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of replying to me on this subject, that is very alarming -'Sdeath! if Clara should love him, after all. [Exit.
SCENE III.-A Room in Don Jerome's House.
Enter Louisa and DUENNA.
Louisa. But, my dear Margaret, my charming Duenna, do you think we shall succeed?
Duenna. I tell you again, I have no doubt on't; but it must be instantly put to the trial. Every thing is prepared in your room, and for the rest, we must trust to fortune.
Louisa. My father's oath was, never to see me till I had consented to-
Duenna. 'Twas thus I overheard him say to his friend, Don Guzman-'I will demand of her to-morrow, once for all, whether she will consent to marry Isaac Mendoza; if she hesitates, I will make a solemis oath never to see or to speak to her, till she returns to her duty.'—These were his words.
Louisa. And on his known obstinate adherence to what he has once said, you have formed this plan for my escape. But have you secured my maid in our interest?
Duenna. She is a party in the whole; but remember, if we succeed, you resign all right and litle in liltle Isaac, the Jew, over to me.
Louisa. That I do, with all my soul: get him, if you can, and I shall wish you joy, most heartily. He is twenty times as rich as my poor Antonio.
Thou canst not boast of fortune's store,
My love, while me they wealthy call;
And then the grateful youth shall own,
But when his worth my hand shall gain,
No word or look of mine shall shew
Yet still his grateful heart shall own,
I loved him for himselfalone. Duenna. I hear Don Jerome coming. Quick, give mne the last letter I brought you from Antonio-you know that is to be the ground of my dismission. I inust slip out lo scal it up, as undelivered. [Exit
[JEROME speaking within. Enter DON JEROME and FERDINAND.
Jerome. What, I suppose, you have been serenading, too! Eh, disturbing some peaceable neighbourhood with villanous catgut, and lascivious piping! Out on't! you set your sister, here, a vile example; but I come to tell you, madam, that I'll suffer no more of these midnight incantations—these amorous orgies, that steal the senses in the hearing; as, they say, Egyptian embalmers serre mummies, extracting the brain through the ears: however, there's an end your frolics—Isaac Mendoza will be here presently, and to-morrow you shall marry him.
Louisa. Never, while I have life.
Ferd. Indeed, sir, I wonder how you can think of such a man for a son-in law.
Jerome. Sir, you are very kind, to favour me with your sentiments:-and pray, what is your objection to him?
Ferd. He is a Portuguese, in the first place.
Jerome. No such thing, boy; he has forsworn his country.
Louisa. He is a Jew.
Jerome. Another mistake: he has been a Christian these six weeks.
Ferd. Ay, he left his old religion for an estate, and has not had time to get a new one.
Louisa. But stands like a dead wall between church
and synagogue, or like the blank leaves between the Old and New Testament.
Jerome. Any thing more?
Ferd. But the most remarkable part of his character is, his passion for deceit and tricks of cunning.
Louisa. Though at the same time the fool predominates so much over the knave, that I am told he is generally the dupe of his own art.
Ferd. True; like an unskilful gunner, he usually misses his aim, and is hurt by the recoil of his own piece.
Jerome. Any thing more?
Louisa. To sum up all, he has the worst fault a husband can have-he's not my choice.
Jerome. But you are his; and choice on one side is sufficient. Two lovers should never meet in marriage. Be you sour as you please, he is sweet-tempered, and for your good fruit, there's nothing like ingrafting on a crab. Any thing more?
Louisa. I detest him as a lover, and shall ten times more as a husband.
Jerome. don't know that. Marriage generally makes, a great change-but, to cut the matter short, will you have him, or not?
Louisa. There is nothing else I could disobey you in.
Louisa. So much, that I will not fasten on him the regret of making an only daughter wretched.
Jerome. Very well, ma'am; then mark menever more will I see or converse with you till you return to
your duty. No reply! This and your chamber shall be your apartments ; I never will slir out, without leaving you under lock and key, and when I'm at home, no creature can approach you but through my . library. We'll try who can be most obstinate. Out of my sight!- there remain, till you know your duty.
[Pushes her out. Ferd. Surely, Sir, my sister's inclinations should be consulted in a matter of this kind, and some re; ard paid lo Don Antonio, being my particular friend.
Jerome. That, doubtless, is a very great recommendation. I certainly have not paid sufficient respect to it.
Ferd. There is not a man living I would sooner choose for a brother-in-law.
Jerome. Very possible; and if you happen to have e'er a sister, who is not at the same time a daughter of mine, I'm sure I shall have no objection to the relationship-but at present, if you please, we'll drop the subject.
Ferd. Nay, sir, 'tis only my regard for my sister makes me speak.
Jerome. Then pray, sir, in future, let your regard for your father make you hold your tongue.
Ferd. I have done, sir-I shall only add a wish, that you would reflect what at your age you would have felt, had you been crossed in your affection for the mother of her you are so severe to.
Jerome Why, I must confess I had a great affection for your mother's ducats, but that was all, boy. I married her for her fortune, and she took me in obe dience to her father, and a very happy couple we were. We never expected any love from one another, and so we vere never disappointed. If we grumbled a little now and then, it was soon over, for we were never fond enough to quarrel; and when the good woman died, why, why I had as lief she had lived, and I wish every widower in Seville could say the same. I shall now go and get the key of this dressing-room-0, good son, if you have any lecture in support of disohedience to give your sister, it must be brief; so make the best of your time , d'ye hear?
[Exit. Ferd. I fear, indeed, my friend Antonio has little to hope for: however, Louisa has firmness, and my father's anger will probably only increase her affection. In our intercourse with the world, it is natural for us to dislike those who are innocently the cause of our distress; but in the heart's attachment, a woman never likes a man with ardour till she has suf fered for his sake. [Noise.] Soh! what bustle is here!
between my father and the Duenna , too. I'll e'cn get out of the way.
[Exit. Enter Don JEROME with a Letter, pulling
in the DUENNA. Jerome. I'm astonish'd! I'm thunderstruck! here's treachery and conspiracy with a vengeance! You , Antonio's creature, and chief manager of this plot for my daughter's eloping !-you, that I placed here as a scarecrow?
Jerome. A scarecrow-to prove a decoy-duck! What have you to say for yourself?
Duenna. Well, Sir, since you have forced that letter from me, and discovered my real sentiments, I scorn to renounce them, I am Antonio's friend, and it was my intention that your daughter should have served you as all such old tyrannical sots should be served. I delight in the tender passions, and would befriend all under their influence,
Jerome. The tender passions! yes, they would become those impenetrable features! Why, tbou deceitful hag! I placed thee as a guard to the rich blossoms of my daughter's beauty. I thought that dragon's front of thine would cry aloof to the sons of gallantry : steel-traps and spring-guns seemed writ in
every wrinkle of it. But you shall quit my house this instant. The tender passions, indeed! Go, thou wanton Syhil, thou amoro126 woman of Endor, go!
Duenna. You base, scurrilous, old—but I won't demean myself by naming what you are. Yes, savage, I'll leave your den; but I suppose you don't mean to delain my apparel. I may have my things, I presume?
Jerome. I took you, mistress, with your wardrobe on. What have you pilfered, eh?
Duenna. Sir, I must take leave of my mistress; she has valuables of mine; besides, my cardinal and veil are in her room.
Jerome. Your veil, forsooth! What, do you dread