A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.-BY MRS. CENTLIVRE. Lep.-"THE POINT IS PRETTY SHARP: 'TWILL DO YOUR BUSINESS, I WARRANT YOU."-Act i, scene 2. Persons Represented} SCENE I-A Street. Enter DON LOPEZ, meeting FREDERICK. Fred. At your lordship's service. I am glad to see you look so well, my lord; I hope Antonio's out of danger? Lop. Quite the contrary; his fever increases, they tell me, and the surgeons are of opinion his wound is mortal. Fred. Your son, Don Felix, is safe, I hope? Lo.p I hope so too; but they offer large rewards to apprehend him. Fred. When heard your lordship from him? Lop. Not since he went. I forbad him writing 'till the public news gave him an account of Antonio's health. Letters might be intercepted, and the place of his abode discovered; however, N 10-THE BRITISH DRAMA You if Antonio dies, Felix shall for England. have been there; what sort of people are the English? Fred. My lord, the English are, by nature, what the ancient Romans were by discipline, courageous, bold, hardy, and in love with liberty. Liberty is the idol of the English, under whose banner all the nation enlists. Give but the word for liberty, and straight more armed legions would appear, than France and Philip keep in constant pay. Lop. I like their principles. Who does not wish for freedom in all degrees of life? though common prudence sometimes makes us act against it, as I am now obliged to do; for I intend to marry my daughter to Don Guzman, whom I expect from Holland every day, whither he went to take possession of a large estate left him by his uncle. Fred. You will not, surely, sacrifice the lovely Isabella to age, avarice, and a fool? Pardon the expression, my lord, but my concern for your beauteous daughter transports me beyond that good manners which I ought to pay to your lordship's presence. Lop. I can't deny the justness of the character, Frederick; but you are not insensible what I have suffered by these wars; and he has two things which render him very agreeable to me for a sonin-law, he is rich and well-born. As for his being a fool, I don't conceive how that can be any blot in a husband, who is already possessed of a good estate. A poor fool, indeed, is a very scandalous thing; and so are your poor wits, in my opinion, who have nothing to be vain of but the inside of their skulls. Now, for Don Guzman, I know I can rule him as I think fit; this is acting the politic part, Frederick, without which it is impossible to keep up the port of this life. Fred. But have you no consideration for your daughter's welfare, my lord? Lop. Is a husband of twenty thousand crowns a year no consideration? Now, I think it a very good consideration. Fred. One way, my lord, but what will the world say of such a match? Lop. Sir, I value not the world a button. Fred. I cannot think your daughter can have any inclination for such a husband. Lop. There I believe you are pretty much in the right; though it is a secret which I never had the curiosity to inquire into, nor, I believe, ever shall. Inclination, quotha! Parents would have a fine time on't, if they consulted their children's inclinations! No, no, sir, it is not a father's business to follow his children's inclinations till he makes himself a beggar. Fred. But this is of another nature, my lord. Lop. Lookye, sir, I resolve she shall marry Don Guzman, the moment he arrives; though I could not govern my son, I will my daughter, I assure you. Fred. This match, my lord, is more preposterous than that which you proposed to your son, from whence arose this fatal quarrel. Don Antonio's sister, Elvira, wanted beauty only; but Guzman everything but Lop. Money, and that will purchase everything and so adieu. [Exit. Fred. Monstrous! These are the resolutions which destroy the comforts of matrimony; he is rich and well-born, powerful arguments indeed! Could I but add them to the friendship of Don Felix, what might I not hope? But a merchant and a grandee of Portugal, are inconsistent names En'e LISSARDO, in a riding habit. Lis. I left him so; I have another to deliver, which requires haste. Your most humble servant, sir. Fred. To Violante, I suppose? [Exit. Fred. (Reads.) "Dear Frederick, the two chief blessings of this life are, a friend and a mistress to be debarred the sight of those is not to live. I hear nothing of Antonio's death, and therefore resolve to venture to the house this evening, impatient to see Violante, and embrace my friend. Yours, FELIX." Pray heaven, he comes undiscovered. Ha! Colonel Briton. Enter COLONEL BRITON, in a riding habit. Col. B. Frederick, I rejoice to see thee. Fred. What brought you to Lisbon, Colonel! Col. B. La fortune de la guerre, as the French say; I have commanded these three last years in Spain, but my country has thought fit to strike up a peace, and gave us good Protestants leave to hope for Christian burial: so I resolved to take Lisbon in my way home. Fred. If you are not provided of a lodging, Colonel, pray command my house while you stay. Col. B. If I were sure I should not be troublesome, I would accept your offer, Frederick. Fred. So far from trouble, Colonel, I shall take it as a particular favour. What have we here? Col. B. My footman. This is our country dress, you must know; which, for the honour of Scotland, I make all my servants wear. Enter GIBBY, in a Highland dress. Gibby. What mun I do wi' the horses, and like yer honour? They will tak cold, gin they stand in the causeway. Fred. Oh, I'll take care of him. Vasquez. Enter VASQUEZ. What, hoa! Put those horses, which that honest fellow will shew you, into my stable, do you hear? and feed them well. Vas. Yes, sir. Sir, by my master's orders, I am, sir, your most obsequious, humble servant. Be pleased to lead the way. Gibby. 'Sbleed, gan yergate, sir, and I sall follow ye: Ise tee hungry to feed on compli ments. [Exit with Vasquez. Fred. Ha, hat a comical follow. Well, how do you like our country, Colonel? Cot. B. Why, faith, Frederick, a man might pass his time agreeably enough withinside of a nunnery; but to behold such troops of soft, plump, tender, melting, wishing, nay, willing girls, too, through a damn'd grate, gives us Britons strong temptations to plunder. Ah, Frederick, your priests are wicked rogues; they immure beauty for their own proper use, and shew it only to the laity to create desires, and inflame accompts, that they may purchase pardons at a dearer rate. Fred. I own wenching is something more difficult here than in England, where women's liberties are subservient to their inclinations, and husbands seem of no effect, but to take care of the children which their wives provide. Col. B. And does restraint get the better of inclination with your women here? No, I'll be sworn not, even in fourscore. Don't I know the constitution of the Spanish ladies? Fred. And of all the ladies where you come, Colonel; you were ever a man of gallantry. Col. B. Ah, Frederick, the kirk half starves as Scotchmen. We are kept so sharp at home, that we feed like cannibals abroad. Harkye, hast thou never a pretty acquaintance now, that thou would'st consign over to a friend for half an hour, ha? Fred. Faith, Colonel, I am the worst pimp in Christendom; you had better trust to your own luck, the women will soon find you out, I warrant you. Col. B. Ay, but it is dangerous foraging in an enemy's country; and since I have some hopes of seeing my own again, I had rather purchase my pleasure, than run the hazard of a stiletto in my guts. Wilt thou recommend me to a wife, then; one that is willing to exchange her moidores for English liberty; ha, friend? Fred.. She must be very handsome, I suppose? Col. B. The handsomer the better; but be sure she' as a nose. Fred.. Ay, ay, and some gold. Col. B. Oh, very much gold; I shall never be able to swallow the matrimonial pill, if it be not well gilded. Fred. Pho, beauty will make it slide down nimbly. Col. B. At first, perhaps, it may; but the second or third dose will choke me. I confess Frederick, women are the prettiest playthings in nature: but gold, substantial gold, gives them the air, the mien, the shape; the grace, and beauty of a goddess. Fred. And has not gold the same divinity in their eyes, Colonel ? Col. B. Too often. None marry now for love; no, that's a jest: The self-same bargain serves for wife and beast. Fred. You are always gay, Colonel. Come, shall we take a refreshing glass at my house, and consider what has been said? Col. B. I have two or three compliments too discharge for some friends, and then I shall wait on you with pleasure. Where do you live? Fred. At yon corner house with the green rails. Col. C. In the close of the evening I will endeavour to kiss your hand. Adieu. Fred. I shall expect you with impatience. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-A Room in Don Lopez's house. Enter ISABELLA and INIS, her maid. Inis. For goodness' sake, madam, where are you going in this pet? Isa. Anywhere to avoid matrimony; the thought of a husband is terrible to me. Inis. Ay, of an old husband; but if you may choose for yourself, I fancy matrimony would be no such frightful thing to you. Isa. You are pretty much in the right, Inis; but to be forced into the arms of an idiot, who has neither person to please the eye, sense to charm the ear, nor generosity to supply those defects. Ah, Inis, what pleasant lives women lead in England, where duty wears no fetters but inclination. The custom of our country enslaves us from our very cradles; first to our parents, next to our husbands; and when heaven is so kind to rid us of both these, our brothers still usurp authority, and expect a blind obedience from us: so that, maids, wives, or widows, we are little better than slaves to the tyrant man; therefore, to avoid their power, I resolve to cast myself into a monastery. Inis. That is, you'll cut your own throat to avoid another's doing it for you Ah, madam, those eyes tell me you have no nun's flesh about you! A monastery, quotha! where you'll wish yourself into the green-sickness in a month. Isa. What care I? there will be no man to plague me. Inis. No, nor, what's much worse, to please you neither. Od'slife, madam, you are the first woman that ever despaired in a Christian country! Were I in your place Isa. Why, what would your wisdom do if you were? Inis. I'd embark with the first fair wind with all Inis. The old rogue has certainly overheard her. (Aside.) Lop. Your devotion must needs be very strong or your memory very weak, my dear; why, vespers are over for this night. Come, come, you shall have a better errand to church, than to say your prayers there. Don Guzman is arrived in the river, and I expect him ashore to-morrow. Isa. Ha! to-morrow! Lop. He writes me word, that his estate in Holland is worth twelve thousand crowns a year; which, together with what he had before, will make thee the happiest wife in Lisbon. Isa. And the most unhappy woman in the world. Oh, sir, if I have any power in your heart, if the tenderness of a father be not quite extinct, hear me with patience. Lop. No objection against the marriage, and I will hear whatsoever thou hast to say. Isa. That's torturing me on the rack, and forbid ding me to groan; upon my knees I claim the privilege of flesh and blood. (Kneels.) Lop. I grant it; thou shalt have an arm full of flesh and blood to-morrow. Flesh and blood, quotha! heaven forbid I should deny thee flesh and blood, my girl. Inis. Here's an old dog for you! (Aside.) Isa. Do not mistake, sir; the fatal stroke which separates soul and body, is not more terrible to the thoughts of sinners, than the name of Guzman to my ear. Lop. Pho, pho! you lie, you lie! Isa. My frighted heart beats hard against my breast, as if it sought a passage to your feet, to beg you'd change your purpose. Lop. A very pretty speech this; if it were turned into blank verse, it would serve for a tragedy. Why, thou hast more wit than I thought thou hadst, child. I fancy this was all extempore; I don't believe thou did'st ever think one word on't before. Inis. Yes, but she has, my lord; for I have heard her say the same things a thousand times. Lop. How, how? What, do you top your secondhand jests upon your father, hussy, who knows better what's good for you than you do yourself? Remember, 'tis your duty to obey. Isa. (Rises.) I never disobeyed you before, and wish I had not reason now; but nature has got the better of my duty, and makes me loathe the harsh, commands you lay. Lop. Ha, ha! very fine! Ha, ha! Isa. I am your daughter, my lord, and can boast as strong a resolution as yourself; I'll die before I'll marry Guzman. Lop. Say you so? I'll try that presently. (Draws.) Here, let me see with what dexterity you can breathe a vein now. (Offers her his sword.) The point is pretty sharp; 'twill do your business, I warrant you. Inis. Bless me, sir, what do you mean to put a sword into the hands of a desperate woman? Lop. Desperate! ha, ha, ha! you see how desperate she is. What, art thou frightened, little Bell? ha! Isa. I confess I am startled at your morals, sir. Lop. Ay, ay, child, thou had'st better take the man, he'll hurt thee least of the two. Isa, I shall take neither, sir; death has many doors, and when I can live no longer with pleasure I shall find one to let him in at without your aid. Lop. Say'st thou so, my dear Bell? Ods, I'm afraid thou art a little lunatic, Bell. I must take care of thee, child. (Takes hold of her, and pulls a key out of his pocket.) I shall make bold to secure, thee, my dear. I'll see if locks and bars can keep thee till Guzman comes. Go, get into your chamber. (Pushes her in, and locks the door.) There I'll your boasted resolution try— ACT II. [Exeunt. SCENE L-A Room in Don Pedro's house. Enter VIOLANTE, reading a letter, and FLORA following. Flo. What, must that letter be read again? Vio. Yes, and again, and again, and again, a thousand times again; a letter from a faithful lover can never be read too often: it speaks such kind, such soft, such tender things. (Kisses it.) Flora. But always the same language. Vio. It does not charm the less for that. Flora. In my opinion, nothing charms that does not change; and my composition of the four-andtwenty letters, after the first essay, from the same hand, must be dull, except a bank note, or a bill of exchange. Vio. Thy taste is my aversion. (Reads.) "My all that's charming, since life's not life, exiled from thee, this night shall bring me to thy arms. Frederick and thee are all I trust. These six weeks' absence have been, in love's accompt, six hundred years. When it is dark, expect the wonted signal at thy window; till when, adieu. Thine, more than his own, FELIX." Flora. Who would not have said as much to a lady of her beauty, and twenty thousand pounds? (Aside.) Were I a man, methinks, I could have said a hundred finer things. Vio. What would you have said? Flora. I would have compared your eyes to the stars, your teeth to ivory, your lips to coral, your neck to alabaster, your shape to Vio. No more of your bombast; truth is the best eloquence in a lover. What proof remains ungiven of his love? When his father threatened to disinherit him, for rufusing Don Antonio's sister, from whence sprung this unhappy quarrel, did it shake his love for me? And now, though strict inquiry runs through every place, with large rewards to apprehend him, does he not venture all for me? Flora. But you know, madam, your father, Don Pedro, designs you for a nun; to be sure, you look very like a nun: and says, your grandfather left you your fortune upon that condition. Vio. Not without my approbation, girl, when I come to one-and-twenty, as I am informed. But, however, I shall run the risk of that. Go, call in Lissardo. Flora. Yes, madam. Now for a thousand verbal questions. Re-enter FLORA, with LISSARDO. Lis. En chevalier, madam, upon a hackney jade, which, they told me, formerly belonged to an English Colonel. But I should have rather thought she had been bred a good Roman Catholic all her life-time; for she down'd on her knees to every stock and stone we come along by. My chops water for a kiss, they do, Flora. (Apart to Flara.) Flora. You'd make one believe you were wondrous fond now. (Apart to Lissardo.) Vio. Where did you leave your master? Lis. At a little farm-house, madam, about five miles off. He'll be at Don Frederick's in the evening. 'Od, I will so revenge myself of those lips of thine. (Apart to Flora.) Vio. Is he in health? Flora. O, you counterfeit wondrous well. (Apart to Lissardo.) Lis. No, everybody knows I counterfeit very ill. (Apart to Flora.) Vio. How say you? Is Felix ill? What's his distemper? Ha! Lis. A pies on't, I hate to be interrupted. (Aside.) Love, madam, love. In short, madam, I believe he has thought of nothing but your ladyship ever since he left Lisbon. I am sure he could not, if I may judge of his heart by my own. (Looks lovingly at Flora.) Vio. How came you so well acquainted with your master's thoughts, Lissardo? Lis. By an infallible rule, madam, words are the pictures of the mind, you know; now, to prove he thinks of nothing but you, he talks of nothing but you; for example, madam: coming from shooting the other day, with a brace of partridges, "Lissardo," said he, "go bid the cook roast me these Violantes." I flew into the kitchen, full of thoughts of thee, and cried, "Here, cook, roast me these Florellas." (To Flora.) Flora. Ha, ha! excellent. You mimic your master, then, it seems. (To Lissardo.) Lis. I can do everything as well as my master, you little rogue. (To Flora.) Another time, madam, the priest came to make him a visit, he called out hastily, "Lissardo," said, he, "bring a Violante for my father to sit down on." Then he often mistook my name, madam, and called me Violante; in short, I heard it so often, that it became as familiar to me as my prayers. Vio. You live very merrily, then, it seems. Lis. Oh, exceeding merry, madam. (Kisses Flora's hand.) Vio. Ha! exceeding merry? Had you treats and balls? Lis. Oh, yes, yes, madam, several. Flora. You are mad, Lissardo; you don't mind what my lady says to you. (Apart to Lissardo.) Vio. Ha! balls? Is he so merry in my absence? (Aside.) And did your master dance, Lissardo? Lis. Dance, madam? where, madam? Vio. Why, at those balls you speak of. Lis. Balls! what balls, madam? Vio. Why, sure you are in love, Lissardo; did not you say, but now, you had balls where you have been? Lis. Balls, madam! what balls, madam? OdsAside and Exit. | life, I ask you pardon, madam. I-I-I had mis laid some wash-balls of my master's t'other day; | and because I could not think where I had laid them, just when he asked for them, he very fairly broke my head, madam; and now it seems I can think of nothing else. Alas! he dance, madam! No, no, poor gentleman, he is as melancholy as an unbraced drum. Vio. Poor Felix! There, wear that ring for your master's sake; and let him know I shall be ready to receive him. [Exit. Lis. I shall, madam. (Puts on the ring.) Methinks a diamond ring is a vast addition to the little finger of a gentleman. (Admires his hand.) Flora. That ring must be mine. (Aside.) Well, Lissardo; what haste you make to pay off arrears, now. Look how the fellow stands! Lis. 'Egad, methinks I have a pretty hand; and very white; and the shape! Faith, I never minded it so much before. In my opinion, it is a very fine shaped hand, and becomes a diamord ring as well as the first grandee's in Portugal. Flora. The man's transported! Is this your love? This your impatience? Lis, (Takes snuff.) Now, in my mind, I take snuff with a very jaunty air. Well, I am persuaded I want nothing but a coach and a title to make me a very fine gentleman. Flora. Sweet Mr. Lissardo, (Curtseys.) if I may presume to speak to you, without affronting your little finger Lis. Odso, madam, I ask your pardon. Is it to me or to the ring, you direct your discourse, madam? Flora. Madam, good lack! How much a diamond ring improves one! Lis. Why, though I say it, I can carry myself as well as anybody. But what wert thou going to say, child? Flora. Why, I was going to say, that I fancy you had best let me keep that ring; it will be a very pretty wedding ring, Lissardo; would it not? Lis. Humph! ah! but-but-but-I believe I sha'nt marry yet awhile. Flora. You sha'n't, you say? Very well! I suppose you design that ring for Inis! Lis. No, no; I never bribe an old acquaintance. Perhaps I might let it sparkle in the eyes of a stranger a little, till we come to a right understanding; but, then, like all other mortal things, it would return from whence it came. Flora. Insolent! Is that your manner of dealing? Lis. With all but thee. Kiss me, you little rogue, you. (Hugs her.) Flora. Little rogue! Pr'ythee, fellow, don't be so familiar; (Pushes him away.) if I mayn't keep your ring, I can keep my kisses. Lis. You can, you say? Spoke with the air of a chambermaid. Flora. Replied with the spirit of a serving-man. Lis. Pr'ythee, Flora, don't let you and I fall out! I am in a merry humour, and shall certainly fall in somewhere. Flora. What care I where you fall in. Vio. Why do you keep Lissardo so long, Flora, when you don't know how soon my father may awake? His afternoon naps are never long. Flora. Had Don Felix been with her, she would not have thought the time long. These ladies consider nobody's wants but their own. (Aside.) Vio. Go, go, let him out. Flora. Yes, madam. Lis. I fly, madam. [Exeunt Lissardo aud Flora. Vio. The day draws in, and night, the lover's friend, advances. Night, more welcome than the sun to me, because it brings my love. Flora. (Within.) Ah, thieves, thieves! murder, murder! Vio. (Shrieks.) Ah, defend me, heaven! what do I hear? Felix is certainly pursued, and will be taken. Re-enter FLORA, running. How now! Why dost stare so? Answer me, quickly; what's the matter? Flora. Oh, madam! as I was letting out Lissardo, a gentleman rushed between him and I, struck down my candle, and is bringing a dead person in his arms into our house. Vio. Ha! a dead person! heaven grant it does not prove my Felix. Flora. Here they are, madam. Vio. I'll retire, till you discover the meaning of this accident. [Exit. Enter COLONEL BRITON, with ISABELLA in his arms, whom he sets down in a chair, and addresses himself to Flora. Col. B. Madam, the necessity this lady was under of being conveyed into some house with speed and secrecy, will, I hope, excuse any indecency I might be guilty of, in pressing so rudely into this. I am an entire stranger to her name and circumstances; would I were so to her beauty, too! (Aside.) I commit her, madam, to your care, and fly to make her retreat secure; if the street be clear, permit me to return, and learn from her own mouth if I can be further serviceable. Pray, madam, what is the lady of this house called? Flora. Violante, seignior. Col. B. Your humble servant, mistress. Pray be careful of the lady. [Gives her two moidores, and Exit. Flora. Two moidores. Well, he is a generous. fellow. This is the only way to make one careful. Re-enter VIOLANTE. Vio. Was you distracted, Flora, to tell my name to a man you never saw? Unthinking wench! Who knows what this may turn to? What, is the lady dead? Ah, defend me, heaven! 'tis Isabella, sister to my Felix. What has befallen her? Pray heaven he's safe. Run and fetch some cold water. Stay, stay, Flora; Isabella, friend, speak to me; oh, speak to me, or I shall die with apprehension. Isa. Oh, hold, my dearest father, do not force me, indeed I cannot love him. Vio. How wild she talks! Isa. Ha! Where am I? Vio. With one as sensible of thy pain as thou thyself can'st be. Isa. Violante! what kind star preserved and lodged me here? Flora. It was a terrestrial star, called a man, madam; pray Jupiter he prove a lucky one. Isa. Oh! I remember now. Forgive me, dear Violante; my thoughts ran so much upon the danger I escaped, I forgot. Vio. May I not know your story? Isa. Thou art no stranger to one part of it. I have often told thee that my father designed to sacrifice me to Don Guzman, who, it seems, is just returned from Holland, and expected ashore to-morrow, the day that he has set to celebrate our nuptials. Upon my refusing to obey him, he locked me into my chamber, vowing to keep me there till he arrived; and force me to consent. I know my father to be positive, never to be won from his design; and |