Enter Sancho, habited like Don Alonzo de Cardona, with a hunch-back, Dalinda meeting him.

Dal. I watched your coming at the window, and told my father. He's coming out to welcome you.

San. But if I chance to break out into a little wit sometimes, you'll excuse my frailty.

Dal. Pugh, you are so suspicious of yourself, and have so little reason for it. Be as witty as you can; I fear you not.

Enter Don Lopez, and salutes him.

Lop. Noble Conde, you are welcome from the wars. And who did best in the battle, I beseech your honour?

San. Why, next my honour, one colonel Sancho did best.

Lop. Who, Sancho? he's little better than a coxcomb.

San. Nay, he has too much wit; if he had as much grace, 'twould be better for him.

Lop. But he's your lordship's rival in my daughter.

San. Is he so? then make much of him, old gentleman.

Lop. You would not have me prefer him to your excellency?

San. Faith, you can hardly chuse amiss betwixt us two; he's my other self, man.

Lop. I make a vast difference betwixt you.

San. That shall be a very good jest between you and me another time.

Dal. [Aside.] The fool's too much a fool; he's going to discover himself, if I prevent it not.—[To Lopez.] Make haste, father, and put him upon the point, or he'll give me up to Sancho.

Lop. Let Sancho be no fool, since your lordship pleases; for he is not bound to make my daughter any satisfaction, as you are.

San. And satisfaction she shall have. What, I hope you don't think I am a eunuch?

Dal. [Aside.] Oh heaven! I shall be ruined between them; I forgot to instruct my father not to meddle with that point.—[To Lopez.] Say no more of it, I beseech you, sir.

Lop. [To her.] 'Tis for thy good; let me alone.— You know you have injured the poor girl, my lord.

San. Not to my remembrance, sennor. You and I may have quarrelled, I confess, and I think I may have given you some hard words to-day.

Dal. [Aside.] Now has he forgotten he's my lord, and is harping upon the quarrel he had with him as Sancho. This must end in my destruction.

Lop. Your lordship and I can have had no quarrel to-day, for I have not seen you this twelvemonth.

San. That's true; now I remember myself, you have not.

Lop. But that you have wronged my daughter is manifest.

Dal. [To Sancho.] Sir, I must needs speak a word with you in private. If you love me, confess you have enjoyed me; for I told my father so, on purpose to make him the more condescending to the match.

San. [To her.] A word to the wise, I understand you. Now you shall see me top upon the old fellow [To Lopez.] Well, sennor, I won't stand with you for a night's lodging with your daughter; I acknowledge I have been a little familiar with her, or so: but, to make her amends, I will marry her, and consummate with her most abundantly.

Lop. Then all shall be set right, and the man shall have his mare again.

Enter Carlos, habited like Sancho.

Lop. What, another Don Alonzo? this is prodigious!

Carl. [Aside, seeing Sancho.] Bless me, the post is taken up already, and the true count is here before me.

Dal. [Aside.] This is not my Conde; but some other counterfeit. [To Sancho.] You are as true a count as he: stand to your likeness.

San. Would I were out of my likeness! [Sneaking back.

Dal. Put forward, man, I'll second you.

San. But what a devilish high back he has gotten too? he'll carry me away a pick-a-pack, that's certain.

Carl. [Aside.] I find him now: by their whispering and by his aukwardness, this must be Sancho; and I'll out-face him. [To Lopez.] Sennor Don Lopez, I am come, by your permission, to renew my addresses to your fair daughter.

Lop. Your lordship is most welcome.

San. Whose lordship?

Lop. Why, one of your lordships; I know not which, for by your backs you are both my lords. That's as you two can agree the matter.

San. [To Carlos.] Sirrah, where did you steal that back of mine?

Carl. Sirrah, I was born with it; but what he-camel has your mother been dealing withal, that you are begotten in my resemblance?

San. What, I hope you wont pretend to pass for the true Conde?

Carl. I am Don Alonzo de Cardona.

San. And so am I.

Carl. If you stay a little longer, I'll stretch your bones, till you are as strait as an arrow.

San. Do not provoke me; I am mischievously bent.

Carl. Nay, you are bent enough in conscience; but I have a bent fist for boxing.

San. And I have a strait foot for kicking. [They come up to each other.

Lop. Here will be bloodshed immediately.—Hold, noblemen both; will ye be content that I should examine ye, and then stand to my award which is the true Conde?

San. Well, to save Christian blood, I will.

Carl. And, to save Jewish blood,—that is your blood, sirrah,—I am contented too.

Lop. [To Carlos.] What command had you, my lord, in the last battle?

Carl. I had none; I was a volunteer, and charged with honourable Colonel Carlos in the fight.

Lop. [To Sancho.] And what command had your lordship there?

San. I had none neither; and I charged with that rogue Carlos.

Lop. [Aside.] So far they are both right, as I have heard. [To Sancho.] And what became of you afterwards?

San. Now I am posed; for Carlos told me he knew nothing of the count afterward:—Sennor, I do not well remember what became of me, for I was in a very great passion; but I did prodigious things, that is certain.

Carl. [To Lop.] Sennor, you may see he is a counterfeit, because he knows nothing of himself; but I, the true Conde, was trodden under the horses' feet, and lay for dead above half an hour.

San. Well, and now I remember myself, I was laid for dead too, for just about half a year.

Lop. [To Dal.] This is the wrong lord; he can say nothing but what the other lord has said before him.

Dal. Then he's the likelier to be the true Conde; for he's a fool, father.

Carl. You see, sennor, he does not remember what became of him, as I said before.

San. How would you have a man remember, when he was laid for dead?

Carl. But I recovered, rogue, and pursued the enemy.

San. And I recovered, and pursued them too, for above an hundred miles together, at full speed.

Lop. That's farther than you needed, by three-score miles; for 'tis but forty from the place of battle to the city.

Carl. Yes, at full speed upon the same horse, and never drew bit neither.

San. [To Dal.] Help me, dear Dalinda! I am bogged, you see.

Dal. [To him.] That's with pursuing your enemies too far; but I'll help you out again—[To Lopez.]—Pray, sir, let me examine them a little.

Lop. You'll make nothing of that first Conde.

Dal. Yes, a son-in-law, I warrant you.—[To them.] Which of you two promised me marriage?

Both. I did.

Dal. [To Carl.] And did you enjoy me?

Carl. Heaven forbid, madam! What, before marriage?

Dal. [To San.] And what did you?

San. I did enjoy her; so I did: and there I was before you, for a false Conde, as you are.

Carl. Speak for yourself, madam, and clear your reputation from that scandalous companion.

Dal. [With her Fan before her Face.] I must confess the true Conde has enjoyed me; the more my frailty.

Lop. The matter mends on that side.

San. Now, goodman Goose-cap, who's the most a man of honour, he, who has enjoyed a fair lady, or he, who has only licked his lips, and gone without her?

Carl. [Aside.] I see she takes his part; this is all a lie contrived betwixt them.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. [To Dal.] Madam, I am sent to you on a sad errand from the late Conde Don Alonzo, who was killed in the last battle.

Lop. You are mistaken, friend; for here he stands alive and well. [Pointing to Sancho.] And, for fear of failing, here's a counterpart of him. [Pointing to Carlos.

Mess. Do not abuse yourself, sennor; neither of these is the true Conde: I took him from under the horses' feet, and he had only life enough to say, remember me to my fair Dalinda.

Lop. [To San.] What does your lordship say to this?

San. He was fairly killed, I must confess; but I can give you a better account of his lordship afterwards.

Lop. You? why, who are you?

San. Nay, I am he too.

Mess. You see he's a counterfeit; and so is the other.

Lop. 'Tis too true.

Dal. Did the Conde leave me nothing in his will?

Mess. Not a cross, madam.

Dal. There's the same payment for your news; be gone, poor fellow. [Exit Messenger.

Carl. At least I have the satisfaction, that he's discovered as well as I am. [Throwing off some part of his disguise.] Now, Sancho, you are welcome to the discovery of your fine intrigue.

Lop. Then, Sancho, I make good my word to you; since the Conde is dead, you stand fairest for my daughter;—and you, cousin Carlos, with your wit and your poverty, are in statu quo.—Come away, son-in-law, and leave the forsaken lover to make himself a willow garland.

[Exeunt Sancho, Lopez, and Dalinda.

Carl. Yet if I could hinder Sancho from marrying her, I should make myself some satisfaction. I'll think on't farther; and something comes into my head already.

[Stands musing.

Enter Alphonso.

Alph. Now, Carlos, what make you here in this disguise? I have been looking for you at least half an hour.

Carl. Only a masquerade, sir; an innocent diversion in times of peace.

Alph. No, Carlos, these are times of war, not peace.
I must abruptly tell you what is past:
I am Ramirez's son, not Veramond's;
I love Victoria, and for her am banished.

Carl. Just my own condition: I have had a revolution in my small affairs too; I am banished, and going to look for the next commodious tree to make a wry face upon it.

Alph. I know you brave; and, if you love me still,
Follow my fortune: yours shall be my care.
Our army lies encamped without the walls;
Your regiment is quartered in the town:
I think I can with ease revolt the troops,
Because they love me; and, with their assistance
Release my father, and redeem my mistress;
While you and yours, at an appointed signal,
Procure me entrance.
Carl. Right; and force the gate——
Alph. That's all I ask: I think myself as worthy
To wed Victoria, as this foreign prince.
But, if you find reluctance to this action,
Now speak, that I may seek some other friend.

Carl. No, sir; I shall never break with you for so small a matter as a rebellion. I warrant you for my soldiers; they'll never flinch, when there's a town to plunder.

Alph. The signal and the time shall be concerted;
Victoria be the word——
That happy name our bold attempt shall bless,
And give an omen of assured success. [Exeunt severally.

ACT IV. SCENE I.
SCENE I.—A Street, with a Temple at a distance.

Enter Garcia, with a Letter in his hand; Ximena, and Celidea.

Gar. May I believe you, 'tis Victoria's hand?
For 'tis a strange request.
Xim. So may it move your noble mind to pity,
As what the paper tells you is most true.
She gave it me; and, with a thousand sighs,
Begged me to recommend her life, her love,
And all her hopes of happiness, to you.
Gar. To break my marriage off, renounce her bed,
To stand excluded from my promised bliss,
And as my proper act to do all this?
Disdainful, faithless, and ungrateful maid!
Cel. Disdainful, and ungrateful; but not faithless.
Because she never vowed nor promised love,
But only to Alphonso.
Xim. They loved not as a brother and a sister,
But as the fair and brave each other love;
For sympathy of souls inspired their passion.
Gar. That sympathy, which made him love Victoria
Has caused the same effect of love in me.
Cel. But not in her: She loved him first, my lord;
And you besieged a town already his.
As you for her, others may die for you;
And plead that argument to hope your love,
If the same reason hold.
Gar. No doubt it would,
Were not my soul already prepossessed.
Cel. So is Victoria's soul for her Alphonso,
And that's her plea for constancy to him.
Gar. My reason is convinced, but not my passion;
For I must love, and, loving, must enjoy.
Cel. Others must not enjoy, and yet must love.
Xim. You cannot wed Victoria but by force;
And force can only make her person yours.
Think what a fatal doom you pass on her,
To make yourself half happy.
Gar. When she's mine,
I will pursue her with so dear a passion,
So chafe her coldness with my warm embraces,
That she shall melt at length, hard as she is;
And run like stubborn metal.
Cel. No, my lord;
Victoria is not formed of steel, but marble,
Which is not made to melt, but flies the fire,
And neither yields nor softens to the flames.
Gain her esteem at least, her love is hopeless.
Gar. Esteem! a scanty, mean reward of passion,
That pays not half the value of the loss!
Cel. Pay scorn with scorn, and make revenge a pleasure;
So generous minds should do, and so should I.
What needs there more?
You see who loves you not, and——
Xim. And she would say, you may behold who loves you;
But maiden bashfulness has tied her tongue:
Look on her eyes, they speak.
Cel. [Softly.] A language that they never spoke before.
Xim. Mark how she whispers, like a western wind,
Which trembles through the forest; she, whose eyes
Meet ready victory where'er they glance;
Whom gazing crowds admire, whom nations court,
And (did her praise become a mother's mouth)
One who could change the worship of all climates,
And make a new religion where she comes;
Unite the differing faith of all the world,
To idolize her face.
Gar. And well she may:
Her eyes, her lips, her cheeks, her shape, her features,
Seem to be drawn by Love's own hand; by Love,
Himself in love: but oh, 'tis now too late,
My eyes have drank a poison in before;
A former basilisk has seen me first.—
Yet know, fair princess, if there were a part
In all my breast, that could receive a wound,
Your eyes could only give it.
Cel. So, helpless friends, when safe themselves ashore,
Behold a vessel driven against a rock;
They sigh, they weep, they counsel, and they pray,
They stretch their unassisting hands in vain;
But none will plunge into the raging main,
To save the sinking passenger from death.
Xim. Already see the joyless bride appears.
Grief, rage, disdain, distraction, and despair
Are equal in my daughters' different fates;
In one, to be constrained to be your wife;
In one, to be refused.
Enter Veramond, and Victoria led as to Marriage: A Train follows; and after it a Guard.
Cel. Great nature, break thy chain, that links together
The fabric of this globe, and make a chaos
Like that within my soul! O heaven unkind!
That gives us passions strong and unconfined,
And leaves us reason for a vain defence;
Too powerful rebels, and too weak a prince.
[Garcia, Ximena, Celidea, mix with the Train, which walk, as in procession, towards the Temple.
Enter, on the sudden, Alphonso and Carlos, at the Head of their Party; the Soldiers attack the Guards and King, and drive them off the Stage: Alphonso fights with Garcia, grapples with him, and gets him under; in the mean time, Ximena, Victoria, and Celidea retire to a corner of the Stage: When Garcia is fallen, Celidea runs, and kneels to Alphonso.
Cel. Oh spare him, spare the noble Garcia's life,
Or take the forfeit in the loss of mine!
How happy should I be to die for him,
Who will not live for me!
Alph. [To Garcia.] Rise, and be safe;
If you have any thanks to pay, reserve them
To give this royal maid.
Gar. [Rising.] You'd been more kind
To take my life, for I would throw it off:
Dishonoured as I am, 'tis worn to rags,
Nor worth a prince's wearing. [Exit Garcia, followed by Celidea.
Re-enter Veramond, disarmed, and led by Carlos.
Vera. Ungrateful traitor!
Alph. Hold thy peace, old man!
I do not love to insult on thy misfortunes,
Though thou hast brought this ruin on thyself.
Vera. Avenging heaven——
Alph. I pr'ythee, curse me not,
Because I held thee for my father once.
Vera. Then would I were thy father, that my curse
Might take the surer place, and——
Alph. Guard him hence,
But use no violence to his royal person.—
Call back the soldiers, Carlos, from the spoil.
I have my wish in having my Victoria,
And would no more of him, nor what is his.
[Carlos restores Veramond his Sword with respect, and conducts him off; Ximena follows him: Alphonso waits on them to the Door, and returns.
Vict. What have you done, Alphonso?
Alph. What I ought;
Obtained the glorious prize for which I fought,
Redeemed you from a father's tyranny,
And from a hated rival set you free.
Remove, my fair, from this unhappy place;
The scene of sorrows, sufferings, and disgrace;
To my victorious camp with me remove,
The scene of triumph, and rewarded love.
Vict. Mars has been present with your arms to-day,
But Love and Hymen have been far away.
You forced me from a rival's power, I know;
But then you forced me from a father's too.
Alph. What words are these? I feel my vital heat
Forsake my limbs, my curdled blood retreat.
Too much amazed to speak, in this surprise,
With silent grief, on yours I fix my eyes;
To learn the reasons of your change from thence;
To read your cruel doom, and my offence.
Vict. Your arms, and glorious action, I approve;
Esteem your honour, and embrace your love.
Alph. My soul recovers, as a gentle shower
Refreshes and revives a drooping flower.
I'm yours so much, so little am my own,
Your smiles are life, and death is in your frown.
Vict. But oh! a hard request is yet behind,
Which, for my sake, endure with equal mind.
Your debt of honour you have cleared this day;
But mine, of duty, still remains to pay;
Restore my liberty, and let me go
To make a full discharge of all I owe.
Alph. What debts, but those of love, have you to clear?
Are you not free, are you not sovereign here?
And were you not a slave, before I broke
Your fatal chains, and loosed you from the yoke?
Vict. 'Tis true, I was; but that captivity,
Though hard to bear, was more becoming me.
A slave I am; but nature made me so,
Slave to my father, not my father's foe:
Since, then, you have declared me free, this hour
I put myself within a parent's power.
Alph. Cruel Victoria! would you go from hence,
And leave a desolate, despairing prince?
Is this the freedom you demand from me?
Are these the vows, and this the constancy?
Put off the mask; for I too well perceive
Whom you resolve to love, and whom to leave.
Go, teach me at my own expence, to find
What change a day can make in womankind.
Vict. Think not a day, nor all my life, can make
Victoria's heart her steadfast love forsake.
I plighted you my faith; and I renew
My vows once more, to love but only you.
Alph. You vowed no time our fortune should divide;
And well 'twas kept, like all your vows beside,
When e'en this hour you went to be a bride.
Vict. I went; but was securely first prepared;
For this was my redemption, or my guard. [Pulls out a Dagger.
Let this your causeless jealousy remove;
And learn no more to doubt Victoria's love.
Alph. That fatal proof I never did desire.
Vict. And yet a proof more fatal you require,
Which would with infamy my name pursue;
To fly my father, and to follow you.
Alph. Your love you forfeit, if you go away.
Vict. I forfeit my obedience, if I stay.
Alph. You may transfer your duty, and be mine.
Vict. Yes, when my father shall his claim resign;
For, when the nuptial knot our love assures,
All, that was his before, is, after, yours.
Alph. Then, when you vowed your love, you falsely swore.
Vict. I love you much, but love my honour more.
Alph. You hate my rival, yet you take the way
To make you his inevitable prey.
Vict. Beasts fear not more to be the hunters' spoil.
Alph. Then, sure, you would not run into the toil.
How ill your actions with your words agree!
Vict. This friend is still at hand to set me free. [Holding up the Dagger.
Alph. Let me not live to see that fatal hour!
Rather return into your father's power;
Rather return into his arms again,
For whom your lost Alphonso you disdain.
If one must die, to set your honour free,
You have already cast the lot on me.
Death is the only way to clear my fame,
Which must be branded with a coward's name,
If basely I resign Victoria's charms,
And tamely give you to my rival's arms.
Vict. To give me to my father is no crime.
Alph. 'Tis still the same; your father gives you him.
Ungrateful woman!
Vict. More ungrateful man!
More than I ought I give, and all I can;
But if my duty I prefer to you,
Be satisfied with all that love can do.
Alph. Not satisfied; but yet your will shall be
Like fate's inviolable law to me.
Since my unhappy stars will have it so,
Depart from hence, and leave your father's foe.
Go then; but quickly go; for, while you stay,
As on a rack I find myself decay,
And every moment looks a part of me away.
Vict. I wish I with my duty could dispense;
Heaven knows how loth I am to part from hence.
So, from the seal is softened wax disjoined;
So, from the mother plant, the tender rind.
But take the latest pledge that love can give;
Have courage, and for your Victoria live.
[She offers him her hand, he kisses it. Exit Victoria, he looking after her.
Enter Ramirez, attended by Carlos; Ramirez embraces Alphonso.
Ram. Prop of my age, and pattern of my youth,
But such as far excels the original,
Ten thousand blessings on thee for this deed!
Alph. Heaven and my fate speak other language to me.
No blessings, none, but millions of their curses,
Like burning glasses, with contracted beams,
Are pointed on my head.
Ram. What words are these, on this auspicious day?
Alph. Oh, fly me, fly me, sir;
Lest the contagion of my woes
Pollute my father's joys; Victoria's gone,
And with her went Alphonso's life and soul.
Ram. You had her in your power, and were too easy.
Alph. Or, rather, she too cruel.
Her duty forced her hence, in scorn of love.
Ram. You must resume your arms,
And force her father's will, to make her yours.
Why, like a woman, stand you thus complaining,
Born to the strength, and courage of a man?
Rouse up your spirits to a just revenge,
Like lightning wasteful, and like thunder loud.
Rivers of blood shall run about the town,
For which you were so lavish of your own.
Garcia shall die, and by his death remove
The cause of jealousy, and injured love;
The king himself, the ungrateful king, shall fall;
Of all our ills the curst original.
Alph. Beseech you, sir, no more.
Ram. Your reason, son?
Alph. For you have given my soul so large a swing,
That it bounds back again with double force,
Only because you carried it too far.
You've set an image of so vast destruction
Before my sight, that reason shuns the approach,
And dares not view the fearful precipice.
Ram. Is vengeance, which is said so sweet a morsel,
That heaven reserves it for its proper taste,
Is it so soon disrelished?
Alph. What have the people done, the sheep of princes,
That they should perish for the shepherd's fault?
They bring their yearly wool, to clothe their owners;
And yet, when bare themselves, are culled for slaughter.
Should I do this, what could the wolf do more,
Than what the master did?
Ram. Then Garcia, must he 'scape?
Alph. 'Tis true, I had him at my mercy once;
I should have killed him then, or, once forgiven,
Should spare him now.
Ram. [Aside.] His noble soul relents.
Alph. But then I give Victoria to his arms;
And make my own destruction my own act.
That fires my blood again—yet if she loves him,
Is killing him she loves, the way to gain her?
No, let him live—but Veramond shall die;
Who, when he was my father as he thought,
When I deserved his love, then hated me.
Ram. Oh, now the tempest drives another way. [Aside.
Alph. No more deliberation,—there it goes;
I'll kill him first, to satisfy my vengeance,
And then, to atone her anger, kill myself. [Seems going hastily.
Ram. Hold, hold, Alphonso! heaven, and earth, and I,
Who have a father's title to your life,
Forbid that parricide.
Alph. Would you refuse a madman leave to sleep?
'Tis sleep must cure me, and that sleep is death.
Ram. A madman must be cooled, to make him sleep.
I have prepared a gentle opiate for you;
One moment's patience, and I will infuse it.
You see me dispossessed of all my state?
Alph. Yes, to my grief; and, to enhance that grief,
'Tis to my sword my father owes his ruin.
Ram. And 'tis that only sword that can restore me.
It must, and ought; you owe it to your duty.
Alph. Duty was what Victoria urged to me:
I hate that fatal word, because she used it,
And, for a cruel father, left her love.
Ram. Could she do that for Veramond, a tyrant,
Which you refuse to me?
The conquering troops of Arragon are yours;
You are their life, their idol, and their soul.
Conduct me home, and, with their aid, restore me;
And, that once done, we shall not need to treat:
For Veramond himself will send, and sue
For that alliance, which his pride now scorns.
Alph. Long ere that time, Victoria will be Garcia's:
Her father will not lose one moment's space,
To gratify his vengeance with my ruin,
If I would force him, this must be the time;
Which, since I now refuse, 'tis lost forever.—
Hear then, and take it as my last resolve:
Lead you the troops; you need not fear their faith,
The guilt of their rebellion makes them yours.
With them, and with your own, restore yourself.
Ram. Then what becomes of you?
Alph. No matter what.
Provide yourself of some more worthy heir,
For I am lost, beyond redemption lost.
Farewell the joys of empire, from this moment!
Farewell the honours of the dusty field!
Here I lay down this instrument of death, [Ungirds his Sword, and lays it down.
And may it gird some happier soldier's side;
For nothing, it could gain, can countervail
To me, the loss of my Victoria's love.
Your blessing, and farewell! [Kneels.
Ram. Alas! I fear some fatal resolution
Is harboured in your soul: If thus you leave me,
My mind forebodes, we never more shall meet.
Alph. Give not so black an omen to this parting,
For we may meet again, if heaven thinks fit:
A beam of comfort, like the moon through clouds,
Gilds the brown horror, and directs my way.—
Blast not my purpose, by refusing leave,
Nor ask the means; but know, I will not die,
Till I have proved the extremest remedy.
And if, unarmed, I go to tempt my fate,
Think my despair is from Victoria's hate. [Exit Alphonso.
Ram. I might have used the power heaven gives to parents,
And hindered his departure;
But somewhat of divine controuled my tongue:
For heroes' souls, irregular to us,
Yet move like planets in their proper sphere;
Performing even course,
In paths uneven to beholders' eyes.— [Pauses a little.
[To Carlos.] His words, mysterious as they were, imported
Some desperate design, which I must watch,
And therefore dare not lead the forces far;
But, camped without the town, at some small distance
To expect the issue, and prevent his death.
Carl. Sir, what orders give you? for you are now our general.
Ram. Follow, and you shall know. [Exit Ramirez.

Carl. Follow! whither? No plunder, when the town was fairly taken! there's a hopeful general to follow. The son and father are both gone away, without providing for me, who betrayed the city to them; a fine encouragement for virtue! Well, these monarchs make no more of us soldiers, when their turn is served, than we make of our old battered horses. To put us off for stallions, is the best that can become of us; and those indeed are my present circumstances. Dalinda will none, and Sancho is just mounting, if I get not between, and thrust him off; for which purpose I have insinuated to him that I have left Dalinda for his sake, and am upon another scent.——Yonder he comes: this, and another lie which I have ready coined, will go near to spoil his market.

Enter Sancho.

San. Well, Carlos, the hurly burly's quite over. I met Ramirez marching off the army; and just afterwards appeared a fellow in a fool's coat, on horseback with three trumpets. Herod, I think they called him; some such Jewish name.

Carl. A herald at arms you mean.

San. It may be so; but I should have taken him for some pardonner, for he scattered indulgences, by handfuls, to the people; but only they paid nothing for them.

Carl. But did he proclaim nothing?

San. Oh, yes; and now I remember, he began his speech with, O yes, too: he proclaimed a general pardon to all rebels, of which number, you know, you and I, Carlos, were two ring-leaders.

Carl. Then farewell Ramirez; even trudge on by yourself, for there is an end of my expedition. I will lay down my arms like a dutiful subject, and submit to his majesty, when I can rebel no longer.

San. Very good; and try the other touch for Dalinda, will you?

Carl. You know I have quitted her for your sake, and now am altogether for—let me see, what lady am I for?

San. Pump, pump, Carlos, for that's to be invented yet.

Carl. Only out of my head a little:—'tis the dead Count's sister; a great fortune since her brother died, but somewhat homely: she has already made some advances to me, or else I lie.

San. And will you say To have and to hold, with an ugly woman?

Carl. Yes, and For better for worse,—that is, for virgin, or for whore; as you will, Sancho, who are listing yourself into the honourable company of cuckolds.

San. What, a hero as I am, to be a cuckold?

Carl. Do not disdain your calling; Julius Cæsar was one before you. The Count has had her by her own confession; so she's a nobleman's dowager, for your comfort.

San. Pugh, she denied it afterwards; that was but a copy of her countenance.

Carl. What if it prove a copy of the Conde's countenance? do you think she had not a bastard by him?

San. That was only a plot betwixt us, to cheat her father.

Carl. Did her father know nothing of it?

San. Not a syllable.

Carl. Then, when he believed you to be the Count, how came he to charge you with enjoying her?

San. That is something to the purpose;—but now I think on't, 'tis nothing neither; 'tis but asking her the question, and I know she'll satisfy me.

Carl. And you are resolved to take her word?

San. Rather than yours; for you may have a mind to have a lick at the honey-pot yourself.

Carl. Farewell; you know I have other business upon the stocks. [Seems going out.

San. Stay, Carlos; I am afraid you know something more of this bawdy business than you confess.

Carl. Fecks, not I.

San. Fecks! what a sneaking oath is that for a man of honour? swear me bloodily like a soldier, if you would be believed.

Carl. Without swearing, I believe her honest; therefore make sure of her immediately.

San. That is, take a rival's counsel, and make sure of being an antedated cuckold.

Carl. If you won't believe me, I cannot help it. But marry Dalinda, and be happy; for I may prevent you, if you make not haste.

San. Thou hast cheated me so often, that I cannot credit one syllable thou sayest.

Carl. [Going out.] Then take your fortune.—

[Carlos pulls out his handkerchief to wipe his face, and drops a letter.

Yonder comes Dalinda; I know her by her trip. I'll watch their greeting. [Exit.

San. The rogue's malicious, and would have me marry her in spite; besides he is off and on at so devilish a rate, a man knows not where to have him. Well, I am resolved, in the first place, not to follow the rogue's counsel. I will not marry her, because he advised me to it;—and yet I will marry her, because he counselled me not to marry her.—Hey-day! I will marry her, and I will not marry her! what's the meaning of this, friend Sancho? That's taking the rogue's advice one way or t'other. [Sees the letter and takes it up.] What, has he dropt a letter! To whom is it directed? to Don Carlos D'Ybarra;—that is himself. [Mutters, as reading to himself.

Dalinda's fair, and a fortune; but marry her not; for to my knowledge (pox confound him for his knowledge) she has had a——(What a——Mr Friend? why—) a bastard, by the late Conde: (Ay, I thought as much.) But his sister Leonora is in love with you.

Damn it, I will read no more: it agrees with what he first told me; and therefore it must be all orthodox. Here she comes, too, just in the nick of my revenge; but I shall be very laconic with her.

Enter Dalinda.

Dal. Now, servant.

San. Now, cockatrice.

Dal. You're pretty familiar——

San. So have you been——

Dal. With your mistress.

San. With the Conde, of whoring memory.

Dal. A fine salutation!

San. A final parting.

Dal. What's the meaning of this? will you come in?

San. Will you go in?

Dal. Come, look upon me. [She makes the doux yeux to him.

San. I have no eyes.

Dal. Then I must take you by the hand. [She offers, and he pulls back.

San. I have no hands neither.

Dal. How's this? I have been but too kind——

San. Yes, to the Conde.

Dal. Pugh, that was a jest, you know.

San. 'Tis turned to earnest.

Dal. You know 'twas of my conception.

San. And of your bringing forth too.

Dal. What did I bring forth?

San. A bastard.

Dal. O impudent!

San. Woman.

Dal. What proof have you of that scandal?

San. This, with a pox t'ye. [Throws her the letter.
Patience, oh ye gods! [Exit.

[She takes up the note, and, as she is reading it, re-enter Carlos.

Carl. Much good may do you with your note, madam; now I think I am revenged at full: your cully has forsaken you.

Dal. Well, I did not expect this from you, cousin Carlos.

Carl. What did you take me for? King Log in Æsop's Fables, for you to insult me, and play at leap-frog over me? Did not you forsake me for a fool?

Dal. But was not this a terrible revenge of yours? must you needs shew him the letter, which has ruined my reputation, and lost my fortune? Am I the first frail creature, that had the misfortune of two great bellies, and yet afterwards was decently married, and passed for a virgin?

Carl. Nay, do not aggravate the matter: consult your note, and you will find but one bastard charged upon you; you see I was not for laying loaders.

Dal. A great courtesy, to bate me one, as if that was not enough to do my business.

Carl. Well, suppose I should discover this contrivance of mine, and set all right again?

Dal. [Aside.] Contrivance! oh heaven! I have undone myself, by confessing all too soon.

Carl. If I should prove you innocent, you would prove ungrateful?

Dal. No, you know I always loved you.

Carl. You have shown it most abundantly, in choosing Sancho.

Dal. You speak more truly than you think. I have shewn it; for, since I must confess the truth to you, I am no fortune: my father, though he bears it high, to put me off, has mortgaged his estate: we keep servants for shew; and when we should pay their wages, pick a quarrel with their service, and turn them off pennyless. There is neither sheet nor shirt in the whole family; the lodging-rooms are furnished with loam; and bare mattresses are the beds. The dining-room plays the hypocrite for all the house; for all the furniture is there. When strangers dine with us, we eat before the servants, and then they fast; but when we dine alone, 'tis all a muss[59]: they scramble for victuals, before 'tis served up, and then we fast.

Carl. The spirit of famine comes upon me, at the very description of it.

Dal. Now, since neither you nor I have fortunes, what should we do together, unless we should turn canibals, and eat up one another? But if you would make up this foul business, and help me to that rich fool Sancho, I say no more, but——

Carl. But thou wouldst be kind to me? speak out, for I dare not trust thee, thou art such a woman.

Dal. You should——

Carl. What should I?

Dal. Why, you should——

Carl. Well, well, I will believe thee, though my heart misgives me plaguily. And therefore, in the first place, I beg your pardon for the scandal I have laid upon you. In the next, I restore your virginity and take away your bastard.

Dal. And you'll tell Sancho 'twas a forged letter?

Carl. No doubt on't; for I wrote it to myself; and out of revenge invented the whole story.

Dal. But suppose, dear cousin, that Sancho should not believe all this to be your invention; and should still suspect the letter to be true?

Carl. I can easily convince him, by writing the same hand again, in which that letter was indited.

Dal. That's an excellent expedient; but do it now; for a woman can never be cleared too soon.

Carl. But when you are cleared, you will forget your promise to me——

Dal. But if I am not cleared, I cannot marry him; nor be put in a way to keep my promise. Come, I'll hold my hand; write upon it, I always carry pen and ink about me.

Carl. Let me seal my affection first. [Kisses her hand.] Now, what should I write?

Dal. Only these words at the bottom of the note, in the same character:—This letter was wholly forged by me, Carlos. [He kneels and writes.

Carl. There 'tis.—— [Gives it her, she puts it in her pocket.

But now tell me truly, what made you confess a couple of bastards? have you indeed been dabbling?

Dal. Who, I confess it! Oh thou impudent fellow! I only soothed thee up in thy villainy, to make thee betray thy own plot. I confessed seemingly, to make thee confess really. Heaven and thy own conscience know I did. [Seems to weep.

Carl. But when you're married, you'll remember your promise?

Dal. What promise?

Carl. That I should——

Dal. Should what?

Carl. Must I tell you?

Dal. No, I'll tell you; I said you should,—and so you shall,—be cozened in your expectation.

Carl. I foreboded this, and yet was fool enough to trust thee. Give me back my letter.

Dal. What, deliver up my evidence, that's the testimony of my virtue, and thy wickedness?

Carl. I'll search your petticoat.

Dal. Dare but touch my petticoat, and I'll cry out a rape against thee.

Carl. Oh thou Eve of Genesis! thou wouldst have tempted the serpent, if thou hadst been there.

Dal. The next news you hear is of my wedding; be patient, and you shall be invited to the dinner.

Carl. I say no more; but I'll go home and indite iambics: thou shalt not want for an epithalamium; I'll do thy business in verse. [Exit.

Dal. My comfort is, I have done your business in prose already.