TRIO.

Louisa. Never may'st thou happy be,
If in aught thou'rt false to me.

Isaac. Never may he happy be.

If in aught he's false to thee.

Carlos. Never may I happy be,

If in aught I'm false to thee.
Louisa. Never may'st thou, &c.
Isaac. Never may he, &e..
Carlos. Never may, I, &c.

ACT. II.

SCENE I-A Library in DON JEROME's House.

Enter DON JEROME and ISAAC.

Jerome. Ha! ha! ha! Run away from her father! Has she given him the slip? Ha! ha! ha! Poor Don Guzman!

Isaac. Ay; and I am to conduct her to Antonio; by which means, you see, I shall hamper him so that he can give me no disturbance with your daughter. This is trap, isn't it? A nice stroke of cunning, eh?

Jerome. Excellent! excellent! Yes, yes, carry her to him; hamper him, by all means. Ha! ha! ha! poor Don Guzman! An old fool! imposed on by a girl!

Isaac. Nay, they have the cunning of serpents, that's the truth on't.

Jerome. Psha! they are cunning only when they have fools to deal with. Why don't my girl play me such a trick? Let her cunning overreach my caution, I say-eh, little Isaac !

Isaac. True, true; or let me see any of the sex make a fool of me. No, no, egad, little Solomon [as my aunt used to call me] understands tricking a little too well.

Jerome. Ay, but such a driveller as Don Guzman-

Isaac. And such a dupe as Antonio

Jerome. True, sure never were seen such a couple of credulous simpletons; but come, 'tis time you should see my daughter. You must carry on the siege by yourself, friend Isaac.

Isaac. Sir, you'll introduce

Jerome. No-I have sworn a solemn oath not to see or speak to her till she renounces her disobedience: win her to that, and she gains a father and a husband at once.

Isaac. 'Gad, 1 shall never be able to deal with her alone. Nothing keeps me in such awe as perfect beauty: now there is something consoling and encouraging in ugliness.

SONG.

Give Isaac the nymph who no beauty can boast,
But health and good-humour to make her his toast:
If straight, I don't mind whether slender or fat,
And six feet or four-we'll ne'er quarrel for that.
Whate'er her complexion, I vow I don't care;
If brown it is lasting, more pleasing if fair;
And though in her face I no dimples should see,
Let her smile, and each dell is a dimple to mc.
Let her locks be the reddest that ever were seen,
And her eyes may be e'en any colour but green;
Be they light, gray, or black, their lustre and hue,
I swear I've no choice, only let her have two.

'Tis true, I'd dispense with a throne on her back,
And white teeth, I own, are genteeler than black;
A little round chin, too, 's a beauty, I've heard;
But I only desire she may not have a beard.

Jerome. You will change your note, my friend, when you've seen Louisa.

Isaac. Oh, Don Jerome, the honour of your alli

ance

Jerome. Ay, but her beauty will affect you. She is, though I say it, who am her father, a very prodigy

*

There you will see features! with an eye like mine-yes, i'faith, there is a kind of wicked sparkling-something of a roguish brightness, that shews her to be my own. Isaac. Pretty rogue!

Jerome. Then, when she smiles, you'll see a little dimple in one cheek only; a beauty it is, certainly, yet you shall not say which is prettiest, the cheek with the dimple, or the cheek without.

Isaac. Pretty rogue!

Jerome. Then the roses on those cheeks are shaded with a sort of velvet down, that gives a delicacy to the glow of health.

Isaac. Pretty rogue!

Jerome. Her skin pure dimity, yet more fair, being spangled here and there with a golden freckle.

Isaac. Charming pretty rogue! Pray how is the tone of her voice?

Jerome. Remarkably pleasing-but if you could prevail on her to sing, you would be enchanted. She is a nightingale-a Virginia nightingale-but come, come; her maid shall conduct you to her antichamber. Isaac. Well, egad, I'll pluck up resolution, and meet her frowns intrepidly.

Jerome. Ay! woo her briskly-win her, and give me a proof of your address, my little Solomon.

Isaac. But hold-I expect my friend Carlos to call on me here. If he comes, will you send him to me? Jerome. I will. Lauretta, come-she'll shew you to the room. What! do you droop? here's a mournful face to make love with! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-LOUISA's Dressing-Room.

Enter MAID and ISAAC.

Maid. Sir, my mistress will wait on you presently. Isaac. When she's at leisure-dont hurry her.[Exit MAID.] I wish I had ever practised a love-scene!-I doubt I shall make a poor figure. I couldn't be more afraid, if I was going before the Inquisition. So! the door opens-yes, she's coming-the very rustling of her silk has a disdainful sound

Enter DUENNA, dressed as Louisa:

Now dar'n't I look round, for the soul of me:-her beauty will certainly strike me dumb, if I do. I wish she'd speak first.

Duenna. Sir, I attend your pleasure.

Isaac. So! the ice is broke, and a pretty civil beginning, too! Hem! madam-miss-I'm all attention. Duenna. Nay, Sir, 'tis I who should listen, and you propose.

Isaac. Egad, this isn't so disdainful neither. I believe I may venture to look. No I dar'n't—one glance of those roguish sparklers would fix me again.

Duenna. You seem thoughtful, Sir. Let me persuade you to sit down.

Isaac. So, so; she mollifies apace-she's struck with my figure! This attitude has had its effect. Duenna. Come, Sir, here's a chair.

Isaac. Madam, the greatness of your goodness overpowers me. That a lady so lovely should deign to turn her beauteous eyes on me so

[She takes his hand-he turns and sees her. Duenna. You seem surprised at my condescen

sion.

Isaac. Why, yes, madam, I am a little surprised at it. Zounds! this can never be Louisa :-she's as old as my mother!

[Aside. Duenna. But former prepossessions give way to my papa's commands.

Isaac. [Aside.] Her papa! Yes, 'tis she, then Lord! Lord! how blind some parents are!

Duenna. Signior Isaac.

Isaac. Truly, the little damsel was right:-she has rather a matronly air, indeed! Ah! 'tis well my affections are fixed on her fortune, and not her person. Duenna. Signior, won't you sit? [She sits.

Isaac. Pardon me, madam; I have scarce recovered my astonishment at-your condescension, madam. She has the devil's own dimples, to be sure![A side. Duenna. I do not wonder, Sir, that you are surprised

at my affability. I own, Signior, that I was vastly prepossessed against you, and being teased by my papa, I did give some encouragement to Antonio; but then, Sir, you were described to me as quite a different

person.

Isaac. Ay, and so were you to me, upon my soul,

madam.

Duenna. But when I saw you, I was never more struck in my life.

Isaac. That was just my case too, madam: I was struck all on a heap, for my part.

Duenna. Well, Sir, I see our misapprehension has been mutual. You expected to find me haughty and averse, and I was taught to believe you a little, black, snub-nosed fellow, without person, manners, or address. Isaac. Egad, I wish she had answered her picture as well!

Duenna. But, Sir, your air is noble-something so liberal in your carriage, with so penetrating an eye, and so bewitching a smile!

Isaac. Egad, now I look at her again, I don't think she is so ugly.

Duenna. So little like a Jew, and so much like a gentleman!

Isaac. Well, certainly there is something pleasing in the tone of her voice.

Duenna. You will pardon this breach of decorum in praising you thus; but my joy at being so agreeably deceived has given me such a flow of spirits!

Isaac. O, dear lady, may I thank those dear lips for this goodness? [Kisses her.] Why, she has a pretty sort of velvet down, that's the truth on't! [Aside.

Duenna. O Sir, you have the most insinuating manner; but indeed you should get rid of that odious beard -one might as well kiss a hedge-hog.

Isaac. Yes, ma'am the razor wouldn't be amissfor either of us, [Aside.] Could you favour me with a song?

Duenna. Willingly, Sir, though I am rather hoarse. -Ahem! [Begins to sing.