D. Lew. What do you think I have done? I have this deep head of mine has-disinherited my elder son, because his understanding is an honour to my family; and given it all to my younger, because he's a puppy-a puppy. Ant. Come, I guess at your meaning, brother. D. Lew. Do you so, sir? Why, then, I must tell you, flat and plain, my boy Charles must, and shall inherit it. Ant. I say no, unless Charles had a soul to value his fortune. What! he should manage eight thousand crowns a year out of the metaphysics? astronomy should look to my vineyards; Horace should buy off my wines; tragedy should kill my mutton; history should cut down my hay; Homer should get in my corn; Tityre tu patula look to my sheep; and geometry bring my harvest home! Hark you, brother, do you know what learning is? D. Lew. What if I don't, sir? I believe it's a fine thing, and that's enough-though I can speak no Greek, I love and honour the sound of it, and Charles speaks it loftily; E'gad, he thunders it out, sir: and let me tell you, sir, if you had ever the grace to have heard but six lines of Hesiod, or Homer, or Iliad, or any of the Greek poets, od's-heart! would have made your hair stand on end; sir, he has read such things in my hearing Ant. But did you understand them, brother? and the rogue does so whisk, and frisk, and sing, and dance her about! Odsbud, he plays like a greyhound. Noble Don Lewis, I am your humble servant. Come, what say you? Shall I prevail with you to settle some part of your estate upon young Clody. D. Lew. Clody! Cha. Aye, your nephew, Clody. D. Lew. Why, look you, I haʼnt much land to Ant. Come, let him have his way, sir; he's old and hasty; my estate's sufficient. How does your daughter, sir? Cha. Ripe, and ready, sir, like a blushing rose; she only waits for the pulling. Ant. Why, then, let to-morrow be the day. Cha. With all my heart; get you the writings ready, my girl shall be here in the morning. D. Lew. Hark you, sir, do you suppose my Charles shall Cha. Sir, I suppose nothing; what I'll do, I'll justify; what your brother does, let him answer. Ant. That I have already, sir, and so good morrow to your patience, brother. D. Lew. Sancho! [Exit ANTONIO. D. Lew. Fetch me some gunpowder-quickquick. San. Sir? D. Lew. Some gun-powder, I say—a barrelquickly-and, d'ye hear, three pennyworth of ratsbane; hey! aye, I'll blow up one, and poison the other. D. Lew. I tell you, no. What does that sig-Sau. Come, sir, I see what you would be at; nify! The very sound's sufficient comfort to an honest man. Ant. Fie, fie! I wonder you talk so, you that are old, and should understand. D. Lew. Should, sir! Yes, and do, sir. Sir, I'd have you to know, I have studied, I have run over history, poetry, philosophy. Ant. Yes, like a cat over a harpsichord, rare music-You have read catalogues, I believe. Come, come, brother, my younger boy is a fine gentleman. D. Lew. A sad dog-I'll buy a prettier fellow in a pennyworth of ginger-bread. Ant. What I propose, I'll do, sir, say you your pleasure-here comes one I must talk with-well, brother, what news? and if you dare take my advice, (I don't want wit at a pinch, sir) e'en let me try, if I can fire my master enough with the praises of the young lady, to make him rival his brother; that would blow them up, indeed, sir. D. Lew. Psha! impossible; he never spoke six words to any woman in his life, but his bed-maker. San. So much the better, sir; therefore, if he speaks at all, its the more likely to be out of the road. Hark, he rings!-I must wait upon him. [Ext SANCHO. D. Lew. These damned old rogues! I can't look my poor boy in the face: but come, Charles; let them go on; thou shalt not want money to buy thee books, yet-that old fool, thy father, and his young puppy, shall not share a groat of mine between them; nay, to plague them, I could find in my heart to fall sick in a pet, give thee my estate in a passion, and leave the world in a fury. [Exit. SCENE I. Enter ANTONIO and SANCHO. Ant. SIR, he shall have what's fit for him. Sun. No inheritance, sir! ACT II. Well, sir, in the first place, can you procure me a plentiful dinner for about fifty, within two hours? Your young master is to be married this morning; will that spur you, sir? Cook. Young master, sir! I wish your honour had given me a little more warning. Ant. Sir, you have as much as I had: I was not sure of it half an hour ago. Cook. Sir, I will try what I can do-hey, Pedro! Gusman! Come, stir, ho! [Exit Cook. Ant. Butler, open the cellar to all good fellows; if any man offers to sneak away sober, knock him down! [Exeunt. CARLOS alone in his study. [A noise of chopping within.] Car. What a perpetual noise these people make my head is broken with several noises, and in every corner. I have forgot to eat and sleep, with reading; all my faculties turn into study. What a misfortune 'tis in human nature, that the body will not live on that, which feeds the mind! How unprofitable a pleasure is eating!- -Sancho! San. No, sir, but he spits French like a mag pie, and that's more in fashion. Car. He steps before me there; I think I read it well enough to understand it; but, when I am to give it utterance, it quarrels with my tongue. Again that noise! Prithee tell me, Sancho, are there any princes to dine here? San. Some there are as happy as princes, sir; your brother's married to-day. Car. What of that? might not six dishes serve them? I never have but one, and eat of that but sparingly. San. Sir, all the country round is invited; not a dog that knows the house, but comes, too: all open, sir. Car. Prithee, who is it my brother marries? San. Old Charino's daughter, sir, the great heiress; a delicate creature; young, soft, smooth, fair, plump, and ripe as a cherry-and, they say, modest too. Car. That's strange; prithee, how do these modest women look? I never yet conversed with any but my own mother; to me, they ever were but shadows, seen and unregarded. San. Ah, would you saw this lady, sir! she would draw you farther than your Archimedes; she has a better secret than any's in Aristotle, if you studied for it. E'gad you'd find her the pret tiest natural philosopher to play with! Cur. Is she so fine a creature? San. Such eyes! such looks! such a pair of pretty plump, pouting lips! such softness in her voice! such music, too! and, when she smiles, such roguish dimples in her cheeks! such a clear skin! white neck, and, a little lower, such a pair of round, hard, heaving, what d'ye call-ums--ah } Car. Why, thou art in love, Sancho. San. Ay, so would you be, if you saw her, sir. my father make them? San. Only all his dirty land, sir, and makes your brother his sole heir. Car. Must I have nothing? San. Books in abundance; leave to study your eyes out, sir. Car. I'm the elder born, and have a title, though. Sun. No matter for that, sir, he'll have possession of the lady, too! Car. I wish him happy-he'll not inherit my httle understanding, too! San. Oh, sir, he's more a gentleman than to do that--Ods me, sir! sir, here comes the very iady, the bride, your sister that must be, and her father. Enter CHARINO and ANGELINA. Stand close; you'll both see and hear, sir. Car. I ne'er saw any yet so fair; such sweet 7 ness in her look! such modesty! If we may think the eye the window to the heart, she has a thousand treasured virtues there. San. So! the book is gone. [Aside. Cha. Come, prithee, put on a brisker look; ods-heart, dost thou think in conscience, that's fit for thy wedding-day? Ang. Sir, I wish it were not quite so sudden; a little time for farther thought, perhaps, had made it easier to me: to change for ever, is no trifle, sir. Car. A wonder! Cha. Look you, his fortune I have taken care of, and his person you have no exceptions to. What, in the name of Venus, would the girl have? Ang. I never said, of all the world I made him, sir, my choice: nay, though he be yours, I cannot say I am highly pleased with him, nor yet am averse; but I had rather welcome your commands and him, than disobedience. Cha. Oh, if that be all, madam, to make you easy, my commands are at your service. Ang. I have done with my objections, sir. Car. Such understanding in so soft a form! Happy happy brother! may he be happy, while I sit down in patience and alone! I have gazed too much-Reach me an Ovid. [Exeunt CARLOS and SANCHO. Cha. I say put on your best looks, hussy-for here he comes, faith. Enter CLODIO. Ah, my dear Clody! Enter ANTONIO, DON LEWIS, and Lawyer. Ant. Well said, Clody! my noble brother, welcome! my fair daughter, I give you joy! Clo. And so will I, too, sir. Allons! Vivons! Chantons, dansons! Hey! L'autre jour, &c. and hasty: but he'll dine and be good company for all this. D. Lew. A strange lie, that. Clo. Ha, ha, ha! poor Testy, ha, ha! D. Lew. Don't laugh, my dear rogue, prithee, don't laugh now; faith, I shall break thy head, if thou dost. Clo. Gad so! why, then, I find you are angry at me, dear uncle! D. Lew. Angry at thee, hey puppy! Why, what?what dost thou see in that lovely hatchet face of thine, that is worth my being out of humour at? Blood and fire, ye dog! get out of my sight, or Ant. Nay, brother, this is too far D. Lew. Angry at him! a son of a-son's son of a whore! Cha. Ha, ha! poor peevish D. Lew. I'd fain have some body poison him. [To himself.] Ah, that sweet creature! Must this fair flower be cropped to stick up in a piece of rascally earthen ware? I must speak to her Puppy, stand out of my way. Clo. Ha, ha! ay, now for it. D. Lew. [To ANGELINA.] Ah! ah! ah! Madam-I pity you; you're a lovely young creature, and ought to have a handsome man yoked to you, one of understanding, too;—I am Sorry to say it, but this fellow's skull's extremely thick-he can never get any thing but muffs and snuff-boxes; or, say, he should have a thing shaped like a child, you can make nothing of it but a tailor. Clo. Odds me! why, you are testy, my dear uncle. D. Lew. Will nobody take that troublesome dog out of my sight-I cannot stay where he is I'll go see my poor boy Charles--I've disturbed you, madam; your humble servant. Ant. You'll come again, and drink the bride's health, brother? D. Lew. That lady's health I may; and, if she'll give me leave, perhaps sit by her at table, too. Clo. Ha, ha! bye, nuncle. [Exit D. LEWIS. Ang. An odd-humoured gentleman. Ant. Very odd indeed, child; I suppose, in pure spight, he'll make my son Charles his heir. Ang. Methinks I would not have a light head, [Sings and dances, &c. nor one laden with too much learning, as my faAnt. Well said again, boy. Sir, you and your ther says this Carlos is; sure there's something writings are welcome. What, my angry bro-hid in that gentleman's concern for him, that ther! nay, you must have your welcome, too, or we shall make but a flat feast on it. D. Lew. Sir, I am not welcome, nor I won't be welcome, nor no-body's welcome, and you are all a parcel of— Cha. What, sir? D. Lew. -Miserable wretches-sad dogs. Ant. Come, pray, sir, bear with him, he's old speaks him not so mere a log. Ant. Come, shall we go and seal, brother? The priest stays for us. When Carlos has signed the conveyance, as he shall presently, we'll then to the wedding, and so to dinner. Cha. With all my heart, sir. [Exeunt. SCENE II. CARLOS in his study, with DON LEWIS, and SANCHO. D. Lew. Nay, you are undone. Car. Your pleasure, sir? Ant. Nay, no great matter, child; only to Car. Then I must study, sir, to bear my for- put your name here a little, to this bit of parch tune. D. Lew. Have you no greater feeling? San. You were sensible of the great book, sir, when it fell upon your head; and won't the ruin of your fortune stir you? Car. Will he have my books, too? D. Lew. No, no; he has a book, a fine one, too, called 'The Gentleman's Recreation; or, The Secret Art of getting Sons and Daughters: such a creature! a beauty in folio! Would thou hadst her in thy study, Carlos, though it were but to new-clasp her! San. He has seen her, sir. San. He flung away his book, sir. D. Lew. Did he faith? would he had flung away his humour, too, and spoke to her. Car. Must my brother then have all ? San. All that your father has, sir. Car. And that fair creature, too? D. Lew. He have her, Charles! why would, would, that is -hey! Car. May not I see her, sometimes, and call her sister? I'll do her no wrong. D. Lew. I can't bear this! 'Sheart, I could cry for madness! Flesh and fire! do but speak to her, man. Car. I cannot, sir; her look requires something of that distant awe, words of that soft respect, and yet such force and meaning, too, that I should stand confounded to approach her, and yet I long to wish her joy. Oh, were I born to give it, too! D. Lew. Why, thou shalt wish her joy, boy; faith she is a good-humoured creature; she'll take it kindly. Car. Do you think so, uncle? D. Lew. I'll to her, and tell of you. Car. Do sir-Stay, uncle-will she not think me rude? I would not for the world offend her. D. Lew. 'Fend a fiddle-stick-let me aloneI'll-I'll Car. Nay, but, sir! dear uncle! [Exit DON LEWIS. Enter ANTONIO and the Lawyer, with a writing. Ant. Where's my son? Sun. There, sir, casting a figure what chopping children his brother shall have, and where he shall find a new father for himself. ment I think you write a reasonable good hand, Charles. Car. Pray, sir, to what use may it be? Ant. Only to pass your title in the land I have to your brother Clodio. Car. Is it no more, sir? Law. That's all, sir. Ant. No, no, 'tis nothing else; look you, you shall be provided for; you shall have what books you please, and your means shall come in without your care, and you shall always have a servant to wait on you. Car. Sir, I thank you; but if you please, I had rather sign it before the good company below; it being, sir, so frank a gift, 'twill be some small compliment to have done it be◄ fore the lady, too: there I shall sign it cheerfully, and wish my brother fortune. Ant. With all my heart, child; it is the same thing to me. Car. You'll excuse me, sir, if I make no great stay with you. Ant. Do as thou wilt; thou shalt do any thing thou hast a mind to. [Exeunt. San. Now has he undone himself for ever; ods-heart, I'll down into the cellar, and be stark drunk for anger. [Exit. SCENE III.-Changes to a dining-room: a large table spread. Enter CHARINO with ANGELINA, CLODIO, DON LEWIS, Ladies, Priests, and a Lawyer. Law. Come, let him bring his son's hand, and all's done. Are you ready, sir? Priest. Sir, I shall dispatch them presently, immediately; for, in truth, I am an hungry. Clo. Egad, I warrant you, the priest and I could both fall to without saying graceHa, you little rogue! what, you think it long too? Ang. I find no fault, sir; better things were well done, than done too hastily-Sir, you look melancholy. [TO DON LEWIS. D. Lew. Sweet-smelling blossom! Ah, that I had the gathering of thee: I would stick thee in the bosom of a pretty young fellow-Ah, thou hast missed a man (but that he is so bewitched to his study, and knows no other mistress than his mind) so far above this featherheaded puppy Ang. Can he talk, sir? D. Lew. Like an angel-to himself-the devil a word to a woman: his language is all upon the high business: to heaven, and heaven ly wonders, to nature, and her dark and secret causes. Ang. Does he speak so well there, sir? D. Lew. To admiration! Such curiosities! but he can't look a woman in the face; if he does, he blushes like fifteen. Ang. But a little conversation, methinksD. Lew. Why, so I think, too; but the boy's bewitched, and the devil can't bring him to it shall I try if I can get him to wish you joy? sir. Ang. I shall receive it as becomes his sister, Clo. Look, look, old Testy will fall in love by and by; he's hard at it, split me! Cha. Let him alone; she'll fetch him about, I warrant you. Clo. So, here my father comes! Now priest. Hey, my brother too! that's a wonder; broke like a spirit from his cell. Enter ANTONIO and CARLOS. D. Lew. Odso, here he is; that's he; a little inclining to the lean, or so, but his understanding's the fatter for it. Ant. Come, Carlos, 'twere your desire to see my fair daughter and the good company, and to seal before them all, and give your brother joy. Cha. He does well; I shall think the better of him as long as I live. Car. Is this the lady, sir? Ant. Ay, that's your sister, Charles. Car. Forbid it, love! [Aside.] Do you not think she'll grace our family? Ant. No doubt on it, sir. Clo. Come, come, will you D. Lew. Stand out of the way, puppy. [Interposing with his buck to CLODIO. Car. Whence is it, fair, that while I offer speech to you, my thoughts want words, my words their free and honest utterance? Why is it thus I tremble at your touch, and fear your frown, as would a frighted child the dreadful ightning? Yet should my dearest friend or brother dare to check my vain deluded wishes, Oh, I should turn, and tear him like an offended lion-Is this, can it, must it be in a sister's power? Clo. Come, come, will you sign, brother? Cur. O! if you know with what precipitated Car. Should I not thank her for so unmerited haste you hurry on a deed, that makes you blesa grace? Ant. Ay, and welcome, Charles. D. Lew. Now, my boy; give her a gentle twist by the finger; lay your lips softly, softly, close and plump to her. [Apart to CARLOS. Car. Pardon a stranger's freedom, lady[Salutes ANGELINA.] Dissolving softness! Oh, the drowning joy !-Happy, happy he, that sip eternally such nectar down, that, unconfined, may lave and wantou there in sateless draughts of ever-springing beauty!-But you, fair creature, share by far the higher joy; if, as I've read, (nay, now am sure) the sole delight of love lies only in the power to give. Ang. How near his thoughts agree with mine! this the mere scholar I was told of! [Aside.]— I find, sir, you have experienced love; you seem acquainted with the passion. Car. I've had indeed, a dead pale glimpse in theory, but never saw the enlivening light before. Ang. Ha, before! [Aside. Ant. Well, these are very fine compliments, Charles; but you say nothing to your brother yet. VOL. II. sed or miserable for ever, even yet, near as you to happiness, you'd find no danger in a moment's pause. are Clo. I say, will you sign, brother? Car. Away, I have no time for trifles! room for an elder brother. D. Lew. Why, did not I bid thee stand out of the way now? Ant. Ay, but this is trifling, Charles! Come, come, your hand, man. Car. Your pardon, sir, I cannot seal yet; had you only shewed me land, I had resigned it free, and proud to have bestowed it to your pleasure : 'tis care, 'tis dirt, and trouble: but you have opened to me such a treasure, such unimagined mines of solid joy, that I perceive my temper stubborn now, ev'n to a churlish avarice of love? -Heaven direct my fortune! Ant. And so you won't part with your title, sir Car. Sooner with my soul of reason, be a plant, a beast, a fish, a fly, and only make the number of things up, than yield one foot of land if she be tied to it. Cha. I don't like this; he talks oddly, me thinks. 2 G |