SCENE III. The inside of the House.
Enter Clara, Julia, Antonio, Jacinta running to ‘em.
Jac. He has seen Don Carlos, and they have been in great discourse together, I cou’d not hear one word, but you’ll have it at both ears anon, I’ll warrant you. Ha, he’s coming.
Enter Francisco.
Cla. Heavens, he must not see you here. [To Ant.
Jac. Here, step into Clara’s Bed-chamber. [He goes in.
Fran. So the Plot’s at last discover’d,—he was a Cavalier of his Parole.
Jul. Who speak you of?
Fran. Only the Governor, the fine young Governor, I deliver’d him the message, told him my mind and the like.
Jul. So kind to visit us, and have you sent him away already?
Fran. Ah, Witch; already! why, have I any lodging for him?
Jul. But I am glad you brought him not in, I being so unready.
Fran. But you are always ready for him, my dear victorious Man-slayer.
Jul. What means he, sure he has a Gad-bee in his Brain.
Fran. Satan’s she Advocate—peace, I say;—so, you look as innocently now, as a little Devil of two years old, I’ll warrant;—come, come, look me full in the face—thus,—turn your nose just to mine—so—now tell me whose damnable Plot this was, to send your Gallant with his Eloquence, Querks and Conundrums, to tutor me into better manners?
Jul. Send him! I’ll answer no such idle questions.
Fran. He has taken a world of pains about your particular Chapter, and no doubt but he preach’d according to instructions;—what say you for your self, that Judgment may not pass?
Jul. I say you’re an old jealous Fool; have I seen Don Carlos, or heard from Don Carlos, or sent to Don Carlos? here’s a-do indeed.
Fran. What made you at the door against my positive commands,—the very Street-door,—in the night,—alone,—and undrest,—this is a matter of Fact, Gentlewoman; you hastened me away,—a plain case,—and presently, after Don Carlos comes to the door,—positive proof,—sees me and falls right down upon my Jealousy,—clear conviction,—’twas pity but I had follow’d his counsel, yes, when the Devil turns student in Divinity;—but no matter, I’ll see your back fairly turn’d upon this Town to morrow; I’ll marry my Daughter in the morning to Antonio, and a fair wind or not, we’ll home; the Gally lies ready in the Harbour— therefore prepare, pack up your tools, for you are no woman of this world.
Ant. How! marry me to morrow to his daughter;—and carry his Wife from my Friend; this misfortune must be prevented. [Aside peeping.
Fran. And so, Mistress, come your ways to your Chamber.
Jul. And study how to prevent this cruel separation. [Aside, goes out with him and Jacinta.
Cla. Ah, Antonio, I find by that sad look of yours, you have over-heard our hasty Doom.
Ant. I have, and am a little surpriz’d at the suddenness of it; and I my self am the unlucky occasion of it,—to break it off, I told my Father how scurvily Isabella treated me,—he thereupon sends for old Francisco, tells him of my complaint, and instead of disengaging my self, I find my self more undone.
Cla. What shall we do? I’m sure thou wilt not marry her, thou canst not do’t and hope to go to Heaven.
Ant. No, I have one prevention left, and if that fail, I’ll utterly refuse to marry her, a thing so vainly proud; no Laws of Nature or Religion, sure, can bind me to say yes; and for my Fortune, ‘tis my own, no Father can command it.
Cla. I know thou wilt be true, and I’ll not doubt it.
Enter Jacinta.
Jac. Ah! Madam, the saddest news—
Cla. Hah! what?
Jac. Poor Gentleman, I pity you of all things in the World,—you must be forc’d—how can I utter it,—to the most lamentable torment that ever Lover endur’d—to remain all night in your Mistress’s Chamber.
Ant. Alas, how shall I endure so great an Affliction?
Cla. And I.
Jac. Ha, ha, ha, how I am griev’d to think on it; ha, ha, ha, that you shou’d both be so hardly put to it; ha, ha, ha, for the old Gentleman has lock’d all the doors, and took the keys to bed to him,—go, get you in,—ha, ha, ha.—
Ant. Oh, my dear Clara, this is a blessing I could not hope.
Cla. So large a Freedom shall my Virtue prove, I’ll trust my Honour with Antonio’s Love.
[They go in.
[Ex. Jacinta laughing.
ACT III.
SCENE I. Don Carlos’ house.
Enter Don Carlos in his Night-gown, Antonio, and Guzman with Clothes.
Car. All night with Clara say’st thou? that was lucky; But was she kind, my friend?
Ant. As I desir’d, or Honour wou’d permit her; Nor wou’d I press her farther.
Car. A very moderate Lover.
Ant. For some part of my Virtue, Sir, I owe to you; in midst of all my Love, even in the kindest moments of Delight, my Joys were broken by concern for you.—Julia this day, or very suddenly, leaves Cadiz.
Car. By Heaven, and so will Carlos then; for I’m so resolutely bent to possess that dear Creature, That I will do’t with hazard of my Life, Expence of Fortune, or what’s dear to me.
Guz. And how wou’d you reward that politick head, that shou’d contrive the means to bring this handsomly about; not for an a hour, or a night, but even as long as you please, with freedom; without the danger of venturing your honourable neck, in showing Feats of Activity three stories high, with a Dagger in one hand, and a Pistol in t’other, like a Ropedancer?
Car. But how? Thou talkest of Impossibilities.
Ant. Dost think she’ll e’er consent to quit her Husband?
Guz. No, Heaven forbid, I am too good a Christian to part Man and Wife; but being naturally inclined to works of Charity, I will with one project I have in this noddle of mine,—make old Francisco a Cuckold, accommodate my Lord and Julia, serve you, Sir,—and give our selves a good Scene of Mirth.
Car. Thou amazest me.
Guz. If I do’t not, send me to the Galleys; nay, and so far cure the Jealousy of the old Fellow, that from a rigid suspicious troublesom Fool, he shall become so tame and gentle a Husband,—that he shall desire you to favour him so much as to lie with his dear Wife.
Car. By what strange Witchcraft shall this be brought to pass?
Guz. E’en honest Invention, Sir, good Faith, listen and believe:—When he goes, he certainly goes by Sea, to save the charges of Mules.
Ant. Right, I heard him say so; in the Galley that lies in the Port.
Guz. Good, there is a Galley also, in the Harbour, you lately took from the Turks; Habits too were taken in her enough to furnish out some forty or fifty as convenient Turks as a man wou’d wish at the Devil.
Car. Ah, Rogue, I begin to apprehend already.
Guz. Our Turkish Galley thus man’d, I’ll put to Sea, and about a League from Land, with a sham-fight set on that of Old Francisco, take it, make ‘em all Slaves, clap the Old Fellow under hatches, and then you may deal with the fair Slave his Wife, as Adam did with Eve.
Car. I’m ravish’d with the thought.
Ant. But what will be the event of this?
Car. I will not look so far, but stop at the dear Joys, and fear no Fate beyond ‘em.
Guz. Nay, with a little cudgelling this dull Brain of mine I shall advance it farther for the Jest-sake;—as I take it, Signior Don Antonio, you have a fine Villa, within a Bow-shot of this City belonging to your self.
Ant. I have with pleasant Gardens, Grotto’s, Waterworks.—
Car. A most admirable Scene for Love and our Designs.
Ant. ‘Tis yours, Sir.
Guz. Then, Sir, when we have taken this old Fool, on whom the grossest cheat wou’d pass, much more this, which shall carry so seeming a Truth in’t, he being clapt under hatches in the Dark, we’ll wind round a League or two at Sea, turn in, and land at this Garden, Sir, of yours, which we’ll pretend to be a Seraglio, belonging to the Grand Seignior; whither, in this hot part o’th’ year, he goes to regale himself with his She-Slaves.
Car. But the distance of Place and Time allow not such a Fallacy.
Guz. Why he never read in’s life; knows neither Longitude nor Latitude, and Constantinople may be in the midst of Spain for any thing he knows; besides, his Fear will give him little leisure for thinking.
Ant. But how shall we do with the Seamen of this other Gally?
Guz. There’s not above a Dozen, besides the Slaves that are chain’d to the Oar, and those Dozen, a Pistole apiece wou’d not only make ‘em assist in the design, but betray it in earnest to the Grand Seignior; —for them I’ll undertake, the Master of it being Pier de Sala, your Father’s old Servant, Sir. [To Carlos.
Ant. But possibly his mind may alter upon the Arrival of this False Count of ours?
Car. No matter, make sure of those Seamen however; that they may be ready upon occasion.
Ant. ‘Tis high time for me that your Count were arriv’d, for this morning is destin’d the last of my Liberty.
Car. This Morning—Come, haste and dress me— [To Guz.]—Guzman, where’s our Count?
Enter Guiliom drest fine, two great Pages
and a little one following.
Guz. Coming to give you the good morrow, Sir; And shew you how well he looks the Part.
Car. Good day to your Lordship— [Bowing.
Guil. Morrow, morrow, Friend.
Ant. My Lord, your most humble Servant.
Guil. Thank you, Friend, thank you; Page, Boy—what’s a-Clock, Sirrah?
Page. About Eight, my Lord.
Ant. Your Lordship’s early up.
Guil. My Stomach was up before me, Friend; and I’m damnably hungry; ’.is strange how a man’s Appetite increases with his Greatness; I’ll swinge it away now I’m a Lord,—then I will wench without Mercy; I’m resolv’d to spare neither Man, Woman, nor Child, not I; hey, Rogues, Rascals, Boys, my Breakfast, quickly, Dogs—let me see, what shall I have now that’s rare?
Page. What will your Honour please to have?
Guil. A small rasher of delicate Bacon, Sirrah—of about a Pound, or two, with a small Morsel of Bread—round the Loaf, d’ye hear, quickly, Slaves.
Ant. That’s gross meat, Sir, a pair of Quails—or—
Guil. I thank you for that, i’faith, take your Don again, an you please, I’ll not be starv’d for ne’er a Don in Christendom.
Ant. But you must study to refine your Manners a little.
Guil. Manners! you shall pardon me for that; as if a Lord had not more privilege to be more saucy, more rude, impertinent, slovenly and foolish than the rest of his Neighbours, or Mankind.
Car. Ay, ay, ‘tis great.
Guil. Your saucy Rudeness, in a Grandee, is Freedom; your Impertinence, Wit; your Sloven, careless; and your Fool, good natur’d; as least they shall pass so in me, I’ll warrant ye.
Car. Well, you have your full Instructions; your Baggage, Bills and Letters, from Octavio the Sevilian Merchant.
Guz. All, all, Sir, are ready, and his Lordship’s breakfast waits.
Car. Which ended, we advance,
Just when Aurora rose from _Thetis’. Bed,
Where he had wantoned a short Summer’s night,
Harness’d his bright hoov’d Horses to begin
His gilded course above the Firmament,
Out sallied Don Gulielmo Rodorigo de Chimney Sweperio, and so forth.
Gad, this adventure of ours will be worthy to be sung in Heroick Rhime
Doggerel, before we have finisht it; Come—
[Goes out.
Guil. Hey, Rogues, Rascals, Boys, follow me just behind.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. Francisco’s house.
Enter Clara and Jacinta.
Jac. Nay, I knew he would be civil, Madam, or I would have borne you Company; but neither my Mistress nor I, cou’d sleep one wink all Night, for fear of a Discovery in the Morning; and to save the poor Gentleman a tumbling Cast from the Window, my Mistress, just at day-break, feigned her self wondrous sick,—I was called, desired to go to Signior Spadilio’s the Apothecary’s, at the next Door, for a Cordial; and so he slipt out;—but the Story of this false Count pleases me extremely, and, if it should take, Lord, what mirth we shall have. Ha, ha, ha, I can’t forbear with the thoughts on’t.
Cla. And to see the Governor his Man?
Jac. Ah, what a Jest that would be too—Ha, ha, ha! but here comes Isabella; let’s puff up her Pride with Flatteries on her Beauty.
Enter Isabella looking in a Glass, and seeing her Face.
Isa. Ah, Heavens, those Eyes—that Look,—that pretty Leer,—that my Father shou’d be so doating an old Fool to think these Beauties fit for a little Merchandize; a Marchioness wou’d so much better become me. [Looks again. —Ah, what a Smile’s there—and then that scornful Look—’tis great— Heavens, who’s here? [Sees them.
Cla. Only those Friends that wish you better Fortune than this day promises.
Jac. Look on that Face; are there not Lines that foretel a world of Greatness, and promise much Honour?
Cla. Her Face, her Shape, her Mein, her every part declares her Lady—or something more.
Isa. Why, so, and yet this little Creature of a Father, ridiculously and unambitious, would spoil this Lady, to make up a simple Citizen’s Wife—in good time.
Jac. That very look had some presaging Grandeur.
Isa. Do you think so, Jacinta? Ha, ha, ha.
Jac. That Laugh again, oh Heavens, how it charms!
Cla. And how graceful ‘tis!
Jac. Ah, nothing but a great gilt Coach will become it.
Cla. With six Spanish Mares.—
Jac. And embroidered Trappings.
Cla. With four Lackeys.
Jac. And a Page at the tail on’t.
Cla. She’s evidently design’d for a Person of Quality.
Isa. Besides I have so natural an Inclination for a Don, that if my Father do force me to marry this small Creature of a Merchant, I shall make an Intrigue with some body of Quality.
Cla. Cou’d you but manage it well, and keep it from Antonio.
Isa. Keep it from Antonio,—is it think you for a little silly Cit, to complain when a Don does him the Honour to visit his Lady? Marry, that were pretty.
Enter Francisco, and Lopez.
Fran. How, a Count to speak with me! with me, I say,—here at Cadiz.
Lop. A Count, Sir, and to speak with you.
Fran. Art sure ‘tis not the Governor?—I’ll go lock up my Wife.
Lop. Governor, Sir! No, no, ‘tis a mere Stranger, Sir, a rare Count whom I never saw all days of my life before.
Fran. And with me wou’d he speak? I hope he comes not to my Wife.
Enter Julia.
Jul. Oh Husband, the delicatest fine Person of Quality, just alighted at the Door, Husband.
Fran. What, have you seen him then? the Devil’s in these Women, and there be but a Loop-hole to peep out of they’ll spy a man,—I’m resolved to see this thing,—go, retire, you Women, here’s Men coming up.
Isa. And will Men eat us?
Fran. No, but they may do worse, they may look on ye, and Looking breeds Liking; and Liking, Love; and Love a damn’d thing, call’d Desire; and Desire begets the Devil and all of Mischief to young Wenches—Get ye gone in, I say—here’s a Lord coming—and Lords are plaguy things to Women.
Isa. How, a Lord! oh, heavens! Jacinta, my Fan, and set my Hair in order, oh, the Gods! I would not but see a Lord for all the World! how my Heart beats already—keep your Distance behind, Jacinta,—bless me, how I tremble—a little farther, Jacinta.
Fran. Come, come, Huswife, you shall be married anon, and then let your Husband have the plague of you—but for my Gentlewoman,—Oh Lord —they’re here.
Enter Guiliom, Carlos, and Pages, &c.
Gull. How now, Fellow, where’s this old Don Francisco?
Fran. I’m the Person, Sir.
Isa. Heavens, what an Air he has!
Guil. Art thou he? Old Lad, how dost thou do? Hah!
Fran. I don’t know.
Guil. Thou knowest me not it seems, old Fellow, hah!
Fran. Know you—no, nor desire to do,—on what acquaintance, pray?
Guil. By Instinct; such as you ought to know a Person of Quality, and pay your Civilities naturally; in France, where I have travel’d, so much good manners is used, your Citizen pulls off his hat, thus—to every Horse of Quality, and every Coach of Quality; and do you pay my proper Person no more respect, hah!
Isa. What a Dishonour’s this to me, to have so dull a Father, that needs to be instructed in his Duty.
Guil. But, Sir, to open the eyes of your understanding—here’s a Letter to you, from your Correspondent a Merchant of Sevil.
[Gives him a dirty Letter which he wipes on his Cloke and reads, and begins to pull off his hat, and reading on bows lower and lower till he have finisht it.
Fran. Cry Mercy, my Lord,—and yet I wou’d he were a thousand Leagues off.
Guil. I have Bills of Exchange too, directed to thee, old Fellow, at Sevil; but finding thee not there, and I (as most Persons of my Quality are) being something idle, and never out of my way, came to this Town, to seek thee, Fellow—being recommended as thou seest here, old Vermin—here— [Gives him Bills.
Isa. Ah, what a graceful Mein he has! how fine his Conversation! ah, the difference between him and a filthy Citizen!
Jul.—Clara has told me all.— [Jac. whispering to Jul.
Car. That’s she in the middle; stand looking on her languishingly, —your head a little on one side,—so,—fold your Arms,—good,—now and then heave your breast with a sigh,—most excellent.— [He groans.
Fran. Bills for so many thousands.
Jac. He has you in his eye already.
Isa. Ah, Jacinta, thou flatterest me.
Jac. Return him some kind looks in pity. [She sets her Eyes, and bows, &c.
Car. That other’s my Mistress,—couldst thou but keep this old Fellow in discourse whilst I give her the sign to retire a little.—
Guil. I’ll warrant you I’ll banter him till you have cuckolded him, if you manage matters as well as I.
Fran. My Lord, I ask your pardon for my rudeness in not knowing you before, which I ought to have done in good manners I confess; who the Devil does he stare at so?—Wife, I command you to withdraw, upon pain of our high displeasure.—my Lord, I shall dispatch your affairs,—he minds me not,—Ay, ‘tis my Wife, I say, Minion, be gone,—your Bills, my Lord, are good, and I accept ‘em;—why a Devil he minds me not yet, [Julia goes to t’other side to Carlos.]—and though I am not at my proper home,—I am where I can command Money,—hum,—sure ‘tis my Daughter,—Ay, ay,—’tis so, how if he should be smitten now; the plaguy Jade had sure the Spirit of Prophecy in her; ‘tis so—’tis she—my Lord.
Guil. Prithee, old Fellow, Peace,—I am in love.
Fran. In love,—what, shall I be the Father of a Lord? wou’d it become me, think ye?—he’s mighty full of Cogitabund—my Lord,—sure his Soul has left the Tenement of his Body—I have his Bills here, and care not if it never return more. [Looks over the Bills.
Car. Dear Julia, let’s retire, our time’s but short.
Jul. I dare not with you, the venture wou’d be too bold in a young beginner in the Thefts of Love.
Guil. Her Eyes are Suns, by Jove.
Car. Oh, nothing is so ventrous as Love, if it be true.
Guil. Or else, two Morning Stars, All other Beauties are but Soot to her.
Jul. But shou’d my Husband—
Car. He’s safe for one dear half hour, I’ll warrant you, come.
Fran. Um—my Wife here still, must I begin to thunder.
Jul. Lord, and you be so froward, I’ll be gone.—
Car. So, her Husband, kind heart, lest she should be cruel, has himself given me the dear opportunity.—[Aside.—Be sure you keep the old Fellow in discourse awhile.
Guil. Be you as sure to cuckold him.— [Ex. Car. and Jul. —Old Fellow,—prithee what Person of Quality is that?
Fran. Person of Quality! alas, my Lord, ‘tis a silly Citizen’s Daughter.
Guil. A Citizen’s! what clod of Earth cou’d bring forth such a Beauty?
Fran. Alas, my Lord, I am that clod of Earth, and to Earth, if you call it so, she must return again, for she’s to be married to a Citizen this Morning.
Guil. Oh! I am doubly wounded, first with her harmonious Eyes, Who’ve fir’d my Heart to that Degree, No Chimney ever burnt like me. Fair Lady,—suffer the Broom of my Affection to sweep all other Lovers from your heart.
Isa. Ah, my Lord, name it not, I’m this day to be married.
Guil. To day! name me the Man; Man did I say? the Monster, that dares lay claim to her I deign to love,—none answer me,—I’ll make him smoak, by Vulcan—and all the rest of the Goddesses.
Fran. Bless me, what a furious thing this Love is?
Guil. By this bright Sword, that is so used to slaughter, he dies; [Draws.] old Fellow, say—the Poltroon’s name.
Fran. Oh, fearful—alas, dread Sir!
Isa. Ah! sheath your Sword, and calm your generous Rage.
Guil. I cannot brook a Rival in my Love, the rustling Pole of my Affection is too strong to be resisted. Runs raging up and down the Stage with his Sword in his hand.
Isa. I cannot think, my Lord, so mean a Beauty can so suddenly charm a Heart so great as yours.
Guil. Oh! you’re mistaken, as soon as I cast my eyes upon the Full-moon of your Countenance, I was struck blind and dumb.
Fran. Ay, and deaf too, I’ll be sworn, he cou’d neither hear, see nor understand; this Love’s a miraculous thing.
Guil. And that Minute, the most renoun’d Don Gulielmo Roderigo de Chimeny Sweperio, became your Gally-Slave,—I say no more, but that I do love,—and I will love,—and that if you are but half so willing as I, I will dub you, Viscountess de Chimeny Sweperio.
Isa. I am in Heaven, ah! I die, Jacinta. How can I credit this, that am so much unworthy?
Guil. I’ll do’t, say no more, I’ll do’t.
Fran. Do’t, but, my Lord, and with what face can I put off Signior Antonio, hum.
Guil. Antonio,—hy, Pages, give order that Antonio be instantly run through the Lungs—d’ye hear?
Fran. Oh, hold, hold, my Lord! run through the Lungs!
Page. It shall be done, my Lord! but what Antonio?
Guil. Why, any Antonio; all the Antonio’s that you find in Cadiz.
Fran. Oh, what bloody-minded Monsters these Lords are!—But, my Lord, I’ll ne’er give you the trouble of killing him, I’ll put him off with a handsom Compliment; as thus,—Why, look ye, Friend Antonio, the business is this, my Daughter Isabella may marry a Lord, and you may go fiddle.—
Guil. Ay, that’s civil,—and if he do not desist, I’ll unpeople Spain but I’ll kill him; for, Madam, I’ll tell you what happened to me in the Court of France—there was a Lady in the Court in love with me,—she took a liking to my Person which—I think,—you will confess—
Isa. To be the most accomplisht in the World.
Guil. I had some sixscore Rivals, they all took Snuff; that is, were angry—at which I smiled;—they were incensed; at which I laught, ha, ha, ha,—i’faith; they rag’d, I—when I met ‘em,—Cockt, thus—en passant—justled ‘em—thus,—[Overthrows Fran.] They turn’d and frown’d,—thus,—I drew.—
Fran. What, on all the sixscore, my Lord?
Guil. All, all; sa, sa, quoth I, sa, sa, sa, sa, sa, sa. [Fences him round the Stage.
Fran. Hold, hold, my Lord, I am none of the sixscore.
Guil. And run ‘em all through the Body!
Fran. Oh Heavens! and kill’d ‘em all.
Guil. Not a Man,—only run ‘em through the body a little, that’s all, my two Boys were by, my Pages here.
Isa. Is it the fashion, Sir, to be attended by Pages so big?
Guil. Pages of Honour always;—these were stinted at nurse, or they had been good proper Fellows.
Fran. I am so frighted with this relation, that I must up to my Wife’s Chamber for a little of that strong Cordial that recovered her this morning. [Going out Guil. stays him.
Guil. Why, I’ll tell you, Sir, what an odd sort of a Wound I received in a Duel the other day,—nay, Ladies, I’ll shew it you; in a very odd place—in my back parts. [Goes to untuck his Breeches, the Ladies squeak.
Isa. Ah.
Page. Shew a Wound behind, Sir! the Ladies will think you are a Coward.
Guil. Peace, Child, peace, the Ladies understand Dueling as little as my self; but, since you are so tender-hearted, Ladies, I’ll not shew you my wound; but faith, it spoiled my dancing.
Page comes in.
Page. My Lord, now you talk of dancing, here’s your Baggage brought from a-board the Gally by your Seamen, who us’d to entertain you with their rustick Sports.
Guil. Very well; Sir, with your permission, I am resolved whether you will or no, to give the Ladies some divertisement,—bid ‘em come in; nay, Sir, you stir not. [Ex. Page. ’.is for your delight, Sir, I do’t; for, Sir, you must understand, a Man, if he have any thing in him, Sir, of Honour, for the case, Sir, lies thus, ‘tis not the business of an Army to droll upon an Enemy—truth is, every man loves a whole skin;—but ‘twas the fault of the best Statesmen in Christendom to be loose in the hilts,—you conceive me.
Fran. Very well, my Lord, I’ll swear he’s a rare spoken man;—why, what a Son-in-law shall I have? I have a little business, my Lord, but I’ll wait on you presently. [Going out.
Guil. Sir, there is nothing like your true jest; a thing once well done, is twice done, and I am the happiest Man in the World in your Alliance; for, Sir, a Nobleman if he have any tolerable parts,—is a thing much above the Vulgar;—oh,—here comes the Dancers.
Enter Dancers.
Come, sit down by me.
Fran. ‘Tis my duty to stand, my Lord.
Guil. Nay, you shall sit.
[They dance.
Enter Antonio.
Ant. Good day, Sir, I hope you will not chide my tardiness, I have a little overslept my self, and am ashamed to see my lovely Bride, and all this worthy Company attend. —But you, fair Creature— [To Isabella.
Isa. No marrying to day, Sir.
Fran. No, Sir, no marrying to day.
Ant. How, do I dream, or hear this from Francisco?
Guil. How now, Fellow, what art thou?
Ant. The Husband of that proud disdainful Woman.
Guil. Another word like that—and thou art—
Ant. What, Sir?
Fran. Oh, hold, hold, my Lord! Antonio, I must tell you, you’re uncivil.
Guil. Dost know, dull Mortal, that I am a Lord, And Isabella my adopted Lady.
Ant. I beg your pardon, Sir, if it be so, poor Mortals can but grieve in silence.
Guil. Alas, poor Mortal!
Ant. But, for you, Francisco.
Fran. Ah, dear Antonio, I vow and swear I cannot chuse but weep to lose thee; but my Daughter was born for a Lady, and none can help their destiny.
Ant. And is it possible thou canst use me thus? [To Isa.
Isa. Take away that little Fellow; in pity of your life, I deign to bid you withdraw and be safe.
Guil. D’ye hear, hah?—this Lady has beg’d your life.
Ant. Beg’d my Life!
Guil. Vile Wretch, dar’st thou retort? [Draws, the Women hold him.
Fran. Oh, hold, hold, my noble Son-in-law, he shall do any thing;— dear Antonio, consider, I was never Father to a Lord all days of my Life before:—my Lord, be pacified, my Daughter shall be a Lady.
Isa. For my sake spare him, and be Friends with him, as far as you may deign to be with a little Citizen.
Guil. Fellow, I forgive thee,—here’s my hand to kiss in sign and token I am appeased. [Gives him his hand to kiss, ‘tis all black.
Ant. A Pox of his honourable hand, ‘t had like to have spoiled all, —well, since it must be so, I am content.
Guil. So, now Peace is concluded on, on all sides, what shall we do to day besides eating and drinking in abundance; for to morrow I shall get my self in order for my Marriage.
Cla. What thinks your Honour of taking the Air upon the Sea, in a Galley, a League or two?
Guil. With Fiddles, Drums and Trumpets, Westphalia hams and Pidgeons, and the like: Hey, Rogues, Scoundrels, Dogs.
Isa. Ah, how fine is every Action of a great Man!
Guil. Command a Galley to attend us presently. —You shall along, old Boy. [To Fran.
Fran. Alas, I must stay at home with my Wife, my Lord.
Guil. A Wife! have I a Mother-in-law too?—she must along with us, and take a frisk,—no denial.
Enter Carlos.
—Oh, are you come? [Aside.
Car. Yes, and thank thee for the best moment of my Life—Hast thou contrived the Voyage then?
Guil. Take no care—come, haste on board—our Honour will not lose the Fresco of the Morning,—Follow me, Pages.
Page. At your heels, my Lord—
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Enter, as aboard the Ship, Guiliom, Isabella, Francisco, Julia,
Antonio, Clara, Jacinta, Pedro and his Wife, Pages.
Guil. Ladies and Gentlemen, you are very welcome aboard—Come, put off to Sea, Rogues, Scoundrels, Tarpaulins, to your Business, and then, every man his Bottle,—hey, Page, Rogues, where are my Men? Come, spread the Table—for we are very hungry.
Isa. Heav’ns, what a peculiar Grace there is in every word that comes from the Mouth of a Cavalier.
Guil. By Mars, the God of Love!
Page. By Cupid, Sir. [Aside to him.
Guil. Cupid, Sirrah! I say, I’ll have it Mars, there’s more Thunder in the Sound: I say, by Mars, these Gallies are pretty neat convenient Tenements—but a—I see ne’er a Chimney in ‘em:—Pox on’t, what have I to do with a Chimney now?
Isa. He is a delicate fine Person, Jacinta; but, methinks he does not make Love enough to me.
Jac. Oh, Madam, Persons of his Quality never make Love in Words, the greatness of their Actions show their Passion.
Jac. Ay, ‘tis true all the little Fellows talk of Love.
Guil. Come, Ladies, set; Come, Isabella, you are melancholy,—Page —Fill my Lady a Beer-glass.
Isa. Ah, Heav’ns, a Beer-glass.
Guil. O, your Viscountess never drinks under your Beer-glass, your Citizens Wives simper and sip, and will be drunk without doing Credit to the Treater; but in their Closets, they swinge it away, whole Slashes, i’faith, and egad, when a Woman drinks by her self, Glasses come thick about: your Gentlewoman, or your little Lady, drinks half way, and thinks in point of good manners, she must leave some at the bottom; but your true bred Woman of Honour drinks all, Supernaculum, by Jove.
Isa. What a misfortune it was, that I should not know this before, but shou’d discover my want of so necessary a piece of Grandeur.
Jac. And nothing, but being fuddled, will redeem her Credit.
Guil. Come—fall to, old Boy,—thou art not merry; what, have we none that can give us a Song?
Ant. Oh Sir, we have an Artist aboard I’ll assure you; Signior Cashier, shall I beg the favour of you to shew your Skill?
Pet. Sir, my Wife and I’m at your service.
Guil. Friend, what Language can you sing?
Pet. Oh, Sir, your Singers speak all Languages.
Guil. Say’st thou so, prithee then let’s have a touch of Heathen Greek.
Pet. That you shall, Sir, Sol la me fa sol, &c.
Fran. Hum, I think this is indeed Heathen Greek, I’m sure ‘tis so to me.
Guil. Ay, that may be, but I understand every word on’t.
Fran. Good lack, these Lords are very learned Men.
Pet. Now, Sir, you shall hear one of another Language from my Wife and I. [Sing a Dialogue in French.
Enter the Captain.
Capt. Well, Gentlemen, though the news be something unpleasant that I bring, yet to noble minds ‘tis sport and pastime.
Guil. Hah, Fellow! What’s that that’s sport and pastime to noble minds.
Fran. Oh Lord, no goodness, I’ll warrant.
Capt. But, Gentlemen, pluck up your Spirits, be bold and resolute.
Fran. Oh Lord, bold and resolute! why, what’s the matter, Captain?
Capt. You are old, Signior, and we expect no good from you but Prayers to Heaven?
Fran. Oh Lord, Prayers to Heaven! Why, I hope, Captain, we have no need to think of Heaven.
Capt. At your own Peril be it then, Signior, for the Turks are coming upon us.
Fran. Oh Lord, Turks, Turks!
[Ex. Cap.
Guil. Turks, oh, is that all? [Falls to eating.
Fran. All—why, they’ll make Eunuchs of us, my Lord, Eunuchs of us poor men, and lie with all our Wives.
Guil. Shaw, that’s nothing, ‘tis good for the Voice.—how sweetly we shall sing, ta, la, ta la la, ta la, &c.
Fran. Ay, ‘twill make you sing another note, I’ll warrant you.
Enter a Seaman.
Sea. For Heaven’s sake, Sirs, do not stand idle here; Gentlemen, if you wou’d save your lives,—draw and defend ‘em. [Exit.
Fran. Draw! I never drew any thing in my Life, but my Purse, and that most damnably against my will; oh, what shall I do?
Enter Captain.
Capt. Ah, my Lord, they bear up briskly to us, with a fresh Gale and full Sails.
Fran. Oh, dear Captain, let us tack about and go home again.
Capt. ‘Tis impossible to scape, we must fight it out.
Fran. Fight it out! oh, I’m not able to indure it,—why, what the Devil made me a ship-board?
[Ex. Cap.
Guil. Why, where be these Turks? set me to ‘em, I’ll make ‘em smoke, Dogs, to dare attack a man of Quality.
Isa. Oh, the Insolence of these Turks! do they know who’s aboard? for Heaven’s sake, my Lord, do not expose your noble Person.
Guil. What, not fight?—Not fight! A Lord, and not fight? Shall I submit to Fetters, and see my Mistress ravish’d by any great Turk in Christendom, and not fight?
Isa. I’d rather be ravish’d a thousand times, than you should venture your Person.
[Seamen shout within.
Fran. Ay, I dare swear.
Enter Seaman.
Sea. Ah, Sirs, what mean you? Come on the Deck for shame.
Ant. My Lord, let us not tamely fall, there’s danger near. [Draws.
Guil. Ay, ay, there’s never smoke, but there’s some fire—Come, let’s away—ta la, tan ta la, la la, &c. [Draws.
[Exit singing, and Antonio and Pet.
Fran. A Pox of all Lords, I say, you must be janting in the Devil’s name, and God’s dry Ground wou’d not serve your turn. [Shout here. Oh, how they thunder! What shall I do?—oh, for some Auger-hole to thrust my head into, for I could never indure the noise of Cannons,—oh, ’.is insupportable,—intolerable—and not to be indur’d. [Running as mad about the Stage.
Isa. Dear Father, be not so frighted. [Weeps.
Fran. Ah, Crocodile, wou’d thou hadst wept thy Eyes out long ago, that thou hadst never seen this Count; then he had never lov’d thee, and then we had never been invited a ship-board. [A noise of fighting.
Enter Guiliom, Pet. and Antonio, driven in fighting by Guzman and other Turks.
Ant. Ah, Sir, the Turks have boarded us, we’re lost, we’re lost.
Fran. Oh, I am slain, I’m slain. [Falls down.
Guil. Hold, hold, I say, you are now in the presence of Ladies, and ’.is uncivil to fight before Ladies.
Guz. Yield then, you are our Slaves.
Guil. Slaves, no Sir, we’re Slaves to none but the Ladies. [Offers to fight.
Isa. Oh, hold, rude man,—d’ye know whom you encounter?
Guz. What’s here—one dead— [Looking on Francisco.
Fran. Oh, Lord!
Guz. Or, if he be not, he’s old, and past service, we’ll kill the Christian Dog out of the way.
Fran. Oh, hold, hold, I’m no Christian, Gentlemen; but as errant a Heathen as your selves.
Guz. Bind him strait, neck and heels, and clap him under hatches.
Jul. Oh, spare him, Sir, look on his Reverend Age.
Guz. For your sake, Lady, much may be done, we’ve need of handsom Women. [Gives her to some Turks that are by.
Fran. Hah,—my Wife! My Wife ravish’d—oh, I’m dead.
Jul. Fear not, my dear, I’ll rather die than do thee wrong.
Fran. Wou’d she wou’d, quickly,—then there’s her Honour sav’d, and her Ransom, which is better.
Guz. Down with the muttering Dog; [He descends. —And takes the Ladies to several Cabins. [The Turks take hold of the Men.
Isa. Must we be parted then?—ah, cruel Destiny! [Weeps.
Guil. Alas! this Separation’s worse than Death.
Isa. You possibly may see some Turkish Ladies, that may insnare your Heart, and make you faithless;—but I, ah Heavens! if ever I change my Love, may I become deformed, and lose all hopes of Title or of Grandure.
Guil. But should the Grand Seignior behold thy Beauty, thou wou’dst despise thine own dear hony Viscount to be a Sultana.
Isa. A Sultana, what’s that?
Guil. Why, ‘tis the great Turk, a Queen of Turkey.
Isa. These dear expressions go to my Heart. [Weeps. And yet a Sultana is a tempting thing— [Aside smiling. —And you shall find your Isabella true,—though the Grand Seignior wou’d lay his Crown at my feet,—wou’d he wou’d try me though—Heavens! to be Queen of Turkey. [Aside.
Guil. May I believe thee,—but when thou seest the difference, alas, I am but a Chimney—hum, nothing to a great Turk.
Isa. Is he so rare a thing?—Oh, that I were a she great Turk.
[Aside.
Guz. Come, come, we can’t attend your amorous Parleys. [Parts ‘em.
Jul. Alas, what shall we poor Women do?
[Ex. Men.
Isa. We must e’en have patience, Madam, and be ravisht.
Cla. Ravisht! Heavens forbid.
Jac. An please the Lord, I’ll let my nails grow against that direful day.
Isa. And so will I, for I’m resolv’d none should ravish me but the great Turk.
Guz. Come, Ladies, you are Dishes to be serv’d up to the board of the Grand Seignior.
Isa. Why, will he eat us all?
Guz. A slice of each, perhaps, as he finds his Appetite inclin’d.
Isa. A slice, uncivil Fellow,—as if this Beauty were for a bit and away;—Sir, a word,—if you will do me the favour, to recommend me to be first served up to the Grand Seignior, I shall remember the Civility when I am great.
Guz. Lady, he is his own Carver, a good word by the bye, or so, will do well, and I am—a Favorite—
Isa. Are you so? here, take this Jewel,—in earnest of greater Favours— [Gives him a Jewel.
[Exeunt all.
SCENE II. A Garden.
Enter Don Carlos and Lopez.
Car. But, why so near the Land? by Heaven, I saw each action of the Fight, from yonder grove of Jessamine; and doubtless all beheld it from the Town.
Lop. The Captain, Sir, design’d it so, and at the Harbour gave it out those two Galleys were purposely prepared to entertain the Count and the Ladies with the representation of a Sea-fight; lest the noise of the Guns should alarm the Town, and, taking it for a real fight, shou’d have sent out Supplies, and so have ruin’d our Designs.
Car. Well, have we all things in readiness?
Lop. All, Sir, all.
Enter Page.
Page. My Lord, a Barge from the Galley is just arriv’d at the Garden-Stairs.
Enter Guzman.
Car. I’ll retire then, and fit me for my part of this Farce.
Guz. My Lord, you must retire, they’re just bringing the Old Gentleman ashore.
Car. Prithee how does he take his Captivity?
Guz. Take it, Sir! he has cast himself into a Fit, and has lain like one in a Trance this half hour; ‘tis impossible for him to speak Sense this fortnight; I’ll secure his Reason a play-day for so long at least; your Servants, in Turkish habits, are now his Guards, who will keep him safe enough from hindering your designs with Julia.
Car. Whatever you do, have a care you do not overfright the Coxcomb, and make a Tragedy of our Comedy.
Guz. I’ll warrant you, Sir, mind your Love-affairs,—he’s coming in,—retire, Sir.—
[Ex. Car. and Page and Lop.
_Enter some _Turks _with the body of _Francisco in chains, and lay him down on a Bank.
1st Turk. Christian, so ho ho, Slave, awake.— [Rubbing and calling him.
Fran. Hah! where am I?—my Wife,—my Wife—where am I?—hah! what are you?—Ghosts,—Devils,—Mutes,—no answer?—hah, bound in chains, —Slaves, where am I?
1st Turk. They understand not your Language; but I, who am a Renegade Spaniard, understand you when you speak civilly, which I advise you to do.
Fran. Do you know me, Friend?
1st Turk. I know you to be a Slave, and the Great Turk’s Slave too.
Fran. The Great Turk,—the Great Devil, why, where am I, Friend?
1st Turk. Within the Territories of the Grand Seignior, and this a Palace of Pleasure, where he recreates himself with his Mistresses.
Fran. And how far is that from Cadiz?—but what care I? my Wife, Friend, my own Wife.
1st Turk. Your own,—a true Musselman cou’d have said no more; but take no care for her, she’s provided for.
Fran. Is she dead? That wou’d be some comfort.
1st Turk. No, she’s alive, and in good hands.
Fran. And in good hands! oh, my head! and, oh, my heart! ten thousand tempests burst the belly of this day, wherein old Francisco ventur’d Life and Limbs, Liberty and Wife to the mercy of these Heathen Turks.
1st Turk. Friend, you need not thus complain; a good round Ransom redeems ye.
Fran. A round Ransom! I’ll rot in my chains first, before I’ll part with a round ransom.
1st Turk. You have a fair Wife, and need not fear good usage, if she knows how to be kind. You apprehend me.
Fran. Patience, good Lord.
1st Turk. Perhaps the Grand Seignior may like her, and to be favour’d by him in such a Glory—
Fran. As the Devil take me if I desire.
1st Turk. And then you may in triumph laugh at all the rest of your Brother Cuckolds.
Fran. Hum, and has the Devil serv’d me thus?—but no matter, I must be gadding, like an old Coxcomb, to Cadiz,—and then, jaunting to Sea, with a Pox, to take pains to be a Cuckold, to bring my Wife into a strange Land, amongst Unbelievers, with a vengeance, as if we had not honest Christian Cuckold-makers enough at home; Sot that I was, not to consider how many Merchants have been undone by trusting their Commodities out at Sea; why, what a damn’d ransom will the Rogues exact from me, and more for my Wife, because she’s handsome; and then, ‘tis ten to one, I have her turned upon my hands the worse for wearing; oh, damn’d Infidels! no, ‘tis resolv’d, I’ll live a Slave here, rather than enrich them.
1st Turk. Friend, you’ll know your Destiny presently; for ‘tis the custom of the Great Turk to view the Captives, and consider of their Ransoms and Liberties, according to his pleasure. See, he is coming forth with the Vizier Bassa.
Enter Carlos and Guzman as Turks with Followers.
Most mighty Emperor, behold your Captive.
Fran. Is this the Great Turk?
1st Turk. Peace.
Fran. Bless me! as we at home describe him, I thought the Great Turk had been twice as big; but I shall find him Tyrant big enough, I’ll warrant him.
Guz. Of what Nation art thou, Slave? speak to the Emperor, he understands thee, though he deign not to hold discourse with Christian Dogs.
Fran. Oh fearful!—Spain, so please you, Sir.
Guz. By Mahomet, he’ll make a reverend Eunuch.
Fran. An Eunuch! oh, Lord!
Turk. Ay, Sir, to guard his Mistresses, ‘tis an honour.
Fran. Oh! Mercy, Sir, that honour you may spare, Age has done my business already.
Guz. Fellow, what art?
Fran. An’t please your Worship, I cannot tell.
Guz. How, not tell?
Fran. An’t please your Lordship, my Fears have so transform’d me, I cannot tell whether I’m any thing or nothing.
Guz. Thy name, dull Mortal, know’st thou not that?
Fran. An’t please your Grace, now I remember me, methinks I do.
Guz. Dog, how art thou call’d?
Fran. An’t like your Excellence, Men call’d me Signior Don Francisco, but now they will call me Coxcomb.
Guz. Of what Trade?
Fran. An’t please your Highness, a Gentleman.
Guz. How much dost thou get a day by that Trade? Hah!
Fran. An’t like your Majesty, our Gentlemen never get but twice in all their lives; that is, when Fathers die, they get good Estates; and when they marry, they get rich Wives: but I know what your Mightiness wou’d get by going into my Country and asking the Question.
Guz. What, Fool?
Fran. A good Cudgelling, an’t please your Illustriousness.
Guz. Slave! To my Face!—Take him away, and let him have the Strapado.
Car. Baridama, Dermack.
Fran. Heavens, what says he?
I Turk. He means to have you castrated.
Fran. Castrated! Oh, that’s some dreadful thing, I’ll warrant,— Gracious Great Turk, for Mahomet’s sake, excuse me; alas, I’ve lost my wits.
Car. Galero Gardines?
Guz. The Emperor asks if thou art married, Fellow.
Fran. Hah—Married—I was, an’t like your Monsterousness, but, I doubt, your People have spoiled my Property.
Guz. His Wife, with other Ladies, in a Pavillion in the Garden, attend your Royal pleasure.
Car. Go, fetch her hither presently.
[Ex. Guz.
1st Turk. This is no common Honour, that the Great Turk deigns to speak your Language; ‘tis to sign you’ll rise.
Fran. Yes, by the height of a pair of Horns.
Car. Is she handsom?
Fran. Oh, what an Ague shakes my Heart,—handsom! alas, no, dread Sir; what shou’d such a deform’d Polecat as I do with a handsom Wife?
Car. Is she young?
Fran. Young, what shou’d such an old doting Coxcomb as I do with a young Wife? Pox on him for a Heathen Whoremaster.
Car. Old is she then?
Fran. Ay, very old, an’t please your Gloriousness.
Car. Is she not capable of Love?
Fran. Hum, so, so,—like Fire conceal’d in a Tinderbox,—I shall run mad.
Car. Is she witty?
Fran. I’m no competent Judge, an’t like your Holiness, —This Catechism was certainly of the Devil’s own making. [Aside.
Enter Guzman, bringing in Julia, Clara, Isabella, Jacinta,
Guiliom, Antonio, &c. Women veil’d.
Car. These, Sir, are all the Slaves of Note are taken.
Isa. Dost think, Jacinta, he’ll chuse me?
Jac. I’ll warrant you, Madam, if he looks with my Eyes.
Guz. Stand forth. [To the Men.
Guil. Stand forth, Sir! why, so I can, Sir, I dare show my Face, Sir, before any Great Turk in Christendom.
Car. What are you, Sir?
Guil. What am I, Sir? Why, I’m a Lord, a Lord.
Fran. What, are you mad to own your Quality, he’ll ask the Devil and all of a ransom.
Guil. No matter for that, I’ll not lose an Inch of my Quality for a King’s ransom; disgrace my self before my fair Mistress!
Isa. That’s as the Great Turk and I shall agree. [Scornfully.
Car. What are you, Sir?
Ant. A Citizen of Cadiz.
Car. Set ‘em by, we’ll consider of their ransoms—now unveil the Ladies. [Guzman unveils Jacinta.
Fran. Oh, dear Wife, now or never show thy Love, make a damnable face upon the filthy Ravisher,—glout thy Eyes thus—and thrust out thy upper lip, thus.— [Guzman presents Jacinta.
Guil. Oh, dear Isabella, do thee look like a Dog too.
Isa. No, Sir, I’m resolv’d I’ll not lose an Inch of my Beauty, to save so trifling a thing as a Maiden head.
Car. Very agreeable, pretty and chearful—
[She is veil’d and set by: Then Clara is unveil’d.
A most divine bud of Beauty—all Nature’s Excellence—drawn to the life in little,—what are you, fair one?
Cla. Sir, I’m a Maid.
Fran. So, I hope he will pitch upon her.
Cla. Only, by promise, Sir, I’ve given my self away.
Car. What happy Man cou’d claim a title in thee, And trust thee to such danger?
Isa. Heavens, shall I be defeated by this little Creature? What pity ’.was he saw me not first?
Cla. I dare not name him, Sir, lest this small Beauty which you say adorns me, shou’d gain him your displeasure; he’s in your presence, Sir, and is your Slave.
Car. Such Innocence this plain Confession shows, name me the man, and I’ll resign thee back to him.
Fran. A Pox of his Civility.
Ant. This Mercy makes me bold to claim my right. [Kneels.
Car. Take her, young Man, and with it both your Ransoms.
Guil. Hum—hum—very noble, i’faith, we’ll e’en confess our loves too, Isabella.
Isa. S’life, he’ll spoil all,—hold—pray let your Betters be serv’d before you.
Guil. How! Is the Honour of my Love despised?—wer’t not i’th presence of the Great Turk, for whom I have a reverence because he’s a man of quality—by Jove, I’d draw upon you.
Isa. Because you were my Lover once, when I’m Queen I’ll pardon you.