though like a bear
I'm fixt to the stake, and must endure the baiting,
I pray ye, draw a conjurer's circle round me,
And keep without it.

Volante.
Well, sir, we'll oblige you.

(They make a circle, and dance round him.)
Rolando.
Untie me, ladies, and let me make one!

Volante.
Nay, we dare not trust you.

(They continue to dance. Rolando, after repeated struggles, disengages his right arm, with which he draws his sword, and cuts the ropes that bind him.)
Volante.
The bear is breaking his chain. 'T is time to run, then.

(The women run off; he extricates himself, and comes forward.)
Rolando solus.
Rolando.

So, they are gone! What a damnable
condition I am in! The devils that worried St.
Anthony were a tame set to these! My blood boils!
By all that 's mischievous, I'll carbonado the first
woman I meet! If I do not, why—I'll marry her.
—Here's one already!

Enter Zamora veiled.
Zamora.
I've kept my word, sir.

Rolando.
So much the worse! for I must keep my oath.—
Are you prepar'd to die?

Zamora.
Not by your hand.—
I hardly think, when you have seen my face,
You'll be my executioner.

Rolando.
Thy face!
What, you are handsome?—Don't depend on that.
Had you a skin like old and musty parchment,
A labyrinth of wrinkles, where a man
Might study mathematicks; eyes of lead,
Set like two bullets in a target; teeth
Like broken bottles on an old dead wall,
Serving, like them, to keep off trespassers;
And fewer hair son thy deserted head
Than straggle on thy chin—there were a hope!—
But if those rosy fingers, like Aurora's
Lifting the veil from day, should usher forth
Twin sparkling stars, to light men to their ruin;
Balm-breathing lips, to seal destruction on;
An alabaster forehead, hung with locks
That glitter like Hyperion's; and a cheek
Where the live crimson steals upon the white;—
You have no hope of mercy!

Zam.
(unveiling.)
Now, then, strike!

Rolando.
Eugenio?

Zamora.
Your poor boy, sir!

Rolando.
How, a woman?
A real woman!
What a dull ass have I been!—Nay, 't is so!

Zamora.
You see the sister of that scornful lady
Who with such fix'd disdain refus'd your love,
Which, like an arrow failing of its aim,
Glancing from her impenetrable heart,
Struck deep in mine: in a romantic hour,
Unknown to all, I left my father's house,
And follow'd you to the wars.—What has since happen'd
It better may become you to remember
Than me to utter.

Rolando.
I am caught at last!
Caught by a woman, excellently caught,
Hamper'd beyond redemption!—Why, thou witch!
That in a brace of minutes hast produc'd
A greater revolution in my soul
Than thy whole sex could compass! thou enchantress,
Prepare!—for I must kill thee certainly!—
(Throws away his sword.)
But it shall be with kindness.—My poor boy!
(They embrace.)
I'll marry thee to-night:—Yet have a care!—
For I shall love thee most unmercifully.

Zamora.
And as a wife should you grow weary of me,
I'll be your page again.

Rolando.
We'll to your father!

Zamora.
Alas! I fear I have offended him
Beyond the reach of pardon.

Rolando.
Think not so!
In the full flood of joy at your return
He'll drown his anger, and absolving tears
Shall warmly welcome his poor wanderer home.
What will they say to me?—Why, they may say,
And truly, that I made a silly vow,
But was not quite so foolish as to keep it.

[Exeunt.