Isaac. Twenty ? |sult me-and, but that this roof protects him, Jerome. Ay, to a month, old as I am, this sword should do me justice. Isaac. Then, upon my soul, she is the Isaac. I must get off as well as I canoldest looking girl of her age in Christendom! her fortune is not the less handsome. Jerome. Do you think so? but I believe, you will not see a prettier girl. Isaac. Here and there one. Jerome. Louisa has the family face. [Aside. DUET. Isaac. Believe me, good sir, I ne'er meant to offend; spectacles, I believe she would not see the Good sir, [Aside. Isaac. Yes, egad, I should have taken it To win her and wed her is still my request, My mistress I love, and I value my friend; for a family face, and one that has been in for better, for worse-and I swear I don't jest. the family some time too. Jerome. Zounds! you'd best not provoke Jerome. She has her father's eyes. Isaac. Truly I should have guessed them! me, my rage is so high! Isaac. Hold him fast, I beseech to have been so- If she had her mother's you're too hot, and this place I rage is so high! worse. to a hair. Jerome. Her aunt Ursula's nose, and her grandmother's forehead, to a hair. Isaac. Ay, 'faith, and her grandfather's chin [Aside. Jerome. Well, if she was but as dutiful as she's handsome-and hark ye, friend Isaac, she is none of your made-up beauties-her charms are of the lasting kind. Isaac. l'faith, so they should-for if she be but twenty now, she may double her age, before her years will overtake her face. Jerome. Why, zounds, Master Isaac! you are not sneering, are you? Isaac. Why now, seriously, Don Jerome, do you think you daughter handsome? Jerome. By this light, she's as handsome a girl as any in Seville. Isaac. Then, by these eyes, I think her as plain a woman as ever I beheld. . nor Jerome. By St. Fago, you must be blind.. Isaac. No, no; 'tis you are partial. Jerome. How! have I neither sense taste? If a fair skin, fine eyes, teeth of ivory, with a lovely bloom, and a delicate shapeif these, with a heavenly voice, and a world of grace, are not charms, I know not what you call beautiful. Isaac. Good lack, with what eyes a father sees! As I have life, she is the very reverse of all this: as for the dimity skin you told me of, I swear, 'tis a thorough nankeen as ever I saw! for her eyes, their utmost merit is not squinting-for her teeth, where there is one of ivory, its neighbour is pure ebony, black and white alternately, just like the keys of an harpsichord. Then, as to her singing, and heavenly voice-by this hand, she has a shrill, cracked pipe, that sounds, for all the world, like a child's trumpet. Jerome. Why, you little Hebrew scoundrel, do you mean to insult me? out of my house, I say! Ferd. Dear sir, what's the matter? Jerome. Why, this Israelite here has the impudence to say your sister's ugly. Ferd. He must be either blind or insolent. Isaac. So, I find they are all in a story. Egad, I believe I have gone too far! Ferd. Sure, sir, there must be some mistake; it can't be my sister whom he has seen. Jerome. 'Sdeath! you are as great a fool as he! what mistake can there be? did not I lock up Louisa, and hav'n't I the key in my must fly. you, his Jerome. You're a knave and a sot, and this place you'd best fly. Isaac. Ha; ha! ha! I'll be hanged if you hav'n't taken my abuse of your daughter seriously. Jerome. You meant it so, did not you? Isaac. O mercy, no! a joke-just to try how angry it would make you. Jerome. Was that all, i'faith? I didn't know you had been such a wag, ha ha! ha! By St. Iago! you made me very angry though-well, and you do think Louisa handsome? Isaac. Handsome! Venus de Medicis was a sybil to her. Jerome. Give me your hand, you little jocose rogue-Egad, I thought we had been all off. Ferd. So! I was in hopes this would have been a quarrel, but I find the Jew is too cunning. Jerome. Ay, this gust of passion has made me dry-I am seldom ruffled-order some wine in the next room-let us drink the poor girl's health-poor Louisa! ugly, hey! Ha! ha! ha! Twas a very good joke, indeed! Isaac. And a very true one, for all that. Jerome. And, Ferdinand, I insist upon your drinking success to my friend. Ferd. Sir, I will drink success to my friend, with all my heart. Jerome. Come, little Solomon, if any sparks of anger had remained, this would be the only way to quench them. Louisa. Was ever truant daughter so whimown pocket? and didn't her maid show him sically circumstanced as I am! I have sent into the dressing-room? and yet you talk of my intended husband to look after my lover a mistake: "no, the Portuguese meant to in--the man of my father's choice is gone to di-but you. Here's ado to persuade you to take a pretty girl that's dying for you! Carlos. I could not meet with him, lady; but I doubt not my friend Isaac will be here with him presently. Louisa. Oh, shame! you have used no diligence-1 this your courtesy to a lady, who has trusted herself to your protection? Carlos. Indeed, madam, I have not been remiss. Louisa. Well, well; but if either of you had known how each moment of delay weighs upon the heart of her who loves, and waits the object of her love, oh, ye would not then have trifled thus! Carlos. Alas, I know it well! Louisa. Were you ever in love then? Carlos. I was, lady; but while I have life, will never be again. Louisa. Was your mistress so cruel? Carlos. If she had always been so, I should have been happier. SONG. O had my love ne'er smiled on me, Not worse his fate, who on a wreck, Then land was cried-no more resign'd, Not worse his fate, his woe, to find Louisa. As I live, here is your friend coming with Antonio-I'll retire for a moment to surprise him. [Exit. Enter ISAAC and ANTONIO. Ant. Indeed, my good friend, you must be mistaken. Clara D'Almanza in love with me, and employ you to bring me to meet her! It is impossible! Isaac. That you shall see in an instantCarlos, where is the lady? [Carlos points to the Door] In the next room, is she? Ant. But I have no affection for this lady. Isaac. And you have for Louisa, hey? but take my word for it, Antonio, you have BO chance there so you may as well secure the good that offers itself to you. Ant. And could you reconcile it to your conscience, to supplant your friend? Isaac. Pish! Conscience has no more to do with gallantry, than it has with politicswhy, you are no honest fellow, if love can't make a rogue of you-so come, do go in, and speak to her at last. Ant. Well, I have no objection to that. Isaac. [Opens the Door] There-there she is-yonder by the window-get in, doPushes him in, and half shuts the Door] -now, Carlos, now I shall hamper him, warrant-stay, I'll peep how they go onegad, he looks confoundedly posed-now she's coaxing him-see, Garlos, he begins to come to-ay, ay, he'll soon forget his conscience. Carlos. Look-now they are both laughing! Isaac. Ay, so they are-yes, yes, they are laughing at that dear friend he talked of-ay, poor devil, they have outwitted him. Carlos. Now he's kissing her hand. Isaac. Yes, yes, 'faith, they're agreed-he's caught, he's entangled-my dear Carlos, we have brought it about. Oh, this little cunning head! I'm a Machiavel-a very Machiavel. Carlos. I hear somebody inquiring for you -I'll see who it is. [Exit Carlos. Enter ANTONIO and LOUISA. Ant. Well, my good friend, this lady has so entirely convinced me of the certainty of your success at Don Jerome's, that I now resign my pretensions there. Isaac. You never did a wiser thing, believe me-and as for deceiving your friend, that's nothing at all-tricking is all fair in love, isn't it, ma'am? any one Louisa. Certainly, sir; and I am particu larly glad to find you are of that opinion. Isaac. O lud! yes, ma'am-let outwit me, that can, I say-but here, let me join your hands-there, you lucky rogue! I wish you happily married, from the bottom of my soul! Louisa. And I am sure if you wish it, no one else should prevent it. Isaac. Now, Antonio, we are rivals no more; so let us be friends, will you? Ant. With all my heart, Isaac. Isaac. It is not every man, let me tell you, that would have taken such pains, or been se generous to a rival. Ant. No, 'faith; I don't believe there's another beside yourself in all Spain. Isaac. Well, but you resign all pretensions to the other lady? Ant. That I do, most sincerely. Isaac 1 doubt you have a little bankering there still. Ant. None in the last, upon my soul. Ant. Nay, if that lady is really here, she Isaac. I mean after her fortune. certainly wants me to conduct her to a dear Ant. No, believe me- -You are heartily friend of mine, who has long been her lover. welcome to every thing she has. Isaac. Pshaw! I tell you 'tis no such thing Isaac. Well, faith, you have the best of you are the man she wants, and nobody the bargain, as to beauty, twenty to one Isauc. Yes, she has sworn not to take a husband from her father's hand-so, I've persuaded him to trust her to walk with me in the garden, and then we shall give him the slip. ACT III. SCENE L-A Library. Enter JEROME and SERVANT. Jerome. Why, I never was so amazed in my life! Louisa gone off with Isaac Mendoza, what! steal away with the very man whom i wanted her to marry-elope with her own husband, as it were-it is impossible! Louisa. And is Don Jerome to know nothing of this? Isaac. O lud, no! there lies the jest-Don't Sero. Her maid says, sir, they had your you see that, by this step, I overreach him? leave to walk in the garden, while you was Í shall be entitled to the girl's fortune, with- abroad - The door by the shrubbery was out settling a ducat on her, ha! ha! ha! I'm found open, and they have not been heard of a cunning dog, an't I? A sly little, villain. eh? since. Ant. Ha ha! ha! you are indeed! Isaac. Roguish, you'll say, but keen, eh? devilish keen? Ant. So you are indeed-keen-very keen. Isaac. And what a laugh we shall have at Don Jerome's, when the truth comes out! hey? Louisa. Yes, I'll answer for it, we shall have a good laugh when the truth comes out, ha! ha! ha! Enter CARLOS. Louisa. Willingly. [Exii. Jerome. Well, it is the most unaccountable affair! 'sdeath! there is certainly some infernal mystery in it, I can't comprehend! Enter SECOND SERVANT with a Letter. Serv. Here is a letter, sir, from Signior Isaac. [Exit. Jerome. So, so, this will explain-ay, Isaac Mendoza-let me see[Reads. "Dearest Sir, "You must, doubtless, be much surprised at my flight with your daughter" - Yes, Carlos. Here are the dancers come to 'faith, and well I may-"I had the happipractise the fandango, you intended to have ness to gain her heart at our first interhonoured Donna Louisa with. view"-The devil you had!-"But she having Isaac. O, I sha'n't want them; but as I unfortunately made a vow not to receive. must pay them, I'll see a caper for my money a husband from your hands, I was obliged -will you excuse me? to comply with her whim"-So, so!" We shall shortly throw ourselves at your feet, Isaac. Here's my friend, whom you may and I hope you will have a blessing ready command for any service. Madam, your most for one, who will then be obedient-Antonio, I wish you all happiness. -Oh, the easy blockhead! what a tool I have. made of him!-This was a master-piece! [Exit. Louisa. Carlos, will you be my guard again, and convey me to the convent of St. Catharine? Ant. Why, Louisa-why should you go there? Louisa. I have my reasons, and you must not be seen to go with me; I shall write from thence to my father; perhaps, when he finds what he has driven me to, he may relent. Ant. I have no hope from him--O Louisa! in these arms should be your sanctuary. Louisa. Be patient but for a little whilemy father cannot force me from thence. But let me see you there before evening, and I will explain myself. Ant. I shall obey. been a lover himself. Ant. Then he knows the value of his trust. TRIO. Soft pity never leaves the gentle breast "Your son-in-law, "ISAAC MENDOZA." A whim, hey? Why, the devil's in the girl, I think! This morning, she would die sooner than bave him, and before evening, she runs away with him!-Well, well, my will's acand the Portuguese, sure, will never deny to complished-let the motive be what it willfulfil the rest of the article. Enter Servant, with another Letter. Ser. Sir, here's a man below, who says he brought this from my young lady, Donna [Exit. "How shall I entreat your pardon for he rash step I have taken-how confess the motive ?"-Pish! hasn't Isaac just told me the motive?-one would think they weren't together when they wrote-"If I have a spirit too resentful of ill usage, I have also a heart as easily affected by kindness" So, so, here the whole matter comes out; Where love has been received a welcome her resentment for Antonio's ill usage has guest; He hallows ev'ry heart he once has sway'd; [Exeunt. made her sensible of Isaac's kindness-yes, yes, it is all plain enough—well-"I am not married yet, though with a man, I am convinced, adores me"-Yes, yes, I dare say Isaac is very fond of her-"But I shall anxiously expect your answer, in which, should I be so fortunate as to receive your consent, you will make completely happy, Ferd. Go, fool, get home, and never let me "Your ever affectionate daughter" see you again, till you bring me news of her. LOUISA." [Exit Lopez] Oh, how my fondness for this My consent? to be sure she shall have it! - ungrateful girl has hurt my disposition! egad, I was never better pleased-I have fulfilled my resolution-I knew I should-Oh, there's nothing like obstinacy-Lewis! Enter Servant. Let the man, who brought the last letter, wait; and get me a pen and ink below. I am impatient to set poor Louisa's heart at restholloa! Lewis! Sancho! Enter Servants. Enter ISAAC. Isaac. So, I have her safe, and have only to find a priest to marry us. Antonio now may marry Clara, or not, if he pleases! Ferd. What? what was that you said of Clara? Isaac. Oh, Ferdinand! my brother-in-law, that shall be, who thought of meeting you! Ferd. But what of Clara? Isaac. I'faith, you shall hear.-This morning, See that there be a noble supper provided in as I was coming down, I met a pretty dam the saloon to-night-serve up my best wines, sel, who told me her name was Clara d'Aland let me have music, d'ye hear? manza, and begged my protection. Ferd. How? [Exeunt. Serv. Yes, sir. Jerome. And order all my doors to be Isaac. She said she had eloped from her thrown open-admit all guests, with masks father, Don Guzman, but that love for a young or without masks-l'faith, we'll have a night gentleman in Seville was the cause. of it-And I'll let them see how merry an old man can be. SONG. Oh, the days when I was young, For when sparkling wine went round, True, at length my vigour's flown, [Exit. SCENE II.-The New Piazza. Enter FERDINAND and Lopez. Ferd. What, could you gather no tidings of her? nor guess where she was gone? O Clara! Clara! Ferd. Oh, Heavens! did she confess it? Isaac. Oh, yes, she confessed at once-but then, says she, my lover is not informed of my flight, nor suspects my intention. Ferd. Dear creature! no more I did indeed! Oh, I am the happiest fellow!~[Aside] Well, Isaac! Isaac. Why, then she entreated me to find him out for her, and bring him to her. Ferd. Good Heavens, how lucky!-Well, come along; let's lose no time. [Pulling him. Isaac. Zooks! where are we to go? Ferd. Why, did any thing more pass? Isaac. Any thing more! yes; the end on? was, that I was moved with her speeches; and complied with her desires. Ferd. Well, and where is she? Isaac. Where is she? why, don't I tell you, I complied with her request, and left ber safe in the arms of her lover. Ferd. 'Sdeath, you trifle with me!—I have never seen her. Isaac. You! O lud, no!-How the devil should you? 'Twas Antonio she wanted: and with Antonio I left her. Ferd. Hell and madness! [Aside] West, Antonio d'Ercilla? Isaac. Ay, ay, the very man; and the best part of it was, he was shy of taking her at first-He talked a good deal about honour, and conscience, and deceiving some dear friend; but, lord, we soon overruled that Ferd. You did? says be Isaac. Oh, yes, presently-Such deceit, Lopez. In truth, sir, I could not.-That she says he - Pish! says the lady, tricking is all was run away from her father, was in every fair in love-But then, my friend, say body's mouth, and that Don Guzman was in Pshaw! damn your friend, says I.-So, poor pursuit of her was also a very common re-wretch, he has no chance-no, no; he may port-where she was gone, or what was be- hang himself as soon as he pleases. come of her, no one could take upon them. to say. Ferd. 'Sdeath and fury, you blockhead! she can't be out of Seville. Lopez. So I said to myself, sir-'Sdeath and fury, you blockhead, says I, she can't be out of Seville-Then some said, she had hanged herself for love; and others have it, Don Antonio had carried her off. Ferd. 'Tis false, scoundrel! no one said that. Lopez. Then I misunderstood them, sir. Ferd. I must go, or I shall betray myself Isaac. But stay, Ferdinand, you ha'n't brand the best of the joke. I Ferd. Curse on your joke! Isaac. Good lack! what's the matter now? thought to have diverted you. Ferd. Be rack'd! tortured! damı'd— Isaac. Why, sure you are not the poor devil of a lover, are you? l'faith, as sure af can be, he is This is a better joke than t'other, ha! ha! ha! Ferd. What, do you laugh? you vile, mis- becomes you; for you certainly don't intend chievous varlet! [Collars him] But that you're to be a nun for life. beneath my anger, I'd tear your heart out. Louisa. Come, come, it was his fear of losing you made him so rash. Clara. If, indeed, Ferdinand had not of[Throws him from him. fended me so last night— Isaac. O mercy! "here's usage for a brotherin-law! Ferd. But, hark ye, rascal! tell me directly Clara. Well, you may think me cruelwhere these false friends are gone, or, by my but I swear, if he were here this instant, I soul[Draws. believe I should forgive him. Isaak. For Heaven's sake, now, my dear brother-in-law, don't be in a rage- I'll recollect as well as I can. Ferd. Be quick then! Isaac. I will, I will-but people's memories differ- some have a treacherous memory— now mine is a cowardly memory-it takes to its heels, at sight of a drawn sword, it does, i'faith; and I could as soon fight as recollect. Ferd. Zounds! tell me the truth, and I won't hurt you. Isaac. No, no, I know you won't, my dear brother-in-law but that ill-looking thing there Ferd. What, then, you won't tell me? Isaac. Yes, yes, I will; I'll tell you all, upon my soul-but why need you listen sword in hand? Ferd. Why, there. [Puts up] Now. Isaac. Why then, I believe they are gone to-that is, my friend Carlos told me, he had left Donna Clara-dear Ferdinand, keep your hands off at the convent of St. Catharine. Ferd. St. Catharine! SONG, By him we love offended, Last night, your roving brother, And sure his rude presumption I fear my eyes would pardon Louisa. I protest, Clara, I shall begin to think you are seriously resolved to enter on your probation. Clara. And, seriously, I very much doubt whether the character of a nun would not become me best. Louisa. Why, to be sure, the character of a nun is a very becoming one at a masquerade; but no pretty woman, in her senses, Isaac. Yes; and that Antonio was to come ever thought of taking the veil for above a to her there. Ferd. Is this the truth? night. Clara. Yonder I see your Antonio is re Isaac. It is indeed-and all I know, as I turned-I shall only interrupt you; ah, Louisa, hope for life. with what happy eagerness you turn to look for him! Ferd. Well, coward, take your life-Tis that false, dishonourable Antonio, who shall feel my vengeance. Isaac. Ay, ay, kill him-cut his throat, and welcome. Ferd. But, for Clara-infamy on her! she is not worth my resentment. Isaac. No more she is, my dear brotherin-law. I'faith, I would not be angry about ber-she is not worth it, indeed. Ferd. 'Tis false! she is worth the enmity of princes. Isaac. True, true, so she is; and I pity you exceedingly for having lost her. Ferd. Sdeath, you rascal! how durst you talk of pitying me? Isaac. Oh, dear brother-in-law, I beg pardon, I don't pity you in the least, upon my soul. Ferd. Get hence, fool, and provoke me no further; nothing but your insignificance saves you. Isaac. I'faith, then my insignificance is the best friend I have. I'm going, dear Ferdinand - What a curst hot-headed bully it is! [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The Garden of the Convent. Enter LOUISA and CLARA. Louisa. And you really wish my brother may not find you out? Clara. Why else have I concealed myself under this disguise? Louisa. Why, perhaps, because the dress Enter ANTONIO. [Exit. Ant. Well, my Louisa, any news since I left you? Louisa. None The messenger is not returned from my father. Ant. Well, I confess, I do not perceive what we are to expect from him. Louisa. I shall be easier, however, in having made the trial: I do not doubt your sincerity, Antonio; but there is a chilling air around poverty, that often kills affection, that was not nursed in it-If we would make love our household god, we had best secure him a comfortable roof. SONG-ANTONIO. How oft, Louisa, hast thou told, |
