PROLOGUE,

SPOKEN BY MR BETTERTON.

As when some treasurer lays down the stick,
Warrants are signed for ready money thick,
And many desperate debentures paid,
Which never had been, had his lordship staid:
So now, this poet, who forsakes the stage,
Intends to gratify the present age.
One warrant shall be signed for every man;
All shall be wits that will, and beaux that can:
Provided still, this warrant be not shown,
And you be wits but to yourselves alone;[54]
Provided too, you rail at one another,
For there's no one wit, will allow a brother;
Provided also, that you spare this story,
Damn all the plays that e'er shall come before ye.
If one by chance prove good in half a score,
Let that one pay for all, and damn it more.
}
{  For if a good one 'scape among the crew,
{  And you continue judging as you do,
{  Every bad play will hope for damning too.
}
{  You might damn this, if it were worth your pains;
{  Here's nothing you will like; no fustian scenes,
{  And nothing too of—you know what he means.
No double entendres, which you sparks allow,
To make the ladies look they know not how;
Simply as 'twere, and knowing both together,
Seeming to fan their faces in cold weather.
But here's a story, which no books relate,
Coin'd from our own old poet's addle-pate.
}
{  The fable has a moral too, if sought;
{  But let that go; for, upon second thought,
{  He fears but few come hither to be taught.
Yet if you will be profited, you may;
And he would bribe you too, to like his play.
He dies, at least to us, and to the stage,
And what he has, he leaves this noble age.
He leaves you, first, all plays of his inditing,
The whole estate, which he has got by writing.
}
{  The beaux may think this nothing but vain praise;
{  They'll find it something, the testator says;
{  For half their love is made from scraps of plays.
To his worst foes, he leaves his honesty,
That they may thrive upon't as much as he.
He leaves his manners to the roaring boys,
Who come in drunk, and fill the house with noise.
He leaves to the dire critics of his wit,
His silence and contempt of all they writ.
To Shakespear's critic, he bequeaths the curse,
To find his faults; and yet himself make worse;[55]
A precious reader, in poetic schools,
Who by his own examples damns his rules.
Last, for the fair, he wishes you may be,
From your dull critics, the lampooners, free.
Though he pretends no legacy to leave you,
An old man may at least good wishes give you.
Your beauty names the play; and may it prove
To each, an omen of triumphant love!

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Veramond, King of Arragon.

Alphonso, his supposed Son.

Garcia, King of Navarre.

Ramirez, King of Castile.

Sancho, }

Carlos, } Two Colonels.

Lopez, an old Courtier.


Ximena, Queen of Arragon.

Victoria, eldest daughter to the King and Queen,

Celidea, her Sister.

Dalinda, Daughter to Lopez.

A Nurse with two Children.

SCENE,—Saragossa in Spain.

LOVE TRIUMPHANT;
OR,
NATURE WILL PREVAIL.

ACT I.
SCENE I.—A Presence-chamber.

At the drawing up of the Curtain, Veramond, King of Arragon, appears; Ximena, the Queen, by him; Victoria, their eldest Daughter, on the right Hand; and Celidea, their younger Daughter, on the left; Courtiers stand attending in File on each Side of the stage; The Men on the one Hand, the Ladies on the other. Amongst the Men, Don Lopez; amongst the Women, Dalinda, his Daughter.

Vera. Now the long wars betwixt Castile and Arragon
Are ended in the ruin of our foes;
And fierce Ramirez, the Castilian king,
Who tugged for empire with our warlike son,
In single combat taken, adds his laurels
To the young victor's brow: our tender maids,
And trembling children, shall with scorn behold
The haughty captive, who had made his vaunts,
To lay their dwellings level; and with salt
To sow the place, where Saragossa stood.
Xim. Processions, prayers, and public thanks to heaven,
Were fit to be decreed.
Vera. Your sex is ever foremost in devotion.
But for our brave confederate, young Navarre,
He shall receive the prize reserved within
My breast; and such a one,
His youth and valour have right well deserved.
Xim. I hear he comes along with our Alphonso,
And, next our son, did best.
Vera. Perhaps as well;
Alphonso's action was indeed more glorious,
To buckle with a king in single fight,
And take him prisoner; but his fiery temper
Still hurries him to daring rash attempts.
Xim. Alphonso is impetuous, but he's noble;
He will not take one atom from Navarre
Of what's his right, nor needs he.
Vera. If he should——
Xim. You take too bad impressions of your son.
Vera. No more, Ximena, for I hear their trumpets
Proclaim their entry; and our own their welcome.
[Trumpets from each side of the Stage.

Enter Alphonso and Garcia, hand in hand. After them, the Prisoner, King Ramirez, alone; then the two Colonels, Sancho and Carlos; after them, other Officers of the Army. Veramond advances to meet them; the Queen and the two Princesses follow him. Alphonso first kneels to his Father and Mother, and immediately runs to salute his Sister Victoria tenderly; then slightly salutes Celidea, and returns to Victoria. In the mean time Veramond embraces Don Garcia, who afterwards kisses the Queen's hand.

Vera. The triumphs of this day, auspicious prince,
Proclaim themselves your gift, to us and Arragon;
From you they are derived; to you return;
For what we are, you make us.
Gar. May heaven and your brave son, and, above all,
Your own prevailing genius, guard your age
From such another day of doubtful fate!
But if it come, then Garcia will be proud
To be again the foil of great Alphonso.
Vera. It might, and well it had become my son,
[Looking about for Alphonso.
To speak your words; but you are still before him,
As in the fight you were.
Xim. Turn to your father, and present your duty;
[Pulling Alphonso by the sleeve.
He thinks himself neglected, and observes ye.

[Here Garcia, after bowing to the King and Queen, goes to the two Princesses, and salutes them. After a little dumb courtship, he leads out Victoria and Celidea; the Ladies follow; Alphonso observes it with discontent, and then turns to his Father.

Alph. I saw you, sir, engaged in ceremonies,
And therefore thought I might defer this office,
To give you time for decent thanks to Garcia.
Vera. You rather went where more affection called you.
Alph. I may have been too slack in outward shew;
But when your service, and my honour called,
None was more forward in the fighting part.
Vera. The rugged business of the war is over;
Softness and sweetness, and a gentle air,
Would make a mixture, that would temper well
That inborn fierceness of your boiling mind.
Alph. I stand corrected, sir; and let me tell you now,
That sweetness, which so well you have advised,
Fortune has put in your own hand to practise
Upon this royal soldier; till we fought, [Showing Ramirez.
Your equal, now your prisoner of the war;
And once, (alas, that still it is not so!)
The partner of your thoughts, and bosom friend.
Xim. [Aside.] Heaven, that inspired thee with this pious thought,
Add virtue and persuasion to thy words,
And bend my stubborn lord!
Vera. Say, have you more to speak on his behalf?
Alph. Much more; his fair behaviour in the war,
Not plundering towns, nor burning villages;
His bravery of mind, his dauntless courage,
When, hand to hand, he made me stoop beneath
His weighty blows, and often forced to doubt
The fortune of my youth against his age.
Vera. Proceed, proceed; for this is but to say,
That thou wert almost worsted in the combat.
Alph. I have already said much more than needs,
To move a noble mind;
Such as my father's is, or ought to be.
Vera. Come, let me hear my duty from my son.
Alph. If more be wanting on so plain a theme,
Think on the slippery state of human things,
The strange vicissitudes, and sudden turns
Of war, and fate recoiling on the proud,
To crush a merciless and cruel victor.
Think, there are bounds of fortune set above,
Periods of time, and progress of success,
Which none can stop before the appointed limits,
And none can push beyond.
Xim. He reasons justly, sir.
Alph. Ramirez is an honourable foe;
Use him like what he is, and make him yours.
Ver. By heaven, I think,
That, when you coped with him in single fight,
You had so much ado to conquer then,
You fear to engage him in a second combat.
Alph. The world knows how I fought:
But old men have prerogative of tongue,
And kings of power, and parents that of nature.
Your pardon, royal sir.
Vera. I give it you;
Your battle now is paid at the full price.
[Ximena whispers Alphonso for a moment.
Alph. Fear not, I curb myself. [To Ximena.
Ram. [To Vera.] Your son has mentioned honourable terms;
Propose them, Veramond, and for his sake,
So much his valour and rare courtesy
Have wrought upon my soul, I will accept them.
Vera. Who gave you leave
To speak of terms, or even to speak at all?
Ram. And who should give me liberty of speaking,
But heaven, who gave me speech?
Vera. How dares my captive
Assume this boldness to his conqueror?
Ram. You have not conquered me; you could not, Veramond.
'Tis to Alphonso's arms that I am prisoner.
Vera. Under my auspices Alphonso fought;
He led my forces.
Ram. Yes, and made them too
By his example; else they ne'er had conquered.
Vera. A bargain! a plain compact! a confederacy,
Betwixt my son and thee, to give me part
Of what my better stars make all my own.
Alph. Sir, I must speak——
Vera. Dare not, I charge thee, dare not!
Alph. Not vindicate my honour?
By heaven I will, to all the world, to you:
My honour is my own, and not derived
From this frail body, and this earth you gave me;
But that etherial spark, which heaven inspired,
And kindled in my new-created soul.
You tell me, I have bargained with Ramirez,
To make his ransom cheap.
Vera. To make it nothing,
To rob thy father of his victory,
And, at my cost, oblige my mortal foe.
Fool, dost thou know the value of a kingdom?
Alph. I think I do, because I won a kingdom.
Vera. And knowest not how to keep it.
Ram. What claim have you? What right to my Castile?
Vera. The right of conquest; for, when kings make war,
No law betwixt two sovereigns can decide,
But that of arms, where fortune is the judge,
Soldiers the lawyers, and the bar the field
Alph. But with what conscience can you keep that crown,
To which you claim no title but the sword?
Vera. Then ask that question of thyself, when thou
Thyself art king. I will retain my conquest;
And if thou art so mean, so poor of soul,
As to refuse thy sword in keeping it,
Then Garcia's aid,—
Whose share of honour in that glorious day
Was more than thine,—during my life, shall guard it,
And, at my death, shall heir it.
Alph. Don Garcia is indeed a valiant prince;
But this large courtesy, this over-praise
You give his worth, in any other mouth,
Were villainy to me.
Xim. That was too much, Alphonso; shew the reverence
That sons should bear to fathers.
Alph. [To her.] Did I not say, in any other mouth,
The king excepted still?
Ram. Had I a son, a son like your Alphonso,
The pride of war, and darling of the field,
I should not thus receive him, nor detract
From such high actions. Let me tell you, sir,
(For I, who felt his arm, can best report him)
There lives not one, who breathes this vital air,
That e'er could boast, he made Ramirez bend,
Before Alphonso undertook the task.
Vera. Confederacy again! How they enhance
Their mutual worth, and bandy fame betwixt them,
Into each other's hand!— [Looks on Ramirez, and starts back.
What's this I see?
Nay, now I wonder not, the captive prates
With so secure presumption to his king.
Well may he brave me, while his murdering sword
Sits as before, insulting on his side.—
Who gave thee back that weapon?
Alph. I, who took it.
Vera. A careful son, to trust a foe with arms
So near his father.—Haste, disarm the prisoner.
Alph. Ere you dishonour me, first hear me speak:
I took his royal word, to be my prisoner;
And on his honour, I restored his sword,
Because I thought, that mark of sovereign justice,
And awful power, should not for one short moment
Be wanting to a monarch.
Vera. Then when he lost the power, he lost the claim,
And marks of sovereign right;
Nor without my consent, couldst thou dispose
Of him, or of his sword, or of his life—
Once more, disarm him:—What, am I betrayed? [Guards look amazed, but stir not.
Have I no subject left?
Xim. Submit, Alphonso.
I, who am partial to you, must condemn
This carriage, as unduteous to your father.
Ram. [To Alph.] Brave prince, too warmly you assert my cause,
Though 'tis indeed the common cause of kings.
But, to prevent what ills on my account
May hence ensue betwixt a son and parent,
Take here the sword, you trusted in my hands,
Which you alone could take.—Now, Veramond, [Presents his Sword to Alphonso.
Dispose of old Ramirez as thou pleasest:
[He presents it sullenly to Veramond, who puts it into the Hand of an Officer.
Secure thy hate, ambition, and thy fear,
And give Ramirez death, who scorns a life
Which he must owe to thee.
Vera. [To the Guards.] Go, bear him to the castle; at more leisure
His doom shall be decreed.
Ram. Whene'er it comes, 'tis welcome; only this,—
(If enemies be suffered to request)
Forgive the imprudent zeal thy son has shown
On my behalf, and take him to thy bosom;
A noble temper shines even through his faults,
And gilds them into virtues.
Vera. Take him hence.
[Ramirez is led off by Sancho and Carlos, and followed by the Guards; Alphonso looking frowningly. The rest stay.
Alph. [Aside.] How I abhor this base inhuman act!
But patience! he's my father.
Vera. Thus all his praises are thy accusations;
And even that very sword,—
Punish me, heaven, if I believe not so!—
Is far less dangerous in his hand than thine.
Xim. Forgive the hasty sallies of his youth.
Vera. He never loved me.
Alph. You never gave me cause.
Xim. [To Alph.] Come, you both loved,
But both were jealous of each other's kindness.
His silence shows, he longs to pardon you.—
And did not you, my lord, observe Alphonso, [Turning to Veram.
How, though at first he could not rule his passion,—
Not at the very first, for that's impossible
To hasty blood, like his, and yours, my lord,—
Yet in the second moment, he repented,
As soon as thought had leisure to be born?
Vera. For aught I see, you do him better office
Than he desires, Ximena.
Alph. [Kneeling.] Sir, your pardon;
And, if you please, your love.
Vera. Receive the first;
The last, as you deserve.
Re-enter Don Garcia, with Victoria, Celidea, and the Ladies. Veramond sees them at a distance.
Vera. This had not been thus easily o'erpast,
But that I see Don Garcia with your sisters.
A fair occasion offers you this hour
To cancel your offences; mark, and take it.
[The King, Queen, and Alphonso entertain Garcia in dumb show, while Victoria and Celidea speak at a distance.
Cel. What think you, sister, of this youthful hero?
Vict. Our dear Alphonso?
Cel. No, I mean Navarre.
Vict. As of a valiant prince; what would you more?
Cel. Methinks you give him a short commendation;
Yet all his applications were to you.
Vict. I minded not his words.
Cel. He made a warm beginning of a love.
Vict. It seems my thoughts were otherwise employed.
Cel. Neither your thoughts nor eyes could be employed
Upon a nobler object.
Vict. That's your judgment.
Cel. His every action, nay, his every motion.
Were graceful, and becoming his high birth.
Vict. All of a piece, and all like other men.
He seems to me a common kind of creature,
One that may pass among a crowd of courtiers,
And not be known for king.
Cel. Sure you forget the troops he brought our father,
Besides his personal valour in the fight.
Vict. You more forget Alphonso's greater actions,
When the young hero, yet unfledged in arms,
Made the tough age of bold Ramirez bend:
He fought, like Mars descending from the skies,
And looked, like Venus rising from the waves.
Cel. Navarre had done the same; 'twas fortune's fault,
That showed him not Ramirez.
Vict. You are too young to judge of men or merits;
You praise the vulgar flight a falcon makes,
When Jove's imperial bird, that bears the thunder,
Is towering far above him.
Re-enter Carlos, Sancho, and the rest of the Officers.
Vera. Are my commands performed?
Carl. With all exactness.
Vera. Approach, Victoria, and you, Celidea,
That in your presence I may pay some part
Of what I owe your brave deliverer.
Cel. We cannot show too much of gratitude.
Vera. Victoria, what say you?
Vict. He did the duty of a brave ally:
I do not know the war, nor dare I load
His modesty with larger commendations.
Gar. Even those are much too large, when given by you,
To whom my soul, with all my future service,
Are with devotion offered.
Vera. I have indeed disclosed to her alone
The important secret of the intended match;
And that, perhaps, has made her fear to praise
A prince, who shortly is to be her own.
Alph. [Aside.] Oh heavens! what bode these words?
[The Queen and Celidea shew amazement, Alphonso and Victoria discontent.
Vera. Now therefore I declare the wished alliance.
Ximena, you may give your daughter joy;
And you your sister, of the imperial crown, [To Cel.
Which Garcia put on our Victoria's head.—
Your share, Alphonso, in this happy day [To Alph.
Is not the least, nor will you be the last,
To applaud my worthy choice of such a son.
Alph. A sudden damp has seized my vital spirits;
I see but through a mist, and hear far off.—
Nay trouble not yourselves: a little time
Of needful rest, and solitary thought,
Will mend my health; till when, excuse my presence.
[Exit Alphonso, and looks back on Victoria.
Xim. [Aside.] He's much disturbed,—a sickness of the soul;
Or I mistake, he does not like this marriage.—
Assist us, heaven, if I divine aright,
And prosper thy own work!
Vera. [Aside.] I like not this,
But must dissemble, till I clear my doubts.—
Fortune, brave prince, has given us this allay; [To Gar.
Our joys were else too full:
An hour of sleep will bring him back restored;
Mean time we may withdraw.
Gar. [To Vict.] Come, my fair mistress, by your father's leave
I seize this precious gage.
Vict. Then thank my father;
He may dispose of all things but my heart,
And that's my own—[Aside.] Alas! I wish it were.

[Exeunt Ver. Xim. Cel. Gar. Vict. and all the Courtiers, Men and Women. The Guards follow: San. Carl. remain.

San. Good news; Carlos, the old Jew, is dead.

Carl. What Jew?

San. Why, the rich Jew, my father. He's gone to the bosom of Abraham his father, and I, his Christian son, am left sole heir. Now do I intend to be monstrously in love.

Carl. With whom, colonel?

San. That's not yet resolved, colonel; but with one of the court ladies. You may stand a man's friend, Carlos, in such a business.

Carl. You may depend on me, Sancho, because my dependance is on you. You got plunder in the battle; while I was hacked and hewed, and almost laid asleep in the damned bed of honour.

San. Nay, I confess I am a lucky rogue, for I was born with a caul upon my head.

Carl. I'm sure I came bare enough into the world, and live as barely in it.

San. Make me but lustily in love, and I'll adopt thee into my fortune; but thou standest—shall I, shall I, till all the ladies are out of sight. Here, take that billet-doux, which I have pulled out by chance from amongst twenty, that I always wear about me for such occasions.

Carl. But to which of them shall I deliver it?

San. Even to her thou canst first overtake.—Nay, do not lose thy time in looking on't, there's no particular direction, man. Fortune ever superscribes my letters to the fair sex: I let her alone to find me out a handsome mistress; and let me alone to make her kind afterwards.

Carl. But suppose I should happen to deliver it to my own mistress, for she was in the presence with her father.

San. Then I suppose thou wilt be the first that shall repent it; for she will certainly fall in love with me.

Lopez and Dalinda re-enter, and walk softly over the Stage.

Look, there's one of them already; my heart beats at the very sight of her. This must and shall be she, by Cupid.

Carl. And, by Venus, the very she I love!

San. Pr'ythee no more words then, for fate will have it so.

Carl. [Aside.] I know it's impossible for her father to receive him, or her to love him; and yet his good fortune, and my rascally, three-penny planet[56], make me suspicious without reason. But hang superstition! I'll draw such a picture of him as shall do his business.

San. Now will I stand incognito, like some mighty potentate, and see my own embassy delivered.

[Carlos overtakes Lopez and Dalinda, just going off, and salutes them.

Lop. Cousin Carlos, you are welcome from the wars; I think I saw you in the show to day.

Carl. The ceremony hindered me from paying my respects; but I made haste, you see——

Lop. I hope you'll no more be a stranger to my house, than you have been formerly. Your mistress here will be proud to entertain you; and then you shall tell me the whole expedition. I love battles wonderfully, when a man may hear them without peril of his person.

San. [Aside.] Nothing of my letter all this while!—why when Carlos?

[Whispering aloud to him.

Carl. [Aside.] Now I dare not but deliver it, because he sees me.—Don Lopez, I have a foolish kind of petition to you. [To Lop.

Lop. Why do you call it a foolish petition?

Carl. Because I bring it from a fool. There's a friend of mine, of a plentiful fortune, that's desperately in love with your fair daughter, Dalinda; and has commanded me, by your permission, to deliver this letter to her.

Lop. A rich man's letter may be delivered. [Carlos gives her the Letter.

Dal. What's here? A note without a superscription [She seems to read.] As I live, a bill of exchange for two hundred pistoles, charged upon a banker, and payable to the bearer! An accomplished cavalier I warrant him; he writes finely, and in the best manner.

Carl. [Aside.] There's the covetous sex, at the first syllable! The fool's good planet begins to work already; but I shall stop its influence.

Lop. Good cousin colonel, what manner of man is my son-in-law that may be?

Carl. D'ye see that sneaking fellow yonder?

Lop. Who, that gallant cavalier?

Dal. I wish it were no worse.

Carl. Plague, ye make me mad betwixt ye. His outside's tawdry, and his inside's fool. He's an usurer's son, and his father was a Jew.

Dal. No matter for all that, he's rich.

Carl. He was begot upon the wife of a desperate debtor, out of pure good husbandry, to save something. He's covetous by the father's side, a blockhead by the mother's, and a knave by both.

Lop. I see nothing like your description of him, at this distance. Call him hither, I would fain speak with him.

Carl. Come hither, Don Sancho, and make good the character I have given of you.

[Sancho comes up, and salutes them awkwardly.

Lop. Cavalier, I shall be glad to be better known to you.

San. [To Carl.] You see I have luck in a bag, Carlos.

Carl. [Aside.] Ay, in a bag of money; I see it to my sorrow.—Try his wit, signior, you'll find it as heavy as lead. [Aside to Lopez.

Lop. [To Sancho.] So his money be silver, I care not.—Come, cavalier, what say you to my daughter?

San. Why, I say, I was resolved to love the first fair lady that I met.

Dal. Oh lord, sir!

Carl. [To Lop.] Do but mark his breeding.

Lop. I like him never the worse for his plain dealing.

Dal. Bluntness, methinks, becomes a soldier.

Carl. [Aside.] How naturally old men take to riches, and women to fools!

Lop. [To San.] You have made a noble declaration of your love, sir, with a handsome present of two hundred pistoles.

San. What, I hope I have not mistaken papers, and sent you my letter of exchange for two hundred pistoles, charged upon the banker Porto Carrero? Pray return that letter, madam, and I'll look out for another, that shall treat only of dry love, without those terrible appendixes.

Dal. Why, did not you intend this for me, cavalier?

San. No; you shall hear me rap out all the oaths in Christendom, that I am wholly innocent of this accusation.

Dal. Come, you bely your noble nature. Look upon me again, cavalier, [She makes the doux yeux to him.] and then examine your own heart, if you meant it not to me.

San. Nay, I confess my heart beats a charge towards you;—and yet two hundred pistoles is a swinging sum for one kind look, Carlos!

Carl. A damnable hard penny-worth! hold you there, Don Sancho.

[Dalinda looks upon him again more sweetly.

San. She has two devils in her eyes; that last ogle was a lick-penny.—Well, madam, I dedicate those fair two hundred pistoles to your more fair hand; and, now you have received them, I meant them for you.

Dal. And, in requital, I receive you for my servant, cavalier.

Carl. [Aside.] Damn him for his awkward liberality; he's always covetous, but when 'tis to do me a mischief.

Lop. [To Dal.] He's come on again; my heart was almost at my mouth.—Now, Mrs Minion, let me take you to task in private. [Draws her aside a little.] What hope have you of the Conde Don Alonzo de Cardona?

Dal. Little or none; a bare possibility. You know what has passed betwixt us.

Lop. But suppose he should renew his love, had you rather marry that rich old Conde, or this poor young rogue, Don Carlos?

Dal. This poor young rogue, if you please, father.

Lop. I thought as much, good madam. But, to come closer to the present business, betwixt Don Carlos and Don Sancho, that is to say, a poor young wit, and a rich young fool; put the case, gentlewoman, which of them would you chuse?

Dal. If it were not for mere necessity, I have a kind of a loathing to a fool.

Lop. The more fool you, madam.

Dal. Would you have a race of booby grandsons?

Lop. That's as your conscience serves you. I say only, that your husband shall be a fool; I say not, your children's father shall be one.

San. [To Car.] This is a plaguy long whisper, I do not like it. And yet, now I think on't, my left eye itches, some good luck is coming towards me.

Lop. [To them.] I'll be short and pithy with you. Don Sancho,—I think they call ye,—if out of my abundant love I should bestow my dutiful daughter on you, what kind of husband would you make?

San. Husband, sennor? Why, none at all. None of my predecessors were ever married; my father and my mother never were, and I will not be the first of my family that shall degenerate. I thought my two hundred pistoles would have done my business with Dalinda, and a little winking money with you.

Lop. What, would you make me a pimp to my own daughter?

Dal. And imagine my chastity could be corrupted with a petty bribe?

San. Nay, I am not so obstinate neither against marriage. Carlos gave me this wicked counsel, on purpose to banish me; and, in revenge to him, I will marry.

Lop. I hope you'll ask her leave first?

San. Pho! I take that for granted; no woman has the power to resist my courtship.

Lop. Suppose then, as before supposed; what kind of husband would you make?

San. Then, to deal roundly with you, I would run a rambling myself, and leave the drudgery of my house to her management; all things should go at sixes and sevens for Sancho. In short, sennor, I will be as absolute as the Great Turk, and take as little care of my people as a heathen god.

Lop. Now, Don Carlos, what say you?

Carl. [Aside.] I'll fit them for a husband.—[To Lop.] Why, sennor, I would be the most careful creature of her business; I would inspect every thing, would manage the whole estate, to save her the trouble; I would be careful of her health, by keeping her within doors; she should neither give nor receive visits; nor kneel at church among the fops, that look one way, and pray another.

Dal. Oh abominable!

Lop. Why, thou ungrateful fellow! wouldst thou make a slave of my daughter? And leave her no business, that is to say, no authority in her own house?

Dal. Ay, and to call fine young gentlemen fops too? To lock me up from visitants, which are the only comfort of a disconsolate, miserable, married woman!

Lop. An' 'twere not for fear thou shouldst beat me, I could find in my heart to beat thee.—Don Sancho, I have an olla at home, and you shall be welcome to it.—Farewell, kinsman. [To Carl.

[Exeunt Lop. and San. leading out Dal.

Carl. Now, if I had another head, I could find in my heart to run this head against that wall. Nature has given me my portion in sense, with a pox to her, and turned me out into the wide world to starve upon it. She has given Sancho an empty noddle; but fortune, in revenge, has filled his pockets: just a lord's estate in land and wit. Well, I have lost Dalinda; and something must be done to undermine Sancho in her good opinion. Some pernicious counsel must be given him. He is my prince, and I am his statesman; and when our two interests come to clash, I hope to make a mere monarch of him[57]: and my hunger is somewhat in my way to quicken my invention.