ACT I.
The room in the inn.
Enter Don Fernando, and at another door his servant Fabio, both in riding-clothes.
The note?
He seem'd much satisfied, though much surpris'd,
With your arrival; and as soon as possibly
He can get ready, he'll be with you here.
He says he hopes some good occasion brings you
To Valencia, and that he shall not be
At quiet till he know it. 'Twas not fit
For me, without your orders, to give him
Any more light than what your ticket did.
Be stirring yet, for I would gladly have her
A witness, even at first, to what shall pass
Betwixt my friend and me in our concernments:
If she be still asleep, Fabio, make bold
To knock, and wake her; w' have no time to lose.
O, here she comes. Wait you Don Julio. [Exit Fabio.
Enter Donna Elvira.
Slumber and tears have sometimes met in dreams;
But hearts, with such a weight as mine opprest,
Find still the heaviest sleep too light a guest.
Who by their own unsteadiness have drawn
Misfortune on themselves, yet truly, Elvira,
Such is my sense of yours and my compassion,
To see a lady of your quality
Brought to such sad extremes in what is dearest,
As makes me even forget my own resentments,
Granting to pity the whole place of love;
And at that rate I'll serve you. Yet thus far
You must allow the eruption of a heart
So highly injur'd, as to tell you frankly,
'Tis to comply with my own principles
Of honour now, without the least relation
To former passion or to former favours.
Your sullen silence, during all our journey,
Might well have spar'd you these superfluous words;
That had sufficiently instructed me
What power mere appearances have had,
Without examination, to destroy
With an umbrageous nature all that love
Was ever able on the solid'st grounds
To found and to establish. Yet, methinks,
A man that boasts such principles of honour,
And of such force to sway him in his actions,
In spite of all resentments, should reflect,
That honour does oblige to a suspense,
At least of judgment, when surprising chances,
Yet uninquired into, tempt gallant men
To prejudicial thoughts of those with whom
They had settled friendship upon virtuous grounds.
But 'tis from Heav'n, I see, and not from you,
Elvira must expect her vindication;
And until then submit to th' hardest fate
That ever can befall a generous spirit—
Of being oblig'd by him that injures her.
[With a kind of scornful accent.
To make me trust my ears before my eyes.
To whose true testimony's false inference
You owe my moderation and my silence,
And that I leave it to the gods and time
To make appear both to the world and you
The maxim false, that still the worst proves true.
Enter Fabio.
And now, Elvira,
If you'll be pleas'd to rest yourself awhile
Within that closet, you may hear what passes
Betwixt my friend and me, until such time
As I by some discourse having prevented
Too great surprise, you shall think fit t' appear.
He is the man (as I have often told you
During my happy days) for whom alone
I have no reserves; and 'tis to his assistance
That I must owe the means of serving you
In the concernments of your safety and honour;
And therefore, madam, 'twill be no offence,
I hope, to trust him with the true occasion
That brings me hither to employ his friendship;
Observing that respect in the relation
Which I shall always pay you.
I am indifferent what others think,
Since those who ought t' have thought the best have fail'd me:
Sir, I obey, resign'd up to your conduct,
Till mistress of my own. [Exit.
Enter Don Julio: Don Fernando and he embrace.
So unexpectedly, as great as 'tis,
Cannot make Julio insensible
Of th' injury you have done him, t' have alighted,
And pass'd a night within Valencia
At any other place than at his house:
Donna Blanca herself will scarce forgive it,
When she shall know it.
But I must bid you expect a chiding from her.
Did not th' occasion of my coming hither
Bring with it an excuse, alas! too just,
As you will quickly find.
By telling me what 'tis. Of this be sure:
Heart, hand and fortune are entirely yours
At all essays.
Engaged in all the passion that e'er beauty,
In height of its perfection, could produce;
And that confirm'd by reason from her wit,
Her quality and most unblemish'd conduct;
Nor was there more to justify my love,
Than to persuade my happiness in her
Just correspondence to it, by all the ways
Of honourable admission, that might serve
To make esteem transcend the pitch of love.
But great participation in your joys:
Than which I thought nothing more permanent,
Since founded on such virtue as Elvira's.
That founds his bliss upon a woman's firmness!
Even that Elvira, when I thought myself
Securest in my happiness, nothing wanting
To make her mine, but those exterior forms,
Without which men of honour, that pretend
In way of marriage, would be loth to find
Greater concession, where the love is greatest;
As I was sitting with her, late at night,
By usual admittance to her chamber,
As two whose hearts in wedlock-bands were join'd,
And seem'd above all other care, but how
Best to disguise things to a wayward father,
Till time and art might compass his consent;
A sudden noise was heard in th' inner room,
Belonging to her chamber: she starts up
In manifest disorder, and runs in,
Desiring me to stay till she had seen
What caus'd it. I, impatient, follow,
As fearing for her, had it been her father:
My head no sooner was within the room,
But straight I spied, behind a curtain shrinking,
A goodly gallant, but not known to me.
I stay'd to ask his name. He ready as I
To make his sword th' expresser of his mind,
We soon determin'd what we sought: I hurt
But slightly in the arm; he fell as slain,
Run through the body: what Elvira did,
My rage allow'd me not to mark: but straight
I got away, more wounded to the heart
Than he I left for dead.
I sought by Fabio's diligence to learn
Who my slain rival was, and what became
Of my unhappy mistress, and what course
Don Pedro de Mendoça took to right
The honour of his house.
To know it then, than I do now.
Whom I thought dead, was likely to recover,
And that he was a stranger lately come
Up to the court, to follow some pretensions:
His name he either learn'd not perfectly,
Or did not well retain. As for Elvira,
That none knew where she was; and that Don Pedro
Had set a stop to prosecution
In any public way, with what reserves
Was not yet known.
I had but few days pass'd in my concealment
(Resentment and revenge still boiling in me)
When late one evening, as I buried was
In deepest thought, I suddenly was rous'd
By a surprising apparition, Julio—
Elvira in my chamber, speaking to me
With rare assurance thus:—Don Fernando,
I come not here to justify myself,
That were below Elvira towards one,
Whose action in deserting me hath shown
So disobligingly his rash judgment of me.
I come to mind you of honour, not of love:
Mine can protection seek from none but yours.
I've hitherto been shelter'd from the fury
Of my enrag'd father by my cousin Camilla:
But that's no place, you easily may judge,
For longer stay: I do expect from you
To be convey'd where, free from violence
And from new hazards of my wounded fame,
I may attend my righting from the gods.
Yet how to think her innocent, I know not.
Either of my wonder or reply: in short,
What I found honour dictated, I did.
Within two hours, I put her in a coach,
And, favour'd by the night, convey'd her safe
Out of Madrid to Ocana, and thence
In three days hither to Valencia,
The only place where (by your generous aid)
I could have hopes to settle and secure
Her person and her honour. That once done,
Farewell to Spain: I'll to the wars of Milan,
And there soon put a noble end to cares.
Since here you say she is; that done (which presses),
You will have time to weigh all other things.
Decent or safe for her, but in a convent,
If you have any abbess here to friend.
With whom I have full power; and she is wise,
In case that course were to be fix'd upon.
But that's not my opinion.
Your reason be?
Are not to be used, till easier have been tried.
Had this strange accident been thoroughly
Examined in all its circumstances,
And that from thence she were convicted guilty,
Nought else were to be thought on but a cloister;
But, as things stand imperfectly discover'd,
Although appearances condemn her strongly,
I cannot yet conclude a person guilty
Of what throughout so contradictory seems
To the whole tenor of her former life,
As well as to her quality and wit;
And therefore let's avoid precipitation,
Let my house be her shelter for awhile;
You know my sister Blanca is discreet,
And may be trusted; she shall there be serv'd
By her and me with care and secrecy.
And might prove hazardous to Blanca's honour,
When it should once break out (as needs it must)
From servants seeing such a guest so treated.
But, could Elvira's mind submit unto it,
I could propose a course without objection.
Hath newly left her service for a husband,
And it is known she means to take another:
I have a ready way to recommend one—
By Violante, of whose love and mine
You are not ignorant, since that ere this
We had been married, had not kindred forc'd us
To wait a dispensation for 't from Rome.
Blanca (I am sure) will readily
Embrace any occasion of obliging her.
Could but Elvira's spirit brook it.
Enter Elvira as from the closet.
Mistaken Don Fernando. Till Heaven's justice
Shall her entirely to herself restore,
The lowlier shape her fate shall hide her under,
The more 'twill fit her humour.
[Don Julio starts back as it were amazed.
And put on such assurance? It cannot be.
Don J. [Addressing himself to her, and beginning; she holding out her hand and interrupting him.] Madam——
Those may oblige both him and me; your words
Cannot comply with both.
Such majesty with misery combine,
But in this woman? [To her.] Madam, I obey,
And, since you're pleas'd t' approve what I proposed,
No moment shall be lost in th' execution.
[Exit Julio, Fernando accompanying him, and Fabio.
With womankind above all other creatures!
Our pleasure and our glory to have placed
All on the brink of precipices, such
As every breath can blow the least light of us
Headlong into, past all hopes of redemption:
Nor can our wit or virtue give exemption.
'Tis true, I lov'd; but justified therein
By spotless thoughts and by the object's merit,
I deem'd myself above the reach of malice;
When in an instant, by another's folly,
I am more lost than any by her[6] own.
Accurs'd Don Zancho, what occasion
E'er gave Elvira to thy mad intrusion?
Unless disdain and scorn incentives are
To make men's passions more irregular.
Ah, matchless rigour of the Pow'rs above!
Not only to submit our honour's fate
Unto the vanity of those we love,
But to the rashness even of those we hate. [Exit.
Enter Donna Blanca at one door, reading a paper, with great marks of passion and disturbance; and her waiting-woman Francisca at another, observing her.
Drawn out in length, and hind'ring thy return?
Thy fair pretence, thou shouldst have said, false man.
And so thou may'st persuade me to discover
My shame unto thee. Read, read that letter;
'Tis from your favourite Chichon.
[Francisca takes the letter and reads it.
"Madam, to make good my engagements of concealing nothing from you during this absence of my master, I am bound to tell you that some ten days since, late at night, he was left for dead, run through the body by another unknown gallant, in the chamber of a famed beauty of the court. Whilst the danger continued, I thought it not fit to let you know either the accident or the occasion; which, now he is recovered, and thinking of his return to Valencia, I must no longer forbear. I hope you will have a care not to undo me for being more faithful to you than to the master you gave me.—Your creature,
"Chichon."
And gaining servants to betray their masters.
How quiet might you have slept, and never felt
What pass'd with your Don Zancho at Madrid!
His pale and dismal looks at his return,
Though caus'd by loss of blood in the hot service
Of other dames, might fairly have been thought
Effects of care and want of sleep for you,
And (taken so) have pass'd for new endearments.
Who ever pry'd into another's letter,
Or slyly hearken'd to another's whisper,
But saw or heard somewhat that did not please him?
'Twas Eve's curiosity undid us all.
I'll make thee see, and false Don Zancho feel,
That Blanca's not a dame to be so treated.
But who are those I hear without? Whoe'er
They be, they come at an unwelcome hour. [Francisca looks out.
Ushering [in] a handsome maid.
Enter a Page with a letter, and Elvira. The Page presents the letter to Blanca; she addresses herself to Elvira, and she throws up her veil.
[Having read the letter.
But such a face as yours is needed none.
Page, tell your lady as much: and you, Silvia, [Turning.
(For so she says you are call'd) be confident
Y'are fallen into the hands of one that knows
How to be kind, more as your friend than mistress,
If your demeanour and good-nature answer
But what your looks do promise.
Of those you cast upon me, not mine own,
To which I must acknowledge any advantage
I ever can pretend to, more than what
Fair Violante's meditation gives me.
she speaks! [Aside to Francisca.
Set still the best foot forward.
Are always jealous of new-comers, young
And handsome.
To Violante, and then rest awhile,
In hopes to ease the headache that hath seiz'd me;
That done, sweet Silvia, we shall talk at leisure. [Exit Blanca.
To act the fellow waiting-woman right.
But, since the gods already have conform'd
My mind to my condition, I do hope
They'll teach me words and gestures suitable.
[Aside. Francisca embraces Elvira.
To be no niggard of a little kindness:
A very little serves, with such a face,
To gain what heart you please.
For the best office that it ever did me,
And love it much the better.
You must confirm it by the proof of being
My kind instructor how to please my lady,
For I am very raw in service.
I were so too, and had thy youth t' excuse it.
But my experience, sister, shall be yours
By free communication. Come, let's in,
And rest us in my chamber; there I'll give you
First handsel of the frankness of my nature.
[Exeunt Elvira and Francisca.
Enter Don Zancho and Chichon his man, in riding-habits.
Of sweet Valencia has e'en reviv'd my spirits.
There's no such pleasure as to suck and breathe
One's native air.
As you, of never breathing any more!
Methinks thou easily may'st.
Doth bear such dismal memorandums of it,
Apter to raise inquisitiveness in those
Knowing nothing of the matter, than t' allay
Remembrance in partakers.
No matter for the rest.
I'm sure you would not: faith, I long to hear
Th' ingenious defeats, I make account,
You are prepar'd to give to her suspicions.
Be sure that nothing be screw'd out of thee,
Neither by her nor by her sly Francisca.
They'll know no more to-day, than yesterday
They did; nor thence more to the world's end,
Than what they did before we left Madrid.
To get a sight of her this very night:
I die, if I should miss it.
And scarce reviv'd, when presently expiring
For Blanca's again! I did not think Don Cupid
Had been a merchant of such quick returns.
'Twixt love and love: that was a love of sport
To keep the serious one in breath.
That when I saw you grovelling in your blood,
I thought your love had been in sober sadness.
Gain the back way into my house unseen,
That none may know of my return, till Blanca
Find me at her feet. And be you industrious
T' observe Don Julio's going forth this evening:
Doubtless he'll keep his usual hours abroad
At Violante's, since not married yet.
Enter Don Julio, and knocks as at Blanca's door.
You must have patience to be wak'd out of it,
For I have news to tell you.
Enter Blanca.
Employ'd—in serving you; that is, making
My court to Violante by receiving
To wait upon me, in Lucilla's place,
A gentlewoman of her recommending.
She is too handsome. You think now I jest?
But, without raillery, she is so lovely,
That, were not Violante very assur'd
Of her own beauty and the strong ideas
That still upholds within you, one might question
Her wit to have set her in her gallant's way.
But what's the news you mean?
Is come to town, and going for Italy:
The secret of it doth so much import him,
It forc'd him to forbear alighting here,
And lodging with us, as he us'd to do;
But yet he says, nothing shall hinder him
From waiting on you in the dusk of th' evening:
I hope you'll find wherewith to regale[10] him.
Of late in presents to your mistress, some
Perfumes will yet be found, such as at Rome
Itself shall not disgrace Valencia.
Can be given you is to give you the occasion
Of presenting; but I am come in now
Only to advertise you, and must be gone;
Yet not, I hope, without a sight of one
So recommended and commended so.
Should you have gone away so uncuriously.
Francisca, ho! [She knocks.
Enter Francisca.
[Exit Francisca.
If she appears not t' ye exceeding handsome.
Enter Francisca with Elvira. Don Julio salutes her.
Where, whilst you take a servant's name upon you,
To do my sister honour, you must allow
Its master to be yours, and that by strongest ties,
Knowing who plac'd you here, and having eyes.
May merit such a happy introduction.
As now you are, I think you'll miss me little. [Exit Julio.
Than at this time, but not for any reason
That you, I hope, can guess at.
Francisca, you and Silvia may retire,
[Exeunt Elvira and Francisca.
And try to rest, or (rather) to vent freely
My restless thoughts. O, the self-torturing part [Aside.
To force complaisance from a jealous heart! [Exit.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] The errors Dodsley committed, and Reed allowed to remain, in the course of this play, were very numerous: it has been thought worth while to point out only a few of them in the notes.—Collier.
[6] The substitution of my for her, in opposition to the authority of the old copy, till now made this passage unintelligible.—Collier.
[7] In former editions misprinted—
"Away with thy formalities, dull creature!"—
which destroys all the spirit of the exclamation.—Collier.
[8] The old copy inserts in the margin opposite Elvira the words by the name of Silvia merely to show more distinctly that Elvira was to pass by that name, which is inserted before what she says.—Collier.
[9] The heat of the day, from noon forwards. So called from Hora Sexta, noonday, a time when the Spanish ladies retire to sleep.
[10] It is singular that in the old copy the author should here have inserted the Spanish verb regalar instead of the English one.—Collier.