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Spa. For a Magnifico-a Don of dons.
A Prince-sups there to-night.
Lor. [Musing]

And for that knave,
That prison-prince, was all their jubilee?
So much the better! When the mask's torn

Twill make surprise the sharper; Shame,
more shame;

The rabble's laugh strike with a louder roar
Into their startled ears-
[To Spado]

Some paper, Sir.

That slave shall marry her!

They run to the net
Faster than scorn could drive them.
Let them run.

[He writes, reading at intervals. Spa. That's a love-letter-I know it, by his being so desperately puzzled. And I'm to be the minister of the tender passion-the Carrier-dove-Cupid's postmaster-general.

Lor. "I have abandoned,"-"Marry her,"-
"Five hundred crowns more" [He rises.
This-Signior Desperado, shall revenge me;
I'll make them all a sport, a common tale!
[He folds the Letter, addresses it, and

"To His Highness, the Prince de Pindemonté."
A sounding title, made to win the sex;
Fit bait for vanity.

[To Spado]

Take this with speed

[A distant sound of the Chorus is heard.]
He starts.]
How will Victoria bear
The sudden shames, the scorns, the miseries,
Of this wild wedlock; the companionship
Of the rude brawlers, gamblers, and loose

That then must make her world?
Her heart will break,
And she will perish; and my black revenge
Will thus have laid her beauty in the grave.
[Rising suddenly]—He shall not marry her.
[Calls]-Is Spado there?

[The Chorus is heard more distantly.
A Servant enters.

Serv. Signior, he's gone! He left the house on the spur.


Lor. My letter! 'twill ruin all !
Bring me my horse.
I will unmask the plot of my revenge;
And having saved her, sever the last link
That binds me to the world.

[He rushes out, the Chorus passing away.


SCENE I.-VENTOSO's House. A handsome Apartment; a beaufet with plate; a showy Chair in the centre. Servants are arranging the Room.

LEONORA glides in.

Leon. Grand preparations! All the dancers come!

To his palazza; if the Prince be gone, Follow to Count Ventoso's. [He drops his head on the Table]-Oh, Victoria! Spa. [Takes the Letter, peeps into it]-Oh, were Torrento here! but he is lost! "Five hundred crowns."-A draft on His High-The merriest fellow that e'er woke the night ness, no doubt. I'll draw a draught on him, With the sweet music of a lover's vows. too-a draught on his cellar. When the high [A low Symphony of Horns is heard contracting parties deal in loans, the ambas- without, which continues till the Song sadors have a right to their per centage. Oh, silver sounds! whence are ye? From the thrones,


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Such as that dark hour is bringing, my

The COUNTESS enters, followed by BERNARDO, with plate.

Coun. Bernardo, set those cups

on the

beaufet, These tankards in the middle. [She gazes] There's a sight!

Where are the covers? What's the man about? Must I do all the work with my own hands? [To another]-Bring out the bowl! Heaven knows for what you're fed. Bring out, I say, my mother's christening bowl. (Saints rest the time, I seldom left it dry.) Softly, Sir, China's not iron. Blockhead! by my life, I wish the world were peopled without men! (This night will kill me.) [To another]-Where's your master, knave? Ven.-[Entering exultingly.] Here, Countess! I have news for you,-the


He's the true Phoenix!-I have heard of him
Through all the 'Change,—a bird of Paradise!
A man of gold and silver! a true mine!
Lord of Calabria! I shall be a duke!
Why, he could buy the bank of Venice; sleep
Bedded on ingots; play at dice with gems,
Common as counters.-Prince de Pindemonté,
Next to the Italian throne!

Bern. [Entering, announces]-His Highness the Prince de Pindemonté. [The Septett begins. A train of Valets, richly dressed, enter. TORRENTO, magnificently Costumed, follows, and flings himself into the Chair; the Valets ranging themselves behind.]


Hail! to proud Palermo's city,

Fam'd for all that's rich and rare;
Fam'd for women, wise, yet pretty—
Miracles-as women are.

Fam'd for churches, without slumber;
Fam'd for statesmen above sale;
Fam'd for judges, no law lumber;
To the world's ninth wonder, hail!
Prince, to proud Palermo, hail!
[TORRENTO, reclining himself indolently.]
Tor. Bravo! bravissimo, superb. — Begone!
I'm weary of you. [The Singers retire.
Showy pictures, plate,

Tapestry.-Twill do. [Aside. [To Bernardo]-Pray, fellow, who are those, Bowing beside me?

[To an Attendant]-Carlo, bring my musk. Coun. [To Ventoso]-Address the Prince[Aside.

Not I, for all the world!
Coun. Stand forth, my Lord. - The Count
Ventoso, Prince.

Ven. Most mighty! most magnificent! Coun. The man's tongue-tied! [To Ventoso]-I will address his Highness. Aside. Thanks to the stars, Most noble, puissant, and illustrious Prince, Most glorious news! I dream'd of it last night; Whose virtues, dignities, and ancient birth, Saw golden showers, proud dames and cavaliers, This day both honour and eclipse our house. All silk and diamonds. Ven. Eclipse our house!


Signior Stefano

Well knows the name. I thought to tell you,


This new acquaintance asked himself to-night;
We must endure him; he's a gentleman,
Landed to-day from Naples, with a bond,
A debt of our late kinsman's, whose discharge
Would swallow half the estate.

I've done with trade.
I'll have no fellows, black as their own bales,
To meet my son-in-law. [Flourish of Music.
The Prince arrived!
You must receive his Highness with a speech;
Lay on the flattery thick; trumpet his name;
Your great men have great ears.

V'en. I make a speech!

I'd take a tiger by the beard as soon.
You'll entertain his Highness. I have aches,-
The night air's bad for agues. I'm asleep:
Cannot I steal away? I hate grandees!
I've had them on my books.


Here you must stay. [To a Servant]-Call in the singers.

Enter SINGers. She ranges them.

Now, as his Highness enters, sing the stave You sang for the King's entry. Sing it out; I'll have no whisperings for my money. [Flourish of Clarinets and Horns outside.] "His Highness the Prince de Pindemonte" is announced by successive, Servants outside.

[Attempting to harangue. Tor. [Half aside] Rival orators! Honour! This moment there are ten grandees Waiting, with each an heiress in his hand; I leave them to despair. The Emperor Offered me three archduchesses at once, With provinces for portions.-I declined. Ven. [Haranguing]-This day eclipse our house!


A Grand Signior! Tor. Aye, there's my whisker'd friend, the A brilliant spirit, spite of Mahomet, [Ottoman, The finest judge in Europe of champagneHe would have given his haram, wife and all. Ven. His wife!- -a wise old Turk.

[Aside, laughing. Tor. Where is the bride? Coun. She waits your Highness' bidding. Ven. [To the Countess] Listen, wife; No tyranny. She must not be compelled. [Aside. Coun. [To Ventoso aside]-Hold your wise tongue-if she's a child of mine, I'd make her wed a hippopotamus. [Exit. Ven. A hippopotamus! [Laughing]-Twixt son and wife

I might turn showman. Tor. [Advances towards a Picture] A noble picture, Count-a Tintoret? Ven. Some martyrdom, or marriage - all the same. Aside.

But Prince, my Titian,-worth its weight in Given to Lorenzo! [Aside, anxiously—Was gold. [Pointing to a Picture. Bernardo. [Announces]-The Signior Stefano. [He enters haugh'ily. Ste. So, Count, your servant! Use no ceremony.

A showy house.-Those brawling citizens Have blocked your gates. I fought my way; -'tis hot;

Here, lacquey, take my cloak.


it lost by chance? [To Tor.
Tor. [Exultingly]-Yes; by such chance
as hangs upon the die!
To me rich fortune! for this crystal round,
Like a bright lamp, first lit me to the shrine,
Where I have turned-idolater.
His stake!

Lost among gamblers! [Aside] Let me look
on't, Sir!

Now, where's your son-in law. [To Ventoso. I'll drive him from my heart. [Aside] Has His Highness' chair!


St. Anthony!-He'll see you.-'Tis the Prince.


Rise, bonest friend!
Would you be sent to the galleys? Here's
my wife-

Rise, if you'd keep your ears-She'll talk to


This is the wildest fellow of them all. [Aside.
The Countess! Prince.
Coun. [Leading in Victoria, veiled]-
Prince de Pindemonté,
This is the hand too honour'd—

Pindemonté !

A bold usurper.
Tor. 'Tis Leonora! I must talk her dumb,
Or else Torrento's name is on her lips,
And so my Princedom's vanished. [Aside.
[Affectedly, as Victoria approaches.]
'Tis an enchanted vision! Ha! she comes-
"There's music in her motion. All the air
Dances around her. Venus! There's a foot,
So light and delicate, that it should tread
Only on flowers, which, amorous of its touch,
Should sigh their souls out, proud of such
sweet death.

So glides upon her clouds the queen of Love!
So sovereign Juno won the heart of Jove.
Ste. [Aside]-A high-flown wooer! Now,
-that face! Oh, Heaven,
There's no similitude! Deceived - deceived-
No touch of the voice, no glance! I'll try him

Ere I have done with him.

it a name?

Tor. [Holds it playfully from her-Ste-
fano advances to him.]
Ste.[Sternly]-Give her the picture! What!
resist the wish

Told in the glistening of a fair maid's eye!
When I was young, I should have ranged
the earth,

Plung'd in the billows of the angry sea,
Defied the hungry desert, leap'd the moon!
Rather than see my lady's rosy lip
Pale with soliciting. Give her the picture.
[Stefano grasps it, and gives it to Victoria,
who retires, overwhelmed.

Vic. Lorenzo! cruel, faithless Lorenzo!

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Pardon, gracious Prince,
He's old, light-headed, is my guest to-night;
He knows your Highness well.
Know me? Impossible!

Betrayed, blown up. [Aside.

He know the Prince!

Out with him, husband.
I will spare his shame. [Aside.
Lady, some mercy! I am old, - and time,
That makes such havoc in a lady's cheek,
May cloud an old man's brains; I had mistook
Your Highness for a famous reprobate:
'Twas in Algiers;-be wore the turban then;
A gambling, fighting, roving, spendthrift knave,
Familiar with all jails. I'll lay my life,
He's deep this hour in knavery, plotting thick,
Countess, I'll be a duke! To drain some dotard's purse, beguile some

Tor. [To Victoria] Transcendent one!-
The countenance that would befit this shape,
Must be a miracle. Nay, envious veil!

[He lifts the Veil, and stands surprised. Coun. He's struck at once! [Aside to Count.


Ste. As sure as he's a prince-old Vanity.

[Aside. Or lead some ancient idiots by the ears, As easily as asses. And his name,

Tor. A. paragon of beauty! and alone?

Has she no sister-witchery?

Fit to be looked at


To the Countess. I think-'twas called-Torrento!


But a girl, a child,
Still at her sampler. Here's the heiress, Prince!
Tor. Then 'twas some cunning witch of Sicily,
Some chamberer, that winds her mistress' silk,
A bright-eyed gipsy with a silver tongue,
That won my serenades.

[Aside.[He Takes a Miniature from his bosom, and gazes on it.

'Tis beautiful!

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[Looking on Tor. Still unbang'd?

Ste. His time will come, my Prince.
Ven. [Aside to Countess] Torrento!
Can he be living? old Anselmo's son,
The rightful heir, whose coming thrusts us out
From title and estate?

Coun. [Aside, angrily, to Ventoso]—I know
he's dead,-
As deep as seas can drown him.

Signior Stefano,

Where is that varlet?
Tor. [Fixing his eye upon him] - Not
in Sicily.-

Ste. This sounds of Curiosity; beware!
Twas woman's sin in paradise.
And since-



Coun. 'Tis woman's privilege; 'tis the salt
of the earth.
Tor. He must be bribed.

from the scent;

I'll rhapsodize the fools.

Ven. There's a proud step, the frown of a

I'll lead them Poh! I'll be one next week! I'll learn the step!
I'll give as fierce a frown--as cool a stare;
[Aside. Look dignity with any duke alive.
I'll strut with all the blood of Charlemagne !
Coun. [Calling].


True, lady, by the roses on those lips,

Both man and woman would find life a waste, Must I stay here all night?

But for the cunning of-Curiosity!


Countess-your slave!

She's the world's witch, and through the world | What jewels would you choose to wear in

she runs,

The merriest masquer underneath the moon!
To beauties, languid from the last night's rout,
She comes with tresses loose, and shoulders

In morning shawls; and by their pillow sits,
Telling delicious tales of-lovers lost,
Fair rivals jilted, scandals, smuggled lace,


My noble father; there's a hunting lodge,
A trifling thing of fifty thousand crowns,
In my Calabrian woods. The toy is yours.
If you have friends who wish for pension,
Now is their time to ask.

Give me your ear.
[To Ventoso.
I made the Minister. [Aside]-Be what they


The hundredth Novel of the Great Unknown!
And then they smile, and rub their eyes, and Consuls, commissioners-east, west, north,
I will provide for them. Lead on, my Lord!
[A Dance his heard within.
Breathe sweet, ye flutes! Ye dancers, lightly


And wonder what's o'clock, then sink again;
And thus she sends the pretty fools to sleep.
She comes to ancient dames,—and stiff as steel,
In hood and stomacher, with snuff in hand,
She makes their rigid muscles gay with news
Of Doctors' Commons, matches broken off,
Blue-stocking frailties, cards, and ratafia;
And thus she gives them prattle for the day.
She sits by ancient politicians, bowed
As if a hundred years were on her back;
Then peering through her spectacles, she reads
A seeming journal, stuff'd with monstrous tales
Of Turks and Tartars; deep conspiracies,
(Born in the writer's brain;) of spots in the sun,
Pregnant with fearful wars. And so they shake
And hope they'll find the world all safe by morn
And thus she makes the world, both young

and old,

Bow down to sovereign CURIOSITY! Ste. The knave has spirit, fire, a tongue;


For life is rapture, when 'tis crown'd by love! [Ventoso leads. The Countess is handed by Torrento, who moves round her to the Music.

SCENE. II-A Saloon, decorated for a Fête, opening on the Garden, with a view of the Bay. Illuminated boats, fireworks, etc. The Dance has begun. Towards its close, TORRENTO, handing the CoUNTESS, with VENTOSO leading the way, enters. Tor. Magnificent! Incomparable! Superior to my friend the grand Signior's fêtes—to Naples-to the Tuileries-superb! But the goddess of the night! Where is your lovely daughter?

Coun. She will be here by-and-bye. Seek cunning for her, Bernardo.

Can it be he?-and yet, that countenance.


Coun. Your Highness sups with us?
have a dance;

A hurried thing. My daughter will return.
She's gone into the air-the night breeze stirs.
You'll honour us?
Tor. [Affectedly]-I'll follow you thro'
By Cupid's bow, by his empurpled wings,
By all his arrows-quiver'd in those eyes.
Coun. He's an angelic man!
[He leads her towards the Door.
Friend Stefano,
There's no ill blood; be gay; you'll come with

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[A Tumult is heard outside. The Dancers retire.]

Coun. What can be the meaning of all this noise? Street serenaders! Voices prodigiously high! Tor. But set in a prodigiously low key. A quarrel among the footmen.

[The Noise increases. Ven. They are breaking into the house. Worse and worse. [He hurries to the Door. Tor. [Listening]-It's more like breaking out of prison. A bravura of bars, with a running accompaniment of chains-linked sweetness [Lorenzo's voice heard long drawn out." outside, through the Clamour. The Count Lor. The Count will see me. Out of my way, scoundrelsshall see me. I will cut the throat of the first that stops me. [He bursts into the Saloon, forcing the Attendants before him. Coun. The Captain!-Insult. Ven. The Captain!-Bloodshed. Tor. The Captain!-(Ruin.)


[Aside. Aside. [Together.

Lor. Count, I come to-[Sees Torrento] By supper time.-I'll know the truth this night.-Oh! you here, Sir.-Give me my letter this [Aside-he goes. instant.


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Tor. What do you mean?—I have no let-hundred dozen of that guitar-scraper, that ter.-What, in the name of confusion, brings sighing Cavaliero, that pays me my wages now, you here? You'll destroy your own scheme. and be hanged to him. My master! [Sees Lorenzo, and runs out.

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Lor. All's safe, then. [Aside] · Count, I [TORRENTO glances over the Letter.] make no apology. I have come to render you Tor. "Five hundred crowns more."—[Aside] the most essential service;-to warn you, that Psha! contemptible! you are on the brink of disgrace,-that your family are about to be plunged into contempt, vexation and shame, that this marriage is-a mockery! and this Prince-an impostor!

Tor. An explosion! All's over—I have nothing to do but to make a run for it.-The door crowded.) [Aside]-Count, you can't believe this? You should know me better.

Lor. What devil owed me a grudge, when I wrote that letter.


Ven. I should like to see the inside of that paper, Sir.

Tor. Bad policy, that. [Aside] No, spare him. [In his ear] Merely a begging letter:"Pressure of the times-tax upon pipe-clay )— deficiency of shoes." Beginning, as usual, with Ven. Here's a discovery! An earthquake! sycophancy, and ending with supplication. Is this possible? [To Torrento]-Why, he Ven. [Peeping over his shoulder, reads] has not a word to say in his defence. No "Scoundrel!" A very original compliment. Prince!-Yet I thought I could not be mista- must see that letter. [He seizes it, and reads] ken, he was so monstrously impudent.-There "Scoundrel!" Nothing very sycophantic yet. was something in old Stefano's hints, after all, Lor. [Attempting to obtain the Letter]– Know you better! Sir, I don't choose to ex-Count, must insist. That letter is mine: tend my acquaintance in your line at present. written for the purpose of relieving you from The world is full of impostors ! all future trouble on this painful subject. Tor. Count, it is impossible. Private correspondence-seal of secrecy-tale of distress— [Reaching at the Letter

Coun. Can I believe my eyes! - He seems mightily cast down. [Looking at Torrento. Ven. Aye-cast) for transportation.

Ven. [Reads]-"Scoundrel!"—
Tor. Confound it! You have read that three

Tor. The girl's worth fighting for. I'll battle it out. [Aside. To Lorenzo]-Sir, my insulted honour scorns to defend itself but by times. my sword. Dare you draw?

Ven. [Reads]-"I am determined to take [He half draws his Sword. no further interest in Count Ventoso's family." Lor. [Bursting into a contemptuous Laugh] -Very proper; just what Count Ventoso wishes. Draw! and with you! Go, draw corks.-The Lor. There-there, read no more. devil take his impudence! Begone, Sir! was my entire object. [Interposing] Tear


Coun. There will be suicide; I shall faint. that letter. Tor. Countess, I respect your delicacy. Ven. [Reads]-"I have abandoned all per[Sheathes his Sword] You shall have proof sonal respect for that pedigree of fools." Phoirresistible of my rank and honour. You, Sir, Coun. Fools! A libel on the whole nobility. shall hear of me to-morrow. [To Lorenzo. Tor. The Captain's in a hopeful way. Lor. Count and Countess, I congratulate [Aside. you. This is true triumph! Leave the house. Ven. [Reads]-"No contempt can be too His rank and honour, ha, ha! He will not severe for the bloated vanity of the vulgar find a gentleman in the whole circuit of the| Mother ;-[He laughs, aside. island to vouch for his character, his property, Coun. Excellent! I like it extremely. Bloator his title. [As Torrento retires, Spado tot-ed! So, Sir, this is your doing. [Going up to ters in behind, Drunk, holding up a Letter. Lorenzo]-Bloated vanity! He deserves to be Spa. A letter, my Lord Count. [The At-racked-bastinadoed. Husband, throw that tendants attempt to hold him] Dog, would letter into the fire! you stop royal correspondence? would you rob Lor. Count, hear me; hear reason. Will the mail? Is the Prince de Pindemonte here? you be plundered and disgraced? Will you [Totters about] Keeps mighty good wine in his Palazza. I'll drink his health any time in the twenty-four hours. A letter for the Prince de Pindemonté.

Lor. Spado! [Rushes forward]—That's my letter, Sirrah.

Tor. Spado! [Seizes the Letter]—That's my letter.

have your family degraded, and your daughter duped? Read no more of that unfortunate letter.

Ven. I must have a line or two yet. [Reads]

"Or the inanity of that meagre compound of title and trade, the-ridiculous Father." [To Lorenzo]-Death and daggers, Sir! Is this all you have to say? What excuse? What reason? Out of my house! Inanity— meagre! Out, out! Go! [He tears the Letter] I'll bring an action! Title and trade! There is Ven. I wish they were all three looking the impostor. [Pointing to Lorenzo] — Out for it at the bottom of the deepest well in of the house, I say! Sicily. [Aside. Coun. Out of the house! Prince, let us leave

Coun. Horribly inebriated. We shall come at the truth at last.

Tor. Here, Count and Countess, is convin-him to himself. cing proof! his own letter,-for the fellow can Tor. His whole story is palpably a fable. write,-addressed to me! [Reads]--"To his -I think I have peppered the Hussar pretty Highness the Prince de Pindemonte." handsomely. Beat him by the odd trick at Spa. You the Prince-ha, ha! a prince of last; trumped the Captain's knave. [Aside. good fellows; always liked him. Worth a [Leading off the Countess towards the

1) Cond. mned.


1. The soldiers use pipe-clay to clean their regimentals

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