Julio. [Returning.] Don Carlos? Yes, by all the sober gods of matrimony!-Why, what business, goodman gravity, canst thou have in Madrid-I understand you are married-quietly settled in your own pastures-father of a family, and the instructive companion of country vine dressers-ha! ha!

Car. "Tis false, by Heaven!-I have forsworn the country-left my family, and run away from my

wife.

Julio. Really! then matrimony has not totally destroyed thy free will.

Car, 'Tis with difficulty I have preserved it though; for women, thou knowest, are most unreasonable beings! as soon as I had exhausted my stock of love tales, which, with management, lasted beyond the honey-moon, madam grew sullen,-I found home dull, and amused myself with the pretty peasants of the neighbourhood- -Worse and worse!-we had nothing now but faintings, tears and hysterics for twenty-four honey-moons more.-So one morning I gave her in her sleep a farewell kiss, to comfort her when she should awake, and posted to Madrid; where, if it was not for the remembrance of the clog at my heel, I should bound o'er the regions of pleasure, with more spirit than a young Arabian on his mountains.

Julio. Do you find this clog no hindrance in affairs of gallantry?

Car. Not much.-In that house there-but, damn her, she's perfidious!-in that house is a woman of beauty, with pretensions to character and fortune, who devoted herself to my passion.

Julio. If she's perfidious, give her to the winds.

Car. Ah, but there is a rub, Julio, I have been a fool-a woman's fool!-In a state of intoxication, she wheedled me, or rather cheated me, out of a settlement.

Julio. Pho! is that

Car. Oh! but you know not its nature. A settlement of lands, that both honour and gratitude ought to have preserved sacred from such base alienation. In short, if I cannot recover them, I am a ruined

man.

Julio. Nay, this seems a worse clog than t'otherPoor Carlos! so bewived and be

Car. Pr'ythee, have compassion.

Enter a SERVANT, with a Letter to JULIO; he reads it, and then nods to the SERVANT, who exits.

Car. An appointment, I'll be sworn, by that air of mystery and satisfaction-come, be friendly, and communicate.

Julio. [Putting up the Letter.] You are married, Carlos; that's all I have to say-you are married.

Car. Pho! that's past long ago, and ought to be forgotten; but if a man does a foolish thing once, he'll hear of it all his life.

Julio. Ay, the time has been when thou might'st have been entrusted with such a dear secret,-when I might have opened the billet, and feasted thee with the sweet meandering strokes at the bottom, which form her name, when

Car. What, 'tis from a woman then?

Julio. It is.

Car. Handsome?

Julio. Hum-not absolutely handsome, but she'll pass, with one who has not had his taste spoiled bymatrimony.

Car. Malicious dog!-Is she young?

Julio. Under twenty-fair complexion, azure eyes, red lips, teeth of pearl, polished neck, fine turned shape, graceful

Car. Hold, Julio, if thou lov'st me!-Is it possible she can be so bewitching a creature?

Julio. 'Tis possible-though, to deal plainly, I

never saw her; but I love my own pleasure so well, that I could fancy all that, and ten times more.

Car. What star does she inhabit?

Julio. 'Faith, I know not; my orders are to be in waiting, at seven, at the Prado.

Car. Prado!-hey!-gad! can't you take me with you? for though I have forsworn the sex myself, and have done with them for ever, yet I may be of use to you, you know.

Julio. 'Faith, I can't see that-however, as you are a poor woe-begone married mortal, I'll have compassion, and suffer thee to come.

Car. Then I am a man again! Wife, avaunt! mistress, farewell!-At seven, you say?

Julio. Exactly.

Car. I'll meet thee at Philippi! [Exeunt, severally.

SCENE III.

A spacious Garden belonging to DON CESAR.

Enter MINETTE and INIS.

Min. There, will that do? My lady sent me to make her up a nosegay; these orange flowers are delicious, and this rose, how sweet!

Inis. Pho! what signifies wearing sweets in her bosom, unless they would sweeten her manners?—'tis amazing you can be so much at your ease; one might think your lady's tongue was a lute, and her morning scolds an agreeable serenade.

Min. So they are-Custom, you know. I have. been used to her music now these two years, and I don't believe I could relish my breakfast without it.

Inis. I would rather never break my fast, than do

it on such terms. What a difference between your mistress and mine! Donna Victoria is as much too gentle, as her cousin is too harsh.

Min. Ay, and you see what she gets by it; had she been more spirited, perhaps her husband would not have forsaken her ;-men enlisted under the matrimonial banner, like those under the king's, would be often tempted to run away from their colours, if fear did not keep them in dread of desertion.

Inis. If making a husband afraid is the way to keep him faithful, I believe your lady will be the happiest wife in Spain.

Min. Ha! ha! ha! how people may be deceived! -nay, how people are deceived!-but time will discover all things.

Inis. What! what, is there a secret in the business, Minette? if there is, hang time! let's have it directly.

Min. Now, if I dared but tell ye-lud! lud! how I could surprise ye!-

Inis. [Stopping her.] Don't go.

[Going.

Min. I must go; I am on the very brink of betraying my mistress, I must leave you—mercy upon me!-it rises like new bread.

all.

Inis. I hope it will choke

ye, if you stir till I know

Min. Will you never breathe a syllable?

Inis. Never.

Min. Will you strive to forget it the moment you have heard it?

Inis. I'll swear to myself forty times a-day to forget it.

Min. You are sure you will not let me stir from this spot till you know the whole ?

Inis. Not as far as a thrush hops.

Min. So! now, then, in one word,-here it goes. Though every body supposes my lady an arrant scold, she's no more a——

[Looking out.

Don Cæsar. [Without.] Out upon't! e-h-h! Min. Oh, St. Jerome !—here is her father, and his privy counsellor, Gasper. I can never communicate a secret in quiet. Well! come to my chamber, for, now my hand's in, you shall have the whole.—İ would not keep it another day, to be confidant to an infanta. [Exeunt.

Enter DON CÆSAR and Gasper.

Gasp. Take comfort, sir; take comfort.

Cæsar. Take it!—why, where the devil shall I find it? You may say, take physic, sir, or, take poison, sir--they are to be had; but what signifies bidding me take comfort, when I can neither buy it, beg it, nor steal it?

Gasp. But patience will bring it, sir.

Cæsar. "Tis false, sirrah.-Patience is a cheat, and the man that ranked her with the cardinal virtues was a fool.—I have had patience at bed and board these three long years, but the comfort she promised, has never called in with a civil how d'ye?

Gasp. Ay, sir, but you know the poets say that the twin sister and companion of comfort is good humour.-Now, if you would but drop that agreeable acidity, which is so conspicuous

Cæsar. Then let my daughter drop her perverse humour; 'tis a more certain bar to marriage than ugliness or folly; and will send me to my grave, at last, without male heirs. [Crying.] How many have laid siege to her! But that humour of hers, like the works of Gibraltar, no Spaniard can find pregnable.

Gasp. Ay, well-Troy held out but ten years— Let her once tell over her beads, unmarried, at fiveand-twenty, and, my life upon it, she ends the rosary, with a hearty prayer for a good husband.

Cæsar. What, d'ye expect me to wait till the horrors of old maidenism frighten her into civility? No, no;-I'll shut her up in a convent, marry myself,.