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being gazed al? or are you afraid of your complexion ? Well, go, take your leave, and get your veil and cardinal! soh! you quit the house within these five minutes. In-in—quick! [Exit DUENNA.] Here was a precious plot of mischief! These are the comforts daughters bring us!
If a daughter you have, she's the plague of
your life; No peace shall you know, though you've buried your
wife: At twenty she mocks at the duty you taught her: O what a plague is an obstinate daughter!
Sighing and whining,
Dying and pining, what a plague is an obstinate daughter! When scarce in their teens, they have wit to perplex With letters and lovers for ever they vex us; While each still rejects the fair suitor you've brought
her: O what a plague is an obstinate daughter!
Wrangling and jangling,
Flouting and pouting, O what a plague is an obstinate daughter! Enter LOUISA, dressed as the DUENNA, with Car
dinal and Veil, seeming to cry. Jerome. This way, mistress, this way. What, I warrant, a tender parting! Soh! tears of turpentine down those deal cheeks. Ay, you may well hide your head. Yes, whine till your heart breaks; but I'll not hear one word of excuse—so you are right to be dumb. This way. [Pushing her out.]
[Exeunt. Enter DUENNA. Duenna. So, speed you well, sagacious Don Jerome! Oh, rare effects of passion and obstinacy! Now shall I try whether I can't play the fine lady as well as my mistress; and, if I succeed, I may be a fine
lady for the rest of my life. I'll lose no time to equip myself.
[Exit. SCENE IV.
The Court before Don JEROME's House.
Enter Don JEROME and Louisa.
Jerome. Come, mistress, there is your way. The world lies before you, so troop thou antiquated Eve, thou original sin. Hold , yonder is some fellow skulking; perhaps it is Antonio. Go to him, d'ye hear? and tell him to make you amends; and as he has got you turned away, tell him I say it is but just he should take you himself: go. [Exit Louisa.] Soh! I am rid of her, thank Heaven! and now I shall be able to keep my oath, and confine my daughter with better security
[Exit. SCENE V.-The Piazza.
Enter CLARA and her MAID.
Maid. But where , madam, is it you intend to go ?
Clara. Any where to avoid the selfish violence of my mother-in-law, and Ferdinand's insolent importunity.
Maid. Indeed, ma'am, since we have profited by Don Ferdinand's key, in making our escape , I think we had best find him , if it were only to thank him. Clara. No: he has offended me exceedingly.
[Retire. Enter LOUISA.
Louisa. So, I have succeeded in being turned out of doors—but how shall I find Antonio? I dare not inquire for him, for fear of being discovered. I would send to my friend Clara, but that I doubt her prudery would condemn me.
(Aparť. Maid. Then suppose, ma'am, you were to try if your friend Donna Louisa would not receive you?
[ Apart to CLARA.
Clara. No: her notions of filial duty are so severe, she would certainly betray me.
[Apart. Louisa. Clara is of a cold temper, and would think this step of mine highly forward.
[ Apart. Clara. Louisa's respect for her father is so great, she would not credit the unkindness of mine.[ Apart.
[LOUISA turns, and sees Clara and Maid. Louisa. Ha! who are those? Sure one is Clara. If it be, I'll trust her. Clara!
[ Advances. Clara. Louisa! and in masquerade, too!
Louisa. You will be more surprised when I tell you, that I have run away from my father.
Clara. Surprised , indeed! and I should certainly chide you most horridly, only that I have just run away from mine. Louisa. My dear Clara !
[Embrace. Clara. Dear sister truant! and whither are you going ?
Louisa. To find the man I love, to be sure. And, I presume , you would have no aversion to meet with
Clara. Indeed I should : he has behaved so ill to me, I don't believe I shall ever forgive him.
When sable night each drooping plant restoring,
Wept o'er the flowers her breath did cheer, As some sad widow o'er her babe deploring,
Wakes its beauty with a tear; When all did sleep, whose weary hearts did borrow
One hour from love and care to rest.
He vow'd he came to save me
Endless faith he swore;
But soon I chid him thence,
And he had press'd again,
Louisa. Well, for all this, I would have sent him to plead his pardon, but that I would not yet awhile have him know of my flight. And where do you hope to find protection?
Clara. The Lady Abbess of the convent of St. Catherine is a relation and kind friend of mine. I shall be secure with her, and you had best go thither with me.
Louisa. No; I am determined to find Antonio first; and, as I live, here comes the very man I will employ to seek him for me.
Ctura. Who'is he? he is a strange figure!
Louisa. Yes; that sweet creature is the man whom my father has fixed on for my husband.
Clara. And will you speak to him? Are you mad ?
Louisa. He is the fittest man in the world for my purpose; for, though I was to have married him tomorrow, he is the only man in Seville, who, I am sure, never saw me in his life.
Clara. And how do you know him?
Louisa. He arrived but yesterday, and he was shewn to me from the window, as he visited my father.
Clara. Well, I'll begone.
Louisa. Hold, my dear Clara : a thought has struck me.
Will you give me leave to borrow your name, as I see occasion?
Clara. It will but disgrace you-but use it as you please. Į dare not stay-[Going]—but, Louisa, if you should see your brother, be sure you don't inform him, that I have taken refuge with the Dame Prioș of the convent of St. Catherine, on the left haną side of the Piazza, which leads to the church of St, Anthony
Louisa. Ha! ha! ha! I'll be very particular in my directions where he may not find you. [Exeunt CLARA. and Maid), So! my swain, yonder, has done admiring himself, and draws nearer.
Enter Isaac and Carlos, Isaac with a
Isaac. [Looking in the Gluss ] I tell you, friend Carlos, I will please myself in the habit of my chin.
Carlos. But, my dear friend, how can you think to please a lady with such a face?
Isaac. Why, what's the matter with the face? I think it is a very engaging face; and, I am sure, a lady must have very little taste, who could dislike my beard. [Sees Louisa.] See now!—I'll die if here is not a little damsel struck with it already.
Louisa. Signior, are you disposed to oblige a lady who greatly wants your assistance ? [CInveils.
Isaac. Egad, a very pretty black-eyed girl! She has certainly taken a fancy to me, Carlos. First, ma'am, I must beg the favour of your name.
Louisa. So! it's well I am provided. [A side.] My name, Sir, is Donna Clara d'Almanza.
Isaac. What!-Don Guzman's daughter? i'faith, I just now heard she was missing.
Louisa. But sure, Sir, you have too much gallantry and honour to betray me, whose fault is love?
Isaac. So! a passion for me! Poor girl! Why, ma'am, as for betraying you, I don't see how I could get any thing by it; so you may rely on my honour; but as for your love, I am sorry your case is so desperate.
Louisa. Why so, Signior?
Isaac. Because I am positively engaged to another -an't I, Carlos?
Louisa. Nay, but hear me.
Isaac. No, no; what should I hear for? It is impossible for me to court you in an honourable way; and, for any thing else, if I were to comply now, I