Don. Clara. Why else have I concealed myself under this disguise ?

Don. Louisa. Why, perhaps, because the dress becomes you; for you certainly don't intend to be a nun for life. Don. Clara. If, indeed, Ferdinand had not offended me so last night

Don. Louisa. Come, come, it was his fear of losing you made him so rash.

Don. Clara. Well, you may think me cruel, but I swear, if he were here this instant, I believe I should forgive him.

SONG

By him we love offended,
How soon our anger flies!
One day apart, 'tis ended;
Behold him, and it dies.

Last night, your roving brother,
Enraged, I bade depart;
And sure his rude presumption
Deserved to lose my heart.

Yet, were he now before me,
In spite of injured pride,
I fear my eyes would pardon

Before my tongue could chide.

Don. Louisa. I protest, Clara, I shall begin to think you are seriously resolved to enter on your probation. Don. Clara. And, seriously, I very much doubt whether the character of a nun would not become me best.

Don. Louisa. Why, to be sure, the character of a nun is a very becoming one at a masquerade; but no pretty woman, in her senses, ever thought of taking the veil for above a night.

Don. Clara. Yonder I see your Antonio is returned-I shall only interrupt you; ah, Louisa, with what happy eagerness you turn to look for him !

Enter DON ANTONIO

[Exit

Don Ant. Well, my Louisa, any news since I left you? Don. Louisa. None. The messenger is not yet returned from my father.

Don Ant. Well, I confess, I do not perceive what we are to expect from him.

Don. Louisa. I shall be easier, however, in having made the trial: I do not doubt your sincerity, Antonio; but there is a chilling air around poverty, that often kills affection, that was not nursed in it. If we would make love our household god, we had best secure him a comfortable roof.

SONG.-Don Antonio

How oft, Louisa, hast thou told,

(Nor wilt thou the fond boast disown,)
Thou wouldst not lose Antonio's love
To reign the partner of a throne.
And by those lips, that spoke so kind,
And by that hand, I've press'd to mine,
To be the lord of wealth and power,

By Heavens, I would not part with thine!

Then how, my soul, can we be poor,

Who own what kingdoms could not buy?
Of this true heart thou shalt be queen,
In serving thee, a monarch I.

Thus uncontroll'd, in mutual bliss,

I rich in love's exhaustless mine,

Do thou snatch treasures from my lips,
And I'll take kingdoms back from thine!

Enter MAID, with a letter

Don. Louisa. My father's answer, I suppose. Don Ant. My dearest Louisa, you may be assured that it contains nothing but threats and reproaches.

Don. Louisa. Let us see, however.-[Reads.] Dearest daughter, make your lover happy; you have my full consent to marry as your whim has chosen, but be sure come home and sup with your affectionate father.

Don Ant. You jest, Louisa !

Don. Louisa. [Gives him the letter.] Read! read!

Don Ant. 'Tis so, by Heavens ! Sure there must be some mistake; but that's none of our business.-Now, Louisa, you have no excuse for delay.

Don. Louisa. Shall we not then return and thank my father?

Don Ant. But first let the priest put it out of his power to recall his word.-I'll fly to procure one.

Don. Louisa. Nay, if you part with me again, perhaps you may lose me.

Don Ant. Come then-there is a friar of a neighbouring convent is my friend; you have already been diverted by the manners of a nunnery; let us see whether there is less hypocrisy among the holy fathers.

Don. Louisa. I'm afraid not, Antonio-for in religion, as in friendship, they who profess most are ever the least sincere.

Re-enter DONNA CLARA

[Exeunt

Don. Clara. So, yonder they go, as happy as a mutual and confessed affection can make them, while I am left in solitude. Heigho love may perhaps excuse the rashness of an elopement from one's friend, but I am sure nothing but the presence of the man we love can support it. Ha! what do I see! Ferdinand, as I live; how could he gain admission? By potent gold, I suppose, as Antonio did. How eager and disturbed he seems! He shall not know me as yet.

[Lets down her veil

Enter DON FERDINAND

Don Ferd. Yes, those were certainly they-my information was right.

[Going

Don. Clara. [Stops him.] Pray, signor, what is your business here?

Don Ferd. No matter-no matter ! -[Looks out.]

deed!

Oh, they stop.

Yes, that is the perfidious Clara in

Don. Clara. So, a jealous error-I'm glad to see him so moved.

[Aside Don Ferd. Her disguise can't conceal her-no, no, I know her too well.

Don. Clara. [Aside.] Wonderful discernment !-[Aloud.] But, signor

Don Ferd. Be quiet, good nun; don't tease me !-By Heavens, she leans upon his arm, hangs fondly on it! woman, woman!

Don. Clara. But, signor, who is it you want?

Don Ferd. Not you, not you, so pr'ythee don't tease me. Yet pray stay-gentle nun, was it not Donna Clara d' Almanza just parted from you?

Don. Clara. Clara d'Almanza, signor, is not yet out of the garden.

Don Ferd. Ay, ay, I knew I was right! And pray is not

that gentleman, now at the porch with her, Antonio d'Ercilla ?

Don. Clara. It is indeed, signor.

Don Ferd. So, so; now but one question morecan you inform me for what purpose they have gone away? Don. Clara. They are gone to be married, I believe. Don Ferd. Very well-enough. Now if I don't mar their wedding! [Exit

Don. Clara. [Unveils.] I thought jealousy had made lovers quick-sighted, but it has made mine blind. Louisa's story accounts to me for this error, and I am glad to find I have power enough over him to make him so unhappy. But why should not I be present at his surprise when undeceived? When he's through the porch, I'll follow him; and, perhaps, Louisa shall not singly be a bride.

SONG

Adieu, thou dreary pile, where never dies
The sullen echo of repentant sighs,

Ye sister mourners of each lonely cell,
Inured to hymns and sorrow, fare ye well!

For happier scenes I fly this darksome grove,
To saints a prison, but a tomb to love!

[Exit

SCENE IV.-A Court before the Priory

Enter ISAAC, crossing the stage, DON ANTONIO following Don Ant. What, my friend Isaac !

Isaac. What, Antonio! wish me joy! I have Louisa safe.

us.

Don Ant. Have you ? I wish you joy with all my soul. Isaac. Yes, I am come here to procure a priest to marry

Don Ant. So, then, we are both on the same errand; I am come to look for Father Paul.

Isaac. Ha! I am glad on 't-but, i' faith, he must tack me first; my love is waiting.

Don Ant. So is mine-I left her in the porch.

Isaac. Ay, but I am in haste to go back to Don Jerome. Don Ant. And so am I too.

Isaac. Well, perhaps he 'll save time, and marry us both

together or I'll be your father, and you shall be mine. Come along-but you 're obliged to me for all this. Don Ant. Yes, yes.

[Exeunt

SCENE V.-A Room in the Priory

FATHER PAUL, FATHER FRANCIS, FATHER AUGUSTINE, and other FRIARS, discovered at a table drinking

GLEE AND CHORUS

This bottle's the sun of our table,
His beams are rosy wine;
We, planets, that are not able
Without his help to shine.
Let mirth and glee abound!
You'll soon grow bright
With borrow'd light,

And shine as he goes round.

Paul. Brother Francis, toss the bottle about, and give me your toast.

Fran. Have we drunk the abbess of St. Ursuline?

Paul. Yes, yes: she was the last.

Fran. Then I'll give you the blue-eyed nun of St. Catharine's.

Paul. With all my heart.-[Drinks.] Pray, brother Augustine, were there any benefactions left in my absence ?

Aug. Don Juan Corduba has left a hundred ducats, to remember him in our masses.

Paul. Has he? let them be paid to our wine-merchant, and we 'll remember him in our cups, which will do just as well. Anything more?

Aug. Yes: Baptista, the rich miser, who died last week, has bequeathed us a thousand pistoles, and the silver lamp he used in his own chamber, to burn before the image of St. Anthony.

Paul. 'Twas well meant, but we 'll employ his money better-Baptista's bounty shall light the living, not the dead. St. Anthony is not afraid to be left in the dark, though he was.-[Knocking.] See who's there.

[FATHER FRANCIS goes to the door and opens it