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Louisa. Yes; that sweet creature is the man whom my father has fixed on for my husband. Clara. And will you speak to him? Are you mad?

Louisa. He is the fittest man in the world for my purpose; for, though I was to have married him to-morrow, he is the only man in Seville, who, I am sure, never saw me in his life.

Clara. And how do you know him?

Louisa. So, I have succeeded in being turned out of doors-but how shall I find Antonio? I dare not inquire for him, for fear of being discovered. Louisa. He arrived but yesterday, and he was I would send to my friend Clara, but that I doubt shown to me from the window, as he visited my her prudery would condemn me. father. [Apart. Maid. Then suppose, ma'am, you were to try if Clara. Well, I'll begone. your friend, Donna Louisa, would not receive you? Louisa. Hold, my dear Clara: a thought has [Apart to CLARA. struck me. Will you give me leave to borrow your Clara. No: her notions of filial duty are so sename, as I see occasion? vere, she would certainly betray me. [Apart. Clara. It will but disgrace you-but use it as Louisa. Clara is of a cold temper, and would you please. I dare not stay-[Going]-but, think this step of mine highly forward. [Apart. Louisa, if you should see your brother, be sure you Clara. Louisa's respect for her father is so great, don't inform him that I have taken refuge with the she would not credit the unkindness of mine. [Apart. Dame Prior of the convent of St. Catherine, on the [LOUISA turns, and sees CLARA and Maid. left hand side of the Piazza, which leads to the Louisa. Ha! who are those? Sure one is Clara. church of St. Anthony. If it be, I'll trust her. Clara! [Advances. Clara. Louisa! and in masquerade, too! Louisa. You will be more surprised when I tell you, that I have run away from my father.

Clara. Surprised, indeed! and I should certainly chide you most horridly, only that I have just run away from mine.

Louisa. My dear Clara! [Embrace. Clara. Dear sister truant! and whither are you going?

Louisa. To find the man I love, to be sure. And, I presume, you would have no aversion to meet with my brother?

Clara. Indeed I should: he has behaved so ill to me, I don't believe I shall ever forgive him.

AIR.-CLARA.

When sable night, each drooping plant restoring,
Wept o'er the flowers her breath did cheer,
As some sad widow, o'er her babe deploring,
Wakes its beauty with a tear;

When all did sleep, whose weary hearts did borrow
One hour from love and care to rest,

Lo! as I press'd my couch in silent sorrow,
My lover caught me to his breast:

He vow'd he came to save me
From those who would enslave me!
Then kneeling,

Kisses stealing,

Endless faith he swore;

But soon I chid him thence,

For had his fond pretence
Obtain'd one favour then,
And he had press'd again,

I fear'd my treacherous heart might grant him more.

Louisa. Well, for all this, I would have sent him to plead his pardon, but that I would not yet awhile have him know of my flight. And where do you hope to find protection?

Clara. The Lady Abbess of the convent of St. Catherine is a relation and kind friend of mine. I shall be secure with her, and you had best go thither with me.

Louisa. No; I am determined to find Antonio first; and, as I live, here comes the very man I will employ to seek him for me.

Clara. Who is he? he's a strange figure!

Louisa. Ha! ha! ha! I'll be very particular in my directions where he may not find you. [Exeunt CLARA and Maid.] So! my swain, yonder has done admiring himself, and draws nearer. [Retires. Enter ISAAC and CARLOS, ISAAC with a pocket-glass.

Isaac. [Looking in the glass.] I tell you, friend
Carlos, I will please myself in the habit of my chin.
to please a lady with such a face?
Carlos. But, my dear friend, how can you think

Isaac. Why, what's the matter with the face? I think it is a very engaging face; and, I am sure, a lady must have very little taste, who could disif here is not a little damsel struck with it already. like my beard. [Sees LOUISA.] See now!-I'll die

Louisa. Signior, are you disposed to oblige a lady, who greatly wants your assistance? [Unveils.

Isaac. Egad, a very pretty black-eyed girl! She has certainly taken a fancy to me, Carlos. First, ma'am, I must beg the favour of your name.

Louisa. So! it's well I am provided. [Aside.] My name, sir, is Donna Clara d'Almanza.

Isaac. What!-Don Guzman's daughter? I'faith I just now heard she was missing.

Louisa. But sure, sir, you have too much gallantry and honour to betray me, whose fault is love?

Isaac. So! a passion for me! Poor girl! Why, ma'am, as for betraying you, I don't see how I could get anything by it; so you may rely on my honour; but as for your love, I am sorry your case is so desperate.

Louisa. Why so, signior?

Isaac. Because I am positively engaged to another-an't I, Carlos?

Louisa. Nay, but hear me.

Isaac. No, no; what should I hear for? It is impossible for me to court you in an honourable way; and, for anything else, if I were to comply now, I suppose you have some ungrateful brother, or cousin, who would want to cut my throat for my civility: so, truly, you had best go home again.

Louisa. Odious wretch! [Aside.] But, good signior, it is Antonio d'Ercilla, on whose account I have eloped.

Isaac. How! what! It is not with me, then, that you are in love?

Louisa. No, indeed, it is not.

!

SCENE V.]

Isaac. Then you are a forward, impertinent simpleton, and I shall certainly acquaint your father. Louisa. Is this your gallantry?

Isaac. Yet, hold-Antonio d'Ercilla, did you say. Egad, I may make something of this-Antonio d'Ercilla?

Louisa. Yes; and if ever you hope to prosper in love, you will bring me to him.

Carlos,

Isaac. By St. Iago, and I will, too. this Antonio is one who rivals me (as I have heard) with Louisa. Now, if I could hamper him with this girl, I should have the field to myself. Eh, Carlos! A lucky thought, isn't it?

Carlos. Yes, very good-very good. Isaac. Ah! this little brain is never at a loss. Donna Clara, Cunning Isaac ! cunning rogue! will you trust yourself awhile to my friend's discretion?

Louisa. May I rely on you, good signior? Carlos. Lady, it is impossible I should deceive you.

AIR.

Had I a heart for falsehood framed,

I ne'er could injure you;

For though your tongue no promise claim'd,
Your charms would make me true.

To you no soul shall bear deceit,

No stranger offer wrong;

But friends in all the aged you'll meet,
And lovers in the young.

But when they learn that you have blest
Another with your heart,

They'll bid aspiring passions rest,
And act a brother's part.

Then, lady, dread not here deceit,

Nor fear to suffer wrong;

For friends in all the aged you'll meet,
And brothers in the young.

Isaac. Conduct the lady to my lodgings, Carlos: I must haste to Don Jerome. Perhaps you know Louisa, ma'am. She is divinely handsome, isn't she?

Louisa. You must excuse me not joining with

του.

Isaac. Why, I have heard it on all hands. Louisa. Her father is uncommonly partial to her; but I believe you will find she has rather a matronly air.

Isaac. Carlos, this is all envy: you pretty girls never speak well of one another. Hark ye, find out Antonio, and I'll saddle him with this scrape, I warrant! Oh, 'twas the luckiest thought! Donna Clara, your very obedient-Carlos, to your post.

Isaac.

DUET.

My mistress expects me, and I must to
her,

Or how can I hope for a smile?
Louisa. Soon may you return a prosperous wooer,
But think what I suffer the while:
Alone, and away from the man whom ]
love,

Isaac.

In strangers I'm forced to confide. Dear lady, my friend you may trust, and he'll prove,

Your servant, protector, and guide.

AIR-CARLOS.
Gentle maid, ah! why suspect me?
Let me serve thee-then reject me.

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Enter Don JEROME and ISAAC.

Jerome. Ha ha ha! Run away from her father! Has she given him the slip? Ha! ha! ha! Poor Don Guzinan!

Isaac. Ay; and I am to conduct her to Antonio; by which means, you see, I shall hamper him so that he can give me no disturbance with your daughter. This is trap, isn't it? A nice stroke of cunning, eh?

Jerome. Excellent! excellent! Yes, yes, carry Ha! ha! her to him; hamper him, by all means. ha! poor Don Guzman! An old fool! imposed on by a girl!

Isaac. Nay, they have the cunning of serpents, that's the truth on't.

Jerome. Psha! they are cunning only when ther have fools to deal with. Why don't my girl play me such a trick? Let her cunning overreach my caution, I say-eh! little Isaac !

Isaac. True, true; or let me see any of the sex No, no, egad, little Solomon make a fool of me. (as my aunt used to call me) understands tricking a little too well.

Jerome. Ay, but such a driveller as Don Guzman

Isaac. And such a dupe as Antonio

Jerome. True; sure never were seen such a 'tis couple of credulous simpletons; but come, time you should see my daughter. You must carry on the siege by yourself, friend Isaac.

Isaac. Sir, you'll introduce

Jerome. No-I have sworn a solemn oath not to see or speak to her till she renounces her disobedience: win her to that, and she gains a father and a husband at once.

Isaac. 'Gad, I shall never be able to deal with her alone. Nothing keeps me in such awe as perfect beauty; now there is something consoling and encouraging in ugliness.

SONG.

Give Isaac the nymph who no beauty can boast, But health and good-humour to make her his toast: If straight, I don't mind whether slender or fat, And six feet or four- we'll ne'er quarrel for that,

Whate'er her complexion, I vow I don't care;
If brown it is lasting, more pleasing if fair;
And though in her face I no dimples should see,
Let her smile, and each dell is a dimple to me.
Let her locks be the reddest that ever were seen,
And her eyes may be e'en any colour but green;
Be they light, gray, or black, their lustre and hue,
I swear I've no choice, only let her have two.

Tis true, I'd dispense with a throne on her back,
And white teeth, I own, are genteeler than black;
A little round chin, too, 's a beauty, I've heard;
But I only desire she may not have a beard.
Jereme. You will change your note, my friend,
when y've seen Louisa.

Isaac Oh, Don Jerome, the honour of your alliance-

Jerome. Ay, but her beauty will affect you. She is, though I say it, who am her father, a very prodigy. There you will see features! with an eye like mine--yes, i'faith, there is a kind of wicked sparkling-something of a roguish brightness, that shows her to be my own.

Isaac. Pretty rogue!

Jerome. Then, when she smiles, you'll see a little dimple in one cheek only; a beauty it is certainly, yet you shall not say which is prettiest, the cheek with the dimple or the cheek without. Isaac. Pretty rogue!

Jerome. Then the roses on those cheeks are

[ACT II.

Duenna. Sir, I attend your pleasure. Isaac. So the ice is broke, and a pretty civil beginning, too! Hem! madam-miss-1'm all attention.

Duenna. Nay, sir, 'tis I who should listen, and you propose.

believe I may venture to look. No-I dar'n't— Isaac. Egad, this isn't so disdainful, neither. I one glance of those roguish sparklers would fix me again.

Duenna. You seem thoughtful, sir. Let me persuade you to sit down.

Isuac. So, so; she mollifies apace-she's struck with my figure! This attitude has had its

effect.

Duenna. Come, sir, here's a chair.

Isaac. Madam, the greatness of your goodness overpowers me. That a lady so lovely should deign to turn her beauteous eyes on me so

[She takes his hand-he turns, and sees her. Duenna. You seem surprised at my condescension.

Isaac. Why, yes, madam, I am a little surprised at it. Zounds! this can never be Louisa :-she's as old as my mother! Duenna. But former prepossessions give way to [Aside. my papa's commands.

Isaac. [Aside.] Her papa! Yes, 'tis she, then. Lord! Lord! how blind some parents are! Duenna. Signior Isaac.

Isaac. Truly, the little damsel was right :-she

shaded with a sort of velvet down, that gives a de- has rather a matronly air, indeed! Ah. 'tis well licacy to the glow of health.

Isaac. Pretty rogue!

Jerome. Her skin pure dimity, yet more fair, being spangled here and there with a golden freckle. Isaac. Charming pretty rogue! Pray how is the tune of her voice?

Jerome. Remarkably pleasing-but if you could prevail on her to sing, you would be enchanted. She is a nightingale-a Virginia nightingale-but tome, come; her maid shall conduct you to her

ntechamber.

Isaac. Well, egad, I'll pluck up resolution, and neet her frowns intrepidly.

Jerome. Ay! woo her briskly-win her, and give me a proof of your address, my little

omon.

So

Isaac. But hold-I expect my friend Carlos to call on me here. If he comes, will you send him to me?

Jerome. I will. Lauretta, come-she'll show you to the room. What do you droop? here's a mournful face to make love with! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Louisa's Dressing-room.

Enter Maid and ISAAC.

Maid. Sir, my mistress will wait on you presently.

Isaac. When she's at leisure-don't hurry her. [Exit Maid.] I wish I had ever practised a love scene-I doubt I shall make a poor figure. I couldn't be more afraid, if I was going before the Inquisition. So! the door opens-yes, she's coming -the very rustling of her silk has a disdainful sound.

Enter Duenna, dressed as LOUISA.

Now dar'n't I look round, for the soul of me:-her beauty will certainly strike me dumb, if I do. I wish she'd speak first.

my affections are fixed on her fortune, and aot her person.

Duenna. Signior, won't you sit? Isaac. Pardon me, madam; I have scarce reco[She sits. vered my astonishment at-your condescension, madam. She has the devil's own dimples, to be [Aside.

sure!

Duenna. I do not wonder, sir, that you are sur

prised at my affability. I own, signior, that I was vastly prepossessed against you, and being teased Antonio; but then, sir, you were described to me by my papa, I did give some encouragement to as quite a different person.

Isaac. Ay, and so were you to me, upon my soul, madam.

Duenna. But when I saw you, I was never more struck in my life.

Isaac. That was just my case too, madam: I was struck all on a heap, for my part.

has been n.utual. You expected to find me haughty Duenna. Well, sir, I see our misapprehension and averse, and I was taught to believe you a little, black, snub-nosed fellow, without person, manners, or address.

Isaac. Egad, I wish she had answered her picture as well.

Duenna. But, sir, your air is noble-something so liberal in your carriage, with so penetrating an eye, and so bewitching a smile!

think she is so ugly.
Isaac. Egad, now I look at her again, I don't

Duenna. So little like a Jew, and so much like a gentleman!

Isaac. Well, certainly, there is something pleasing in the tone of her voice.

Duenna. You will pardon this breach of deso agreeably deceived has given me such a flow of corum in praising you thus; but my joy in being spirits!

Isaac. O, dear lady, may I thank those dear lips

for this goodness? [Kisses her.] Why, she has a pretty sort of velvet down, that's the truth on't!

[Aside. Duenna. O, sir, you have the most insinuating manner; but indeed you should get rid of that odious beard-one might as well kiss an hedgehog.

Isaac. Yes, ma'am, the razor wouldn't be amissfor either of us. [Aside.] Could you favour me with song?.

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Duenna. Well, sir, what's your determination Isaac. Madam, I was dumb only from rapture. I applaud your spirit, and joyfully close with your proposal; for which, thus let me on this lily hand express my gratitude.

Duenna. Well, sir, you must get my father's consent to walk with me in the garden. But by no means inform him of my kindness to you.

Duenna. Willingly, sir, though I am rather Isaac. No, to be sure; that would spoil all: but, hoarse.-Ahem! [Begins to sing. trust me, when tricking is the word-let me alone Isaac. Very like a Virginia nightingale! Ma'am, for a piece of cunning: this very day you shall be I perceive you're hoarse-I beg you will not dis-out of his power.

tress

sir.

Duenna. Well, I leave the management of it all

Duenna. Oh, not in the least distressed. Now to you. I perceive plainly, sir, that you are not

SONG.

When a tender maid

Is first assay'd

By some admiring swain,

How her blushes rise,
If she meets his eyes,
While he unfolds his pain!

If he takes her hand, she trembles quite;
Touch her lips, and she swoons outright,
While a pit-a-pat, &c.

Her heart avows her fright.

But in time appear
Fewer signs of fear,—

The youth she boldly views;
If her hand he grasps,

Or her bosom clasps,

No mantle blush ensues.

Then to church well pleased the lovers move,
While her smiles her contentment prove,
And a pit-a-pat, &c.
Her heart avows her love.

Isaac. Charming, ma'am! Enchanting! and, truly, your notes put me in mind of one that's very dear to me; a lady, indeed, whom you greatly

resemble !

Duenna. How! is there, then, another so dear

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mother I meant.

Duenna. Come, sir, I see you are amazed and confounded at my condescension, and know not what to say!

Isaac. It is very true, indeed, ma'am ; but it is a judgment, I look on it as a judgment on me, for delaying to urge the time when you'll permit me to complete my happiness, by acquainting Don Jerome with your condescension.

Duenna. Sir, I must frankly own to you, that I can never be yours with my papa's consent. Isaac. Good lack! how so?

Duenna. When my father in his passion, swore he would never see me again till I acquiesced in his will, I also made a row, that I would never take a husband from his hand: nothing shall make me break that oath: but, if you have spirit and contrivance enough to carry me off without his knowledge, I'm yours.

Isaac. Hum!

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one that can be easily outwitted.

Isaac. Egad, you're right, madam-you're right, i'faith.

Enter Maid.

Maid. Here's a gentleman at the door, who begs permission to speak with Signior Isaac.

Isaac. A friend of mine, ma'am, and a trusty friend-let him come in. [Exit Maid.] He is one to be depended ou, ma'am.

So, coz.

Enter CARLOS.

[Aside.

Carlos. I have left Donna Clara at your lodging -but can no where find Antonio.

Isaac. Well, I will search him out myself. Carlos, you rogue, I thrive, I prosper.

Carlos. Where is your mistress?

Isaac. There, you booby, there she stands. Carlos. Why, she's damned ugly! Isaac. Hush! [Stops his mouth, Duenna. What is your friend saying, signior? Isaac. Ob, ma'am, he is expressing his raptures saw before,-eb, at such charms as he never Carlos?

Carlos. Ay, such as I never saw before, indeed! Duenna. You are a very obliging gentleman. Well, Signior Isaac, I believe we had better part for the present. Remember our plan.

fixed as the image of those divine beauties. Adieu, Isaac. Oh, ma'am, it is written in my heart, idol of my soul!-yet once more permit me[Kisses her.

Duenna. Sweet, courteous sir, adieu! Isaac. Your slave eternally. Come, Carlos, say something civil at taking leave.

Carlos. I'faith, Isaac, she is the hardest woman to compliment I ever saw: however, I'll try some thing I had studied for the occasion.

SONG.

Ah sure a pair was never seen,

So justly form'd to meet by nature:
The youth excelling so in mien,
The maid in ev'ry grace of feature.
Oh, how happy are such lovers,
When kindred beauties each discovers!
For surely she

Was made for thee,
And thou to bless this lovely creature.

So mild your looks, your children thence
Will early learn the task of duty;
The boys with all their father's sense,
The girls with all their mother's beauty.

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JEROME and FERDINAND discovered. Jerome. Object to Antonio I have said it his poverty, can you acquit him of that?

Ferd. Sir, I own he is not over rich; but he is of as ancient and honourable a family as any in the kingdom.

Jerome. Yes, I know the beggars are a very ancient family in most kingdoms; but never in great repute, boy.

Ferd. Antonio, sir, has many amiable qualities. Jerome. But he is poor. Can you clear him of that, I say? Is he not a gay, dissipated rake, who has squandered his patrimony?

Ferd. Sir, he inherited but little; and that, his generosity, more than his profuseness, has stripped him of; but he has never sullied his honour, which, with his title, has outlived his means.

Jerome. She has her father's eyes.

Isaac. Truly, I should have guessed them to have been so. If she had her mother's spectacles, I believe she would not see the worse. [Aside. Jerome. Her aunt Ursula's nose, and her grandmother's forehead, to a hair.

Isaac. Ay, 'faith, and her grandfather's chin, to a hair. [Aside. Jerome. Well, if she was but as dutiful as she's handsome-and hark ye, friend Isaac, she is none of your made-up beauties-her charms are of the lasting kind.

Isaac. I'faith, so they should; for if she be but twenty now, she may double her age before her years will overtake her face.

Jerome. Why, zounds, Master Isaac! you are not sneering, are you?

Isaac. Why now, seriously, Don Jerome, do you think your daughter handsome?

Jerome. By this light, she's as handsome a girl as any in Seville.

Isaae. Then, by these eyes, I think her as plain a woman as ever I beheld.

Jerome. By St. Iago, you must be blind.

Isaac. No, no; 'tis you are partial.

Jerome. How! have I neither sense nor taste? Jerome. Pshaw! you talk like a blockhead! No- If a fair skin, fine eyes, teeth of ivory, with a bility, without an estate, is as ridiculous as gold-lovely bloom, and a delicate shape.—if these, with a heavenly voice, and a world of grace, are not Ferd. This language, sir, would better become a charms, I know not what you call beautiful. Dutch or English trader, than a Spaniard.

lace on a frize coat.

Jerome. Yes; and those Dutch and English traders, as you call them, are the wiser people. Why, booby, in England, they were formerly as nice, as to birth and family, as we are; but they have long discovered what a wonderful purifier gold is; and now, no one there regards pedigree in anything but a horse. Oh, here comes Isaac ! I hope he has prospered in his suit.

Ferd. Doubtless, that agreeable figure of his
must have helped his suit surprisingly.
Jerome. How now? [FERDINAND walks aside.
Enter ISAAC.

Well, my friend, have you softened her?
Isaac. Oh, yes; I have softened her.
Jerome. What, does she come to?

Isaac. Why, truly, she was kinder than I expected to find her.

Jerome. And the dear little angel was civil, eh? Isaac. Yes, the pretty little angel was very civil.

Jerome. I'm transported to hear it. Isaac. Ay, and if all the family were transported, it would not signify. Aside. Jerome. Well, and you were astonished at her beauty, eh?

Isaac. I was astonished, indeed! Pray, how old is miss?

Jerome. How old? Let me see-eight and twelve: she is twenty.

Isaac. Twenty?

Jerome. Ay, to a month.

Isaac. Then, upon my soul, she is the oldestlooking girl of her age in Christendom!

Jerome. Do you think so? but, I believe, you will not see a prettier girl.

Isaac. Here and there one.

Jerome. Louisa has the family face.

Isaac. Yes, egad, I should have taken it for a family face, and one that has been in the family some time, too.

[Aside.

Isaac. Good lack! with what eyes a father sees! As I have life, she is the very reverse of all this. As for the dimity skin you told me of, I swear, 'tis as thorough nankeen as ever I saw! For her eyes, their utmost merit is not squinting! For her teeth, where there is one of ivory, its neighbour is pure ebony; black and white alternately, just like the keys of an harpsichord. Then, as to her singing, and heavenly voice-by this hand, she has a shrill, cracked pipe, that sounds, for all the world, like a child's trumpet.

Jerome. Why, you little Hebrew scoundrel, do you mean to insult me? Out of my house, I say!

Ferd. Dear sir, what's the matter?

Jerome. Why, this Israelite here has the impudence to say your sister's ugly.

Ferd. He must be either blind or insolent. Isaac. So, I find they are all in a story. Egad, I believe I have gone too far!

Ferd. Sure, sir, there must be some mistake: it can't be my sister whom he has seen.

Jerome. 'Sdeath! you are as great a fool as he! What mistake can there be? Did not I lock up Louisa, and hav'n't I the key in my own pocket? And didn't her maid show him into the dressingroom? And yet you talk of a mistake! No, the Portuguese meant to insult me! and, but that this roof protects him, old as I am, this sword should do me justice.

Isaac. I must get off as well as I can: her fortune is not the less handsome.

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