THE WONDER:

A COMEDY,

IN FIVE ACTS.

BY MRS. CENTLIVRE.

REMARKS.

THIS ingenious comedy was first acted at Drury Lane in 1714, and is still a favourite. A more lively delineation of jealousy is scarcely to be found on the stage than in the well-drawn character of Don Felix, whose love quarrel with Violante is well sustained. In 1757, Mr. Garrick added to his reputation by the revival of this play, in which he was eminently successful as Don Felix ; and in this character closed his career of histrionic glory, on the 10th June, 1776, on which interesting occasion he delivered a farewell, in language with which we shall embellish the present page. "Ladies and Gentlemen,

"It has been customary with persons, under my circumstances, to address you in a farewell Epilogue. I had the same intention, and turned my thoughts that way; but I found myself then as incapable of writing such an Epilogue, as I should be now of speaking it.

"The jingle of rhyme, and the language of fiction, would but ill suit my present feelings.

"This is to me a very awful moment: it is no less than parting for ever with those, from whom I have received the greatest kindness, and upon the spot where that kindness and your favours were enjoyed.

“Whatever may be the changes of my future life, the deepest impression of your kindness will always remain here-here in my heart, fixed and unalterable.

"I will very readily agree to my successors having more skill and ability for their station than I have had: but I defy them all to take more uninterrupted pains for your favour, or to be more truly sensible of it, than is your grateful humble servant."

Mrs. Yates, Mrs. Crawford, Mrs. Abington, Mrs. Pope, and Mrs. Jordan, "though last, not least," have successively added to their celebrity, in the heroine.

The original hint of the Wonder was probably derived from some one of the old Spanish Romantic Novels, so much admired by the ladics at that period.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-A Street.

Enter DON LOPEZ, meeting FREDERIC.

Fred. My lord, Don Lopez.

Lop. How d'ye, Frederic?

to see you look so well, my lord; I hope Antonio's out of danger?

Lop. Quite the contrary; his fever increases, they tell me; and the surgeons are of opinion his wound is mortal.

Fred. Your son, Don Felix, is safe, I hope?
Lop. I hope so too; but they offer large re-

Fred. At your lordship's service. I am glad wards to apprehend him.

Fred. When heard your lordship from him? | Fred. Monstrous! These are the resolutions Lop. Not since he went. I forbade him writ- which destroy the comforts of matrimony-he ing till the public news gave him an account is rich and weil-born, powerful arguments of Antonio's health. Letters might be inter- indeed! Could I but add them to the friendcepted, and the place of his abode discovered; ship of Don Felix, what might I not hope? however, if Antonio dies, Felix shall for Eng- But a merchant and a grandee of Portugal are, land. You have been there; what sort of inconsistent namespeople are the English?

Fred. My lord, the English are by nature, what the ancient Romans were by discipline, courageous, bold, hardy, and in love with liberty. Liberty is the idol of the English, under whose banner all the nation enlists; give but the word for liberty, and straight more armed legions would appear, than France and Philip keep in constant pay.

Lop. I like their principles. Who does not wish for freedom in all degrees of life? though common prudence sometimes makes us act against it, as I am now obliged to do; for I intend to marry my daughter to Don Guzman, whom I expect from Holland every day, whither he went to take possession of a large estate left him by his uncle.

Fred. You will not, surely, sacrifice the lovely Isabella, to age, avarice, and a fool? pardon the expression, my lord; but my concern for your beauteous daughter transports me beyond that good manners which I ought to pay your lordship's presence.

Enter LISSARDO, in a riding-habit.
Lissardo! From whence came you?
Lis. That letter will inform you, Sir.
Fred. I hope your master's safe?

Lis. I left him so; I have another to deliver
which requires haste.-Your most humble
servant, Sir.
[Bowing.
Fred. To Violante, I suppose ?
Lis. The same.

[Exit.

Fred. [Reads.] Dear Frederic-The two chief blessings of this life are, a friend and a mistress; to be debarred the sight of those is not to live. I hear nothing of Antonio's death, and therefore resolve to venture to thy house this evening, impatient to see Violante, and embrace my friend. Yours, FELIX.

Pray Heaven, he comes undiscovered.—Ha! colonel Briton,

Enter COLONEL BRITON, in a riding-habit. Col. B. Frederic, I rejoice to see thee. Fred. What brought you to Lisbon, colonel? Lop. I can't deny the justness of the chaCol. B. La fortune de la guerre, as the French racter, Frederic; but you are not insensible say: I have commanded these three last years what I have suffered by these wars; and he in Spain, but my country has thought fit to has two things which render him very agree-strike up a peace, and give us good Protestants able to me for a son-in-law; he is rich, and leave to hope for Christian burial; so I rewell-born! as for his being a fool, I don't solved to take Lisbon in my way home. conceive how that can be any blot in a husband who is already possessed of a good estate. A poor fool, indeed, is a very scandalous thing; and so are your poor wits in my opinion, who have nothing to be vain of but the inside of their skulls. Now, for Don Guzman, I know I can rule him as I think fit: this is acting the politic part, Frederic, without which it is impossible to keep up the port of this life.

Fred. But have you no consideration for your daughter's welfare, my lord?

Lop. Is a husband of twenty thousand crowns a year no consideration? Now I think it a very good consideration.

Fred. One way, my lord. But what will the world say of such a match?

Lop. Sir, I value not the world a button. Fred. I cannot think your daughter can have any inclination for such a husband.

Lop. There I believe you are pretty much in the right, though it is a secret which I never had the curiosity to inquire into, nor I believe ever shall.-Inclination, quotha! Parents would have a fine time on't if they consulted their children's inclinations! No, no, Sir, it is not a father's business to follow his children's inclinations, till he makes himself a beggar.

Fred. But this is of another nature, my lord. Lop. Lookye, Sir, I resolve she shall marry Don Guzman the moment he arrives; though I could not govern my son, I will my daughter, I assure you.

Fred. This match, my lord, is more preposterous than that which you proposed to your son, from whence arose this fatal quarrel.Don Antonio's sister, Elvira, wanted beauty only, but Guzman every thing, but

Lop. Money-and that will purchase every thing; and so adieu. [Exit.

Fred. If you are not provided of a lodging, colonel, pray command my house while you stay.

Col. B. If I were sure I should not be troublesome, I would accept your offer, Frederic.

Fred. So far from trouble, colonel, I shall take it as a particular favour. What have we here?

Col. B. My footman. This is our country dress, you must know; which, for the honour of Scotland, I make all my servants wear.

Enter GIBBY, in a Highland dress. Gibby. What mun I de wi' the horses, and like yer honour? They will tack cauld gin they stand in the causey.

Fred. Oh, I'll take care of them. What, hoa! Vasquez!

Enter VASQUEZ.

Put those horses, which that honest fellow will show you, into my stable, do you hear, and feed them well.

Vas. Yes, Sir.- -Sir, by my master's orders, I am, Sir, your most obsequious, humble servant. Be pleased to lead the way.

Gibby. 'Sbleed, gang yer gate, Sir, and I sall follow ye: Ise ower hungry to feed on compliments. [Exit with VASQUEZ, Fred. Ha, ha! a comical fellow.--Well, how do you like our country, colonel?

Col. B. Why, faith, Frederic, a man might pass his time agreeably enough withinside of a nunnery; but to behold such troops of soft, plump, tender, melting, wishing, nay, willing girls too, through a damned grate, gives us Britons strong temptations to plunder. Ah, Frederic, your priests are wicked rogues; they immure beauty for their own proper use, and show it only to the laity to create desires,

268 and inflame accompts, that they may puchase pardons at a dearer rate.

Fred. I own wenching is something more difficult here than in England, where women's liberties are subservient to their inclinations, and husbands seem of no effect, but to take care of the children which their wives provide.

Col. B. And does restraint get the better of inclination with your women here? No, I'll be sworn not, even in fourscore. Don't I know the constitution of the Spanish ladies? Fred. And of all the ladies where you come, colonel; you were ever a man of gallantry.

Col. B. Ah, Frederic, the kirk half starves us Scotsmen. We are kept so sharp at home, that we feed like cannibals abroad. Harkye, hast thou never a pretty acquaintance now, that thou wouldst consign over to a friend for half an hour, ha?

Fred. Faith, colonel, I am the worst pimp in Christendom; you had better trust to your own luck; the women will soon find you out, I warrant you.

Col. B. Ay, but it is dangerous foraging in an enemy's country; and since I have some hopes of seeing my own again, I had rather purchase my pleasure, than run the hazard of a stiletto in my guts. Wilt thou recommend me to a wife then; one that is willing to exchange her moidores for English liberty? ha, friend?

Fred. She must be very handsome, I suppose?

Col. B. The handsomer the better-but

sure she has a nose.

Fred. Ay, ay, and some gold.

choose for yourself, I fancy matrimony would
be no such frightful thing to you.

Isa. You are pretty much in the right, Inis;
but to be forced into the arms of an idiot, who
has neither person to please the eye, sense to
charm the ear, nor generosity to supply those
defects!-Ah, Inis, what pleasant lives women
lead in England, where duty wears no fetter
but inclination. The custom of our country
enslaves us from our very cradles, first to our
parents, next to our husbands; and, when
Heaven is so kind to rid us of both these, our
brothers still usurp authority, and expect a
blind obedience from us : so that, maids,
wives, or widows, we are little better than
slaves to the tyrant, man; therefore, to avoid
their power, I resolve to cast myself into a
monastery.

Inis. That is, you'll cut your own throat, to
avoid another's doing it for you. Ah, Madam,
those eyes tell me you have no nun's flesh
A monastery, quotha! where
about you!
you'll wish yourself into the green sickness in
Isa. What care I? there will be no man to
plague me.

a month.

Inis. No, nor what's much worse, to please you neither-Odslife, Madam, you are the first woman that e'er despaired in a Christian country: were 1 in your place

Isa. Why, what would your wisdom do, if

you were?

Inis. I'd embark with the first fair wind with all my jewels, and seek my fortune on t'other beside the water; no shore can treat you worse than your one; there's never a father in Christendom should make me marry any man against my will.

Col. B. Oh, very much gold; I shall never be able to swallow the matrimonial pill, if it be not well gilded.

Fred. Pho, beauty will make it slide down nimbly.

Col. B. At first, perhaps, it may; but the second or third dose will choke me.-I confess, Frederic, women are the prettiest playthings in nature; but gold, substantial gold, gives 'em the air, the mien, the shape, the grace, and beauty of a goddess.

Fred. And has not gold the same divinity in their eyes, colonel?

Col. B. Too often

None marry now for love; no, that's a jest: The self-same bargain serves for wife and beast.

Fred. You are always gay, colonel. Come, shall we take a refreshing glass at my house, and consider what has been said?

Col. B. I have two or three compliments to discharge for some friends, and then I will wait on you with pleasure. Where do you

live?

Fred. At yon corner house with the green

rails.

Col. B. In the close of the evening I will endeavour to kiss your hand. Adieu. Fred. I shall expect you with impatience. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-A Room in DON LOPEZ's House.

Enter ISABELLA and INIS her maid.

Inis. For goodness' sake, Madam, where are you going in this pet?

Isa. Any where, to avoid matrimony; the thought of a husband is terrible to me.

Inis. Ay, of an old husband; but if you may

Isa. I am too great a coward to follow your advice: I must contrive some way to avoid Don Guzman, and yet stay in my own country.

to-morrow.

Isa. Ha! to-morrow!

Holland is worth twelve thousand crowns a
Lop. He writes me word, that his estate in
year; which, together with what he had be-
fore, will make thee the happiest wife in Lis-
bon.'

world. Oh, Sir! if I have any power in your
Isa. And the most unhappy woman in the
heart, if the tenderness of a father be not quite
extinct, hear me with patience.

Lop. No objection against the marriage, and
I will hear whatsoever thou hast to say.

Isa. That's torturing me on the rack, and forbidding me to groan; upon my knees, I claim the privilege of flesh and blood.

[Kneels.

Lop. I grant it, thou shalt have an arm full of flesh and blood to-morrow. Flesh and blood, quotha! Heaven forbid I should deny thee flesh and blood, my girl.

Inis. Here's an old dog for you! [Aside. Isa. Do not mistake, Sir; the fatal stroke which separates soul and body, is not more terrible to the thoughts of sinners, than the name of Guzman to my ear.

Lop. Puh, puh; you lie, you lie.

Isa. My frighted heart beats hard against my breast, as if it sought a passage to your feet, to beg you'd change your purpose.

Lop. A very pretty speech this; if it were turned into blank verse, it would serve for a tragedy. Why, thou hast more wit than thought thou hadst, child. I fancy this was all extempore; I don't believe thou didst ever think one word on't before.

Inis. Yes, but she has, my lord; for I have heard her say the same things a thousand times. Lop. How, how? What, do you top your second-hand jests upon your father, hussy, who knows better what's good for you than you do yourself? Remember, 'tis your duty to obey.

does not change; and any composition of the four-and-twenty letters, after the first essay, from the same hand, must be dull, except a bank-note, or a bill of exchange.

Vio. Thy taste is my aversion-[Reads.]

exiled from thee, this night shall bring me to thy My all that's charming, since life's not life arms. Frederic and thee are all I trust. These six weeks' absence, have been, in love's accompt, six hundred hours. When it is dark, expect the wonted signal at thy window; till when, adieu. Thine more than his own, FELIX.

Flora. Who would not have said as much to a lady of her beauty, and twenty thousand pounds? [Aside.]-Were I a man, methinks, I could have said a hundred finer things. Vio. What would you have said?

Flora. I would have compared your eyes to the stars, your teeth to ivory, your lips to coral, your neck to alabaster, your shape to

Vio. No more of your bombast; truth is the best eloquence in a lover.-What proof remains ungiven of his love? When his father threaten

Isa. [Rises.] I never disobeyed before, and wish I had not reason now; but nature has got the better of my duty, and makes me loatheed to disinherit him for refusing Don Antonio's the harsh commands you lay.

Lop. Ha, ha! very fine! Ha, ha!
Isa. Death itself would be welcome.
Lop. Are you sure of that?

Isa. I am your daughter, my lord, and can boast as strong a resolution as yourself; I'll die before I'll marry Guzman.

Lop. Say you so? I'll try that presently. [Draws.] Here, let me see with what dexterity you can breathe a vein now. [Offers her his sword.] The point is pretty sharp: 'twill do your business, I warrant you.

sister, from whence sprung this unhappy quarrel, did it shake his love for me? And now, though strict inquiry runs through every place, with large rewards to apprehend him, does he not venture all for me?

Flora. But you know, Madam, your father, Don Pedro, designs you for a nun-to be sure, you look very like a nun!-and says your grandfather left you your fortune upon that condition.

Vio. Not without my approbation, girl, when I come to one-and-twenty, as I am informed. But, however, I shall run the risk of that. Go, call in Lissardo.

Inis. Bless me, Sir, what do you mean, to put a sword into the hands of a desperate woman? Lop. Desperate! ha, ha, ha! you see how desperate she is. What, art thou frighted, lit-verbal questions. tle Bell? ha!

Isa. I confess I am startled at your morals, Sir.

Lop. Ay, ay, child, thou hadst better take the man, he'll hurt thee the least of the two.

Isa. I shall take neither, Sir; death has many doors, and when I can live no longer with pleasure, I shall find one to let him in at without your aid.

Lop. Say'st thou so, my dear Bell? Ods, I'm afraid thou art a little lunatic, Bell. I must take care of thee, child [Takes hold of her, and pulls a key out of his pocket.] I shall make bold to secure thee, my dear. I'll see if locks and bars can keep thee till Guzman comes. Go, get into your chamber.

[Locks her in.
There I'll your boasted resolution try,
And see who'll get the better, you or I.
[Exeunt.

ACT II.
SCENE 1.-A Room in DON PEDRO's House.
Enter VIOLANTE, reading a letter, and FLORA
following.

Flora. What, must that letter be read again? Vio. Yes, and again, and again, and again, a thousand times again; a letter from a faithful lover can never be read too often. it speaks such kind, such soft, such tender things

[Kisses it.

Flora. But always the same language.
Vio, It does not charm the less for that.
Flora. In my opinion, nothing charms that

Flora. Yes, Madam. Now for a thousand
[Aside, and exit.

Re-enter FLORA, with LISSARDO.
Vio. Well, and how do you do, Lissardo?
Lis. Ah, very weary, Madam.-Faith, thou
look'st wondrous pretty, Flora.

Vio. How came you?

[Apart to FLORA.

Lis. En chevalier, Madam, upon a hackney jade, which they told me formerly belonged to an English colonel. But I should have rather thought she had been bred a good Roman Catholic all her life-time; for she downed on her knees to every stock and stone we came along by.-My chops water for a kiss, they do, Flora.

[Apart to FLORA. Flora. You'd make one believe you are wondrous fond now. [Apart to LISSARDO. Vio. Where did you leave your master,? Lis. Odd, if I had you alone, housewife, I'd show you how fond I could be

[Apart to FLORA. Vio. Where did you leave your master? five miles off. He'll be at Don Frederic's in Lis. At a little farm-house, Madam, about the evening.-Odd, I will so revenge myself of those lips of thine. [Apart to FLORA.

Vio. Is he in health? Flora. Oh, you counterfeit wondrous well. [Apart to LISSARDO. Lis. No, every body knows I counterfeit very ill. [Apart to FLORA. Vio. How say you? Is Felix ill? What's his distemper? Ha!

Lis. A pies on't, I hate to be interrupted. [Aside.]- Love, Madam, love.-In short, Ma dam, I believe he has thought of nothing but

your ladyship ever since he left Lisbon. I am sure he could not, if I may judge of his heart by my own.. [Looks lovingly upon FLORA. Vio. How came you so well acquainted with your master's thoughts, Lissardo?

Lis. By infallible rule, Madam; words are the pictures of the mind, you know; now to prove he thinks of nothing but you, he talks of nothing but you-for example, Madam: coming from shooting t'other day with a brace of partridges," Lissardo," said he, "go bid the cook roast me these Violantes."-I flew into the kitchen, full of thoughts of thee, and cried, "Here roast me these Florellas." [TO FLORA. Flora. Ha, ha! excellent.-You mimic your master then, it seems. [TO LISSARDO. Lis. I can do every thing as well as my master, you little rogue [To FLORA.]—Another time, Madam, the priest came to make him a visit, he called out hastily, "Lissardo," said he, "bring a Violante for my father to sit on." Then he often mistook my name, Madam, and called me Violante; in short, heard it so often, that it became as familiar to me as my prayers.

Vio. You live very merrily, then, it seems. Lis. Oh, exceedingly merry, Madam. [Kisses FLORA's hand. Vio. Ha! exceeding merry. Had you treats and balls?

Lis. Oh! yes, yes Madam, several. Flora. You are mad, Lissardo; you don't mind what my lady says to you.

[Apart to LISSARDO. Vio. Ha! balls.-Is he so merry in my absence? [Aside.] And did your master dance, Lissardo?

Lis. Dance, Madam! where, Madam?
Vio. Why, at those balls you speak of.
Lis. Balls! what balls, Madam?

Vio. Why, sure you are in love, Lissardo; did not you say, but now, you had balls where you have been?

Lis. Balls, Madam! wash-balls, Ma'am. Odslife, I ask your pardon, Madam! I, I, I had mislaid some wash-balls of my master's, t'other day; and because I could not think where I had laid them just when he asked for them, he very fairly broke my head, Madam, and now it seems I can think of nothing else. Alas! he dance, Madam! No, no, poor gentleman, he is as melancholy as an unbraced drum.

Vio. Poor Felix! There, wear that ring for your master's sake, and let him know I shall be ready to receive him. [Exit. Lis. I shall, Madam.-[Puts on the ring.] Methinks a diamond ring is a vast addition to the little finger of a gentleman. [Admires his hand.

Flora. That ring must be mine. [Aside.]Well, Lissardo! what haste you make to pay off arrears now. Look how the fellow stands!

Lis. 'Egad, methinks I have a very pretty hand-and very white-and the shape! Faith, I never minded it so much before! In my opinion it is a very fine-shaped handand becomes a diamond ring as well as the first grandee's in Portugal.

Flora. The man's transported! Is this your love? This your impatience?

Lis. [Takes snu.] Now in my mind-I take snuff with a very jantee air-Well, I am persuaded I want nothing but a coach and a title to make me a very fine gentleman.

[Struts about.

Flora. Sweet Mr. Lissardo, [Courtesies.] if I may presume to speak to you, without affronting your little finger

Lis. Odso, Madam, I ask your pardon.—Is it to me or to the ring-you direct your discourse, Madam?

Flora. Madam, good lack! How much a diamond ring improves one!

Lis. Why, though I say it-I can carry myself as well as any body. But what wert thou going to say, child?

Flora. Why I was going to say, that I fancy you had best let me keep that ring; it will le a very pretty wedding ring, Lissardo; would it not?

Lis. Humph! Ah! But-but-but-I be lieve I sha'n't marry yet awhile. Flora. You sha'n't, you say?-Very well! I suppose you design that ring for Inis? Lis. No, no; I never bribe an old acquaintance.-Perhaps I might let it sparkle in the eyes of a stranger a little, till we come to a right understanding-but, then, like all other mortal things, it would return from whence it

Vio. Why do you keep Lissardo so long, Flora, when you don't know how soon my father may awake? His afternoon naps are never long

Flora. Had Don Felix been with her, she
would not have thought the time long. These
ladies consider nobody's wants but their own.
[Aside.

Vio. Go, go, let him out.
Flora. Yes, Madam.
Lis. I fly, Madam.

[Exeunt LISSARDO and FLORA. Vio. The day draws in, and night, the lover's friend, advances.-Night, more welcome than

the sun to me, because it brings my love.

Flora. [Within.] Ah, thieves, thieves! murder, murder!

Vio. [Shrieks.] Ah defend me, Heaven! what will be taken. do I hear? Felix is certainly pursued, and

Re-enter FLORA, running. How now! Why dost stare so? Answer me quickly; what's the matter?

Flora. Oh, Madam! as I was letting out Lissardo, a gentleman rushed between him and I, struck down my candle, and is bringing a dead person in his arms into our house.

Vio. Ha! a dead person! Heaven grant it does not prove my Felix.

Flora. Here they are, Madam.

Vio. I'll retire, till you discover the meaning of this accident. [Exit.