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Title: The Stolen Heiress - or, The Salamanca Doctor Outplotted
Author: Centlivre, Susanna, 1667?-1723
Language: English
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THE
STOLEN HEIRESS:
OR THE
_Salamanca_ Doctor Outplotted.
A
COMEDY.
Drawn from:
THE
WORKS
OF THE CELEBRATED
Mrs. CENTLIVRE.
VOLUME ONE
LONDON:
Printed for J. KNAPTON, C. HITCH and L. HAWES,
J. and R. TONSON, S. CROWDER and Co. W. BATHOE,
T. LOWNDS, T. CASLON, and G. KEARSLY.
M.DCC.LXI.
PROLOGUE.
Spoke by Mrs. PRINCE.
_Our Author fearing his Success to Day,_
_Sends me to bribe your Spleen against his Play,_
_And if a Ghost in_ Nelly's _Time cou'd sooth ye,_
_He hopes in these that Flesh and Blood may move ye,_
_Nay, what is more, to win your Hearts, a Maid!_
_If ever such a Thing the Play-house had._
_For Cold and Shade the waxen Blossom's born,_
_Not to endure the Regions of the Sun,_
_Let every Beau then his Applause begin,_
_And think the Rarity was born for him:_
_Your true-bred Knights for fancy'd Dames advance,_
_And think it Gallantry to break a Launce,_
_And shall a real Damsel e'er be found_
_To plead her Cause in vain on_ English _Ground,_
_Unless that dreadful Prophecy's begun,_
_In which Seven Women are to share----one Man!_
_But thanks my Stars that Danger I disown,_
_For in the Pit, I see 'tis--one--to one._
_And while the Fair can all their Rights enjoy,_
_We'll keep our Title up to being Coy,_
_So let your Praise be noisy as your Wine,_
_And grant your Favours, if you'd purchase mine._
* * * * *
A SONG design'd to be sung by Mr. DOGGET.
_The Man you Ladies ought to fear,_
_Behold and see his Picture here._
_With Arms a-cross, and down-cast Eyes_
_Thus languishes, and thus he dies,_
_Then gives his Hat a careless Pull,_
_Thus he sighs, and thus looks dull,_
_Thus he ogles, thus he sneers,_
_Thus he winks, and thus he lears._
_This, this is he alone can move,_
_And this the Man the Ladies love._
THE
EPILOGUE.
Spoke by Mr. DOGGET.
_You have seen what Scholar is in Cap and Gown,_
_Before his Breeding's polish'd by this Town:_
_'Tis not enough, that he can_ Hebrew _speak,_
Greek, Latin, Chaldeac, _and_ Arabick;
_He may perform his Task in Church and School,_
_Ne'er drop a Word, that is not Grammar-Rule._
_Run through the Arts; can each Degree commence,_
_Yet be a Freshman still, to Men of Sense._
_Tho' the learn'd Youth, can all the Sages quote,_
_Has_ Homer, Hesiod, _and the rest by Wrote;_
_Yet what's all this to Picquet, Dress or Play?_
_Or to the Circle, on a Visiting-Day?_
_A finish'd Beau; for such fine things I have seen,_
_That heretofore, has of some College been:_
_But that Despising, nothing now retains,_ }
_For Learning is a Thing requires Brains;_ }
_And that's a Perquisite the Gentleman disdains._ }
_The Great Dull Ass, from breaking Head of_ Priscian;
_Hither he comes, and writes approv'd Physician._
_The Noise of Chariot brings the Patients in;_
_Grant them Patience, that Physick for their Sin._
_Well then----_
_Since Learning's useless, I'll the Task defy;_
_Practice to Ogle, Flatter, Swear and Lye;_
_For that's the Way the Ladies Hearts to gain,_
_Burn all my Books; my Studies are but vain:_
_To gain their Looks, each Shape and Dress I'll try;_
_Smile when they Smile; and when they Frown, I Die._
Dramatis Personæ.
MEN.
_Governor of_ Palermo, _Mr._ Bowman.
_Count_ Pirro, _Nephew to the Governor_, _Mr._ Griffith.
Gravello, a Sicilian _Lord, Father to_ }
Lucasia, } _Mr._ Freeman.
Larich, _his Brother_, _Mr._ Fieldhouse.
_Lord_ Euphenes, _an old_ Sicilian _General_, _Mr._ Arnold.
Palante, _Son to_ Euphenes, _but unknown_ }
_in Love with_ Lucasia, } _Mr._ Powel.
Clerimont, _his Friend_, _Mr._ Baile.
Eugenio, _Son to_ Gravello _in Disguise_ }
_under the Name of_ Irus, } _Mr._ Booth.
Alphonso, _formerly an Officer under_ }
Euphenes, } _Mr._ Knap.
Francisco, _in Love with_ Lavinia, _Mr._ Pack.
Sancho, _a Pedant, bred at_ Salamanca, }
_design'd by_ Larich, _a Husband for_ } _Mr._ Dogget.
Lavinia, }
Tristram, _his Man_, _Mr._ Lee.
Rosco, _Servant to Count_ Gravello, _Mr._ Bright.
WOMEN.
Lucasia, _Daughter to_ Gravello, _in_ }
_Love with_ Palante, } _Mrs._ Barry.
Lavinia, _Daughter to_ Larich, _in Love_ }
_with_ Francisco, } _Mrs._ Prince.
Laura, _Woman to_ Lucasia, _Mrs._ Lawson.
_The_ SCENE _in_ PALERMO.
THE STOLEN HEIRESS:
OR, THE
SALAMANCA DOCTOR Outplotted.
ACT I. SCENE I.
_Enter Count_ Gravello _and_ Rosco.
_Gravello. ROSCO_!
_Rosco._ My Lord.
_Grav._ Hast thou divulg'd the News that my Son died at _Rome_?
_Rosco._ Yes, my Lord, with every Circumstance, the Time, the Place, and
Manner of his Death; that 'tis believed, and told for Truth with as much
Confidence, as if they had been Spectators of his End.
_Grav._ That's well, that's very well, now _Rosco_ follows my Part, I
must express a most unusual Grief, not like a well-left Heir for his
dead Father, or a lusty Widow for an old decrepit Husband; no, I must
counterfeit in a far deeper Strain; weep like a Parent for an only Son:
Is not this a hard Task? Ha, _Rosco_?
_Rosco._ Ah, no, my Lord, not for your Skill; in your Youth your
Lordship saw Plays, conversed with Players, knew the fam'd _Alberto_.
_Grav._ 'Tis true, by Heav'n, I have seen that Knave paint Grief in such
a lively Colour, that for false and acted Passion he has drawn true
Tears, the Ladies kept Time with his Sighs, and wept to his sad Accents
as if he had truly been the Man he seem'd, then I'll try my Part, thou
hast still been privy to my Bosom Secrets; know'st Wealth and Ambition
are the Darlings of my Soul; nor will I leave a Stratagem unessay'd to
raise my Family. My Son is well and safe, but by Command from me he
returns not this three Months. My Daughter, my _Lucasia_, is my only
Care, and to advance her Fortune have I fram'd this Project; how dost
like it, _Rosco_, ha!
_Rosco._ Rarely, my Lord, my Lady will be now suppos'd the Heir to all
your vast Revenues, and pester'd with more Suitors than the _Grecian_
Queen, in the long Absence of her Lord. You'll have the Dons, Lords and
Dukes swarm about your House like Bees.
_Grav._ My Aim is fix'd at the Rich and Great, he that has Wealth
enough, yet longs for more, Count _Pirro_, the Governor's Heir and
Nephew, that rich Lord that knows no End of his large Fortunes, yet
still gapes on, for Gold is a sure Bait to gain him, no other Loadstone
can attract his Iron Heart, 'tis proof against the Force of Beauty, else
I should not need this Stratagem, for Nature has not prov'd a Niggard to
my Daughter.
_Rosco._ To him, I'm sure, she's play'd the Step-Dame, I much fear
_Lucasia_ will not relish such a Match.
_Grav._ Ha! not relish it! has she any other Taste but mine, or shall
she dare to wish ought that may contradict my Purpose--But hold, perhaps
you know how she's inclin'd, you may be confederate with her, and manage
her Intrigues with that Beggar _Palante_, who is only by Lord
_Euphene_'s Bounty, my mortal Enemies, kept from starving.
_Rosco._ Who I, my good Lord? Heav'n knows, I have learnt by your
Lordship's Example, always to hate the Poor, and like the Courtier,
never to do ought without a Bribe.
_Enter a Servant._
_Serv._ My Lord, Count _Pirro_, to wait upon your Lordship.
_Grav._ Conduct him in. [_Exit. Serv._] Now _Rosco_, to my Couch; if my
Plot takes, I'm a happy Man.
_Enter Count_ Pirro.
_Pirro._ Is your Lord asleep?
_Ros._ I think not, my Lord, but thus he lies, Heav'n knows when this
Grief will end--My Lord, my Lord, the Count of _Pirro_.
_Grav._ I pray your Lordship pardon me, at this Time I'm not fit to
entertain Persons of your Worth.
_Pir._ Alas! my Lord, I know your Grief.
_Ros._ Ay, 'twas that brought his good Lordship hither.
_Pir._ You have lost a worthy, and a hopeful Son, but Heav'n that always
gives, will sometimes take, and there's no Balsam left to cure these
Wounds but Patience; there's no disputing with it, yet if there were, in
what could you accuse those Pow'rs, that else have been so liberal to
you, and left you to bless your Age a beauteous Daughter.
_Ros._ Now it begins to work. [_Aside._
_Pirro._ Your Blood is not extinct, nor are you Childless, Sir, from
that fair Branch may come much Fruit to glad Posterity; think on this,
my Lord.
_Grav._ I know I should not repine, my Lord, but Nature will prevail, I
cannot help reflecting on my Loss; alas, my Lord, you know not what it
is to lose a Son; 'tis true, I have still a Child, Heav'n has now
confin'd my Care to one, to see her well bestow'd shall be the Business
of my Life--Oh! my _Eugenio_.
_Ros._ Egad, he does it rarely. [_Aside._
_Pirr._ How shall I manage, that he may not suspect my Love to his
Daughter proceeds from his Son's Death, [_Aside._] I was just coming to
make a Proposal to your Lordship as the News reach'd my Ear, I much fear
the Time's improper now to talk of Business.
_Grav._ Pray Heaven it be the Business I wish; were my Grief more great,
if possible, yet would I suspend it to hear my Lord of _Pirro_.
_Ros._ Cunningly insinuated. [_Aside._
_Pirro._ Your Lordship is too obliging.
_Grav._ Not at all, pray proceed, my Lord.
_Pirro._ It was, my Lord, to have ask'd the fair _Lucasia_ for my Wife.
_Ros._ So he has swallow'd the Bait. [_Aside._
_Grav._ As I could wish. [_Aside._
_Pirro._ 'Twas not out of any Consideration of her present Fortune,
my Lord, I hope you'll not believe, since I designed it e'er I knew
_Eugenio_ dead. I wish he may believe me. [_Aside._
_Grav._ If 'twas, my Lord of _Pirro_ does deserve it all, nor would I
wish my Child a better Match. But 'tis too soon to treat of Marriage
after such a Loss.
_Rosco._ Dear Sir, consent to this good Lord, so will your Care be over,
and hopeful Grandsons make up poor _Eugenio_'s Loss.
_Grav._ What would you have me think of Joy and Death at once, and
mingle the Grave and Marriages together.
_Pirro._ If you'll consent, my Lord, a private Marriage may be had, and
so dispense with the usual Solemnities of Joy. If you refuse me, I shall
think you slight my Claim.
_Grav._ That Argument alone prevails: No, I will never give the Count of
_Pirro_ Cause to doubt of my Esteem.
_Rosco._ Consider, my Lord, she's an Heiress, that may set bold
desperate Youths on rash Attempts; and tho' they know _Sicilian_ Laws
gives Death to him that steals an Heiress, yet I'll not warrant her
Safety till to-morrow Night.
_Pirro._ He's in the right, my Lord.
_Grav._ Away, and call her, tho' she's disorder'd with her Griefs. Now
thou hast rais'd another Fear, and my poor Heart trembles for _Lucasia_,
as it for _Eugenio_ bleeds. [_Ex._ Rosco.
_Pirro._ Within my Arms she shall be safe and happy, the Governor, my
noble Uncle, and my Friend, her great Protector.
_Enter_ Rosco _with_ Lucasia.
_Grav._ Come near _Lucasia_, like the Ambassadors from this World's
great Rulers, I bring thee Grief and Joy, pause not upon a Brother's
Loss, tho' 'twas a dear one; but fix thy Thoughts here, upon this Lord;
thus I bequeath thee to the illustrious Count of _Pirro_.
_Pirro._ Thus I with Extasy receive her.
[_Kneels and kisses her Hand._
_Luc._ You'll give me Leave, my Lord, to wake from this Confusion:
Is't possible! do I behold my Father?
Can he resolve, at once, to part with both
His Children, my Brother, the best of Men,
No more will bless his Roof, no more will grace
This Palace with his Presence----
Must I be cast out too, far more unblest
Than he who's lodg'd within the peaceful Grave.
Oh, send me to him, e'er you condemn me
To perpetual Bondage, to a Life of Woe;
To a Marriage unthought of, unforeseen.
_Pirro._ Madam----
_Grav._ Mind her not, my Lord, 'tis Grief, 'tis mere Distraction, she
shan't dispute my Will. Please to walk in, my Lord, we'll peruse the
Writings of your Estate, and hear what Settlement you'll make her, and
to-morrow the Priest shall join you, to alleviate her Griefs, and Mine.
_Pirro._ But to see her weep thus, damps all my rising Joy.
_Grav._ They are but Virgin Tears, pray come with me, Daughter, you know
my Will, I expect you be obedient; you know 'tis your Duty.
_Luc._ I know 'tis Sir.----
But you, I hope, will give my Tortur'd Heart
Your Leave to break, and that may shew my Duty.
_Pirro._ Fair _Lucasia_.
_Luc._ Oh, Distraction! [_Flings from him._
_Grav._ Pray come, my Lord, let her have her Way, the Fits of Women's
Grief last not long, at least when I command she shall obey.
[_Exeunt, all but_ Lucasia.
_Luc._ A dismal Sentence, it strikes me upon my Soul,
And raises Terrors far more grim than Death;
Forgive me, Brother, if t' thy Memory
I pay not one Tear more, all now are due
To Love, and my _Palante_.
_Enter_ Laura.
_Lau._ You name the Man that waits by me conceal'd,
For one blest Minute to comfort his _Lucasia_.
_Luc._ All Minutes now are curs'd, no chearful day,
Will ever bring the lost _Lucasia_ Peace.
_Lau._ Come forth, Sir, I believe you'll prove the best Physician.
_Enter_ Palante.
_Luc._ Oh _Palante_, art thou come prepar'd to weep,
Else, for me, thou art no fit Companion,
For I have News will rack thy very Soul.
_Pal._ Yes, I have heard of brave _Eugenio_'s Death;
He was thy Brother, and my early Friend:
Thus doubly ty'd, thou need'st not doubt I mourn
Him truly----
_Luc._ Oh poor _Palante_!
So wretched _Alcione_ did at Distance grieve,
When she beheld the floating Corps,
And knew not 'twas her Husband.
_Pal._ What means my Love?
_Luc._ Dost thou not love me, my _Palante_?
_Pal._ Oh! after so many Years of faithful Service,
Why am I ask'd that Question?
_Luc._ It were better that thou didst not, for when
Thou hear'st the Story 'twill turn thee into Marble;
'Twill shock thy manly Heart, and make each Nerve
Lose its accustomed Faculty, chill all
Thy Blood, and make thine Eyes run o'er like mine,
For we must part for ever.
_Pal._ Can that Voice pronounce a Sound so dreadful?
Art thou then alter'd with thy Fortune? Must
I lose thee?
_Luc._ O thou unkind one to suspect my Love,
My promis'd Faith, or think me in the least
Consenting to my rigid Father's Will,
Who, but now has given me to the Count of _Pirro_.
_Pal._ Ha! to the Count of _Pirro_, that Lump of Deformity:
My Sword has been my Fortune hitherto,
And ne'er was wont to fail its Master, and
Whilst this Arm can hold it, I'll maintain my Right.
_Luc._ Which Way rash Man, is he not surrounded
By numerous Friends, and waiting Slaves?
Does not inevitable Death attend
Thy desperate Purpose?
_Pal._ Then let that same Sword, the old Acquaintance
Of my Arm, pierce its lost Master's Breast, and
End my Sorrows.
_Luc._ Forbid it Heaven, is there no other Way?
_Pal._ But one, and that I dare not name.
_Luc._ Oh! how has thy _Lucasia_, since first our
Mutual Vows were plighted, given Cause for Doubt.
Why dost thou fear to ask, since all is thine, within
The Bounds of Honour.
_Pal._ When I attempt ought against _Lucasia_,
Contrary to the nicest Rules of Virtue,
May Heaven, and she, forsake me.
_Luc._ Oh, I know it, and when I refuse what
May advance our Loves, may I be curst
With that hated Count of _Pirro_. Speak, my _Palante_.
_Pal._ Can I--Ye all-seeing Powers, move so bold a Suit,
Oh! let me humbly ask it on my Knees,
To quit her cruel Father's House,
And all the Grandeur of a pompous Court.
To bear a Part in my hard Fortunes;
Oh! 'tis too much to think, to wish, to hope.
_Luc._ Yes, dear _Palante_, more than this I'd do for thee.
What's Pomp and Greatness when compared with Love?
Oh! that thou wert some humble Shepherd on
Our _Sicilian_ Plain, I thy chearful Mate,
Wou'd watch with Pleasure till the Ev'ning Tide,
And wait thy blest Return, with as much Joy
As Queens expect Victorious Monarchs, and
Think myself more blest than they. But, oh _Palante_!
Thou know'st our Country's Laws gives Death without
Reprieve to him that weds an Heiress against her Parents Will,
Tho' with her own Consent.
_Pal._ Who would not die to purchase thee? For I
Must die without thee.
_Luc._ No, live _Palante_, we'll together tread
The Maze of Life, and stand the Shock of Fate.
The Power's Decree, or both our Happiness,
Or both our Miseries, where shall we meet?
For I will leave this loathsome House, before their
Watch grows stricter.
_Pal._ Will thou then forsake the World for thy _Palante_?
Everlasting Blessings fall around thee,
And crown thy Days and Nights with Peace and Joy.
Oh! my fond Heart, I cannot half express
The Raptures thou hast rais'd, thou Treasure of
My Soul, let me embrace thee, and while thus
I hold thee in my Arms, I'm richer than
The _Eastern_ Monarch, nor wou'd I quit thee
To be as great as he----
Oh! let but what my Arms infolds be mine;
Take all the rest the World contains, my Life.
_Luc._ My _Palante_----
_Pal._ I have an only Friend, faithful and just
As men of old before Deceit became
A Trade, he shall assist us in our Flight;
He shall prepare a Priest, if thou wilt meet
Me in the _Eastern_ Grove; when we are wed
We'll fly to _Spain_, till Time and Friends procure
My Pardon.
_Luc._ In some Disguise I'll meet thee there,
Just at the Hour of Noon,
For then my Father sleeps, and I will take
The Opportunity----
And, oh! I fear no Danger but for thee.
_Pal._ For me there's none, whilst thou'rt safe, and with
Me thy Loss alone can make _Palante_ die.
_Enter_ Laura.
_Laura._ Madam, your Father----
_Luc._ Away _Palante_, may all the Pow'rs preserve thee.
_Pal._ And thou the best of Woman-kind.
[_Exeunt severally._
Luc. _O Love, thou that hast join'd a faithful Pair,_
_Guard my_ Palante, _make him all thy Care_.
_Fate's utmost Rigor we resolve to try,_
_Live both together, or together die._
_Enter Count_ Gravello, Larich, _and_ Lavinia.
_Grav._ Brother, you are welcome to the House of Sorrow; but I have
learnt so much Philosophy, to cease to mourn when the Cause is past
Redress. Once more, forgetting Grief, you are welcome, you, and my fair
Niece.
_Lar._ Thank you Brother--the Girl's a foolish Girl--Marriageable, but
foolish--You understand me.
_Lavin._ I thank you, Sir.
_Larich._ Why, are you not a Fool, Hussy--look'e Brother, I have
provided the Mynx a rich Husband, a Scholar too, Body of me bred all
his youth at _Salamanca_, learn'd enough to commence Doctor--I love a
learn'd Man, especially when Riches too concur; he's the Son and Heir of
my old Friend _Don Sancho_, of _Syracuse_--and the Baggage cries _I hate
him_, and yet has never seen him; but she is in Love, forsooth, with a
young beggarly Dog, not worth a Groat; but I'll prevent her, I'll
warrant her.
_Grav._ Just, just my Case, we are Brothers in every Thing, my Daughter
too thinks her Judgment wisest, and flies a Fortune for a Princess, but
her Reign's at an End, to-morrow I'm rid of her; I warrant you,
Brother, we'll hamper the young Sluts.
_Lavin._ You may be both mistaken, old Gentlemen, if my Cousin is of my
Mind.
_Larich._ What's that you mutter, Mrs. _Littlewit_?
_Lavin._ I say, I long to see my Cousin _Lucasia_, Sir, I hope that's no
Crime.
_Grav._ No, no, _Rosco_, wait of her in to my Daughter, and dost hear
_Lavinia_? Pr'ythee, let Obedience be thy Study, and teach it her.
_Lavin._ I'll warrant you, Sir, I'll teach her to be Obedient, if she'll
but follow my Advice, [_Aside._] but 'tis something hard, though Uncle,
to marry a Man at first Sight one's heard but an indifferent Character
of.
_Larich._ How, Hussy, are you a Judge of Characters? Is he not a
Scholar? Answer me that.
_Lavin._ A meer Scholar is a meer----You know the old Proverb, Father.
_Larich._ Do you hear the perverse Baggage; get you out of my Sight,
Hussy.
_Lavin._ I am obedient, Sir--I dare swear I shall find better Company
than two old arbitrary Dons. [_Exit with_ Rosco.
_Larich._ Did you ever see such a Slut? body o'me these wild Wenches are
enough to make old Men mad.
_Grav._ My Daughter is of another Strain, solid as Man but obstinate as
Woman; but no Matter, when she is married my Care is over, let Count
_Pirro_ look to't.
_Larich._ Count _Pirro_! body o'me a mighty Fortune for my Cousin; why,
he's rich enough to buy a Principality; my Son's rich too, and a great
Scholar, which I admire above all Things.
_Enter_ Rosco.
_Rosco._ Oh! Sir, such News, such a Sight, Sir!
_Larich._ What's the Matter?
_Rosco._ Don _Sancho_ come to Town in his _Salamanca_ Habit, his Dress,
and grave Phiz has alarm'd the Mob, that there's such a crowd about the
Inn Door, I'll maintain't his Landlord gives him free Quarter for a
Twelve-month, if he'll let him expose him to Advantage, ha, ha, ha, he
makes as odd a Figure, Sir, as the famous _Don Quixot_, when he went in
Search of his _Dulcinea_.
_Larich._ Brother, pray correct your Servant, I like not his ridiculous
Jests upon the Habit of the Learned, my Son-in-Law that is to be, minds
nothing but his Books.
_Rosco._ Sir, I ask your Pardon, my niggard Stars have not allow'd Line
enough to my Judgment, to fathom the Profundity of your Son's Shallow
Capacity-- [_Bowing comically._
_Grav._ Peace, Sirrah--Come, Brother, now your Son's arriv'd, I hope we
shall have a double Match to-morrow----We'll not consult the Women, but
force them to their Happiness.
_Experienc'd Age knows what for Youth is fit;_
_With Wise Men, Wealth out-weighs both Parts and Wit._
[Exeunt.
ACT II. SCENE I. Lucasia's _Chamber_.
_Enter_ Lucasia _and_ Lavinia.
_Lavin._ Upon my Life, Cousin, I think my Condition worse than yours,
and yet you see I am not so much dejected.
_Luc._ Oh! What Condition is't can equal mine?
Much less exceed it; to be oblig'd to
Break my Vow, to part from my _Palante_;
Forc'd to the Arms of a mishapen Monster,
Whom Nature made to vex the whole Creation.
Nor is his crooked Body more deform'd
Than is his Soul, Ambition is his God;
He seeks no Heav'n but Interest; nor knows he
How to value ought but Gold.
Oh! my dearest Brother, had'st thou but liv'd
I had been truly happy, but now am
Doubly miserable, in losing thee and my _Palante_.
_Lavin._ For Heaven's Sake don't afflict yourself at this Rate, but
study rather to avoid the Ill, if you would counter-plot my Uncle; dry
up your Eyes, and let the Woman work, I warrant you may contrive some
Way to get rid of this Lump of Worms-meat; I don't fear giving my Father
the drop, for all his Care, yet tho' he made me ride post to Town, to
meet the Fool he has pick'd out for me; it shall cost me a Fall, if I
don't marry the Man I have a Mind to; I shall see who's the best
Politician, my Dad, or I.
_Luc._ Thy Courage gives fresh Life and Liberty,
To poor _Lucasia_'s tired restless Soul,
Such Pow'r have chearful Friends t'ease our Sorrows.
Oh! my _Lavinia_, may thy Counsel prove
Prophetic, I'm going now, in this Disguise, to meet my
Dear _Palante_; may no malignant Star
Interpose to cross our mutual Wishes.
May thy Designs successful prove,
To fix thee ever in _Francisco_'s Arms.
_Lavin._ And make _Palante_ yours.
SCENE the Street.
Sancho _and_ Francisco _meeting_.
_Fran._ Don _Sancho_ your Servant; who thought of seeing you at
_Palermo_, I thought you had been at the University of _Salamanca_?
_Sancho._ I came lately from thence.
_Fran._ Pr'ythee, what brought you hither?
_Sanc._ Why, that that brings some Men to the Gallows, a Wench.
_Fran._ What, I warrant, you have got your Bed-maker with Child, and so
are expell'd the College.
_Sancho._ That's a Mistake.
_Fran._ What, thou art not come hither to take Physic, ha!
_Sancho._ No, not the Physic you mean; but am going to enter into a
Course, that is, the Course of Matrimony.
_Fran._ Matrimony, with who, pr'ythee?
_Sanc._ Why, with Don _Larich_'s Daughter: Do you know her?
_Fran._ Ha! Is this my Rival? This was a lucky Discovery, [_Aside._] I
know her; ay, very well, Sir. I can assure you she's very handsome, and
as witty as she's fair: Thou won't visit her in that Dress, sure?
_Sancho._ To chuse, Sir, 'tis an Emblem of Learning; nay, I design my
Man shall carry a Load of Books along with me too, that she may see what
he is Master of, that is to be Master of her.
_Fran._ Indeed, my Friend, you'll never succeed upon those Terms.
_Tristr._ Sir, my Master has such an Itch to this foolish Learning, that
he bestows more Money yearly upon Books, than would build an Hospital
for all the Courtesans in _Italy_.
_Sancho._ No more, or you'll displease me, _Tristram_.
_Tristr._ I can't help that, Sir,--Sir, will you believe me, I have
spent two Days in sorting Poets from Historians, and as many Nights in
placing the Divines on their own Chairs, I mean their Shelves; then
separating Philosophers, from those People that kill with a License,
cost me a whole Day's Labour; and tho' my Master says Learning is
immortal, I find the Sheets it is contain'd in savours much of
Mortality.
_Sancho._ I hope my Books are in good Case, _Tristram_?
_Tristr._ Yes, yes, Sir, in as good Case as the Moths have left 'em.
_Sancho._ Od'so, I had forgot, to get me _Suarez Metaphysicks_, _Tolet
de Anima_, and _Granados Commentaries_, on _Primum Secundæ Thomæ
Aquinatis_.
_Tristr._ How the Devil does he do to remember all these Author's hard
Names, I dare swear he understands not a Syllable of their
Writings----Sir, would not the famous History of _Amidis de Gaul_ do as
well?
_Fran._ Ay, better, better far, Man, hark'ee _Sancho_, you are not at
_Salamanca_ now, amongst your square Caps, but in _Palermo_, come up to
see your Mistress the fair _Lavinia_, the Glory of the City; go and
court her like a Gentleman, without your Tropes and Figures, or all the
Physics, Metaphysics, and Metaphors, will streight be made pitiful
Martyrs.
_Sancho._ Martyrs, Sir, why, I thought--
_Fran._ Thyself an errant Idiot, thy Brain's more dull than a _Dutch_
Burghers. Is this a Dress fit for a Gentleman to court his Mistress in?
Away, away, the Lady you speak of, I can assure you is too much a
Gallant to be taken with a Band and a square Cap--If you would succeed,
you must throw off that Pedant, and assume the Gentleman, learn the Toss
of the Head, and know the Principles of each Man by the Cock of his Hat.
_Sancho._ How's that, pray?
_Fran._ Oh! I'll teach you: If you be but willing to improve, I'll
warrant you carry the Lady.
_Sanch._ But I am to be married to her as soon as I see her, so my
Father told me, and that her Father admired a Scholar above all Things.
_Fran._ I'll improve that Hint--Ay, as I told you, a Scholar that is
read in Men, not in Books.
_Sancho._ In Men, what's that? in Men! _Tristram_, what does he mean?
what Man is to be read? In Men! I don't understand you; but you'll teach
me, you say.
_Fran._ Ay, ay, I'll give you a Lesson upon that Subject.
_Sancho._ Very well; but what shall I do for Cloaths to dress like a
Gentleman?
_Fran._ If you please to step into my Lodgings here, I'll equip you
with a Suit of mine till you can have one made, and there I'll teach you
a little of the Town breeding, and I warrant you you'll succeed.
_Sancho._ Come on; faith I long to become thy Scholar.
_Fran._ And I to make you an Ass. [_Exit._
_Enter_ Eugenio _and his Man_.
_Eug._ What can this mean; where e'er I come the News is current of my
Death, yet not two Days since, I wrote and received Letters from my
Father, and here the Rumour goes, I have been dead this fortnight! I am
resolv'd to know the Grounds, if possible. _Pedro_, go get me some
Disguise, and for your Life discover not who I am, I'll stay here at
this Inn 'till you return, and in the mean Time think what Method to
pursue my Project in. [_Exit._
SCENE _changes to the Grove_. Lucasia _sola_.
_Lucasia._ Methinks this silent solitary Grove
Should strike a Terror to such Hearts as mine;
But Love has made me bold, the Time has been,
In such a Place as this, I should have fear'd
Each shaking Bough, and started at the Wind,
And trembled at the Rushing of the Leaves;
My Fancy would have fram'd a thousand Shapes;
But now it seems a Palace,
Delightful as the Poets feign
The _Elizian_ Fields; Here do I expect
To meet my Love, my faithful, dear _Palante_.
Why does he stay thus long? when last we
Parted, each Hour he said wou'd seem a Year,
Till we were met again, and yet I'm here
Before him; I'll rest a while, for come I
Know he will. [_Goes and sits down._
_Enter_ Palante _and_ Clerimont.
_Pal._ This _Clerimont_, this is the happy Place,
Where I shall meet the Sum of all my Joys,
And be possest of such a vast Treasure
As wou'd enrich a Monarch to receive;
And thou, my Friend, must give her to my Arms.
_Luc._ 'Tis my _Palante_'s Voice. [_Comes forward._
_Pal._ My Life, my Soul, what here before me? still
Thou prevent'st me in the Race of Love, and
Makest all my Endeavours poor in Competition
With thy large Favours----
But I forget, Dearest; bid my Friend here welcome,
This is he whom I dare trust, next my own
Heart, with Secrets.
_Luc._ I must admire him that loves _Palante_;
Friendship's a noble Name, 'tis Love refin'd;
'Tis something more than Love, 'tis what I wou'd
Shew to my _Palante_.
_Cler._ It is indeed a Beauty of the Mind, a Sacred Name,
In which so brightly shines that Heavenly Love,
That makes th' immortal Beings taste each others Joy;
'Tis the very Cement of Souls. Friendship's
A Sacred Name, and he who truly knows
The Meaning of the Word, is worthy of Estimation.
No Pains he'll spare, no Difficulties start,
But hazard all for th' Int'rest of his Friend.
_Pal._ Ay! Now methinks I'm Emperor of the World,
With my inestimable Wealth about me:
To such a Mistress, such a Friend, what can be
Added more to make me happy?----
Oh! thou darksome Grove, that wont to be call'd
The Seat of Melancholy, and Shelter
For the discontented Souls! sure thou'rt wrong'd!
Thou seem'st to me a Place of Solace and Content?
A Paradise! that gives me more than Courts
Cou'd ever do: Blest be then thy fair Shades,
Let Birds of Musick always chant it here;
No croaking Raven, or ill-boding Owl,
Make here their baleful Habitation:
But may'st thou be a Grove for Loves fair Queen
To sport in, for under thy blest Shade two faithful
Lovers meet----Why is my _Lucasia_ sad?
_Luc._ I know not, but I long to quit this Place,
My Thoughts seem to divine of Treachery,
But whence I know not; no Creature's conscious
To our meeting here but _Laura_; I have always
Found her honest, and yet I would she did not know it.
_Pal._ 'Tis only Fear assaults thy tender Mind;
But come, my Friend, let's to the Cell adjoining
To this Grove, and there the Priest
Shall make us one for ever. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Larich _and_ Lavinia.
_Lar._ Come, set your Face in order, for I expect young
_Sancho_ here immediately, he arriv'd in Town last Night, and
Sent me Word but now, he'd be here in an instant.
_Lav._ But, Sir.
_Lar._ Sir me no Sirs, for I'm resolv'd you shall be married
to Night.
_Enter a Servant._
_Serv._ Sir, here's a Gentleman to wait on you calls himself
Don _Sancho_.
_Lar._ Odso, shew him up; now, you Baggage, you shall
see the Pink of Learning, one that can travel thro' the whole
World in an Afternoon, and sup in _Palermo_ at Night, ha!
you shall; you'll be as wise as the _Sibyls_ in a Month's Time,
with such a Husband, and will bring forth a Race of Politicians
that shall set the World together by the Ears, then
patch it up again in the supping of a poach'd Egg.
_Enter_ Sancho _and_ Tristram.
_Lar._ Save you, Sir.
_Sanc._ You don't think me damn'd, Sir, that you bestow that Salutation
upon me?
_Lar._ By no Means, Sir, 'tis only my Way of expressing a hearty
Welcome.
_Sanc._ Sir, your humble Servant: Is this your fair Daughter, Sir?
_Lar._ Yes, Sir.
_Sanc._ She's very handsome, Faith.
_Lar._ She's as Heaven made her.
_Sanc._ Then she shou'd be naked; the Taylor shou'd have no Hand in
her--I suppose you know my business, shall we be married instantly?
_Lar._ Won't to-morrow serve, Sir? I wou'd first hear a little of your
Proceedings in the University; came you from _Salamanca_ now, Sir?
_Sanc._ From _Salamanca_! What do you see in my Face that shou'd make
you judge me such a Coxcomb?
_Lar._ Your Father writ me word, that his Son that was to marry my
Daughter, was a Scholar, wholly given up to Books.
_Sanc._ My Father was an errant Ass for his Pains, I ne'er read a Book
in my Life but what I was beat to, and those I forgot as soon as I left
School: A Scholar! he lies in his Throat that told you so.
_Lav._ In my Conscience, Sir, you may believe him; I dare swear he never
saw a Book except the Chronicle chain'd in his Father's Hall.
_Lar._ Hold your Tongue, Hussy; how now?
_Sanc._ Sir, I understand a Horse, a Hawk, or Hound, as well as any Man
living; nay, I understand Men too; I know now that you are an old
covetous Hunks, by the sett of your Hat now; but no Matter for that,
your Daughter is the better Fortune.
_Lav._ The Fool has hit right upon my Father, we shall have rare Sport
presently.
_Sanc._ I have studied Men, Sir----I know each Man's inward Principle by
his out-side Habit.
_Lav._ Does your profound Knowledge reach to Women too, Sir?
_Lar._ You will be prating----
_Sanc._ Look you, Sir, observe the Management of my Hat now----This is
your bullying Gamester. [_Three Corners short Pinch._
_Lar._ What the Devil have we here! z'death this can never be Don
_Sancho_'s Son?
_Lav._ This is indeed the Pink of Learning, Sir--I shall be as wise as
the _Sybils_ with such a Husband; ha, ha, ha.
_Sanc._ Your Beaus wear their Hats [_Offering to put it on._] no, hold,
thus, Sir; [_Clapping it under his Arm._] your conceited Wit, thus,
[_Putting it on over the left Eye._] and your travell'd Wit thus [_Over
the right Eye without a Pinch._] your Country 'Squire, thus, [_Putting
it behind his Wig._]
_Lar._ I wonder how an Ass wears it, I'm sure thou art one; I am amaz'd!
this must be some Trick certainly. [_Aside._
_Lav._ What think you now, Sir, shall we get a Race of Politicians? In
my Conscience this falls out as well as I could wish. Oh that I could
but once see _Francisco_. [_Aside._
_Lar._ Huzzy, hold your Tongue, or----or----
[_Holds up his Cane._
This may be some of your Contrivance, for ought I know. This is a very
great Blockhead; Ounds, I--I--I--have a good Mind to add one Fashion
more to your Hat, and knock it down to your Crown.
_Sanc._ Evermore, Sir, when you see a Man wear his Hat thus, [_Pulling
it down on both Sides._] he's a Projector, a Projector, Sir, or a Member
of the Society of the Reformation of Manners, [_In another Tone._] What
think you of this, old Gentleman? ha! is not this a greater Knowledge
than ever Man attain'd to by Books? ha!
_Lar._ I admire that my old Friend, knowing my Aversion for these
foolish Fopperies, shou'd breed up his Son to 'em, then write me Word
he had made him a Scholar, purposely because I was a Lover of Learning;
pray, Sir was you ever in _Palermo_ before?
_Sanc._ No, Sir; but I like it very well now I am in't.
_Lar._ I must be satisfied that you are Seignor _Sancho_'s Son, e'er I
shall like you for mine. [_Aside._
_Sanc._ What think you of a Glass of Champaign, Sir? If you'll go to the
Tavern, I'll give you a Bottle of the best the House affords; what say
you, old Dad? ha! and there we will consult about our Marriage.
_Lar._ If you'll go to the Tavern that joins to the Piazza, I'll wait on
you in a quarter of an Hour.
_Sanc._ Sir, I shall wait your Pleasure.
_Lar._ I took the Hint, to get rid of him, what shall I do to find the
Truth of this? [_Exeunt._
_Enter a Servant._
_Serv._ Sir, a Scholar enquires for you.
_Lar._ A Scholar! admit him immediately.
_Enter_ Francisco _in_ Sancho_'s Habit_.
_Fran._ So, I watch'd _Sancho_ out, now for my Cue. [_Aside._
If you be the venerable Man to whom this goodly Mansion is impropriated;
I come to negociate about authentic Business.
_Lav._ This rather shou'd be Don _Sancho_'s Son----his Words and Habit
speak him most learned----I am the Person, pray let me be bold to crave
your Name.
_Fran._ My Appellation, or _pro Nomen_, as the Latins term it, is call'd
_Jeremie_; but my _Cognomen_, in our Mother Tongue, is call'd _Sancho_.
_Lav._ Ha! upon my Life 'tis _Francisco_; oh, for an Opportunity to
speak to him: I hope to Heaven, my Father won't find out the Cheat.
[_Aside._
_Lar._ Ay, this is he, this is he; what Don _Sancho_'s Son?
_Fran._ The _Nominals_, the _Thomists_, and all the Sects of old and
modern School-men, do oblige me to pay to that Gentleman filial Duty.
_Lar._ I am glad to hear it with all my Heart, I know the other must be
an Imposter, but I'm resolv'd to apprehend and punish him: Sir, you are
welcome; I guess your Business, my Daughter is yours.
_Fran._ My Business is about Propagation, as the civil Lawyers do
learnedly paraphrase, is of Concomitance, or Cohabitation, or what you
please to term it.
_Lar._ How am I blest that this wonderful Scholar shall be match'd into
my Family----Daughter, what say you now, here's a Husband for you now,
here's a Husband for you.
_Lav._ Pray Heaven you hold but in the Mind 'till you have made him
such. [_Aside._
_Lar._ Does he not speak like an Oracle? 'egad I'll maintain't, he shall
put down ten Universities and Inns of Court in twenty Syllables----Pray,
Sir, speak learnedly to my Girl, for, tho' I say it, she has a good
Capacity.
_Fran._ Most rubicund, stilliferous, splendant Lady, the occular
Faculties by which the beams of Love are darted into every Soul, or
human Essence, have convey'd into my Breast the Lustre of your Beauty;
and I can admire no other Object; therefore pardon me, Sir, if I only
express myself in Terms Scholastic, and in Metaphors, my Phrase to her.
[_Turning to_ Larich.
_Lar._ Learned, learned, young Man, how happy am I in thee?
_Lav._ Now do I long to see my Father's Back turn'd, that he might
change his learned non-sense, and talk more modern, to talk more wise;
you may spare your Rhetoric, Sir, unless you come down to my
Understanding; but I know just enough of your Meaning, to tell you it
does not suit with my Inclination.
_Lar._ What don't suit with your Inclination, ha, forsooth?
_Lav._ Marriage, Sir.
_Lar._ 'Tis false, hussy, you have an Inclination, and you shall have an
Inclination; not an Inclination, quoth the Baggage: Sir, I say she's
yours, come into the next Room, and I'll have the Settlement drawn
immediately, and you shall be married to Night. Not an Inclination!
[_Exit._
ACT III. SCENE _the Street_.
_Enter_ Eugenio.
_Eug._ Thus in Disguise I shall discover all,
And find the Cause of my reported Death,
Which does so much amaze me.
A Month ago my Father sent me Word, that I shou'd hasten my Journey to
_Palermo_; and I met the Post upon the Road, that gave me a Letter,
wherein he strictly charges me not to come this three Months: No sooner
had I enter'd the Town, but I met the Rumour of my Death, which still
surpris'd me more; but this Letter shall help me to the Knowledge of the
Truth. [_Shews a Letter, goes to the Door and knocks._
_Enter_ Rosco.
_Rosc._ Who'd you speak with Friend?
_Eug._ With the Lord _Gravello_, if you please, Sir.
_Ros._ Marry gap, and can't I serve your Turn? Nothing but my Lord, good
lack! I guess he knows you not; pray what's your Business? What's your
Name? From whence come you? What do ye want? I believe you are of no
such Extraction, that you shou'd be introduc'd to my Lord; let me be
judge, whether your Affair requires his Lordship's Ear, else, Friend, I
shall bring you but a scurvy Answer; either he's busy, or a-sleep, or
gone abroad, any of these are sufficient for your Quality, I suppose.
_Eug._ Thus great Men always are abus'd, because there's no Access, but
through such Knaves as thee? then I'll return my Message back unto his
Son, and bid him employ a finer Fellow, if he expects that he should see
his Father. [_Going._
_Ros._ Ha! his Son! stay, Sir, and forgive me; here comes my Lord.
_Enter Count_ Gravello, Rosco _goes and whispers him_.
_Grav._ Wou'd you ought with me, Friend?
_Eug._ If you be the Lord _Gravello_.
_Grav._ The same.
_Eug._ I came from _Rome_, my Lord; laden, I hope, with happy Tidings,
and after the sad Report I have met with, I dare say, welcome; your Son
_Eugenio_ lives, and with his Duty, recommends this Letter to your
Lordship's Perusal.
_Grav._ How! does my Boy live? Oh! I'm overjoy'd, for I thought him
dead. _Rosco_, reward him for his Tidings, reward him largely, _Rosco_.
_Ros._ There's a Pistole for you, eat like an Emperor, d'ye hear, till
that be out.
_Grav._ He writes me Word that you are a Gentleman fallen to Decay, and
begs that I would take you into my Service: I have no Place vacant at
present, but the first that falls worth your Acceptance, shall be yours;
in the mean Time command my House. [_I must not let him suspect I knew_
Eugenio _was alive_] the happy News that thou hast brought me, has
rais'd me from the Vale of Death; but tell me, Friend, hast thou
reveal'd this to any in _Palermo_, but myself?
_Eug._ To none. For tho' I met the tragic Story in every Street through
which I pass'd, still I conceal'd the Truth, intending your Lordship's
Ear should first receive it.
_Grav._ Thou hast done exceeding well; _Rosco_, give him a double
Reward, a double Welcome; I have some private Reasons to myself, that it
should still be kept a Secret, which if thou'rt faithful, thou in Time
shalt know.
_Eug._ Fear not, my Lord, I am no Blab; I ever thought a slippery Tongue
Mankind's Shame. What can this mean? [_Aside._
_Ros._ This is a notable Fellow.
_Grav. Rosco_, bid him welcome; tell him my House is his, bid him be
free.
_Ros._ As long as you have Occasion for him----Sir, I am your most
obedient, most devoted, and thrice humble Serviteur; command the Pantry,
Cellar, Maids, Chambers----for in these I rule, and these are at your
Service, Sir. [_Bowing low._
_Eug._ I thank you my quondam Friend; but a quiet Residence in my Lord's
House, the Time I stay, satisfies my Desires.
_Ros._ A worthy Man, upon my Faith. Oh! my Lord, here comes the
Bridegroom, I know by this Fellow's being out of Breath.
_Enter a Servant._
_Serv._ My Lord Count _Pirro_ so fine, so brisk, so ugly.
_Grav._ How, how, Sirrah, ugly?
_Serv._ So handsome, I mean, Sir; Pox on't, how came my Head to run so
of Ugliness?
_Ros._ Seeing the Count, I warrant thee _Jack_.
_Grav._ Be gone, Varlet, and attend his coming. [_Exeunt._
_Eug._ Ha! Count _Pirro_, the Bridegroom--and, my Life a Secret; I begin
to find the Cause. [_Aside._
_Enter Count_ Pirro.
_Pir._ I came my Lord, to claim your Promise, and receive into my Arms
the beautiful _Lucasia_.
_Grav._ And I'll acquit myself instantly. Within there--call _Lucasia_.
_Enter_ Laura.
_Laura._ My Lord.
_Grav._ My----call your Lady; what does your Flurtship do here? I want
your Mistress----why don't the Wench stir?
_Laura._ My Lord, I don't know.----
_Grav._ What don't you know? nay, no grinding between your Teeth, speak
out.
_Laura._ Why then, my Lord, I don't know where she is.
_Grav._ 'Tis false, 'tis impossible; when went she out? and whither?
Speak ye confederate Mischief; how long ago, I say? Confess, or I'll
have ye rack'd.
_Laura._ She would not take me with her to prevent Suspicion; and now
all must out, for my Limbs will never bear stretching, that's certain.
[_Aside._
_Grav._ What are you inventing a Lye----don't stand muttering your
Devil's Pater-noster there, but speak quickly--or--
[_Draws his Sword._
_Laura._ Oh hold, it was, my Lord, my Lord, a, a, a----
_Grav._ What was it? speak.
_Laura._ It was a great while ago, my Lord.
_Grav._ Ha, speak to the Purpose, or thou dy'st.
_Laura._ No, no, no, my Lord, it was----it was just now; what shall I
say to save my unhappy Mistress? [_Aside._
_Pirro._ You terrify the Creature so, that we shall never learn the
Truth, my Lord; don't tremble so, Sweetheart, but tell when went your
Lady out, and whither?
_Grav._ Away my Lord, my Sword shall fetch the Secret forth; Huzzy,
speak, or by this Hand, this Minute is thy last.
[_Holds his Sword to her Breast._
_Laura._ Oh, hold Sir, and I will tell you all; I do confess.
_Grav._ What?
_Laura._ It must out; that my Lady's fled to meet _Palante_ in the
Eastern Grove, and I believe, by this, they are married.
_Grav._ Fly and escape my Fury, thou more than Devil.
[_Straps her with his Sword, she shrieks and runs off._
Now, my Lord of _Pirro_, you that so kindly came this Day to comfort me,
how shall I look you in the Face? or what Reparation can I make you, if
my Daughter's lost? Within there! raise the House, take Officers
immediately, I charge you; fly to the Eastern Grove, and seize my
Daughter and all that you find with her: We'll have Revenge, my Lord, at
least.
_Pirro._ There's yet a Pleasure left in that, and I'm resolv'd my Arm
shall give him Death; let's to the Grove, my Lord.
_Rosco._ Do you consider, my Lord, the Danger of your rash Attempt, the
Law will do you right; 'tis present Death in _Sicily_, to steal an
Heiress without her Friends consent; first secure him, and his Lifes
yours.
_Eug._ 'Tis as I suppose; oh Treachery! [_Aside._
_Grav. Rosco_, thou art an Oracle, that Way the Revenge is more secure
and certain. I'll after 'em, and see the Traitor brought to condign
Punishment. [_Exit with_ Rosco.
_Pirro._ I'll to the Governor, and prepare him for the Judgment, my
Interest there will surely sign his Death. [_Going._
_Eug._ Am I alive? do I breathe? can I have a human Soul, and suffer
this injustice to proceed? Poor _Palante_, must thou die, because
Fortune has not blest thee with her Favours; No, something I will do to
save thee; and yet, if possible not discover who I am. My Lord----
[_Pulls Count_ Pirro _by the Sleeve as he goes out_.
_Pirro._ What art thou?
_Eug._ A poor Poet, my Lord, little beholden to Fortune.
_Pirro._ None of thy Profession are, take up some more thriving
Occupation; turn Pimp, Solicitor, Gamester, any Thing will do better
than Rhiming; there's something for thee, I'm in Haste now.
_Eug._ My Lord, I thank you for your Charity, and your good Advice; but
I have some for you too.
_Pirro._ For me! what is't?
_Eug._ I understand, my Lord, that you are to marry my Lord _Gravello_'s
Daughter.
_Pirro._ Yes, an Heiress----
_Eug._ No Heiress, my Lord, her Brother is alive.
_Pirro._ The Fellow's mad.
_Eug._ What I say is certain Truth; and to my Knowledge, his Father
gives out the Report of his Death only as a Bait for you.
_Pirro._ Ha! where is he?
_Eug._ In this Town conceal'd till your Marriage be over; know I hate
this Family, and that makes me discover it.
_Pirro._ Does he hate the Family? then perhaps he has only forg'd this
Lye to hinder _Lucasia_ from marrying into mine; I'll try him farther.
[_Aside._
Art thou sure he is alive?
_Eug._ As sure as that I live myself; my Lord, I saw him not two Hours
ago; I wish he was not, for your Lordship's sake: I am his Domestic, and
come now to learn Intelligence; I loath my Servitude, detest the proud
Family, and shou'd rejoice to see 'em ruin'd.
_Pirro._ From whence proceeds thy Hate? the World reports _Eugenio_ a
Man of Honour, Honesty and Courage.
_Eug._ That Part of the World that thinks him such, sees thro' the wrong
End of the Prospective; his Honour's but Pretence, his Honesty
Hypocrisy, and his Courage Lewdness; he ravisht a Sister of mine at
_Rome_, for which I never can forgive him.
_Pirro._ This Fellow, I find is ripe for Mischief; and if I durst trust
him, wou'd, for a large Reward, remove _Eugenio_, and make _Lucasia_
indeed an Heiress; and 'twere but just, since Count _Gravello_ did
design to wrong me of his Estate, why shou'd not I rob him of his Son?
where could be the Danger of this Act; I can't fore-see any, for he has
already given it out he's dead, and therefore dares not search into the
Matter; but is it safe to trust this Stranger, he may betray my Purpose,
or not do it; yet 'tis reasonable to think the contrary, for he hates
him for his Sister's Rape, and therefore would be glad to meet Occasion
to revenge it, especially when usher'd in by a great Sum: I'm resolv'd
to break it to him. [_Aside._] What is your Name, Friend?
_Eug._ _Irus_, my Lord.
_Pirro._ Your Name as well as Habit speak you poor.
_Eug._ I'm poor enough, my Lord.
_Pirro._ Very poor?
_Eug._ Very poor, my Lord.
_Pirro._ Would you not gladly mend your Fortunes.
_Eug._ I wish your Lordship would shew me the Way.
_Pirro._ What think you now of taking Revenge for your Sister's Rape,
ha?
_Eug._ Alas! my Lord, that I wou'd have done long ago, but Want
prevented my Escape.
_Pirro._ Say'st thou so? my Friend: well, poison this _Eugenio_, and
thou shalt not want; for thy Reward, a thousand Crowns are thine.
_Eug._ Think it done, my Lord, nor will I receive my Hire till I have
brought you a certain Proof _Eugenio_ is no more; all I ask is but your
Hand to the Agreement, my Lord, that I may be sure of my Reward.
_Pirro._ I'll give it thee----We must be safe, for his Father will be
asham'd to prosecute, after his reported Death. I must confess I lov'd
_Lucasia_ as an Heiress, but was she ten times as fair, I would not
marry her without the Dowry, therefore make sure my Fortune by thy
Master's Death.
_Eug._ He dies this Night.
SCENE _changes to the Grove_.
_Enter_ Palante, Lucasia, _and_ Clerimont.
_Pal._ 'Tis done, 'tis done, the Sacred Knot is ty'd,
And bright _Lucasia_ is for ever mine.
I ne'er till now did taste the Sweets of Life;
Or the transporting Extasy of Joy.
Burst not ye feeble Ministers of Nature,
With the vast Excess of swelling Pleasure.
Oh! my Friend, what shall I say to thee?
_Cler._ This is no Time for Talk or Transports,
Make Use of my Fortune, and fly till the Pursuit is over.
_Pal._ Oh! _Clerimont_, I'm bankrupt every Way,
Both to thee, and to my fair _Lucasia_.
Still thou art sad, my Love.
_Luc._ My Sadness does proceed from Fear for thee,
Take your Friend's Counsel, let us fly this Place.
Hark! What Noise is that? ha me, we're lost.
_Enter_ Gravello, Eugenio, Rosco, _and Officers_.
_Grav._ Fall on Officers, there they are.
_Cler._ Thieves.
_Pal._ Villains!
_Grav._ Thou art thyself the Thief and Villain too;
Give me my Daughter thou Ranter.
_Pal._ First take my Life.
_Grav._ Fall on, I say; down with 'em if they resist.
_Luc._ Oh! we are undone, wicked, wicked _Laura_.
_Pal._ Come on, Slaves.
_Cler._ We shall not surrender tamely.
[_They fight, but are disarm'd by the Multitude._
_Grav._ So, keep 'em fast, we'll have 'em faster shortly.
For you, Minion, I shall secure you from a second 'Scape.
_Luc._ Yet do but hear me, Father.
_Grav._ Call me not Father, thou disobedient Wretch,
Thou Vagabond, thou art no Child of mine;
My Daughter was bred up to Virtue.
_Luc._ For you my Mother wou'd have done as much:
If Need had so required;
Think not that my Mind e'er stray'd from Virtue;
Oh! listen to the Voice of my Prayer, and Crown
It with rich Mercy.
_Grav._ Off, Strumpet, Officers away with the Criminals,
They both shall die.
_Pal._ Now I must speak, oh spare my Friend, for he
Is innocent.
_Cler._ If thou must die, _Palante_, I have no
Other Wish, but to suffer with thee.
_Grav._ That Wish assure thyself thou shalt obtain.
_Luc._ Oh, stay blood-thirsty Men, stay and hear me
But a Word, and that shall be my final Resolution.
If thou, my cruel Father wilt not hear,
But dost proceed to spill the Blood of him
In whom my Life subsists, remember, Sir,
I am your Daughter, once you did love me;
Oh! tell me then, what Fault can be so great
To make a Father murderer of his Child?
For so you are in taking his dear Life;
Do not think that I will stay behind him.
No, whilst there's Asps, and Knives, and burning Coals;
No _Roman_ Dame's Example shall outgo
My Love.
_Pal._ Oh! my _Lucasia_, thou hast touch'd my Soul!
Barely but to imagine thou must die,
Will make me restless in my silent Grave.
Is not my Death sufficient, barbarous Man?
But must _Lucasia_'s Woe be added too?
Dry up those Tears, my Wife, my lovely Bride,
Or thou wilt make me truly miserable,
Preserve thy Life, that I may after Death,
In thee my better Part survive.
For thee and for my Friend my only Prayers shall be,
If you both live, _Palante_ dies with Pleasure.
_Grav._ Away with 'em, and let the Law decide it.
_Luc._ I too alike am guilty;
O let me share the Punishment with them,
Thou shalt not go alone, take me with thee;
Here are my willing Hands, quick bind 'em fast,
[_Runs and clasps_ Palante.
Else here I'll hold 'till my last Breath expires.
_Grav._ Ungracious Viper, let go the Traitor.
_Luc._ What to die? Oh, never!
_Pal._ Had I a hundred Lives, the Venture had
Been small for such a Prize.
A Face not half so fair as thine has arm'd
Whole Nations in the Field for Battle ripe:
And brought a thousand Sail to _Tenedos_,
To sack lamented _Troy_, and shou'd I fear
To hazard one poor Life for thee, my Fair?
A Life that had been lost without thy Love,
For thou'rt both Life and Soul to thy _Palante_.
_Luc._ I'll clasp him like the last Remains of Life. [_Holds him._
And struggle still with never dying Love.
_Grav._ Then thus I dash thee from him, thou Stranger
[_Pushes her, and falls down._
To my Blood, there lie and grovel on the Earth, and thank the
Powers I do not kill thee; away to Justice with the Traitors.
_Pal._ If there be a Torment beyond this Sight,
Then lead me to it, that I may taste all
The Variety of Misery, and
Grow compleatly wretched.
Oh, inhuman Cruelty!
Slaves give me Way, that swift as Lightning,
I may dash him dead that wrong'd _Lucasia_.
You spiteful Powers, show'r all your Curses down,
Augment the Weight, and sink me all at once.
_Grav._ Away with the Traitor.
_Pal._ Oh, let me first embrace my Love, my Wife.
_Grav._ By Hell, he shall not.
Pal. _So when a Ship by adverse Winds is tost,_
_And all the Hopes to gain the Port is lost,_
_The trembling Mariners to Heaven cry,_
_And all in vain, for no Relief is nigh._
_Around fierce Terrors strike the aking Sight;_
_So I when shut from that all-charming Light,_
_Like them must plunge in everlasting Night._
[Exit. forc'd off.
_Grav._ I'll to the Governor, and urge my injur'd Suit. _Rosco_ and
_Irus_, guard that wretched Woman; take Care that she neither sends nor
receives a Message. [_Exit._
_Rosco._ Yes, my Lord.
_Eug._ My very Heart bleeds to see two such faithful Lovers parted;
methinks my Lord's too cruel in this Action.
_Ros._ Ay, ay, Friend; but we are to obey, not to dispute his Will.
_Eug._ I can scarce forbear revealing myself, but I will reserve it for
a fitter Hour; her Grief's so great, I fear it has deprived her of her
Senses; look up, Madam.
_Luc._ Where's my _Palante_, gone to death? Oh Heav'n!
Then shall I be mad, indeed? what are you,
Officers of Justice! I'm ready, Sir.
_Eug._ No, Madam, I am one my Lord your Father left to attend you.
_Luc._ Attend me! alas, I need no Attendance.
_Eug._ Do not reject my Service.
_Luc._ All Service comes too late to miserable me;
My Fortune's desperate grown.
_Eug._ Believe me, Madam, I have a feeling Woe;
A greater your own Brother could not have:
Think not I'm suborn'd to do you wrong,
By all the Pow'rs I'm your trusty Friend,
Command me any Thing, and try my Faith.
_Ros._ This is a rare spoken Fellow; I can't put in a Word.
_Luc._ Oh! 'tis most prodigious;
Cou'd I lose Pity in a Father's Breast,
And find it in a Stranger's? I shall not
Live to thank you, Sir, but my best Prayers go
With you.
_Eug._ 'Tis not for Thanks, nor for Reward I look,
But the Sacred Love I bear to Virtue,
Makes me offer this.
_Luc._ Surely this poor Man is nobly bred, howe'er
His Habit speaks him. _[Aside._
All Physic comes too late to my sick Mind,
Since there's no Hopes of my _Palante_'s Life.
_Eug._ Unless the Governor will please to pardon him, 'twas good that he
were mov'd.
_Ros._ Be not so forward, Friend, I say; in my Conscience this Fellow
will betray _Eugenio_ lives.
_Eug._ Peace, Fool.
_Ros._ You are something free, methinks.
_Luc._ Who shall dare to make that Supplication?
My Father and the Count of _Pirro_ rules;
Yet I wou'd venture if I knew which Way.
_Eug._ So meritorious is the Act, that I wou'd stand the Test in giving
you the Liberty to sue.
_Ros._ How, Sir?
_Eug._ Peace, Muckworm, or my Sword shall stop thy Breath for ever.
_Ros._ A desperate Fellow this, I dare not contradict him.
_Luc._ A thousand Blessings on you for your Care,
_Yes, I will go, grant it ye Powers above;_
_If you had e'er regard to injur'd Love:_
_Teach me such Words as may his Pity move;_
_Let it pierce deep into his stony Heart,_
_In all my Sufferings make him feel a Part._
_Oh make him feel the Pangs of sharp Despair,_
_That he may know what wretched Lovers bear:_
_My Sighs and Tears shall with Intreaties join,_
_That he would save_ Palante's _Life, or sentence mine:_
_But if relentless to my Prayers he be,_
_And he must fall, then welcome Destiny._
_Fate does our Lives so close together twine,_
_Who cuts the Thread of his unravels mine._ [Exeunt.
SCENE _the Governor's House_.
_Enter the Governor and Count_ Pirro.
_Gov._ Welcome, my dearest Nephew, you are grown a Stranger to the Court
of late, tho' you know my aged Sight receives no Joy without you; but I
can forgive you since Love is the Cause: I hear you have the Lord
_Gravello_'s Consent to marry the fair _Lucasia_.
_Pirro._ I had, my Lord, but am unjustly robb'd of that fair Prize you
mention; my promis'd Bride is stolen by _Palante_, Lord _Euphenes_'s
Foster-Son, a Man far unworthy of _Lucasia_'s Love; her Father with
Officers are gone to apprehend 'em--and bring 'em here before you to
receive their Doom: Oh, Uncle, if ever you had a Kindness for me; if the
being ally'd to you by Blood, or aught I have done, or can hereafter do,
let me intreat you to give the Law its utmost Course: Young _Clerimont_
too assisted in the Rape.
_Gov._ Fear not, Nephew, the Law shall have its Course, and they shall
surely die.
_Enter_ Euphenes _and Count_ Gravello _at several Doors_.
_Euph._ My Lord, the Governor, I am come begging to you, for _Palante_
my Foster-Son, whom, Childless, I adopted for my own; for him I plead.
_Gov._ What is his Offence?
_Euph._ No heinous Crime, my Lord, no treasonable Plot against your
Person or the State, for then these aged Cheeks wou'd blush to ask
Pardon. No crying Murder stains his Hands, his Fault is only Love:
Unfortunately he has married the Daughter and Heiress to that proud Lord
that follows, and seeks the last Extremity.
_Grav._ I seek no more than what the Law will give; I am abus'd, my
Lord, my Daughter is stoll'n, the only Comfort of my Age: Justice, my
Lord, 'tis Justice that I ask.
_Pirro._ To his just Suit I bend my Knees--be not biass'd by aught but
Justice.
_Euph._ Thou speakest like an Enemy, call it Revenge--not Justice----My
Lord.----
_Gov._ I'll hear no more, be silent; if the Law will save him, he shall
live, if not, he dies; yes, my Lord, you shall have Justice----
[_Exeunt._
SCENE _changes to_ Gravello's _House_.
_Enter_ Larich, Francisco, _and_ Lavinia.
_Lar._ Body o'me! here's mad Work abroad, my Niece is stolen: I'm
resolv'd to make sure of you; the Priest shall join you instantly.
_Fran._ Haste, Sir, to consummate our Joy:
I'll call the Muses from their sacred Hill,
To emulate your Daughter's Beauty;
And I'll, myself, in lofty Numbers sing my own
Epithalamium.
_Lar._ First I'll punish that Impostor----Here, bring in the Prisoner.
_Lav._ Oh! I fear we are undone, _Francisco_.
_Fran._ Pray, Father, delay not my exorbitant Desires.
_Lar._ But for a Moment, learn'd Son,
And thy exorbitant Desires shall be satisfied.
_Enter_ Sancho _and_ Tristram, _forc'd in by Servants_.
_San._ Hey-day! What's the Matter now: Is the old Gentleman grown
generous? Must we take a Bottle in his own House, ha?
_Lar._ Sirrah, you are a very impudent Impostor.
_San._ Hey, what's here, Frank in my Cloaths? what is there a Play to be
acted? ha? what Part must I play? I have acted a Part at the College
e'er now, Pox on't, that College will run in my Head, pr'ythee what am I
to play, _Francisco_.
_Fran._ The Fool, Sir.
_San._ That's something blunt tho' _Frank_.
_Lar._ Ha! what do I hear? _Francisco_? sure that's the Fellow my
Daughter is in Love with, I must enquire into this.
_Fran._ My Reverend Patree, I hope you'll not credit this illiterate
Idiot, you knew me by my Scholastic Breeding.
_San._ Why what does he mean now? Breeding! why, why, why, you wer'nt
half so long at _Salamanca_ as I, _Frank_, if you go to that _Tristram_,
where are my Books, _Tristram_? we'll soon see who's most learn'd.
Γέρων πίθηκος οὺχ ἀλίσνοται πάγις.
You must not think to catch old birds with Chaff.
Δὶς διὰ πασῶν ἐϛι ῶρὼ ἄλληλα.
He knows not a Hawk from a Handsaw.
_Fran._ The Man's distracted, Sir, away with him to Prison.
_San._ To Prison! nay, then the Truth shall out, that Habit's mine, and
these Cloaths are his, he told me that this Lady wou'd hate a Scholar,
and taught me how to act the Bully, fackins he did now, ask _Tristram_
else.
_Lar._ Here's strange juggling, I believe neither of you is Seignior
_Sancho_'s Son.
_Trist._ Bless me, Sir, do you doubt my Master? why he's as like my old
Master as if he was spit out of his Mouth.
_Lav._ Methinks now by the Description, Father, this Scholar must needs
be Don _Sancho_, and this aukward Beau but a Pretender.
_Lar._ Peace, I'll have none of your Judgment.
_San._ A Pretender, odsbud, I find she is in Love with a Scholar, what a
Sot was I to be persuaded to change my Habit, I shall be fobb'd of my
Mistress, by and by, why _Frank_, why thou wilt not fob me wilt thou.
_Lar._ Right, that Project will take,----come who produces me a Letter
from my Friend, I know the Hand, and that shall decide the Business.
_Trist._ Here, here, Sir, here's Letters.
[_Pulls out a Leather Pouch with Letters, and gives it to_ Larich.
_San._ That's my Father's Hand, I can assure you, Sir, but the Stile is
_Solomon_'s, they are freight with Wisdom, but my Father pays the
Postage.
_Lav._ Now we're undone, we are certainly betray'd.
_Fran._ Have Courage, I will still be near thee, and prevent this
Marriage or lose my Life.
_Lav._ My Woman shall give you Notice of their Proceedings.
_Lar._ I am convinc'd, and worthy Sir, I ask your Pardon, what an Escape
have I had.
_San._ Pr'ythee _Frank_ don't frown so, faith I forgive thee with all my
Heart.
_Fran._ Away you Dolt----
_San._ Fackings _Tristram_, he's woundy out of Humour, I have fob'd him
now Faith, he, he, he.
_Lar._ Sir, I desire your scholastic Breeding wou'd quit my temporal
Habitation [to _Francisco_,] least I commit you to a closer Place, and
thank this Gentleman for your Liberty, 'tis because he has some small
Acquaintance with you, that I don't proceed in a rougher Manner.
_Fran._ I am defenceless now, but I shall find a Time. [_Exit._
_Lar._ To be hang'd I hope, come Mrs. I suppose you had a Hand in this
wise Plot, I'll prevent your Stratagems, I'll noose and fetter you in
the Chains of Wedlock, then if you plot, let _Sancho_ look to't.
_For when they are wed the Father's Care is done,_
Trist. _And the poor doting Husband's just begun._
ACT IV. SCENE _the Governor's House.
The Governor in a Chair reading._
_Gov._ I Have been searching over all our _Sicilian_ Laws, and know they
cannot find one Clause to save _Palante_.
_Enter a Servant._
_Serv._ A Lady without, my Lord will not be denied your Presence.
_Gov._ Admit her.
_Enter_ Lucasia.
_Luc._ Pardon me, Sir, for pressing thus rudely
On your Privacy, I know 'tis boldness.
But I hope the Hour's propitious to me,
Finding you alone, and free from Business,
I promise myself I shall be heard with Patience.
_Gov._ Were the Business of the World at stake, such
Beauty would claim a Hearing, speak Madam.
_Luc._ Thus low I beg for poor _Palante_'s Life.
_Gov._ Ha!
_Luc._ Oh, Sir.
If ever Pity touch'd your gen'rous Breast,
If ever Virgin's Tears had Power to move,
Or if you ever lov'd and felt the Pangs
That other Lovers do, pity, great Sir,
Pity and pardon two unhappy Lovers.
_Gov._ Your Life is not in Question, Madam.
_Luc._ If _Palante_ dies, I cannot live, for we
Have but one Heart, and can have but one Fate.
_Gov._ What I can do, I will to save him, but Law must have its Course,
rise Madam.
_Luc._ Never till----
The gracious Word of Pardon raises me,
There's Pity in your Eye, oh! shew it, Sir!
And say that he shall live, 'tis but a Word,
But oh, as welcome as the Breath of Life,
Why will you part two Hearts that Heav'n has join'd?
He is my Husband, Sir, and I his wedded Wife.
_Gov._ That can plead no Excuse, for 'tis your Crime, but if I shou'd
incline to pity you, what wou'd you return? what wou'd you do to
purchase the Life of him you hold so dear?
_Luc._ You cannot think the Thing I would not do.
Speak, Sir, and lay it but in my Power,
And even beyond my Power I will attempt.
_Gov._ You wou'd be thankful then shou'd I pardon him?
_Luc._ If I were ever thankful unto Heav'n
For all that I call mine, my Health and Being,
Cou'd I then be unthankful unto you,
For a Gift I value more than those?
Without which all other Blessings will be tasteless.
_Gov._ Those that are thankful study to requite, wou'd you do so?
_Luc._ As far as I am capable I will,
Tho' I can ne'er make ample Satisfaction,
All my Services to you are Duty,
But to those Pow'rs above that can requite
That from their Wasteless Treasure daily heap
Rewards more out of Grace than merit on
Us Mortals;
To those I'll pray that they wou'd give you, Sir,
More Blessings than I have Skill to ask.
_Gov._ There rises one Way and but one to save him.
_Luc._ Oh! name it, Sir, that----
Swift as the Arrow from the Archer's Hand
My trembling Feet may fly to save him,
Oh! you have rais'd me from the Gulph of Grief
To that blest comfortable Region, Hope,
My Senses all dance in the Cirque of Joy.
My ravish'd Heart leaps up to hear your Words,
And seems as 'twou'd come forth to thank you.
Say, how, how shall I save him?
_Gov._ Marry my Nephew _Pirro_ and _Palante_ lives.
_Luc._ Oh! unexpected Turn of rigid Fate,
Cruel, Sir, far more cruel than my Father.
Why did you raise me to a Height of Joy?
To sink me in a Moment down again,
In what a sad Dilemma stands my Choice,
Either to wed the Man my Soul most loaths,
Or see him die for whom alone I live.
To break my sacred Vows to Heav'n and him,
To save a Life which he would scorn to take
On Terms like those, name any Thing but that,
You are more just than to enforce my Will,
Why should I marry one I cannot love,
And sure I am I cannot love Count _Pirro_,
Love him! no, I shou'd detest and loath him.
The Cause that made him mine, wou'd hourly add
Fresh Matter for my Hate.
_Gov._ You have your Choice, I swear by Heaven never to pardon him, but
upon these Conditions.
_Luc._ Oh! I am miserable.
_Gov._ 'Tis your own Fault, come consider Madam, _Palante_ will thank
you for his Life, and if you let him die, you are the Tyrant.
_Luc._ I shou'd be such if I shou'd save him thus.
Since you have swore not to save him upon
Other Terms, I'll shew a duteous Cruelty
And rather follow him in Death than so
To buy his Life, no, I despise the Price.
Why do I breathe my Woes, or beg for Mercy here;
Or hope to find plain Honesty in Courts?
No, their Ears are always stopp'd against Justice,
Avarice and Pride supplies the Place of Pity.
_So may just Heav'n when you for Mercy sue,_
_As you have pitied me so pardon you._ [Exeunt severally.
SCENE _Count_ Gravello's _House_.
_Enter_ Larich, Lavinia, Sancho _and_ Tristram.
_San._ Is the Priest ready _Tristram_?
_Trist._ Yes, yes, Sir, a Priest and a Lawyer are always in Readiness,
their Tongues are the chief Instrument belonging to their Trade, with
which they commonly do more Mischief than all the Surgeons in the
Kingdom can heal, he waits in the next Room, Sir, if you can get the
Lady in the Mind.
_Lar._ You are witty Sirrah, but no more of your Jests, do ye hear,
least I make you experience, there's something else can do Mischief
besides their Tongues, come Mistress what you are in the Dumps now, are
you? dry up your Eyes and go about it chearfully, or I'll turn you out
of Doors, I assure you.
_Lav._ Good, Sir, consider.
_Lar._ Consider! no I won't consider, nor shall you consider upon ought
but what I'd have you.
_Lav._ Sir, do you persuade him. [_To Sanch._] think how unhappy I shall
make you.
_San._ Make me happy first, and then I'll do any Thing you'd have me.
_Trist._ The wisest Bargain I ever heard my Master make.
_Lav._ What wou'd you do, Sir, with me that cannot love you? Alas I was
engaged long before I saw you, you may be happier far elsewhere, go
court some Nymph whose Heart's intirely free, such only can be worthy of
your Love.
_San._ For my Part I don't know what to say.
_Lar._ 'Zdeath she'll persuade him by and by to quit his Pretences to
her----come, come, come Mistress no more of your Cant. [_Pulls her by
the Arm._] It shall avail you nothing I'll promise you.
_Lav._ Good, Sir, hold a little, Don _Sancho_ seems disposed to hear
Reason.
_San._ Why ay truly, for my Part methinks 'tis a Pity to vex the Lady
so.
_Lav._ Besides, Sir, 'tis for his sake I do it, to make him easy, and to
prevent his eternal Shame and Torture.
_San._ Poor Fool, how hard it is, ay, ay, I know 'tis for my Sake, pray,
Sir, hear her--pray do for my Sake as she says.
_Lar._ Pooh Fool.
_San._ Shall she say more for my Sake, than you'll hear Father that is
to be.
_Lar._ Well Huzzy, consider what you say, for if it be'nt to the
Purpose, as I'm sure it won't----look to't!
_Lav._ Before your hasty Rashness betrays me to eternal Woe, revoke your
harsh Commands.
_Lar._ Ay, I knew that would follow, and this is all you have to say,
Mistress, ha? come, come Woe, I'll woe you.
_Lav._ Something I have to speak, but know not in what Words to dress my
Thoughts fit for me to speak, or you to hear, oh spare the poor Remains
of my already too much violated Modesty,--Heav'n can I do this, but
there is no other Way. [_Aside._
_Lar._ How? how? how's that? Modesty! why what a Duce is the Matter with
your Modesty, ha?
_Lav._ Oh! Sir, force me not to wrong a Man whose Father I have so often
heard you say, you lov'd, think what sure Disgrace will follow, how will
it reflect upon your Name and Family, when I shall be found no Virgin.
_Lar._ Ha! no Virgin? take Heed Minion that you stain not the Honour of
my House, for if you do, I swear by the best Blood in _Sicily_, my Sword
shall do me Justice.
_Lav._ Now help me Courage, and forgive me Heaven my Resolutions, Death
or my _Francisco_. [_Aside._
I throw myself beneath your Feet, thus prostrate beg for Mercy, that I
have deserved Death my guilty Blushes own, the mighty Secret hangs upon
my Tongue, but Shame refuses Utterance to my Words.
_Lar._ I'm all of a cold Sweat, Heav'ns! how I dread the End of her
Discourse.
_San._ Pray Father let her rise, or I shall weep too.
_Trist._ Nay, I'll say that for my Master, he's as tractable as a
Monkey, and generally does what he sees other People do. [_Aside._
_Lav._ Oh! let it still remain unknown, and rather banish me, confine me
to some horrid Desart, there to live on Roots and withered Grass, and
with the falling Dew, still quench my Thirst, and lastly to some savage
Monster be a Prey, e'er I divulge my Shame.
_San._ I can hold no longer. [_Cries aloud._
_Lar._ On, for I'll hear it all, tho' thou shalt live no longer than
thou hast told thy Tale.
_Lav._ Sure ne'er before was Maid thus wretched, Oh _Francisco_! I give
thee here the greatest Proof of Love that ever Woman gave----if it must
out, then with it take my Life, but Oh! spare the innocent Babe.
_Lar._ Ha! the Babe?
_Lav._ Oh! I am with Child.
_Lar._ Then die both, and both be damn'd.
[_Offers to stab her, but is prevented by_ Sancho _and_ Tristram.
_Sanc._ Oh, Lord, Sir, for Heavens Sake, Sir, are you mad, help
_Tristram_.
_Lar._ 'Zdeath a Whore! Oh thou Scandal of my Blood.
_San._ Egad I'm resolv'd to own the Child, and bully this old Fellow a
little now----a Whore, Sir! who dares call my Wife a Whore? the Child is
mine, Sir, let me see who has any Thing to say to't.
_Lar._ Away, don't trifle with me, I shall not give you Credit.
_San._ What care I whether you do or no, I say again the Child is mine,
Madam, dry your Eyes, I like you ne'er the worse, and the World will
like me the better for't, it will bring me into Reputation.
_Lav._ Oh Heavens! what will come on me now, Oh! fly me, Sir, as you
wou'd shun Contagion, cou'd you receive into your Arms a Wretch polluted
by another.
_San._ Pish, shaw, pish, shaw, 'tis the least Thing in a thousand, thou
said thou didst it for my Sake just now, and sure I shou'd return the
Kindness, Ingratitude is worse than the Sin of Witchcraft.
_Lar._ Oh! the audacious Strumpet, give me Way, that I may punish the
Offence as it deserves. [Francisco _within._
_Fran._ Slaves give me Way, he dies that bars my Entrance.
_Lav._ Ha! 'tis my _Francisco_'s Voice--Oh! blest Minute.
_Lar._ Ha! what Noise is that? [_Help, Murder cry'd within._
_San._ How Murder within and Murder without too, this is a barbarous
House, I wish I was safe out on't. _Tristram_ stand by thy Master.
_Tristr._ Oh, Sir, I had rather run with you, for I hate Murder in cool
Blood.
_Enter_ Francisco _with his Sword drawn_.
_Lar._ Help within there, murder, you won't murder me Sirrah, ha?
[_Enter three or four Servants._] run for the Corregidore, I shall be
murder'd in my own House.
_Fran._ No, Sir, this Sword can never hurt the Father of _Lavinia_, nor
will my Arm guide it to any Act unjust, nor is it drawn for aught but to
defend my Wife.
_Lar._ Impudent Rascal, can'st thou look me in the Face, and know how
thou hast injur'd me, thou hast dishonour'd my Daughter.
_San._ Sir, I say no man has dishonour'd her but myself, and I wonder
you shou'd tax this honest Gentleman with it.
_Fran._ Ha, Villain! re-call what you have said, or by Heaven 'tis thy
last, 'tis safer playing with a Lion, than with Lavinia's Fame.
[_Holding his Sword at his Teeth._
_San. Lavinia_'s Fame, what Fame, what makes you so choleric, I thought
I shou'd do the Lady a Kindness in it.
_Trist._ Many a Man wou'd have been glad to have got rid of it so.
_Lav._ Humour my Father in what he says, for 'twas my last Stratagem to
defer my Marriage. [_Aside to_ Francisco.
_Lar. Lavinia_'s Fame! No Monster, thou hast robb'd, robb'd her of her
Fame.
_Fran._ The Wrong my Love has done your fair Daughter, 'tis now too late
to wish undone again, but if you please it may be clos'd up yet without
Dishonour, I will marry her.
_Lar._ Marry her? she'll have a mighty Bargain of that, marry a Beggar,
what Jointure canst thou make her?
_Fran._ I am poor, I must confess, in regard of your large Wealth, but I
swear by all Things that can bind, 'twas not your Wealth was the
Foundation of true-built Love, it was her single uncompounded self, her
self without Addition that I lov'd, which shall ever in my Heart
out-weigh all other Womens Fortunes with themselves, and were I great,
great as I cou'd wish myself for her Advancement, no such Bar as
Fortune's Inequality shou'd stand betwixt our Loves.
_Lar._ Say you so, Sir, why then take her----there hang, drown'd or
starve together, I care not which, but never come within my Doors more.
[_Throws her to him._
[_Exit_ Larich.
_San._ Hey day, what have I lost my Mistress then, why what must I say
to my Father, _Tristram_, who'll run stark mad without Hopes of a
Grandson?
_Tristr._ Oh, Sir, if this Gentleman had not put in his Claim, here had
been one ready to his Hands.
_San._ Ah Pox on't, 'tis damn'd unlucky, but come let's to the Tavern
and drink away Sorrow. [_Exeunt._
_Fran._ Come my fair _Lavinia_, and find a Father in thy Husband's Arms,
oh thou charming Excellence, thou something better sure than ever Woman
was, the matchless Proof that thou hast given of thy Love shall be
recorded to Posterity----
_Lav._ It is a matchless one indeed, and I struggled long e'er I cou'd
bring myself to own a Deed so distant from my Heart, but it has serv'd
my Purpose, and I glory in it now, but my Father's last Words methinks
chills my Blood, how shall you like the Yoke without lining think you
ha!
_Fran._ Don't wrong my Love _Lavinia_, or think that I can want any
Thing when possest of thee.
_Love shall make up what Fortune does deny,_
_And Love alone shall all our Wants supply._ [Exeunt.
_The_ SCENE _changes to the Street,
Count_ Pirro _and Lord_ Gravello.
_Grav._ Now my Lord she's your's again, _Palante_ dies.
_Pirro._ So noble were the Carriage of the Youths that I could almost
pity their hard Sentence.
_Grav._ I admire _Palante_'s Constancy, he seem'd regardless when the
Jury pronounc'd his Sentence, as if he feared not Death, but when his
Friends came on, I observed the Tears to fall.
_Pirro._ He begg'd very hard to save his Friend.----
_Grav._ And his Friend as eagerly to die with him, truly I think
_Clerimont_'s Crime did not deserve Death, but our _Sicilian_ Laws doom
all to Death that have but the least Hand in stealing of an Heiress, but
see the Lord _Euphenes_, he sticking hard to save his Foster Son, let's
avoid him, for I know he'll rail. [_Exit._
_Enter Lord_ Euphenes.
_Euph._ Unhappy poor _Palante_, the Law has cast thee in Spite of all
that I could do to save thee, I'd give my whole Estate to rescue thee
from Death: In thee methought my lost _Lysander_ liv'd, and in losing
thee I'm childless now indeed. I lov'd thee like my own Son, I rescu'd
thee from Pyrates, by which my Child was lost.
_Enter_ Alphonso.
_Alphon._ Thus once again from twenty Years Exile.
(Tost by the Storms of Fortune to and fro)
Has gracious Heav'n giv'n me Leave to tread
My native Earth of _Sicily_, and draw
That Air that fed me in my Infancy.
_Euph._ Ha! either my Eyes deceive me or 'tis my good old Friend
_Alphonso_.
_Alph._ My Lord _Euphenes_?
_Euph. Alphonso_, welcome to _Sicily_, I thought thee dead with my
unhappy Son, or what was worse, in Slavery, where no Intelligence cou'd
find thee, for I have us'd my utmost Diligence.
_Alph._ In part you have guess'd aright, for I have been twenty tedious
Years in gauling Slavery, for when the _Argives_ surprized the Fort they
hurried me on board, and because I made a brave Resistance, they ne'er
wou'd give me Leave to offer at my Ransom, so violent was their Hate,
but now worn out with Age, unfitting for their Labour, they turn'd me
Home, an useless Drone, your Son they put on board another Ship, and by
some I heard it rumoured, he being wondrous fair, that they design'd to
breed him for the Sultan's Use, but some Years after I heard he was
retaken on this Coast.
_Euph._ Ha!
_Alph._ I conceal'd his Name, least the many Conquests you have gain'd
against them shou'd have wing'd their Revenge, and made 'em kill the
lovely Child, I call'd him _Palante_, have you ever heard of such a one?
_Euph._ Oh all ye immortal Powers, the very same, I took, and is
_Palante_ then _Lysander_, and have I found thee once to lose thee ever?
_Alph._ Ha! what means all this?
_Euph._ 'Twas Nature then that worked my Soul, and I by Instinct lov'd
him. Oh my _Alphonso_, this Discovery comes too late, and instead of
bringing Comfort to my Age, thou hast plung'd me down in deep Despair.
_Alph._ Alas, my Lord, how have I err'd? pray explain yourself.
_Euph._ Oh _Alphonso_! the Youth thou speak'st of I retook from _Argive_
Pirates, I bred him, and tho' not sensible who he was, I lov'd him
tenderly: He is this very Day condemn'd for stealing of an Heiress, now
judge if my Grief falls not with Weight upon me.
_Alph._ Unfortunate Mischance, is there no Way to save him?
_Euph._ None I fear, but yet I'll try all Means, if my long Service to
my Country, my Winter Camps, and Summer Heats, and all my stormy Fate at
Sea can plead, I will expand my Deeds as _Rome_'s Consuls did of old,
make bare my Breast, and shew my scar'd Bosom to move and raise their
Pity.
_I that ne'er mention'd aught my Arm has done,_
_Will now urge all to save my darling Son._ [Exeunt.
ACT V. SCENE _a Prison_.
Palante _and_ Clerimont _come forward_.
_Pal._ Oh! _Clerimont_, I swear by my malignant Stars,
Death brings no Terrors with it but for thee;
The Thoughts of thine, and that I have involv'd
In my sad Fate, my best and only Friend,
Sits heavy on my Soul, and gives me double Death:
My Father's Tears, whom now too late I know,
Pierce not my Breast with half this killing Grief,
This gnaws me worse than my _Lucasia_'s Loss;
And, like a _Vulture_, preys upon my Heart.
I was rewarded, call'd _Lucasia_ mine:
For such a Treasure who wou'd refuse to die?
But thou'rt condemn'd for only aiding me,
I am the Cause of thy sad Fate, my Friend;
Hurry'd by me to an untimely Grave:
Thou fall'st for him thou ever hast oblig'd.
_Cler._ No more _Palante_----
Why dost thou call me by the Name of Friend?
Yet think I cou'd descend from Friendship's Rules:
For so I must shou'd I repine at Death,
Or fear to suffer with so brave a Man.
To die is nothing to a Man resolv'd:
Why shou'd we wish to hold this mortal Frame,
By Nature subject to such various Ills,
Which first or last brings certain Death to all?
Were there no Hand, indeed, but human Laws
To cut the Thread of our Mortality,
Then we had Cause for Grief; but when we reflect
We only leap the Abyss a little sooner,
Where all Mankind must follow by degrees,
The Apprehension moves not me.
_Pal._ Oh! Noble Constancy----
After Ages shall record the Story,
And rank thee with the bravest _Roman_ Youths;
And melancholy Virgins when they read,
In moving Accents celebrate thy Name.
_Cler._ What baleful Planet rul'd when thou wert born,
That mark'd for thee this Path of Sorrow out?
Oh! ye malicious Stars, when ye had stood
So long the rude Buffets of blind Fortune,
And now just as the pleasing Scene appear'd,
I' th' Moment when th' art found of noble Birth,
And wed to thy long wish'd for Bride _Lucasia_,
Then to snatch thee hence, is twice to kill thee.
Oh! it is the Mock'ry of spiteful Fates,
When we with Labour reach the aim'd at Wish,
Straight this unstable Fairy World removes.
We die, or are dash'd back again to what we were.
_Enter_ Eugenio _and_ Lucasia.
_Luc._ Faithful _Irus_ how shall I reward thee?
Ha! see where stands _Palante_ and his Friend!
Oh! lead me _Irus_, quickly, lead me back,
Else I shall grow a Statue at this Sight:
Not all the frightful Noise of Chains we've past,
And meagre Looks of Wretches in Despair,
Are half so terrible as this.
_Pal._ My _Lucasia_!
Art thou come to take thy last Adieu, and
Bless my Eyes before they close for ever?
_Luc._ Oh! _Palante_!
_Pal._ What! no more? Give thy labouring Sorrows vent,
That like Convulsions heaves thy snowy Breasts,
And struggles for a Passage to thy Tongue.
_Luc._ O! I had dy'd e'er seen this fatal Hour;
But this good Man pursu'd with Care my Steps,
And stop'd my Hand, which else had giv'n the Blow,
When first I heard the sad and dreadful News,
That thou, _Palante_, wer't condemn'd to die.
_Eug._ Still all I ask is, that you wou'd have Patience;
I'll to Court where Lord _Euphenes_ is,
Now begging for his Son, in Hope to bring you Happiness.
[_Exit_ Eug.
_Luc._ Fly _Irus_, fly, and bring us instant Word.
Oh! my aking Brain is near Distraction;
For much I fear there is no Help for me.
_Pal._ Yet I rejoice in this, I'm found of Noble Birth--
That in succeeding Ages, when this Act,
With all its Circumstances shall be told,
No Blot may rest upon thy Virgin Fame;
No censuring Tongue reflect upon thy Choice;
And say thy Husband was a Wretch unknown,
And quite unworthy of _Lucasia_'s Arms.
_Luc._ What Comfort's in this late Discovery found?
Will the Greatness of thy Race protect thee?
Virtue and ev'ry Good was thine before;
Yet the cruel Pow'rs are deaf to all my Prayers:
Nor will thy Merit plead with angry Heav'n,
To ward the Stroke, and save thy precious Life.
Oh Greatness! thou vain and vap'rish Shew,
That, like a Mist, dazzles the Eyes of Men,
And as the Fogs destroy the Body's Health,
That poisons deep, and gangrenes in the Soul;
But seldom's found t' assist the virtuous Man.
Thou wert----
As dear to these desiring Eyes before,
And honour'd full as much in this poor Heart.
Oh! I cou'd curse the Separating Cause,
And wish _Lucasia_ never had been born.
_Pal._ Be calm, my Love, my everlasting Dear,
Cease to lament, and give thy Spirits ease.
Oh! hear me Heav'n, and grant my last Request;
May Health, long Life, and ev'ry Bliss beside,
Conduce to make _Lucasia_ happy still.
Let nothing fall to interrupt her Joy,
But make it lasting as you make it great.
Grant this, and I to rigorous Destiny
Submit with Pleasure.
_Luc._ Long Life; no, rather wish me sudden Death,
To rid me of my Cares, and that Way give me Ease.
Ha! I'm seiz'd with an unusual Terror, Fear
And Horror swim in Shades of Night around,
How sad and dreadful are these Prison Walls!
Thy Voice seems hollow too, and Face looks pale.
Oh! my _Palante_, my Heart----
Throbs, as if the Strings of Life were breaking.
[_A Bell tolls within._
Hark! hark! Oh! 'twas this that it foretold.
Ope' Earth, hide me in thy unfathom'd Womb,
To drown the Call of Fate----this dismal Bell.
_Cler._ Madam----
Be patient, add not to his Misery;
For whilst he sees you thus, his Soul's unfit
For aught but Earth; th' Approach of Death is near,
A little Time is necessary now,
To calm his Mind to suffer like a Man.
_Luc._ Oh! Heav'n help me. [_Faints._
_Pal._ Oh! She's dying; do not thus rend my Soul with Grief.
_Enter an Officer._
_Officer._ Gentlemen, this Bell gives warning, that within Half an Hour
you must prepare to die.
_Pal._ 'Tis very well, we shall be ready.
Canst thou conduct this Lady to her Father's House?
_Luc._ Stand off, and touch me not: No, I will stay with thee.
Do not push me from thee, my dear _Palante_;
For I shall die apace, and go before.
_Officers._ The Officers all wait to conduct ye to the Place of
Execution.
_Cler._ We come now, Friend, when shall we meet again.
_Pal._ The bless'd Pow'rs can tell, in Heav'n sure.
Luc. _Oh! all ye Maids that now are crown'd above;_
_Did any feel, like me, the Wrecks of Love?_
_By Tempests torn from my dear Husband's Side,_
_And made a Widow, when I'm scarce a Bride._
SCENE _the Governor's House_.
_Enter Governor and Count_ Pirro, _and Lord_ Gravello.
_Govern._ This is strange _Palante_ should be found The Lord _Euphene_'s
Son; but fear not Nephew, the Law has pass'd, and he shall suffer.
_Pirro._ I urge still, my Lord, she was my promised Wife; Her Father so
design'd her, had he then been known Euphene's Son. I urge that, speak
my good Father.
_Grav._ My Lord, I had; yet let me own, I rather wish the unknown
_Palante_ had suffer'd for my Daughter, than the Son of one, who tho' my
Foe, I must acknowledge great and brave.
_Govern._ So wou'd I my Lord, but there's no Fence for Accidents; I do
expect to be beset with Prayers and Tears, but all in vain; see where he
comes.
_Enter_ Euphenes _and_ Alphonso.
_Euph._ Behold! Lord Governor, my aged Knees, are bent to thee,
'Tis in thy Power to wrest this heavy Judgment of the Law;
Suspend it at least, till the King shall hear the Cause,
And save my Son.
_Gover._ Rise _Euphenes_, your Speech carries a double Meaning, you pray
and threaten with the same Breath, we are not to be frighted Lord; the
Laws of _Sicily_ have had their Course, your Son falls by them.
_Euph._ Oh! mistake me not, I am as humble as your Pride can wish me;
but give me Leave to speak, tho' 'tis my hard Fortune to offend; let me
the Anguish of my Soul deliver to that injurious Lord, the Father of
_Lysander_'s, or by the more known Name, _Palante_'s Wife; hard-hearted
Man! had'st thou no other Way to wreck thy canker'd and long foster'd
Hate upon my Head, but this? Thus cruelly, by my Son's Suffering, and
for such a Fault as thou shou'dst Love him, rather? Is thy Daughter
injur'd by this Marriage? Is his Blood base? Or can his now rising
Fortunes know an Ebb? This Law was made to restrain the Vile from
wronging noble Persons, by Attempts of such a kind; but where Equality
meets in the Match, there is no Crime! or if there is, forgive his
Youth, and have Pity on him.
_Gover. Euphenes_, you wrong your Virtue when you'd save a Criminal, the
Law condemns; tho' the righteous Judgment falls upon your Son, and your
Appeal shall come too late.
_Euph._ Then you have set a Period to a loyal House and Family that have
been Props of the _Sicilian_ Crown and with their Blood in Wars, won
many an honour'd Field. I can spend no more in Tears, I'll spend the sad
Remnant of my childless Age, and only wish to rest i'th' Grave together.
_Alph._ Hear me thou Governor, not kneeling, but erect as old Age and
Slavery has left me: This noble _Sicilian_ Youth was lost in defending
_Sicily_ from the fam'd Fortress, which beat back a thousand Times,
invading Foes, and sunk 'em in the working Seas, from thence the Child
was ta'en, and must he 'scape the Hazards of the rowling Waves, Rocks,
Tempests, Pirates, and ignominious Fate, to perish in his native Isle:
Oh, barbarous Usage, stop yet at least his Judgment, and let this poor
old Man see once again, his dear _Palante_; for that I'll bow my
stubborn Knees, and ask the Blessings as I importune Heaven.
_Euph._ Oh! my Lord, let my unhappy Son appear before ye, e'er the cruel
Sentence comes to Execution.
_Grav._ If you deny them this, it may be ill represented to the King.
_Pirro._ I fear, my Lord, you are staggering.
_Gover._ Nephew, be silent, and be safe; they shall have their Will, but
to no Purpose, only a Moment's short Delay; for I have sworn, and he
shall die----Guard bring here the Prisoner.
_Euph._ I thank the Governor.
_Gov._ Oh spare thy Thanks, till thou hast real Cause: the Law, the
Statute's plain, and he must die for't, there is no Remedy.
_Enter, brought in by the Guards_, Palante, Clerimont,
Lucasia _and_ Eugenio.
_Euph._ Oh! Son!
_Alph. Palante!_
_Pal._ Pardon me, Sirs, I have too much Tenderness upon my Soul already,
too many Clogs that drag it downwards; oh! forgive me, if I beg ye wou'd
not add more Weight to Death.
_Gra._ Madam, 'twere more becoming your Quality and Modesty, to be at
Home; thou dost but ill return thy Father's Care.
_Luc._ I have no Father, nor ever had that I remember, but born and
destin'd for an out-cast Wretch, and curst to ruin a most noble Husband:
Oh he was the Pride of the _Sicilian_ Youths, and Glory of the World;
but he is dead, or doom'd to die, and that's alike distracting.
_Euph._ Heav'n bless thee, thou Mirrour of thy Sex, that in the Sea of
thy transcendant Virtues, drown'st all thy Father's Malice, and in my
Thought, redeem'st more than thy Race can lose.
_Gov._ Lord _Euphenes_, what End had you in this, in bringing here the
Criminals?
_Euph._ To move your Mercy was my End; but Wolves and Tygers know not
what Pity means.
_Gov._ Forbear Reproach, and hear me; I'll stand it to the King, and all
the World; here is an Heiress stole, the worst of Robberies; he is
condemn'd by the Law, he fell to the Judgment of the Law; I surrender
him. Guards, carry on the Pris'ners.
_Luca._ Oh! cruel Sentence! hear me, Sir.
_Gov._ Away with 'em.
_Eug._ Stay yet a little, thou most imperious Governor; for I will be
heard.
_Gov._ Thou! What art thou?
_Eug._ My Name is _Irus_; Lord _Pirro_ knows me.
_Pirro._ Ha!
_Eug._ Thou tremblest, Lord, hear; you that have condemn'd these noble
Friends, and hunt their Lives for a mere Trifle; sentence to Death a Man
for loving and being belov'd; hear, a black Deed will start your Soul
with Horror, and make you own the Crime before ye nothing.
_Gov._ What means the Fellow!
_Eug._ Nay, 'tis not a Frown can stop me, nor will my Fate be long; know
then, this Lord gave out his Son _Eugenio_ dy'd at _Rome_, but he was
well, and in this City.
_Palan._ How say'st thou?
_Luc._ Proceed, dear _Irus_.
_Eug._ First stop Lord _Pirro_; for my Story will not please him: I say
_Eugenio_ lived; which when I discover'd to that trembling Lord, he
brib'd me with a thousand Crowns to poison him: Here's the Agreement
under his own Hand; and here's a Letter from _Eugenio_ to his Father,
which denotes that he was poison'd, and dying.
_Gra._ Let me see it: Oh! 'tis his Hand. Wretch that I am, is my
dissembled Grief turn'd to true Sorrow? Were my acted Tears but
Prophecies of my ensuing Woe? And is he dead? Oh! pardon me, dear Ghost
of my _Eugenio_! 'twas my Crimes that call'd this hasty Vengeance from
above, and shorten'd thus thy Life; for whilst with Fallacies I sought
to fasten Wealth upon our House, I brought a Cannibal to be the Grave of
me and mine; base, bloody, murdering Lord.
_Pirro._ Vile Cozener, Cheater and Dissembler, now indeed we both are
caught.
_Euph._ Oh! cruel Man! now see the Justice of offended Heav'n; thou who
pursu'st the poor _Palante_'s Life with so much Violence, thou now must
feel the Weight of a Son's Loss.
_Gov._ This will prove a Tragedy indeed; away with the Prisoners. Your
Trial's next, Lord _Pirro_.
_Pirro._ I do confess----
_Eug._ Hold, is there no means left to save them? Wou'd not you now,
Lord _Gravello_, give your Daughter freely to _Palante_?
_Gra._ More willingly than I wou'd live another Hour.
_Euph._ Oh! You are kind too late; had you been thus when Need required,
you had sav'd yourself and me, and both our hapless Sons.
_Gov._ Oh Nephew, my Prompter still in Cruelty,
Now thou thyself must feel the Rigour of the Law.
_Eug._ Now ye behold the Good from Bad, which nought but this Extremity
had shewn; yet all be safe, _Eugenio_ lives, and fair _Lucasia_ is no
Heiress now.
_Omnes._ How! lives!
_Eug._ Yes, lives to call thee Brother, worthy _Palante_, and thou, my
dear _Lucasia_, Sister. [_Throws off his Disguise._
_Luc._ Oh, _Irus, Eugenio, Palante_, where am I?
_Palan._ Oh! _Lucasia, Clerimont_; my Friend, my Love, my Wife.
_Eug._ Pardon me ye most afflicted Sufferers,
That I thus long have kept myself conceal'd;
My End was honest, to let my Father see
The Frailty, I will not call it by a harder Name,
Of Count _Pirro_; the Son he coveted so eagerly,
To raise the Storms to their most dreadful Height,
That Calms, and Peace might be more pleasing.
_Gra._ I see it was _Eugenio_, and thou _Palante_.
Now, my Son, give me thy Hand, here take thy Wife,
And for the Wrong that I intended thee, thy Portion
shall be double.
_Pal._ Oh! I am over-paid, _Lucasia_ and my Friend secure. This is the
Work of Heav'n, and oh ye gracious Powers I thank ye for it.
_Cler._ Joy rises from my Heart, and with unutterable Transports stops
my Speech; thus once again let me embrace thee.
_Euph._ And has a Father nothing from a Son?
_Alph._ And old _Alphonso_ too expects a Welcome.
_Pal._ Oh! take me, Father, Brother, Friend, _Lucasia_! There's the Sum
of all.
_Luc._ Sure such Hours as these give us a Taste of Immortality.
_Gra._ My Lord _Euphenes_, I hope all Enmity is now forgot betwixt our
Houses.
_Euph._ Let it be ever so; I do embrace your Love.
But speak _Eugenio_, what hast thou to ask?
Whose timely Care prevented our undoing.
_Eug._ My Lord, you have a virtuous Niece, for whom I long have sigh'd,
I beg your leave to own my Flame.
_Euph._ She's yours; I've often heard her praise _Eugenio_. And all
Things else within my Power command.
My Lord the Governor, you alone seem sad.
_Gov._ I am not so at your good Fortune, but that my Nephew whom I have
found so base, urg'd me to such Cruelty: Be gone, and hide thy
ignominious Head, for I will never see thee more.
_Pirro._ No matter, I am free, and will enjoy myself in spight of all
Mankind. [_Exit._
_Gov._ However this my Care shall do, I will solicit earnestly the King
to mitigate this cruel Law, and make the Thefts of Love admit of Pardon.
Who have we here? they seem to rejoice too.
_Enter_ Larich _singing_, Francisco, Lavinia, Sancho _and_ Trist.
_Larich._ Ha, hey, what, every body in Joy! Good News, Coz, _Palante_
come off safe; my pretty Niece pleas'd here, and Son-in-law,
_Francisco_, just receiv'd a certain Information of an Uncle's Death,
that has left him, let me see, let me see; ay, ay, enough to please me.
_Sancho._ Nay, nay, hold, every body is not so well pleas'd neither; I
am melancholy, I came hither to see the Execution; but I see no body has
occasion to be hanged but myself, for I have lost my Mistress; faith I
have, _Tristram_. What Account shall I give my Father of this Match?
_Tris._ Fackins, Master, I cannot tell.
_Larich._ Then _Lavinia_ is a pure Virgin still, for all the Tricks she
play'd; faith she is: Was it not a sly one, ha, Brother?
_Gra._ I know nothing of the Matter.
_Luc._ Cousin, I wish you Joy, as large a Share as I possess, and Fate
itself can give no more.
_Lav._ I am doubly bless'd to see you happy.
_Fran._ And I have nothing left to wish.
_Pal._ Come, my _Lucasia_, now we are bless'd, let us retire, and give a
loose to Raptures yet unknown.
_Virtue survives thro' all the Turns of Fate,_
_Let not impatient Man think Mercy late;_
_For Heaven does still the justest Side regard,_
_And virtuous Lovers always meet Reward._
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
Very occasional misspellings have been silently corrected. These
include misspelled character names (Engenio for Eugenio; Euphanes for
Euphenes). Several of the characters' names are abbreviated in a
variety of ways in the original text and have not been standardised. A
single misprint affected the meaning; wont was changed to won't in the
passage:
Thou won't visit her in that Dress, sure?
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Stolen Heiress - or, The Salamanca Doctor Outplotted" ***
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