Jul. How the villain stares upon me!
Gons. Wonder prepares my soul, and then love enters: But wonder is so close pursued by love, That, like a fire, it warms as soon as born.
Man. If we must die, what need these circumstances?
Jul. Heaven defend me from him!
Gons. Why, madam, can you doubt a rudeness from me? Your very fears and griefs create an awe, Such majesty they bear; methinks, I see Your soul retired within her inmost chamber. Like a fair mourner sit in state, with all The silent pomp of sorrow round about her.
Man. Your language does express a man, bred up To worthier ways than those you follow now.
Gons. What does he mean? [Aside.
Man. If (as it seems) you love; love is a passion, Which kindles honour into noble acts: Restore my sister's liberty; oblige her, And see what gratitude will work.
Gons. All this is stranger yet.
Man. Whate'er a brother's power To-morrow can do for you, claim it boldly.
Gons. I know not why you think yourselves my prisoners; This lady's freedom is a thing too precious To be disposed by any but herself: But value this small service as you please, Which you reward too prodigally, by Permitting me to pay her more.
Jul. Love from an outlaw? from a villain, love? If I have that power on thee, thou pretend'st, Go and pursue thy mischiefs, but presume not To follow me:—Come, brother. [Ex. Jul. and Man.
Gons. Those foul names of outlaw and of villain I never did deserve: They raise my wonder. [Walks. Dull that I was, not to find this before! She took me for the captain of the robbers; It must be so; I'll tell her her mistake.
[Goes out hastily, and returns immediately.
She's gone, she's gone, and who or whence she is I cannot tell; methinks, she should have left A track so bright, I might have followed her; Like setting suns, that vanish in a glory. O villain that I am! O hated villain!
Enter HIPPOLITO again.
Hip. I cannot suffer you to wrong yourself So much; for, though I do not know your person, Your actions are too fair, too noble, sir, To merit that foul name.
Gons. Pr'ythee, do not flatter me; I am a villain; That admirable lady said I was.
Hip. I fear, you love her, sir.
Gons. No, no, not love her: Love is the name of some more gentle passion; Mine is a fury, grown up in a moment To an extremity, and lasting in it; An heap of powder set on fire, and burning As long as any ordinary fuel.
Hip. How could he love so soon? and yet, alas! What cause have I to ask that question, Who loved him the first minute that I saw him? I cannot leave him thus, though I perceive His heart engaged another way. [Aside.
Sir, can you have such pity on my youth, [To Him. On my forsaken and my helpless youth, To take me to your service?
Gons. Would'st thou serve A madman? how can he take care of thee, Whom fortune and his reason have abandoned? A man, that saw, and loved, and disobliged, Is banished, and is mad, all in a moment.
Hip. Yet you alone have title to my service; You make me yours by your preserving me: And that's the title heaven has to mankind.
Gons. Pr'ythee, no more.
Hip. I know your mistress too.
Gons. Ha! dost thou know the person I adore? Answer me quickly; speak, and I'll receive thee: Hast thou no tongue?
Hip. Why did I say I knew her? All I can hope for, if I have my wish To live with him, is but to be unhappy. [Aside.
Gons. Thou false and lying boy, to say thou knew'st her; Pr'ythee, say something, though thou cozen'st me.
Hip. Since you will know, her name is Julia, sir, And that young gentleman you saw, her brother, Don Manuel de Torres.
Gons. Say I should take thee, boy, and should employ thee To that fair lady, would'st thou serve me faithfully?
Hip. You ask me an hard question: I can die For you; perhaps I cannot woo so well.
Gons. I knew thou would'st not do't.
Hip. I swear I would: But, sir, I grieve to be the messenger Of more unhappy news; she must be married This day to one Don Roderick de Sylva, Betwixt whom and her brother there has been. A long (and it was thought a mortal) quarrel, But now it must for ever end in peace: For, happening both to love each others sisters, They have concluded it in a cross marriage; Which, in the palace of Don Rodorick, They went to celebrate from their countryhouse, When, taken by the thieves, you rescued them.
Gons. Methinks I am grown patient on a sudden, And all my rage is gone: like losing gamesters, Who fret and storm, and swear at little losses; But, when they see all hope of fortune vanished, Submit, and gain a temper by their ruin.
Hip. Would you could cast this love, which troubles you, Out of your mind!
Gons. I cannot, boy; but since Her brother, with intent to cozen me, Made me the promise of his best assistance, I'll take some course to be revenged of him.
[Is going out.
But stay—I charge thee, boy, discover not To any, who I am.
Hip. Alas, I cannot, sir; I know you not.
Gons. Why, there's it; I am mad again; Oh love!
Hip. Oh love! [Exeunt.
Enter two Servants of Don RODORICK'S, placing chairs, and talking as they place them.
1 Serv. Make ready quickly there; Don Manuel And his fair sister, that must be our lady, Are coming in.
2 Serv. They have been long expected; 'Tis evening now, and the canonic hours For marriage are past.
1 Serv. The nearer bedtime, The better still; my lord will not defer it: He swears, the clergy are no fit judges Of our necessities.
2 Serv. Where is my lord?
1 Serv. Gone out to meet his bride.
2 Serv. I wonder that my lady Angelina Went not with him; she's to be married too.
1 Serv. I do not think she fancies much the man: Only, to make the reconcilement perfect Betwixt the families, she's passive in it; The choice being but her brother's, not her own.
2 Serv. Troth, were't my case, I cared not who chose for me.
1 Serv. Nor I; 'twould save the process of a tedious passion, A long law-suit of love, which quite consumes An honest lover, ere he gets possession: I would come plump, and fresh, and all my self, Served up to my bride's bed like a fat fowl, Before the frost of love had nipped me through. I look on wives as on good dull companions, For elder brothers to sleep out their time with; All, we can hope for in the marriage-bed, Is but to take our rest; and what care I, Who lays my pillow for me?
Enter a Poet with verses.
1 Serv. Now, what's your business, friend?
Poet. An epithalamium, to the noble bridegrooms.
1 Serv. Let me see; what's here? as I live, [Takes it. Nothing but downright bawdry: Sirrah, rascal, Is this an age for ribaldry in verse; When every gentleman in town speaks it With so much better grace, than thou canst write it? I'll beat thee with a stave of thy own rhymes.
Poet. Nay, good sir—[Runs off, and Exit.
2 Serv. Peace, they are here.
[Enter Don RODORICK, Don MANUEL, JULIA, and Company.
1 Serv. My lord looks sullenly, and fain would hide it.
2 Serv. Howe'er he weds Don Manuel's sister, yet I fear he's hardly reconciled to him.
Jul. I tremble at it still.
Rod. I must confess Your danger great; but, madam, since 'tis past, To speak of it were to renew your fears. My noble brother, welcome to my breast. Some, call my sister; say, Don Manuel, Her bridegroom, waits.
Man. Tell her, in both the houses There now remains no enemy but she.
Rod. In the mean time let's dance; madam, I hope You'll grace me with your hand.—
[Enter LEONORA, woman to ANGELINA; takes the two men aside.
Leon. O sir, my lady Angelina—
Rod. Why comes she not?
Leon. Is fallen extremely sick.
Leon. Nay, trouble not yourselves too much; These fits are usual with her, and not dangerous.
Rod. O rarely counterfeited. [Aside.
Man. May not I see her?
Leon. She does, by me, deny herself that honour. [As she speaks, steals a note into his hand. I shall return, I hope, with better news; In the mean time she prays, you'll not disturb The company. [Exit LEONORA.
Rod. This troubles me exceedingly.
Man. A note put privately into my hand By Angelina's woman? She's my creature: There's something in't; I'll read it to myself.— [Aside.
Rod. Brother, what paper's that?
Man. Some begging verses, Delivered me this morning on my wedding.
Rod. Pray, let me see them.
Man. I have many copies, Please you to entertain yourself with these. [Gives him another paper. MANUEL reads.
SIR, My lady feigns this sickness to delude you: Her brother hates you still; and the plot is, That he shall marry first your sister, And then deny you his.—
Since I writ this, I have so wrought upon her, (Who, of herself, is timorous enough) That she believes her brother will betray her, Or else be forced to give her up to you; Therefore, unknown to him, she means to fly: Come to the garden door at seven this evening, And there you may surprise her; mean time, I Will keep her ignorant of all things, that Her fear may still increase.
Enter LEONORA again.
Rod. How now? How does your lady?
Leon. So ill, she cannot possibly wait on you.
Man. Kind heaven, give me her sickness!
Rod. Those are wishes: What's to be done?
Man. We must defer our marriages.
Rod. Leonora, now! [Aside to her
Leon. My lady, sir, has absolutely charged, Her brother's should go forward.
Leon. Expressly, sir; because, she says, there are So many honourable persons here, Whom to defraud of their intended mirth, And of each others company, were rude: So, hoping your excuse—[Exit LEONORA.
Rod. That privilege of power, which brothers have In Spain, I never used, therefore submit My will to hers; but with much sorrow, sir, My happiness should go before, not wait On yours: Lead on.
Man. Stay, sir; though your fair sister, in respect To this assembly, seems to be content Your marriage should proceed, we must not want So much good manners as to suffer it.
Rod. So much good manners, brother?
Man.—I have said it. Should we, to show our sorrow for her sickness, Provoke our easy souls to careless mirth, As if our drunken revels were designed For joy of what she suffers?
Rod. 'Twill be over In a few days.
Man. Your stay will be the less.
Rod. All things are now in readiness, and must not Be put off, for a peevish humour thus.
Man. They must; or I shall think you mean not fairly.
Rod. Explain yourself.
Man. That you would marry first, And afterwards refuse me Angelina.
Man. You are—
Rod. Speak softly.
Man. A foul villain.
Man. Speak softly.
Rod. I'll find a time to tell you, you are one.
Man. 'Tis well. Ladies, you wonder at our private whispers, [To the company. But more will wonder when you know the cause; The beauteous Angelina is fallen ill; And, since she cannot with her presence grace This day's solemnity, the noble Roderick Thinks fit it be deferred, 'till she recover; Then, we both hope to have your companies.
Lad. Wishing her health, we take our leaves. [Exeunt company. Rod. Your sister yet will marry me.
Man. She will not: Come hither, Julia.
Jul. What strange afflicting news is this you tell us?
Man. 'Twas all this false man's plot, that when he had Possest you, he might cheat me of his sister.
Jul. Is this true, Roderick?—Alas, his silence Does but too much confess it: How I blush To own that love, I cannot yet take from thee! Yet for my sake be friends.
Man. 'Tis now too late: I am by honour hindered.
Rod. I by hate.
Jul. What shall I do?
Man. Leave him, and come away; Thy virtue bids thee.
Jul. But love bids me stay.
Man. Her love's so like my own, that I should blame The brother's passion in the sister's flame. Rodorick, we shall meet.—He little thinks I am as sure this night of Angelina, As he of Julia. [Aside. Exit MANUEL.
Rod. Madam, to what an ecstasy of joy Your goodness raises me! this was an act Of kindness, which no service e'er can pay.
Jul. Yes, Rodorick, 'tis in your power to quit The debt you owe me.
Rod. Do but name the way.
Jul. Then briefly thus; 'tis to be just to me, As I have been to you.
Rod. You cannot doubt it.
Jul. You know I have adventured, for your sake, A brother's anger, and the world's opinion: I value neither; for a settled virtue Makes itself judge, and, satisfied within, Smiles at that common enemy, the world. I am no more afraid of flying censures, Than heaven of being fired with mounting sparkles.
Rod. But wherein must my gratitude consist?
Jul. Answer yourself, by thinking what is fit For me to do.
Rod. By marriage, to confirm Our mutual love.
Jul. Ungrateful Rodorick! Canst thou name marriage, while thou entertain'st A hatred so unjust against my brother?
Rod. But, unkind Julia, you know the causes Of love and hate are hid deep in our stars, And none but heaven can give account of both.
Jul. Too well I know it: for my love to thee Is born by inclination, not by judgment; And makes my virtue shrink within my heart, As loth to leave it, and as loth to mingle.
Rod. What would you have me do?
Jul. Since I must tell thee, Lead me to some near monastery; there (Till heaven find out some way to make us happy) I shall be kept in safety from my brother.
Rod. But more from me; what hopes can Rodorick have, That she, who leaves him freely, and unforced, Should ever of her own accord return?
Jul. Thou hast too great assurance of my faith, That, in despite of my own self, I love thee. Be friends with Manuel, I am thine; 'till when My honour's. Lead me.
SCENE III.—The representation of a Street discovered by twilight.
Enter Don MANUEL, solus.
Man. This is the time and place, where I expect My fugitive mistress; if I meet with her, I may forget the wrongs, her brother did me; If otherwise, his blood shall expiate them. I hope her woman keeps her ignorant How all things passed, according to her promise.
A door opens,—Enter ANGELINA in boy's clothes. LEONORA behind at the door.
Leon. I had forgot to tell him of this habit She has put on; but sure he'll know her in it.
Man. Who goes there?
Ang. 'Tis Don Manuel's voice; I must run back: The door shut on me?—Leonora! where?—Does she not follow me? I am betrayed.
Man. What are you?
Ang. A poor boy.
Man. Do you belong to Rodorick?
Ang. Yes, I do.
Man. Here's money for you; tell me where's his sister?
Ang. Just now I met her coming down the stairs, Which lead into the garden.
Man. 'Tis well; leave me In silence.
Ang. With all my heart; was ever such a 'scape? [Exit running.
Man. She cannot now be long; sure by the moons shine I shall discover her:
Enter RODORICK and JULIA.
This must be she; I'll seize her.
Jul. Help me, Roderick.
Rod. Unhand the lady, villain.
Man. Roderick! I'm glad we meet alone; now is the time To end our difference.
Rod. I cannot stay.
Man. You must.
Rod. I will not.
Man. 'Tis base to injure any man; but yet Tis far more base, once done, not to defend it.
Rod. Is this an hour, for valiant men to fight? They love the sun should witness what they do; Cowards have courage, when they see not death; And fearful hares, that sculk in forms all day, Yet fight their feeble quarrels by the moonlight.
Man. No; light and darkness are but poor distinctions Of such, whose courage comes by fits and starts.
Rod. Thou urgest me above my patience; This minute of my life was not my own, But hers, I love beyond it. [They draw, and fight.
Jul. Help, help! none hear me! Heaven, I think, is deaf too: O Roderick! O brother!
Enter GONSALVO, and HIPPOLITO.
Jul. Whoe'er you are, if you have honour, part them! [MANUEL stumbles, and falls.
Gons. Hold, sir, you are too cruel; he, that kills At such advantage, fears to fight again.
Man. Cavalier, I may live to thank you for this favour. [Rises.
Rod. I will not quit you so.
Man. I'll breathe, and then—
Jul. Is there no way to save their lives?
Hip. Run out of sight, If 'tis concerning you they quarrel.
[JULIA retires to a corner.
Hip. Help, help, as you are cavaliers; the lady. For whom you thus contend, is seized by some Night-robbing villains.
All. Which way took they?
Hip. 'Twas so dark I could not see distinctly.
Rod. Let us divide; I this way. [Exit.
Gons. Down yonder street I'll take.
Man. And I down that. [Exeunt severally.
Hip. Now, madam, may we not lay by our fear? They are all gone.
Jul. Tis true; but we are here, Exposed to darkness, without guide or aid, But of ourselves.
Hip. And of ourselves afraid.
Jul. These dangers, while 'twas light, I could despise; Then I was bold, but watched by many eyes: Ah! could not heaven for lovers find a way, That prying people still might sleep by day?
Hip. Methinks I'm certain I discover some.
Jul. This was your speaking of them, made them come.
Hip. There is but one, perhaps he may go by.
Ang. Where had I courage for this bold disguise, Which more my nature than my sex belies? Alas! I am betrayed to darkness here; Darkness, which virtue hates, and maids most fear: Silence and solitude dwell every where: Dogs cease to bark; the waves more faintly roar, And roll themselves asleep upon the shore: No noise but what my footsteps make, and they Sound dreadfully, and louder than by day: They double too, and every step I take Sounds thick, methinks, and more than one could make. Ha! who are these? I wished for company, and now I fear. Who are you, gentle people, that go there?
Jul. His voice is soft as is the upper air, Or dying lovers' words: O pity us. Ang. O pity me! take freely as your own My gold, my jewels; spare my life alone.
Hip. Alas, he fears as much as we.
Jul. What say you, Sir, will you join with us?
Ang. Yes, madam; but If you would take my sword, you'll use it better.
Hip. Ay, but you are a man.
Ang. Why, so are you.
Hip. Truly my fear had made me quite forget it.
Gons. Hippolito! how barbarous was I To leave my boy! Hippolito!
Hip. Here, here. Now, madam, fear not, you are safe.
Jul. What is become, sir, of those gentlemen?
Gons. Madam, they all went several ways; not like To meet.
Jul. What will become of me?
Gons. Tis late, And I a stranger in the town; yet all Your dangers shall be mine.
Jul. You're noble, sir.
Gons. I'll pawn the hopes of all my love, to see You safe.
Jul. Whoe'er your mistress be, she has My curses, if she prove not kind.
Ang. And mine.
Hip. My sister will repent her, when she knows For whom she makes that wish; but I'll say nothing, Till day discovers it. [Aside.] A door opens; I hope it is some inn.
[A door opens, at which a Servant appears.
Ang. Friend, can you lodge us here?
Serv. Yes, friend, we can.
Jul. How shall we be disposed?
Serv. As nature would; The gentleman and you: I have a rule, That, when a man and woman ask for lodging, They are ever husband and wife.
Jul. Rude and unmannered!
Gons. Sir, this lady must be lodged apart.
Serv. Then the two boys, that are good for nothing But one another, they shall go together.
Ang. Lie with a man! sweet heaven defend me!
Hip. Alas, friend, I ever lie alone.
Serv. Then to save trouble, sir, because 'tis late, One of the youths shall be disposed with you.
Ang. Who, I! not for the world.
Hip. Neither of us; for, though I would not lodge with you Myself, I never can endure he should.
Ang. Why then, to end the difference, if you please. I and that lady will be bed-fellows.
Hip. No, she and I will lodge together rather.
Serv. You are sweet youths indeed; not for the world You would not lodge with men! none but the lady Would serve your turn.
Aug. Alas, I had forgot I am a boy; I am so lately one. [Aside.
Serv. Well, well; all shall be lodged apart.
Gons. to Hip. I did not think you harboured wanton thoughts; So young, so bad?
Hip. I can make no defence, But must be shamed by my own innocence. [Exeunt.
SCENE I.—A Chamber.
[Enter GONSALVO, HIPPOLITO, and ANGELINA as AMIDEO at a distance.
Gon. Hippolito, what is this pretty youth, That follows us?
Hip. I know not much of him: Handsome you see, and of graceful fashion; Of noble blood, he says, and I believe him; But in some deep distress; he'll tell no more, And I could cry for that, which he has told. So much I pity him.
Gon. My pretty youth, Would I could do thee any service.
Ang. Sir, The greatest you can do me, is accepting mine.
Hip. How's this? methinks already I begin To hate this boy, whom but even now I moaned, You serve my master? Do you think I cannot Perform all duties of a servant better, And with more care, than you?
Ang. Better you may, But never with more care: Heaven, which is served with angels, yet admits Poor man to pay his duty, and receives it.
Hip. Mark but, my lord, how ill behaved a youth, How very ugly, what a dwarf he is.
Ang. My lord, I yet am young enough to grow, And 'tis the commendation of a boy, That he is little. [Cries.
Gons. Pr'ythee, do not cry; Hippolito, 'twas but just now you praised him, And are you changed so soon?
Hip. On better view.
Gons. What is your name, sweet heart?
Hip. Sweet heart! since I Have served you, you ne'er called me so.
Ang. O, ever, Ever call me by that kind name; I'll own No other, because I would still have that.
Hip. He told me, sir, his name was Amideo; Pray, call him by't.
Gons. Come, I'll employ you both; Reach me my belt, and help to put it on.
Amid. I run, my lord.
Hip. You run? it is my office.
[They both take it up, and strive for it; HIPPOLITO gets it, and puts it on.
Amid. Look you, my lord, he puts it on so aukwardly; [Crying. The sword does not sit right.
Hip. Why, where's the fault?
Amid. I know not that; but I am sure 'tis wrong.
Gons.The fault is plain, 'tis put on the wrong shoulder.
Hip. That cannot be, I looked on Amideo's, And hung it on that shoulder his is on.
Amid. Then I doubt mine is so.
Gons. It is indeed: You're both good boys, and both will learn in time. Hippolito, go you and bring me word, Whether that lady, we brought in last night, Be willing to receive a visit from, me.
Hip. Now, Amideo, since you are so forward To do all service, you shall to the lady.
Amid. No, I'll stay with my master, he bid you.
Hip. It mads me to the heart to leave him here: But I will be revenged. [Aside. My lord, I beg You would not trust this boy with any thing Till my return; pray, know him better first. [Exit.
Gons. 'Twas my unhappiness to meet this lady Last night; because it ruined my design Of walking by the house of Roderick: Who knows but through some window I had spied Fair Julia's shadow passing by the glass; Or if some others, I would think it hers; Or if not any, I would see the place Where Julia lives. O Heaven, how small a blessing Will serve to make despairing lovers happy!
Amid. Unhappy Angelina, thou art lost: Thy lord loves Julia. [Aside.
Enter HIPPOLITO and JULIA.
Jul.—Where is thy master? I long to give him my acknowledgments For my own safety, and my brother's both. Ha! Is it he? [Looks.
Gons. Can it be Julia? Could night so far disguise her from my knowledge!
Jul. I would not think thee him, I see thou art: Pr'ythee disown thyself in pity to me: Why should I be obliged by one I hate?
Gons. I could say something in my own defence; But it were half a crime to plead my cause, When you would have me guilty.
Amid. How I fear The sweetness of those words will move her pity! I'm sure they would do mine.
Gons. You took me for a robber, but so far I am from that—
Jul. O, pr'ythee, be one still, That I may know some cause for my aversion.
Gons. I freed you from them, and more gladly did it—
Jul. Be what thou wilt, 'tis now too late to tell me: The blackness of that image, I first fancied, Has so infected me, I still must hate thee.
Hip. Though (if she loves him) all my hopes are ruined, It makes me mad to see her thus unkind. [Aside. Madam, what see you in this gentleman, Deserves your scorn or hatred? love him, or Expect just Heaven should strangely punish you.
Gons. No more: Whate'er she does is best; and if You would be mine, you must, like me, submit Without dispute.
Hip. How can I love you, sir, and suffer this? She has forgot that, which, last night, you did In her defence.
Jul. O call that night again; Pitch her with all her darkness round: then set me In some far desert, hemmed with mountain wolves To howl about me: This I would endure, And more, to cancel my obligements to him.
Gons. You owe me nothing, madam; if you do, I make it void; and only ask your leave To love you still; for, to be loved again I never hope;
Jul. If that will clear my debt, enjoy thy wish; Love me, and long, and desperately love me. I hope thou wilt, that I may plague thee more: Mean time, take from me that detested object; Convey thy much loathed person from my sight.
Gons. Madam, you are obeyed. Hippolito and Amideo, wait Upon fair Julia; look upon her for me With dying eyes, but do not speak one word In my behalf; for, to disquiet her, Even happiness itself were bought too dear.
[Goes farther off, towards the end of the stage.
My passion swells too high; And, like a vessel struggling in a storm, Requires more hands than one to steer her upright; I'll find her brother out. [Exit.
Jul. That boy, I see, he trusts above the other: He has a strange resemblance with a face That I have seen, but when, or where, I know not. I'll watch till they are parted; then, perhaps, I may corrupt that little one to free me.
Amid. Sweet Hippolito, let me speak with you.
Hip. What would you with me?
Amid. Nay, you are so fierce; By all that's good, I love and honour you, And, would you do but one poor thing I'll ask you, In all things else you ever shall command me. Look you, Hippolito, here's gold and jewels; These may be yours.
Hip. To what end dost thou show These trifles to me? or how cam'st thou by them? Not honestly, I fear.
Amid. I swear I did: And you shall have them; but you always press Before me in my master's service so—
Hip. And always will.
Amid. But, dear Hippolito, Why will you not give way, that I may be First in his favour, and be still employed? Why do you frown? 'tis not for gain I ask it; Whatever he shall give me shall be yours, Except it be some toy you would not care for, Which I should keep for his dear sake, that gave it.
Hip. If thou wouldst offer both the Indies to me, The eastern quarries, and the western mines, They should not buy one look, one gentle smile Of his from me; assure thy soul they should not, I hate thee so.
Amid. Henceforth I'll hate you worse. But yet there is a woman whom he loves, A certain Julia, who will steal his heart From both of us; we'll join at least against The common enemy.
Hip. Why does he fear my lord should love a woman? The passion of this boy is so like mine, That it amazes me. [Aside.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Young gentleman, Your master calls for you.
Hip. I'll think upon't—
[Exuent HIPPOLITO and Serv
Enter JULIA to AMIDEO.
Jul. Now is the time, he is alone.
Amid. Here comes The saint, my lord adores; love, pardon me The fault, I must commit.
Jul. Fair youth, I am A suitor to you.
Amid. So am I to you.
Jul. You see me here a prisoner.
Amid. My request Is, I may set you free; make haste, sweet madam; Which way would you go?
Jul. To the next Religious house.
Amid. Here through the garden, madam; How I commend your holy resolution! [Exeunt.
Enter DON MANUEL in the street, and a Servant with him.
Man. Angelina fled to a monastery, say you?
Serv. So 'tis given out: I could not see her woman: But, for your sister, what you heard is true; I saw her at the inn: They told me, she was brought in late last night; By a young cavalier, they showed me there.
Man. This must be he that rescued me: What would I give to see him!
Serv. Fortune is Obedient to your wishes; he was coming To find out you; I waited on him to The turning of the street, and stepped before To tell you of it.
Man. You o'erjoy me.
Serv. This, sir, is he.
Enter GONSALVO. DON MANUEL is running to embrace him, and stops.
Man.—The captain of the robbers!
Gons. As such, indeed, you promised me your sister.
Man. I promised all the interest I should have; Because I thought, before you came to claim it, A husband's right would take my title from me.
Gons. I come to see if any manly virtue Can dwell with falsehood: Draw, thou'st injured me.
Man. You say already I have done you wrong, And yet would have me right you by a greater.
Gons. Poor abject thing!
Man. Who doubts another's courage Wants it himself; but I, who know my own, Will not receive a law from you to fight, Or to forbear: for then I grant your courage To master mine, when I am forced to do What of myself I would not.
Gons. Your reason?
Man. You saved my life.
Gons. I'll quit that debt, to be In a capacity of forcing you To keep your promise with me; for I come To learn, your sister is not yet disposed.
Man. I've lost all privilege to defend my life; And, if you take it now, 'tis no new conquest; Like fish, first taken in a river, then Bestowed in ponds to catch a second time.
Gons. Mark but how partially you plead your cause, Pretending breach of honour if you fight, Yet think it none to violate your word.
Man. I cannot give my sister to a robber.
Gons. You shall not; I am none, but born of blood As noble as yourself; my fortunes equal At least with yours, my reputation yet, I think, unstained.
Man. I wish, sir, it may prove so; I never had so strong an inclination To believe any man as you—But yet—
Gons. All things shall be so clear, there shall be left No room for any scruple. I was born In Seville, of the best house in that city; My name Gonsalvo de Peralta: Being A younger brother, 'twas my uncle's care To take me with him in a voyage to The Indies, where since dying, he has left me A fortune not contemptible; returning From thence with all my wealth in the plate fleet, A furious storm almost within the port Of Seville took us, scattered all the navy. My ship, by the unruly tempest borne Quite through the Streights, as far as Barcelona, There first cast anchor; there I stept ashore: Three days I staid, in which small time I made A little love, which vanished as it came.
Man. But were you not engaged to her you courted?
Gons. Upon my honour, no; what might have been I cannot tell: But ere I could repair My beaten ship, or take fresh water in, One night, when there by chance I lay aboard, A wind tore up my anchor from the bottom, And with that violence it brought me thither, Has thrown me in this port.
Mon. But yet our meeting in the wood was strange.
Gons. For that I'll satisfy you as we walk.
Hip. O sir, how glad am I to find you!—
Man. That boy I have seen somewhere, or one like him, But where, I cannot call to mind.
Hip. I found it out, and got before them— And here they are—
Enter AMIDEO and JULIA.
Man. My sister! as I could have wished it.
Amid. O! we are caught!
Jul. I did expect as much: Fortune has not forgot that I am Julia.
Man. Sister, I'm glad you're happily returned; 'Twas kindly done of you thus to prevent The trouble of my search.
Jul. I would not have you Mistake my love to Roderick so much, To think I meant to fall into your hands. My purpose is for the next nunnery; There I'll pray for you: So farewell.
Man. Stay, Julia, you must go with me.
Jul. Lead, lead; You think I am your prisoner now.
Gons. If you will needs to a religious house, Leave that fair face behind; a worse will serve To spoil with watching, and with fasting there.
Man. Pr'ythee, no more of this; the only way To make her happy is to force it on her. Julia, prepare yourself strait to be married.
Jul. To whom?
Man. You see your bridegroom: And you know My father's will, who, with his dying breath Commanded, you should pay as strict obedience To me, as formerly to him: If not, Your dowry is at my dispose.
Jul. O, would The loss of that dispense with duty in me, How gladly would I suffer it! and yet, If I durst question it, methinks 'tis hard! What right have parents over children, more Than birds have o'er their young? yet they impose No rich-plumed mistress on their feathered sons; But leave their love, more open yet and free Than all the fields of air, their spacious birthright.
[GONSALVO seems to beg MANUEL not to be harsh.
Man. Nay, good Gonsalvo, trouble not yourself, There is no other way; when 'tis once done, She'll thank me for't.
Jul. I ne'er expected other usage from you; A kind brother you have been to me, And to my sister: You have sent, they say, To Barcelona, that my aunt should force her To marry the old Don you brought her.
Hip. Who could, that once had seen Gonsalvo's. face? Alas, she little thinks I am so near! [Aside.
Man. Mind not what she says. A word with you—[To GONSALVO.
Amid. Don Manuel eyes me strangely; the best is, he never saw me yet but at a distance: My brother's jealousy (who ne'er intended I should be his) restrained our nearer converse. [Aside.
Jul. My pretty youth, I am enforced to trust thee [To AMIDEO. With my most near concerns; friends I have none, If thou deny'st to help me.
Amid. Any thing To break your marriage with my master.
Jul. Go to Roderick, and tell him my condition: But tell it him as from thyself, not me.
Amid. That you are forced to marry?
Jul. But do not ask him To succour me; if of himself he will not, I scorn a love that must be taught its duty.
Man. What youth is that? I mean the little one.
Gons. I took him up last night.
Man. A sweet-faced boy, I like him strangely: Would you part with him?
Amid. Alas, sir, I am good for nobody, But for my master.
Hip. Sir, I'll do your errand Another time, for letting Julia go. [To AMIDEO.
Man. Come, sir.
Gons. I beg your pardon for a moment, I'll but dispatch some business in my ship, And wait you presently:
Man. We'll go before; I'll make sure Roderick shall never have her; And 'tis at least some pleasure to destroy His happiness, who mined first my joy.
[Exeunt all but GONSALVO; who, before he goes, whispers HIPPOLITO.
Gons. Against her will fair Julia to possess, Is not to enjoy, but ravish happiness: Yet women pardon force, because they find The violence of love is still most kind: Just like the plots of well built comedies, Which then please most, when most they do surprise: But yet constraint love's noblest end destroys, Whose highest joy is in another's joys: Where passion rules, how weak does reason prove! I yield my cause, but cannot yield my love. [Exit.
SCENE I.—A great room in DON MANUEL'S house.
My master bid me speak for him to Julia: Hard fate, that I am made a confident Against myself! Yet, though unwillingly I took the office, I would perform it well: But how can I Prove lucky to his love, who to my own Am so unfortunate? he trusts his passion Like him, that ventures all his stock at once On an unlucky hand.
Amid. Where is the lady Julia?
Hip. What new treason Against my master's love have you contrived With her?
Amid. I shall not render you account.
Jul. I sent for him; yet if he comes, there's danger; Yet if he does not, I for ever lose him. What can I wish? and yet I wish him here, Only to take the care of me from me. Weary with sitting out a losing hand, Twill be some ease to see another play it. Yesterday I refused to marry him, To-day I run into his arms unasked; Like a mild prince encroached upon by rebels, Love yielded much, till honour asked for all. How now, where's Roderick? [Sees AMIDEO. I mean Gonsalvo. [Sees HIPPOLITO.
Hip. You would do well to meet him—
Amid. Meet him! you shall not do't: I'll throw myself, Like a young fawning spaniel, in your way So often, you shall never move a step, But you shall tread on me.
Jul. You need not beg me: I would as soon meet a syren, as see him.
Hip. His sweetness for those frowns no subject finds: Seas are the field of combat for the winds: But when they sweep along some flowery coast, Their wings move mildly, and their rage is lost.
Jul. 'Tis that which makes me more unfortunate; Because his sweetness must upbraid my hate. The wounds of fortune touch me not so near; I can my fate, but not his virtue, bear. For my disdain with my esteem is raised; He most is hated when he most is praised: Such an esteem, as like a storm appears, Which rises but to shipwreck what it bears.
Hip. Infection dwells upon my kindness, sure, Since it destroys even those whom it would cure.
[Cries, and exit.
Amid. Still weep, Hippolito; to me thy tears Are sovereign, as those drops the balm-tree sweats.— But, madam, are you sure you shall not love him? I still fear.—
Jul. Thy fear will never let thee be a man.
Amid. Indeed I think it won't.
Jul. We are now Alone; what news from Roderick?
Amid. Madam, he begs you not to fear; he has A way, which, when you think all desperate, Will set you free.
Jul. If not, I will not live A moment after it.
Amid. Why? there's some comfort.
Jul. I strongly wish, for what I faintly hope: Like the day-dreams of melancholy men, I think and think on things impossible, Yet love to wander in that golden maze.
Enter DON MANUEL, HIPPOLITO, and company.
Amid. Madam, your brother's here.
Man. Where is the bridegroom?
Hip. Not yet returned, sir, from his ship.
Man. Sister, all this good company is met, To give you joy.
Jul. While I am compassed round With mirth, my soul lies hid in shades of grief, Whence, like the bird of night, with half shut eyes, She peeps, and sickens at the sight of day. [Aside.
Serv. Sir, some gentlemen and ladies are without, Who, to do honour to this wedding, come To present a masque.
Man. Tis well; desire them They would leave put the words, and fall to dancing. The poetry of the foot takes most of late.
Serv. The poet, sir, will take that very ill; He's at the door, with the argument o'the masque In verse.
Man. Which of the wits is it that made it?
Serv. None of the wits, sir; 'tis one of the poets.
Man. What subject has he chose?
Serv. The rape of Proserpine.
Man. Welcome, welcome, you have been long expected.
Gons. I staid to see the unlading of some rarities, Which are within— Madam, your pardon that I was so long absent.
Jul. You need not ask it for your absence, sir.
Gons. Still cruel, Julia?
Jul. The danger's here, and Roderick not here: I am not grieved to die; but I am grieved To think him false. [Aside.
Man. Bid him begin. [The music plays.
A Cupid descends in swift motion, and speaks these verses.
Cup. Thy conquests, Proserpine, have stretched too far; Amidst heavens peace thy beauty makes a war: For when, last night, I to Jove's palace went, (The brightest part of all the firmament) Instead of all those gods, whose thick resort Filled up the presence of the thunderers court; There Jove and Juno all forsaken sate, Pensive, like kings in their declining state: Yet (wanting power) they would preserve the show, By hearing prayers from some few men below: Mortals to Jove may their devotions pay; The gods themselves to Proserpine do pray. To Sicily the rival powers resort; 'Tis Heaven wherever Ceres keeps her court. Phoebus and Mercury are both at strife, The courtliest of our gods who want a wife. But Venus, whate'er kindness she pretends, Yet (like all females envious of their friends), Has, by my aid, contrived a black design, The god of hell should ravish Proserpine: Beauties, beware; Venus will never bear Another Venus shining in her sphere.
After Cupid's speech, Venus and Ceres descend in the slow machines; Ceres drawn by dragons, Venus by swans.
After them Phoebus and Mercury descend in swift motion. Then Cupid turns to Julia, and speaks.
Cup. The rival deities are come to woo A Proserpine, who must be found below: Would you, fair nymph, become, this happy hour, In name a goddess, as you are in power? Then to this change the king of shades will owe A fairer Proserpine than heaven can show.
[Julia, first whispered by AMIDEO, goes into the dance, performed by Cupid, Phoebus, Mercury, Ceres, Venus, and JULIA. Towards the end of the dance, RODORICK, in the habit of Pluto, rises from below in a black chariot, all flaming, and drawn by black horses; he ravishes Julia, who personated Proserpine, and as he is carrying her away, his vizard fails off: HIPPOLITO first discovers him.
Hip. A rape, a rape! 'tis Roderick, 'tis Roderick!
Rod. Then I must have recourse to this. [Draws.
Jul. O heavens!
[DON MANUEL and GONSALVO draw, and a Servant; the two that acted Phoebus and Mercury return to assist RODORICK, and are beat back by MANUEL and a Servant, while GONSALVO attacks RODORICK.
Gons. Unloose thy hold, foul villain.
Rod. No, I'll grasp her Even after death.
Jul. Spare him, or I'll die with him.
Gons. Must ravishers and villains live, while I In vain implore her mercy?
[Thrusts at him, and hurts JULIA in the arm.
Jul. Oh, I am murdered!
Gons. Wretched that I am, What have I done? To what strange punishment Will you condemn this guilty hand? And yet My eyes were guilty first—For they could look On nothing else but you; and my unlucky hand Too closely followed them!—
Enter MANUEL again.
Man. The powers above are just, that thou still livest, For me to kill.
Rod. You'll find no easy task on't Alone; come both together, I defy you! Curse on this disguise, that has betrayed me Thus cheaply to my death.—
Man. Under a devil's shape, thou could'st not be Disguised.
Jul. Then, must he die?— Yet, I'll not bid my Roderick farewell; For they take leave, who mean to be long absent.
Gons. Hold, sir! I have had blood enough already; And must not murder Julia again In him she loves. Live, sir; and thank this lady.
Rod. Take my life, and spare my thanks.
Man. Though you Forgive him, let me take my just revenge.
Gons. Leave that distinction to our dull divines: That ill, I suffer to be done, I do.
Hip. My heart bleeds for him: to see his virtue O'ercome so fatally, against such odds Of fortune, and of love!—
Man. Permit his death, and Julia will be yours.
Jul. Permit it not, and Julia will thank you.
Gons. Who e'er could think, that one kind word from Julia Should be preferred to Julia herself? Could any man think it a greater good To save a rival, than possess a mistress? Yet this I do! these are thy riddles, love!— What fortune gives me, I myself destroy; And feed my virtue, but to starve my joy. Honour sits on me like some heavy armour, And with its stiff defence, encumbers me; And yet, when I would put it off, it sticks Like Hercules's shirt; heats me at once; And poisons me!
Man. I find myself grow calm by thy example; My panting heart heaves less and less, each pulse; And all the boiling spirits scatter from it. Since thou desirest he should not die, he shall not, 'Till I on nobler terms can take his life.
Rod. The next turn may be yours.—Remember, I owed this danger to your wilfulness: Once, you might easily have been mine, and would not. [Exit RODORICK.
Man. Lead out my sister, friend; her hurt's so small, 'Twill scarce disturb the ceremony. Ladies, once more your pardons.
[Leads out the Company. Exeunt.
Manent JULIA, GONSALVO, AMIDEO, and HIPPOLITO. GONSALVO offers his hand, JULIA pulls back hers.
Jul. This hand would rise in blisters, should'st thou touch it!— My Roderick's displeased with me, and thou, Unlucky man, the cause. Dare not so much As once to follow me. [Exit JULIA.
Gons. Not follow her! Alas, she need not bid me! Oh, how could I presume to take that hand, To which mine proved so fatal! Nay, if I might, should I not fear to touch it?— murderer's touch would make it bleed afresh!
Amid. I think, sir, I could kill her for your sake.
Gons. Repent that word, or I shall hate thee Strangely: Harsh words from her, like blows from angry kings, Though they are meant affronts, are construed favours.
Hip. Her inclinations and aversions Are both alike unjust; and both, I hope, Too violent to last: Chear up yourself; for if I live, (I hope I shall not long) [Aside. She shall be yours.
Amid. 'Twere much more noble in him, To make a conquest of himself, than her. She ne'er can merit him; and, hadst not thou A mean low soul, thou wouldst not name her to him.
Hip. Poor child, who would'st be wise above thy years! Why dost thou talk, like a philosopher, Of conquering love, who art not yet grown up, To try the force of any manly passion? The sweetness of thy mother's milk is yet Within thy veins, not soured and turned by love.
Gons. Thou hast not field enough in thy young breast, To entertain such storms to struggle in.
Amid. Young as I am, I know the power of love; Its less disquiets, and its greater cares, And all that's in it, but the happiness. Trust a boy's word, sir, if you please, and take My innocence for wisdom; Leave this lady; Cease to persuade yourself you are in love, And you will soon be freed. Not that I wish A thing, so noble as your passion, lost To all the sex: Bestow it on some other; You'll find many as fair, though none so cruel.— Would I could be a lady for your sake!
Hip. If I could be a woman, with a wish, You should not be without a rival long.
Amid. A cedar, of your stature, would not cause Much jealousy.
Hip. More than a shrub of yours.
Gons. How eagerly these boys fall out for nothing!— Tell me, Hippolito, wert thou a woman, Who would'st thou be?
Hip. I would be Julia, sir, Because you love her.
Amid. I would not be she, Because she loves not you. Hip. True, Amideo; And, therefore, I would wish myself a lady, Who, I am sure, does infinitely love him.
Amid. I hope that lady has a name?
Hip. She has: And she is called Honoria, sister to This Julia, and bred up at Barcelona; Who loves him with a flame so pure and noble, That, did she know his love to Julia, She would beg Julia to make him happy.
Gons. This startles me!
Amid. Oh, sir, believe him not: They love not truly, who, on any terms, Can part with what they love.
Gons. I saw a lady At Barcelona, of what name I know not, Who, next to Julia, was the fairest creature My eyes did e'er behold: But, how camest thou To know her?
Hip. Sir, some other time I'll tell you.
Amid. It could not be Honoria, whom you saw; For, sir, she has a face so very ugly, That, if she were a saint for holiness, Yet no man would seek virtue there.
Hip. This is the lyingest boy, sir;—I am sure He never saw Honoria; for her face, 'Tis not so bad to frighten any man— None of the wits have libelled it.
Amid. Don Roderick's sister, Angelina, does So far exceed her, in the ornaments Of wit and beauty, though now hid from sight, That, like the sun, (even when eclipsed) she casts A yellowness upon all other faces.
Hip. I'll not say much of her, but only this, Don Manuel saw not with my eyes, if e'er He loved that Flanders shape; that lump of earth, And phlegm together.
Amid. You have often seen her, It seems, by your description of her person: But I'll maintain on any Spanish ground, Whate'er she be, yet she is far more worthy To have my lord her servant, than Honoria.
Hip. And I'll maintain Honoria's right against her, In any part of all the world.
Gons. You go Too far, to quarrel on so slight a ground.
Hip. O pardon me, my lord, it is not slight: I must confess, I am so much concerned, I shall not bear it long.
Amid. Nor I, assure you.
Gons. I will believe what both of you have said, That Honoria, and Angelina, Both equally are fair.
Amid. Why did you name Honoria first?
Gons. And, since you take their parts so eagerly Henceforth I'll call you by those ladies' names: You, my Hippolito, shall be Honoria; And you, my Amideo, Angelina.
Amid. Then all my services, I wish, may make You kind to Angelina, for my sake.
Hip. Put all my merits on Honoria's score, And think no maid could ever love you more.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
Man. Thus I provide for others' happiness, And lose my own. 'Tis true, I cannot blame Thy hatred, Angelina, but thy silence. Thy brother's hatred made thine just; but yet 'Twas cruel in thee not to tell me so. Conquest is noble, when an heart stands out; But mine, which yielded, how could'st thou betray? That heart, of which thou could'st not be deprived By any force or power, beside thy own; Like empires, to that fatal height arrived, They must be ruined by themselves alone. My guarded freedom cannot be a prize To any scornful face a second time; For thy idea, like a ghost, would rise, And fright my thoughts from such another crime.
Enter a Servant, with a letter.
Man. From whom?
Serv. Sir, the contents will soon resolve you.
Man. Tell Roderick, he has prevented me In my design of sending to him first. I'll meet him, single, at the time and place; But, for my friend, tell him, he must excuse me: I'll hazard no man in my quarrel, but Myself alone.—[Exit Servant. Who's within there?
Enter a Servant.
Go, call my sister, and Gonsalvo, hither. [Exit Servant. 'Twas pushed so far, that, like two armies, we Were drawn so closely up, we could not part Without engagement.—But they must not know it.
Enter JULIA, GONSALVO, and AMIDEO.
I have some business calls me hence, and know not When I shall return: But, ere I go, That power I have, by my dead father's will, Over my sister, I bequeath to you: [To GONS. She, and her fortunes, both be firmly yours; And this when I revoke, let cowardice Blast all my youth, and treason taint my age.
Man. Nay, good, no thanks; I cannot stay— [Exit MANUEL.
Gons. There's something more than ordinary in this; Go, Amideo, quickly follow him, And bring me word which way he takes.
Amid. I go, sir. [Exit AMID. JULIA kneels.
Gons. Madam, when you implore the powers divine, You have no prayers in which I will not join, Though made against myself. [Kneels with her.
Jul. In vain I sue, Unless my vows may be conveyed by you.
Gons. Conveyed by me! My ill success in love Shews me, too sure, I have few friends above. How can you fear your just desires to want? When the gods pray, they both request and grant.
Jul. Heaven has resigned my fortune to your hand, If you, like heaven, the afflicted understand.
Gons. The language of the afflicted is not new; Too well I learned it, when I first saw you.
Jul. In spite of me, you now command my fate; And yet the vanquished seeks the victor's hate; Even in this low submission, I declare, That, had I power, I would renew the war. I'm forced to stoop, and 'twere too great a blow To bend my pride, and to deny me too.
Gons. You have my heart; dispose it to your will; If not, you know the way to use it ill.
Jul. Cruel to me, though kind to your desert, My brother gives my person, not my heart; And I have left no other means to sue, But to you only, to be freed from you.
Gons. From such a suit how can you hope success, Which, given, destroys the giver's happiness?
Jul. You think it equal you should not resign That power you have, yet will not leave me mine; Yet on my will I have the power alone, And, since you cannot move it, move your own. Your worth and virtue my esteem may win, But women's passions from themselves begin; Merit may be, but force still is, in vain.
Gons. I would but love you, not your love constrain; And though your brother left me to command, He placed his thunder in a gentle hand.
Jul. Your favour from constraint has set me free, But that secures not my felicity; Slaves, who, before, did cruel masters serve, May fly to deserts, and in freedom starve. The noblest part of liberty they lose, Who can but shun, and want the power to chuse.
Gons. O whither would your fatal reasons move! You court my kindness, to destroy my love.
Jul. You have the power to make my happiness, By giving that, which you can ne'er possess.
Gons. Give you to Roderick? there wanted yet That curse, to make my miseries complete.
Jul. Departing misers bear a nobler mind; They, when they can enjoy no more, are kind; You, when your love is dying in despair, Yet want the charity to make an heir.
Gons. Though hope be dying, yet it is not dead; And dying people with small food are fed.
Jul. The greatest kindness dying friends can have, Is to dispatch them, when we cannot save.
Gons. Those dying people, could they speak' at all, That pity of their friends would murder call: For men with horror dissolution meet; The minutes even of painful life are sweet.
Jul. But I'm by powerful inclination led; And streams turn seldom to their fountain head.
Gons. No; 'tis a tide which carries you away; And tides may turn, though they can never stay.
Jul. Can you pretend to love, and see my grief Caused by yourself, yet give me no relief?
Gons. Where's my reward?
Jul. The honour of the flame.
Gons. I lose the substance, then, to gain the name.
Jul. I do too much mistress' power betray; Must slaves be won by courtship to obey? Thy disobedience does to treason rise, Which thou, like rebels, would'st with love disguise. I'll kill myself, and, if thou can'st deny To see me happy, thou shalt see me die.
Gons. O stay! I can with less regret bequeath My love to Roderick, than you to death: And yet—
Jul. What new objection can you find?
Gons. But are you sure you never shall be kind?
Gons. What! never?
Jul. Never to remove.
Gons. Oh fatal never to souls damned in love!
Jul. Lead me to Roderick.
Gons. If it must be so—
Jul. Here, take my hand, swear on it thou wilt go.
Gons. Oh balmy sweetness! but 'tis lost to me, [He kisses her hand. Like food upon a wretch condemned to die: Another, and I vow to go:—Once more; If I swear often, I shall be foreswore. Others against their wills may haste their fate; I only toil to be unfortunate: More my own foe than all my stars could prove; They give her person, but I give her love. I must not trust myself—Hippolito!
Hip. My lord!
Gons. Quickly go find Don Roderick out: Tell him, the lady Julia will be walking On the broad rock, that lies beside the port, And there expects to see him instantly. In the mean time I'll call for Amideo.
Jul. You'll keep your promise to Don Roderick?
Gons. Madam, since you bring death, I welcome it; But to his fortune, not his love, submit. [Exit GONSALVO.
Hip. I dare not ask what I too fain would hear: But, like a tender mother, hope and fear, My equal twins, my equal care I make, And keep hope quiet, lest that fear should wake. [Aside. Exit HIPPOLITO.
Jul. So, now I'm firmly at my own dispose; And all the lets, my virtue caused, removed: Now, Roderick, I come—
Enter GONSALVO again.
Gons. Madam, my boy's not yet returned.
Jul. No matter, we'll not stay for him.
Gon. Pray make not too much haste.
[Exeunt JUL. and GONS.
Enter DON RODORICK, and a Servant.
Rod. Have you bespoke a vessel, as I bid you?
Serv. I have done better; for I have employed Some, whom I know, this day to seize a ship; Which they have done, clapping the men within her All under hatches, with such speed and silence, That, though she rides at anchor in the port Among the rest, the change is not discovered.
Rod. Let my best goods and jewels be embarked With secrecy: We'll put to sea this night. Have you yet found my sister, or her woman?
Serv. Neither, sir; but in all probability She is with Manuel.
Rod. Would God the meanest man in Alicant Had Angelina, rather than Don Manuel! I never can forgive, much less forget, How he (the younger soldier) was preferred To that command of horse, which was my due.
Serv. And, after that, by force disseized you of Your quarters—
Rod. Should I meet him seven years hence At the altar, I would kill him there:—I had Forgot to tell you, the design we had, To carry Julia by force away, Will now be needless: she'll come to the rock To see me; you, unseen, shall stand behind, And carry her into the vessel.
Serv. Shall I not help you to dispatch Don Manuel?
Rod. I neither doubt my valour nor my fortune: But if I die, revenge me: Presently About your business; I must to the rock, For fear I come too late. [Exeunt severally.
SCENE III.—Through a rock is discovered a navy of ships riding at a distance.
Amid. Thus far, unseen by Manuel, I have traced him; He can be gone no farther than the walk Behind the rock: I'll back, and tell my master.
Enter HIPPOLITO at the other end.
Hip. This is the place, where Roderick must expect His Julia:—How! Amideo here!
Hip. This were so fit a time For my revenge, had I the courage, now! My heart swells at him, and my breath grows short; But whether fear or anger choaks it up, I cannot tell.
Amid. He looks so ghastfully, Would I were past him; yet I fear to try it, Because my mind misgives me he will stop me. By your leave, Hippolito.
Hip. Whither so fast?
Amid. You'll not presume to hinder my lord's business? He shall know it.
Hip. I'll make you sure, before, For telling any tales: Do you remember, Since you defended Angelina's beauty Against Honoria's; nay, and would maintain it.
Amid. And so I will do still; (I must feign courage, There is no other way.) [Aside.
Hip. I'll so revenge That injury! (if my heart fails me not.)
Amid. Come, confess truly, for, I know, it fails you. What would you give to avoid fighting now?
Hip. No, 'tis your heart that fails.
Amid. I scorn the danger; Yet, what compassion on your youth might do, I cannot tell; and, therefore, do not work Upon my pity; for I feel already My stout heart melts.
Hip. Oh! Are you thereabout? Now I am sure you fear; and you shall fight.
Amid. I will not fight.
Hip. Confess, then, Angelina Is not so fair as is Honoria.
Amid. I do confess; now are you satisfied?
Hip. There's more behind; confess her not so worthy To be beloved, nor to possess Gonsalvo, As fair Honoria is.
Amid. That's somewhat hard.
Hip. But you must do't, or die.
Amid. Well, life is sweet; She's not so worthy: Now, let me be gone.
Hip. No, never to my master; swear to quit His service, and no more to see his face.
Amid. I fain would save my life, but that, which you Propose, is but another name to die. I cannot live without my master's sight.
Hip. Then you must fight with me for him.
Amid. I would Do any thing with you, but fighting for him.
Hip. Nothing but that will serve.
Amid. Lay by our swords, And I'll scratch with you for him.
Hip. That's not manly.
Amid. Well, since it must be so, I'll fight:—Unbutton.
[HIPPOLITO unbuttons slowly.
How many buttons has he? I'll be one Behind him still. [Aside.
[Unbuttons one by one after him. HIPPOLITO makes more haste.
You are so prodigal! if you loved my master, You would not tear his doublet so:—How's this! Two swelling breasts! a woman, and my rival! The stings of jealousy have given me courage, Which nature never gave me: Come on, thou vile dissembler of thy sex; Expect no mercy; either thou or I Must die upon this spot: Now for Gonsalvo— Sa—Sa—
Hip. This courage is not counterfeit; ah me! What shall I do? for pity, gentle boy—
Amid. No pity; such a cause as ours Can neither give nor take it: If thou yieldest, I will not spare thee; therefore, fight it out. [Tears open his doublet.
Hip. Death to my hopes! a woman! and so rare A beauty, that my lord must needs doat on her. I should myself, if I had been a man: But, as I am, her eyes shoot death at me.
Amid. Come, have you said your prayers?
Hip. For thy confusion,— Thou ravenous harpy, with an angel's face,— Thou art discovered, thou too charming rival; I'll be revenged upon those fatal eyes.
Amid. I'll tear out thine.
Hip. I'll bite out hungry morsels From those plump cheeks, but I will make them thinner.
Amid. I'd beat thee to the blackness of a Moor. But that the features of thy face are such, Such damnable, invincible good features, That as an Ethiop thou would'st still be loved.
Hip. I'll quite unbend that black bow o'er thine eyes; I'll murder thee, and Julia shall have him, Rather than thou.
Amid. I'll kill both thee and her, Rather than any one but I shall have him.
Hip. Come on, thou witch.
Amid. Have at thy heart, thou Syren.
[They draw and fight awkwardly, not coming near one another.
Amid. I think I paid you there.
Hip. O stay a little, And tell me in what corner of thy heart Gonsalvo lies, that I may spare that place.
Amid. He lies in the last drop of all my blood, And never will come out, but with my soul.
Hip. Come, come, we dally; Would one of us were dead, no matter which! [They fight nearer.
Enter Don MANUEL.
Man. The pretty boys, that serve Gonsalvo, fighting! I come in time to save the life of one.
[HIPPOLITO gets AMIDEO down in closing: MANUEL takes away their swords.
Hip. For goodness' sake, hinder not my revenge.
Amid. The noble Manuel has saved my life: Heavens, how unjustly have I hated him. [Aside.
Man. What is it, gentle youths, that moves you thus? I cannot tell what causes you may find; But, trust me, all the world, in so much sweetness, Would be to seek where to begin a quarrel: You seem the little Cupids in the song, Contending for the honey-bag.
Hip. 'Tis well You're come; you may prevent a greater mischief: Here 'tis Gonsalvo has appointed Roderick—
Hip. What's worse: to give your sister to him. Won by her tears, he means to leave her free, And to redeem her misery with his: At least so I conjecture.
Man. 'Tis a doubtful Problem; either he loves her violently, Or not at all.
Amid. You have betrayed my master:—
[To HIPPOLITO. Aside.
Hip. If I have injured you, I mean to give you The satisfaction of a gentlewoman.
Enter GONSALVO and JULIA.
Man. Oh, they are here; now I shall be resolved.
Jul. My brother Manuel! what fortune's this!
Man. I'm glad I have prevented you.
Gons. With what Variety my fate torments me still! Never was man so dragged along by virtue; But I must follow her.
Jul. Noble Gonsalvo, Protect me from my brother.
Gons. Tell me, sir, When you bestowed your sister on me, did not You give her freely up to my dispose?
Man. 'Tis true, I did; but never with intent You should restore her to my enemy.
Gons. 'Tis past; 'tis done: She undermined my soul With tears; as banks are sapped away by streams.
Man. I wonder what strange blessing she expects From the harsh nature of this Rodorick; A man made up of malice and revenge.
Jul. If I possess him, I may be unhappy; But if I lose him, I am surely so. Had you a friend so desperately sick, That all physicians had forsook his cure; All scorched without, and all parched up within, The moisture that maintained consuming nature Licked up, and in a fever fried away; Could you behold him beg, with dying eyes, A glass of water, and refuse it him, Because you knew it ill for his disease? When he would die without it, how could you Deny to make his death more easy to him?
Man. Talk not to me of love, when honour suffers. The boys will hiss at me.
Gons. I suffer most: Had there been 'choice, what would I not have chose? To save my honour I my love must lose: But promises, once made, are past debate, And truth's of more necessity than fate.
Man. I scarce can think your promise absolute; There might some way be thought on, if you would, To keep both her and it.
Gons. No, no; my promise was no trick of state: I meant to be made truly wretched first, And then to die; and I'll perform them both.
Man. Then that revenge, I meant on Rodorick, I'll take on you. [Draws.
Gons.—I draw with such regret, As merchants throw their wealth into the sea, To save their sinking vessels from a wreck.
Man. I find I cannot lift my hand against thee: Do what thou wilt; but let not me behold it. [Goes off a little way. I'll cut this gordian knot I cannot loose: To keep his promise, Rodorick shall have her, But I'll return and rescue her by force; Then giving back what he so frankly gave, At once my honour and his love I'll save. [Exit MANUEL.
Rod. How! Julia brought by him?—Who sent for me?
Gons. 'Twas I.
Rod. I know your business then; 'tis fighting.
Gons. You're mistaken; 'tis something that I fear.
Rod. What is't?
Gons. Why,—'twill not out: Here, take her; And deserve her: but no thanks; For fear I should consider what I give, And call it back.—
Jul. O my dear Rodorick!
Gons. O cruel Julia! For pity shew not all your joy before me; Stifle some part of it one minute longer, 'Till I am dead.
Jul. My Rodorick shall know, He owes his Julia to you; thank him, love; In faith I take it ill you are so slow.
Rod. You know he has forbid me; and, beside, He'll take it better from your mouth than mine; All that you do must needs be pleasing to him.
Jul. Still sullen and unkind!
Rod. Why, then, in short, I do not understand the benefit.
Gons. Not to have Julia in thy free possession?
Rod. Not brought by you; not of another's leaving.
Jul. Speak softly, Rodorick: Let not these hear thee; But spare my shame for the ill choice I made, In loving thee.
Rod. I will speak loud, and tell thee, Thou com'st, all cloyed and tired with his embraces, To proffer thy palled love to me; his kisses Do yet bedew thy lips; the very print, His arms made round thy body, yet remains.
Gons. O barbarous jealousy!
Jul. 'Tis an harsh word: I am too pure for thee; but yet I love thee.
[Offers to take his hand.
Rod. Away, foul impudence.
Gons. Madam, you wrong Your virtue, thus to clear it by submission.
Jul. Whence grows this boldness, sir? did I ask you To be my champion?
Rod. He chose to be your friend, and not your husband: Left that dull part of dignity to me; As often the worst actors play the kings.
Jul. This jealousy is but excess of passion, Which grows up, wild, in every lover's breast; But changes kind when planted in an husband.
Rod. Well, what I am, I am; and what I will be, When you are mine, my pleasure shall determine. I will receive no law from any man.
Jul. This strange unkindness of my Rodorick I owe to thee, and thy unlucky love; Henceforth go lock it up within thy breast; 'Tis only harmless while it is concealed, But, opened, spreads infection like a vault. Go, and my curse go with thee!—
Gons. I cannot go 'till I behold you happy:— —Here, Rodorick, receive her on thy knees; Use her with that respect, which thou would'st pay Thy guardian angel, if he could be seen. —Do not provoke my anger by refusing.— I'll watch thy least offence to her; each word, Nay, every sullen look;— And, as the devils, who are damned to torments, Yet have the guilty souls their slaves to punish; So, under me, while I am wretched, thou Shalt be tormented.—
Rod. Would'st thou make me the tenant of thy lust, To toil, and for my labour take the dregs, The juicy vintage being left for thee? No: she's an infamous, lewd prostitute: I loath her at my soul.
Gons. I can forbear No longer: swallow down thy lie, foul villain.
[They fight off the stage. Exeunt.
Jul. Help, help!
Amid. Here is that witch, whose fatal beauty Began the mischief; she shall pay for all.
[Goes to kill JULIA.
Hip. I hate her for it more than thou canst do; But cannot see her die, my master loves.
[Goes between with her sword.
Enter GONSALVO, following RODORICK, who falls.
Rod. So, now I am at rest:— I feel death rising higher still, and higher, Within my bosom; every breath I fetch Shuts up my life within a shorter compass, And, like the vanishing sound of bells, grows less And less each pulse, 'till it be lost in air.
Gons. Down at your feet, much injured innocence, I lay that sword, which—
Jul. Take it up again; It has not done its work 'till I am killed: For ever, ever, thou hast robbed me of That man, that only man, whom I could love: Dost thou thus court thy mistress? thus oblige her? All thy obligements have been fatal yet, Yet the most fatal now would most oblige me. Kill me:—yet I am killed before in him. I lie there on the ground; cold, cold, and pale: That death, I die in Roderick, is far More pleasant than that life, I live in Julia.— —See how he stands—when he is bid dispatch me! How dull! how spiritless! that sloth possest Thee not, when thou didst kill my Roderick.
Gons. I'm too unlucky to converse with men: I'll pack together all my mischiefs up, Gather with care each little remnant of them, That none of them be left behind: Thus loaded, Fly to some desert, and there let them loose, Where they may never prey upon mankind. But you may make my journey shorter:—Take This sword; 'twill shew you how:—
Jul.I'll gladly set you on your way:— [Takes his sword.
Enter three of RODORICK'S servants.
1 Serv. Make haste; he's now unarmed, we may with ease Revenge my master's death.
Jul. Now these shall do it.
Gons. I'll die by none but you.—
Hip. O here, take my sword, sir.
Amid. He shall have mine.
[Both give their swords to GONSALVO.
Man. Think not of death. We'll live and conquer.
[They beat them off.
Man. These fellows, though beat off, will strait return With more; we must make haste to save ourselves.
Hip. 'Tis far to the town, And, ere you reach it, you will be discovered.
Gons. My life's a burden to me, were not Julia's Concerned; but, as it is, she, being present, Will be found accessary to his death.
Man. See where a vessel lies, not far from shore; And near at hand a boat belonging to her; Let's haste aboard, and what with prayers and gifts Buy our concealment there:—Come, Julia.
Gons. Alas, she swoons away upon the body.
Man. The night grows on apace; we'll take her in Our arms, and bear her hence.
[Exeunt GONSALVO, and the boys, with MANUEL, carrying JULIA.
The Servants enter again.
1 Serv. They are all gone, we may return with safety: Help me to bear the body to the town.
2 Serv. He stirs, and breathes a little; there may be Some hope.
3 Serv. The town's far off, and the evening cold. Let's carry him to the ship.
1 Serv. Haste then away: Things, once resolved, are ruined by delay.
ACT V. SCENE I.
The Scene lying in a Carrack.
Enter a Pirate and the Captain.
Pir. Welcome a ship-board, captain; you staid long.
Capt. No longer than was necessary for shifting trades; to change me from a robber to a pirate.
Pir. There's a fair change wrought in you since yesterday morning; then you talked of nothing but repentance, and amendment of life.
Capt. 'Faith, I have considered better on't: for, conversing a whole day together with honest men, I found them all so poor and beggarly, that a civil person would be ashamed to be seen with them:—but you come from Don Roderick's cabin; what hopes have you of his life?
Pir. No danger of it, only loss of blood had made him faint away; he called for you.
Capt. Well, are his jewels and his plate brought in?
Pir. They are.—When hoist we sails?
Capt. At the first break of day: When we are got out clear, we'll seize on Roderick and his men: They are not many, but fear may make them desperate.
Pir. We may take them, when they are laid to sleep.
Capt. 'Tis well advised.
Pir. I forgot to tell you, sir, that a little before Don Roderick was brought in, a company of gentlemen (pursued it seems by justice) procured our boat to row them hither. Two of them carried a very fair lady betwixt them, who was either dead, or swooned.
Capt. We'll sell them altogether to the Turk,—at least I'll tell them so. [Aside.
Pir. Pray, sir, let us reserve the lady to our own uses; it were a shame to good catholicks to give her up to infidels.
Capt. Don Roderick's door opens; I'll speak to him.
The Scene draws, and discovers the Captains cabin; RODORICK on a bed, and two Servants by him.
Capt. How is it with the brave Don Roderick? Do you want any thing?
Rod. I have too much Of that I would not, love; And what I would have, that I want, revenge. I must be set ashore.
Capt. That you may, sir; But our own safety must be thought on first.
[One enters, and whispers the Captain.
Capt. I come:—Seignior, think you are lord here, and command all freely.
[Exeunt Captain and Pirates.
Rod. He does well to bid me think so: I am of opinion We are fallen into huckster's hands.
1 Serv. Indeed he talked suspiciously enough; He half denied to land us.
Rod. These, Pedro, are your confiding men—
2 Serv. I think them still so.
Rod. Would I were from them.
2 Serv. 'Tis impossible To attempt it now; you have not strength enough To walk.
Rod. That venture must be mine: We're lost, If we stay here to-morrow.
2 Serv. I hope better.
1 Serv. One whom I saw among 'em, to my knowledge, Is a notorious robber.
2 Serv. He looked so like a gentleman, I could not know him then.
Rod. What became of Julia when I fell?
1 Serv. We left her weeping over you, till we Were beaten off; but she, and those with her, Were gone when we returned.
Rod. Too late I find, I wronged her in my thoughts. I'm every way A wretched man:— Something we must resolve on, ere we sleep; Draw in the bed, I feel the cold.
[Bed drawn in. Exeunt.
Enter GONSALVO, MANUEL, HIPPOLITO and AMIDEO.
Hip. Nay, 'tis too true; for, peeping through a chink, I saw Don Roderick lying on a bed, Not dead, as we supposed, but only hurt; So waited on as spoke him master here.
Man. Was there ever so fatal an adventure! To fly into that very ship, for refuge, Where the only person, we would shun, commands! This mischief is so strange, it could not happen, But was the plot and juggle of our fate, To free itself, and cast the blame on us.
Gons. This is not yet our fortune's utmost malice; The gall remains behind. This ship was that, Which yesterday was mine; I can see nothing Round me, but what's familiar to my eyes; Only the persons new: Which makes me think, Twas seized upon by Roderick, to revenge Himself on me.
Man. Tis wonderful indeed.
Amid. The only comfort is, we are not known; For when we entered it was dark.
Hip. That comfort Is of as short continuance as the night; The day will soon discover us.
Man. Some way must be invented to get out.
Hip. Fair Julia, sadly pining by herself. Sits on her bed; tears falling from her eyes, As silently as dews in dead of night. All we consult of must be kept from her: That moment, that she knows of Roderick's life, Dooms us to certain death.
Man. 'Tis well considered.
Gons. For my part, were not you and she concerned, I look upon my life, like an estate, So charged with debts, it is not worth the keeping. We cannot long be undiscovered by them; Let us then rush upon them on the sudden, (All hope of safety placed in our despair) And gain quick victory, or speedy death.
Man. Consider first, the impossibility Of the attempt; four men, and two poor boys, (Which, added to our number, make us weaker) Against ten villains, more resolved for death, Than any ten among our holiest priests. Stay but a little longer, till they all Disperse to rest within their several cabins; Then more securely we may set upon them, And kill them half, before the rest can wake: By this means too, the boys are useful for us, For they can cut the throats of sleeping men.
Hip. Now have I the greatest temptation in the world to reveal, Thou art a woman. [To AMIDEO.
Amid. If 'twere not for thy beauty, my master should know, What a man he keeps. [To HIPPOLITO.
Hip. Why should we have recourse to desperate ways, When safer may be thought on? 'Tis like giving the extreme unction. In the beginning of a sickness; Can you imagine to find all asleep? The wicked joy, of having such a booty In their possession, will keep some awake; And some, no doubt, will watch with wounded Roderick.
Amid. What would your wisdom now propose?
Hip. To say That some of us are sea-sick; (your complexion Will make the excuse for us who are less fair:) So, by good words and promises, procure We may be set ashore, ere morning come.
Amid. O, the deep reasons of the grave Hippolito!— As if 'twere likely, in so calm a season, We should be sick so soon; or, if we were, Whom should we chuse among us to go tell it? For whoe'er ventures out must needs be known: Or, if none knew us, can you think that pirates Will let us go upon such easy terms, As promising rewards?—Let me advise you.
Hip. Now, we expect an oracle.
Amid. Here are bundles, Of canvas and of cloth, you see lie by us; In which one of us shall sew up the rest, Only some breathing place, for air, and food: Then call the pirates in, and tell them, we, For fear, had drowned ourselves: And when we come To the next port, find means to bring us out.
Hip. Pithily spoken!— As if you were to bind up marble statues, Which only bore the shapes of men without, And had no need of ever easing nature.
Gons. There's but one way left, that's this;— You know the rope, by which the cock-boat's tied, Goes down by the stern, and now, we are at anchor, There sits no pilot to discover us; My counsel is, to go down by the ladder, And, being once there, unloose, and row to shore.
Man. This, without doubt, were best; but there lies ever Some one, or more, within the boat, to watch it.
Gons. I'll slide down first, and run the venture of it; You shall come after me, if there be need, To give me succour.
Man. 'Tis the only way.
Gons. Go in to Julia, then, and first prepare her, With knowledge of the pirates, and the danger Her honour's in, among such barbarous people.
Man. Leave it to me.
Amid. Hippolito and Julia, My rivals, like two pointed rocks appear; And I, through both, must to Gonsalvo steer. [Aside.
[Exeunt all but HIPPOLITA.
Hip. As from some steep and dreadful precipice The frighted traveller casts down his eyes, And sees the ocean at so great a distance, It looks as if the skies were sunk below him; Yet if some neighbouring shrub (how weak soe'er) Peeps up, his willing eyes stop gladly there, And seem to ease themselves, and rest upon it: So, in my desperate state, each little comfort Preserves me from despair. Gonsalvo strove not With greater care to give away his Julia, Than I have done to part with my Gonsalvo; Yet neither brought to pass our hateful wish. Then, we may meet, since different ways we move, Chasing each other in the maze of love. [Exit.
Enter Don RODORICK, carried by two Servants.
1 Serv. It was the only way that could be thought on, To get down by the ladder to the boat.
2 Serv. You may thank me for that invention.
Rod. What a noise is here, when the least breath's As dangerous as a tempest.
2 Serv. If any of those rogues should hear him talk, In what a case were we?
Rod. O, patience! patience!— This ass brays out for silence.
Enter, at the other end, MANUEL, leading JULIA, GONSALVO, HIPPOLITO, and AMIDEO.
Gons. Hark! what noise is that? go softly.
[They meet on the middle of the stage.
Rod. Who's here? I am betrayed! and nothing grieves me, But I want strength to die with honour.
Jul. Roderick! Is it thy voice, my love?—Speak, and resolve me, Whether thou livest, or I am dead with thee?
Man. Kill him, and force our way.
Rod. Is Manuel there? Hold up my arm, that I may make one thrust At him, before I die.
Gons. Since we must fall, We'll sell our lives as dearly as we can.
1 Serv. And we'll defend our master to the last. [Fight.
Enter Pirates, without their Captain.
1 Pirate. What's the meaning of this uproar?—Quarrelling Amongst yourselves at midnight?
2 Pirate. We are come in a fit time to decide the difference.
Man. Hold, gentlemen! we're equally concerned. [To RODORICK'S Servants. We for our own, you for your master's safety; If we join forces, we may then resist them, If not, both sides are ruined.
1 Serv. We agree.
Gons. Come o'er on our side then. [They join.
1 Pirate. A mischief on our captain's drowsiness; We're lost, for want of him! [They fight.
Gons. Dear madam, get behind; while you are safe, We cannot be o'ercome. [To JULIA.
[They drive off the Pirates, and follow them off. RODORICK remains on the ground.
Rod. I had much rather my own life were lost, Than Manuel's were preserved.
Enter the Pirates, retreating before GONSALVO, &c.
1 Pirate. All's lost! they fight like devils, and our captain Yet sleeping in his bed.
2 Pirate. Here lies Don Roderick; If we must die, we'll not leave him behind.
[Goes to kill him.
Jul. O, spare my Roderick's life; and, in exchange, Take mine! I put myself within your power, To save or kill.
1 Pirate. So, here's another pawn, For all our safeties.
Man. Heaven! what has she done?
Gons. Let go the lady, or expect no mercy!—The least drop of her blood is worth all yours. And mine together.
1 Pirate. I am glad you think so:— Either deliver up your sword, or mine Shall pierce her heart this moment.
Gons. Here, here, take it.
Man. You are not mad, to give away all hopes
[MANUEL holds him
Of safety and defence, from us, from her, And from yourself, at once!
Gons. When she is dead, What is there worth defending?
Man. Will you trust A pirate's promise, sooner than your valour?
Gons. Any thing, rather than see her in danger.
1 Pirate. Nay, if you dispute the matter!—
[Holds his sword to her breast.
Gons. I yield, I yield!—Reason to love must bow: Love, that gives courage, can make cowards too!
[Gives his sword.
Jul. O, strange effect of a most generous passion!
Rod. His enemies themselves must needs admire it.
Man. Nay, if Gonsalvo makes a fashion of it, 'Twill be valour to die tamely. [Gives his.
Hip. I am for dying too with my dear master.
Amid. My life will go as easily as a fly's; The least fillip does it in this fright.
1 Pirate. One call our captain up: Tell him, he deserves little of the booty.
Jul. It has so much prevailed upon my soul, I ever must acknowledge it. [To GONS.
Rod. Julia has reason, if she love him; yet, I find I cannot bear it. [Aside.
Gons. Say but, you love me; I am more than paid.
Jul. You ask that only thing, I cannot give;— Were I not Roderick's first, I should be yours; My violent love for him, I know, is faulty; Yet passion never can be placed so ill, But that to change it is the greater crime. Inconstancy is such a guilt, as makes That very love suspected, which it brings; It brings a gift, but 'tis of ill-got wealth, The spoils of some forsaken lover's heart. Love, altered once, like blood let out before, Will lose its virtue, and can cure no more.
Gons. In those few minutes which I have to live, To be called yours, is all I can enjoy. Roderick receives no prejudice by that; I would but make some small acquaintance here, For fear I never should enquire you out In that new world, which we are going to.
Amid. Then, I can hold no longer;—You desire, In death, to be called hers; and all I wish, Is, dying, to be yours.
Hip. You'll not discover? [Aside.
Amid. See here the most unfortunate of women, That Angelina, whom you all thought lost; And lost she was indeed, when she beheld Gonsalvo first.
Rod. Ha! My sister!
Amid. I thought to have fled love in flying Manuel, But love pursued me in Gonsalvo's shape: For him, I ventured all that maids hold dear; The opinion of my modesty, and virtue, My loss of fortune, and my brother's love. For him, I have exposed myself to dangers, Which, great themselves, yet greater would appear, If you could see them through a woman's fear. But why do I my right by dangers prove? The greatest argument for love is love: That passion, Julia, while he lives, denies, He should refuse to give her when he dies: Yet grant he did his life to her bequeath, May I not claim my share of him in death? I only beg, when all the glory's gone, The heatless beams of a departing sun.
Gons. Never was passion, hid so modestly, So generously revealed.
Man. We're now a chain of lovers linked in death; Julia goes first, Gonsalvo hangs on her, And Angelina holds upon Gonsalvo, As I on Angelina.
Hip. Nay, here's Honoria too:—You look on me with wonder in your eyes, To see me here, and in this strange disguise.
Jul. What new miracle is this? Honoria!
Man. I left you with my aunt at Barcelona, And thought, ere this, you had been married to The rich old man, Don Estevan de Gama.
Hip. I ever had a strange aversion for him: But when Gonsalvo landed there, and made A kind of courtship, (though, it seems, in jest,) It served to conquer me; which Estevan Perceiving, pressed my aunt to haste the marriage. What should I do? My aunt importuned me For the next day: Gonsalvo, though I loved him, Knew not my love; nor was I sure his courtship Was not the effect of a bare gallantry.
Gons. Alas! how grieved I am, that slight address Should make so deep impression on your mind, In three days time!
Hip. That accident, in which You saved my life, when first you saw me, caused it, Though now the story be too long to tell. Howe'er it was, hearing that night, you lay Aboard your ship, thus, as you see, disguised, In clothes belonging to my youngest nephew, I rose ere day, resolved to find you out, And, if I could, procure to wait on you Without discovery of myself: but fortune Crossed all my hopes.
Gons. It was that dismal night Which tore my anchor up, and tossed my ship, Past hope of safety, many days together, Until at length it threw me on this port.
Hip. I will not tell you what my sorrows were, To find you gone; but there was now no help. Go back again, I durst not; but, in fine, Thought best, as fast as my weak legs would bear me, To come to Alicant, and find my sister, Unknown to any else: But, being near The city, I was seized upon by thieves, From whom you rescued me.—The rest you know.
Gons. I know too much indeed for my repose.
Capt. Do you know me?
Gons. Now I look better on thee, Thou seemest a greater villain than I thought thee.
Jul 'Tis he!
Hip. That bloody wretch, that robbed us in The woods.
Gons. Slave! darest thou lift thy hand against me? Darest thou touch any one whom he protects, Who gave thee life? But I accuse myself, Not thee: The death of all these guiltless persons Became my crime, that minute when I spared thee.
Capt. It is not all your threats can alter me From what I have resolved.
Gons. Begin, then, first With me.
Capt. I will, by laying here my sword. [Lays his sword at Gonsalvo's feet.
All. What means this sudden change?
Capt. Tis neither new, nor sudden.—From that time You gave me life, I watched how to repay it; And Roderick's servant gave me speedy means To effect my wish: For, telling me, his master Meant a revenge on you, and on Don Manuel, And then to seize on Julia, and depart, I proffered him my aid to seize a vessel; And having, by enquiry, found out yours, Acquainted first the captain with my purpose, To make a seeming mastery of the ship.
Man. How durst he take your word?
Capt. That I secured, By letting him give notice to the ships That lay about: This done, knowing the place You were to fight on was behind the rock, Not far from thence, I, and some chosen men, Lay out of sight, that, if foul play were offered, We might prevent it: But came not in; because, when there was need, Don Manuel, who was nearer, stepped before me.
Gons. Then the boat, which seemed To lie by chance, hulling not far from shore, Was placed by your direction there?
Capt. It was.
Gons. You're truly noble; and I owe much more Than my own life and fortunes to your worth.
Capt. 'Tis time I should restore their liberty To such of yours, as yet are seeming prisoners. I'll wait on you again. [Exit Captain.
Rod. My enemies are happy; and the storm, Prepared for them, must break upon my head.
Gons. So far am I from happiness, heaven knows My griefs are doubled! I stand engaged in hopeless love to Julia; In gratitude to these:— Here I have given my heart, and here I owe it.
Hip. Dear master, trouble not yourself for me; I ever made your happiness my own; Let Julia witness with what faith I served you. When you employed me in your love to her, I gave your noble heart away, as if It had been some light gallant's, little worth: Not that I loved you less than Angelina, But myself less than you.
Gons. Wonder of honour! Of which my own was but a fainter shadow. When I gave Julia, whom I could not keep, You fed a fire within, with too rich fuel, In giving it your heart to prey upon; The sweetest offering that was ever burnt Since last the Phoenix died.
Hip. If Angelina knew, like me, the pride Of noble minds, which is to give, not take, Like me she would be satisfied, her heart Was well bestowed, and ask for no return.
Amid. Pray, let my heart alone; you'll use it as The gipsies do our money; If they once touch it, they have power upon't.
Enter the Servant, who appeared in the first act with GONSALVO.
Serv. O, my dear lord, Gonsalvo de Peralta!
Rod. De Peralta, said you? You amaze me!
Gons. Why?—Do you know that family in Seville?
Rod. I am myself the elder brother of it.
Gons. Don Rodorick de Peralta!
Rod. I was so, Until my mother died, whose name, de Sylva, I chose, (our custom not forbidding it) Three years ago, when I returned from Flanders: I came here to possess a fair estate, Left by an aunt, her sister; for whose sake I take that name; and liked the place so well, That never since have I returned to Seville.
Gons. 'Twas then that change of name, which caused my letters All to miscarry. What an happy tempest Was this, which would not let me rest at Seville, But blew me farther on, to see you here!
Amid. Brother, I come to claim a sister's share: But you're too near me, to be nearer now.
Gons. In my room, let me beg you to receive Don Manuel.
Amid. I take it half unkindly, You give me from yourself so soon: Don Manuel, I know, is worthy, and, but yesterday, Preserved my life; but, it will take some time To change my heart.
Man. I'll watch it patiently, as chemists do Their golden birth; and, when 'tis changed, receive it With greater care than they their rich elixir, Just passing from one vial to another.
Rod. Julia is still my brother's, though I lose her.
Gons. You shall not lose her; Julia was born For none but you; And I for none but my Honoria: Julia is yours by inclination; And I, by conquest, am Honoria's.
Hon. 'Tis the most glorious one that e'er was made: And I no longer will dispute my happiness.
Rod. Julia, you know my peevish jealousies; I cannot promise you a better husband Than you have had a servant.
Jul. I receive you With all your faults.
Rod. And think, when I am froward, My sullen humour punishes itself: I'm like a day in March, sometimes o'ercast With storms, but then the after clearness is The greater. The worst is, where I love most, The tempest falls most heavy.
Jul. Ah! what a little time to love is lent! Yet half that time is in unkindness spent.
Rod. That you may see some hope of my amendment, I give my friendship to Don Manuel, ere My brother asks, or he himself desires it.
Man. I'll ever cherish it.
Gons. Since, for my sake, you become friends, my care Shall be to keep you so. You, captain, shall Command this carrack, and, with her, my fortunes. You, my Honoria, though you have an heart Which Julia left, yet think it not the worse; 'Tis not worn out, but polished by the wearing. Your merit shall her beauty's power remove; Beauty but gains, obligement keeps our love.
THE INDIAN QUEEN, A TRAGEDY,
WRITTEN BY THE HON. SIR ROBERT HOWARD, AND MR DRYDEN.
THE INDIAN QUEEN
The plays of Sir Robert Howard were tolerated by his contemporaries, on account of the rank, gallantry, and loyalty, of the author; at least, we are now unable to discover any better reason for their success. The Committee, alone, kept possession of the stage till our time; and that solely supported by the humours of Teague, an honest blundering Irish footman, such as we usually see in a modern farce. From a hint, given by Langbaine, Sir Robert Howard seems to have been suspected of frequent plagiarisms. At any rate it is certain, that, in the composition of the Indian Queen, he was so fortunate, as to have the assistance of our great poet, who was bound to him by ties of personal obligation.
It is, of course, difficult even to guess at the share which Dryden had in the Indian Queen. Several of the characters have a strong resemblance to others, which he afterwards drew in bolder colours. Thus, Montezuma, who, like the hero of an ancient romance, bears fortune to any side which he pleases to espouse, is justly pointed out by Settle, as the prototype of Almanzor; though we look in vain for the glowing language, which, though sometimes bordering on burlesque, suits so well the extravagant character of the Moorish hero. Zempoalla strongly resembles Nourmuhal in Aureng-Zebe; both shewing that high spirit of pride, with which Dryden has often invested his female characters. The language of the Indian Queen possesses, in general, greater ease, and a readier flow of verse, than Sir Robert Howard appears to have possessed, when unassisted. Of this he seems, himself, to have been sensible; and alludes to Dryden's acknowledged superiority, when maintaining against him the cause of dramatic blank verse, as preferable to rhyme. Besides general hints towards the conception of the characters, and a superintendance of the dialogue, it is probable, that Dryden wrote some entire scenes of the following piece. In the third act particularly, the passage respecting the incantation, which resembles that in the Indian Emperor, has strong traces of our author's manner.
[Footnote 1: "But writing the epistle in so much haste, I had almost forgot one argument, or observation, which that author (Dryden) has most good fortune in. It is in his Epistle Dedicatory, before his essay of Dramatic Poesie; where, speaking of rhyme in plays, he desires it may be observed, that none are violent against it, but such as have not attempted it, or who have succeeded ill in the attempt: Which, as to myself, and him, I easily acknowledge;—for, I confess, none has written in that way better than himself, nor few worse than I."
Introduction to the Great Favourite, or the Duke of Lerma.]
The Indian Queen was acted in 1664; and received, says Langbaine, with great applause. It was printed in 1665.
_As the music plays a soft air, the curtain rises slowly, and discovers an Indian Boy and Girl sleeping under two plantain-trees; and, when the curtain is almost up, the music turns into a tune expressing an alarm, at which the Boy awakes, and speaks;
Boy. WAKE, wake, Quevira! our soft rest must cease, And fly together with our country's peace! No more must we sleep under plantain shade, Which neither heat could pierce, nor cold invade; Where bounteous nature never feels decay, And opening buds drive falling fruits away.
Que. Why should men quarrel here, where all possess As much as they can hope for by success?— None can have most, where nature is so kind, As to exceed man's use, though not his mind.
Boy. By ancient prophecies we have been told, Our world shall be subdued by one more old;— And, see, that world already hither come.
Que. If these be they, we welcome then our doom! Their looks are Such, that mercy flows from thence, More gentle than our native innocence.
Boy. Why should we then fear these, our enemies, That rather seem to us like deities?
Que. By their protection, let us beg to live; They came not here to conquer, but forgive.— If so, your goodness may your power express, And we shall judge both best by our success.
The Inca of Peru. MONTEZUMA, his General. ACACIS, son to ZEMPOALLA. TRAXALLA, General to ZEMPOALLA. GARUCCA, a faithful subject to AMEXIA. The God of Dreams. ISMERON, one of the prophets, a conjuror. Officers and Soldiers. Peruvians and Mexicans. Priests.
AMEXIA, the lawful queen of Mexico. ZEMPOALLA, the usurping Indian Queen. ORAZIA,daughter to the Inca. Attendants of Ladies.
THE INDIAN QUEEN.
ACT I. SCENE I.
Enter Inca, ORAZIA, MONTEZUMA, ACACIS, prisoners, with Peruvians.
Inca. Thrice have the Mexicans before us fled, Their armies broke, their prince in triumph led; Both to thy valour, brave young man, we owe; Ask thy reward, but such as it may show It is a king thou hast obliged, whose mind Is large, and, like his fortune, unconfined.
Mont. Young, and a stranger, to your court I came, There, by your favour, raised to what I am: I conquer, but in right of your great fate, And so your arms, not mine, are fortunate.
Inca. I am impatient, till this debt be paid. Which still encreases on me while delayed; A bounteous monarch to himself is kind: Ask such a gift as may for ever bind Thy service to my empire, and to me.