We, planets, that are not able, Paul. Brother Francis, toss the bottle about, and give me your toast. Isaac. Yes, good Father Paul, we are coine to beg a favour. Paul. What is it, pray? Isaac. To marry us, good Father Paul; and in truth thou dost look the very priest of Hymen. Paul. In short, I may be called so; for I deal in repentance and mortification. Isaac. No, no; thou seemest an officer of Hymen, because thy presence speaks content and good Francis. Have we drunk the abbess of St. Ursu- humour. line? Paul. Yes, yes; she was the last. Francis. 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? Francis. Don Juan Corduba has left a hundred ducats, to remember him in our masses. Paul. Has he? Let them be paid to our winemerchant, 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-See, who's there. [A knocking.-FRANCIS goes to the door, and opens it. Enter Porter. Paul. Alas! my appearance is deceitful. Bloated I am, indeed! for fasting is a windy recreation, and it hath swoln me like a bladder. Ant. But thou hast a good fresh colour in thy face, father, rosy, i'faith. Paul. Yes, I have blushed for mankind, till the hue of my shame is as fixed as their vices. Isaac. Good man! Paul. And I have laboured, too, but to what purpose? They continue to sin under my very nose. Isaac. Efecks, father, I should have guessed as much, for your nose seems to be put to the blush more than any other part of your face. Paul. Go, you're a wag. Ant. But, to the purpose, father: will you officiate for us? Paul. To join young people thus clandestinely is not safe; and, indeed, I have in my heart many weighty reasons against it. Ant. And I have in my hand many weighty reasons for it. Isaac, hav'n't you an argument or two in our favour about you? Isaac. Yes, yes: here is a most unanswerable Porter. Here's one without, in pressing haste to purse. speak with Father Paul. Francis. Brother Paul! [PAUL comes from behind a curtain, with a glass of wine, and in his hand a piece of cake. Paul. Here! how durst you, fellow, thus abruptly break in upon our devotions? Porter. I thought they were finished. Paul. No, they were not-were they, Brother Francis? Francis. Not by a bottle each. Paul. But neither you nor your fellows mark how the hours go: no, you mind nothing but the gratifying of your appetites: ye eat, and swill, and sleep, and gormandize, and thrive, while we are wasting in mortification. Porter. We ask no more than nature craves. Paul. 'Tis false! ye have more appetites than hairs and your flushed, sleek, and pampered appearance, is the disgrace of our order. Out on't! If you are hungry, can't you be content with the wholesome roots of the earth? and if you are dry, isn't there the crystal spring? [Drinks.] Put this away [Gives the glass], and show me where I'm wanted. [Porter drains the glass--PAUL, going, turns.] So, you would have drunk it, if there had been any left? Ah, glutton! glutton! SCENE VI.-The Court before the Priory. Isaac. A plaguy while coming, this same Father fellow ! Aut. No, here he comes. Enter PAUL. Good Father Paul, I crave your blessing. Paul. For shame! You make me angry you forget who I am; and when importunate people have forced their trash-ay, into this pocket, here -or into this-why, then the ain was theirs. [They put money into his pockets.] Fie! now how you distress me! I would return it, but that I must touch it that way, and so wrong my oath. Ant. Now then, come with us. Isaac. Ay, now give us your title to joy and rapture. Paul. Well, when your hour of repentance comes, don't blame me. Ant. No bad caution to my friend Isaac. [Aside.] Well, well, father, do you do your part, and I'll abide the consequence. Isaac. Ay, and so will I. [They are going. Enter Lovisa, running. Louisa. O Antonio! Ferdinand is at the porch, and inquiring for us. Isaac. Who? Don Ferdinand! He's not inquiring for me, I hope. Ant. Fear not, my love; I'll soon pacify him. Isaac. Egad, you won't. Antonio, take my advice, and run away: this Ferdinand is the most unmerciful dog! and has the cursedest long sword! -and, upon my soul, he comes on purpose to cut your throat. Ant. Never fear, never fear. Isaac. Well, you may stay if you will; but I'll Ferd. So, sir, I have met with you at last. Ferd. Base, treacherous man! whence can a false, deceitful soul, like yours, borrow confidence to look so steadily on the man you've injured? Ferd. Antonio, I am ashamed to think Ant. Not a word of excuse, Ferdinand. I have not been in love myself without learning that a Aut. Ferdinand, you are toc warm :-'tis true lover's anger should never be resented. But come you find me on the point of wedding one I love-let us retire with this good father, and we'll beyond my life; but no argument of mine pre-explain to you the cause of this error. vailed on her to elope. I scorn deceit as much as you. By heaven, I knew not she had left her father's, till I saw her. Ferd. What a mean excuse! You have wronged your friend, then, for one, whose wanton forwardness anticipated your treachery; of this, indeed, your Jew pander informed me; but let your conduct be consistent, and since you have dared to do a wrong, follow me, and show you have a spirit to avow it. Louisa. Antonio, I perceive his mistake. Leave him to me. Paul. Friend, you are rude, to interrupt the union of two willing hearts. Ferd. No, meddling priest, the hand he seeks is mine. Paul. If so, I'll proceed no further. Lady, did you ever promise this youth your hand? [To LOUISA, who shakes her head, Ferd. Clara, I thank you for your silence. I would not have heard your tongue avow such falsity; be't your punishment to remember, I have not reproached you. Enter CLARA. Clara. What mockery is this? Ferd. Antonio, you are protected now, but we shall meet. [Going, CLARA holds one arm, and LOUISA the other.] DUET. Louisa. Turn thee round, I pray thee, Clara. I must help to stay thee, Louisa. Couldst thou not discover Clara. One so dear to thee? Canst thou be a lover, And thus fly from me? [Both unveil. GLEE AND CHORUS. Oft does Hymen smile to hear Kind to those who wed for love. [Exeunt. SCENE VII.-A Grand Saloon. Enter Don JEROME, Servants, and Lorez. Jerome. Be sure, now, let every ibing be in the best order. Let all my servants have on their merriest faces: but tell them to get as little drunk as possible, till after supper. So, Lopez, where's your master? Sha'n't we have him at supper? Lopez. Indeed, I believe not, sir. He's mad, I doubt: I'm sure he has frighted me from him. Jerome. Ay, ay, he's after some werch, pose: a young rake! Well, well, we'll be merry without him. Enter a Servant. Serv. Sir, here is Signior Isaac. Enter ISAAC. sup Jerome. So, my dear son-in-law: there, take my blessing and forgiveness. But where's my daughter? where's Louisa? Isaac. She's without, impatient for a blessing, but almost afraid to enter. Jerome. Oh, fly, and bring her in. [Exit ISAAC.] Poor girl! I long to see her pretty face. Isaac. [Without.] Come, my charmer, my trembling angel! Enter ISAAC and Duenna; Don JEROME runs to meet them; she kneels. Jerome. Come to my arms, my-[Starts back.] Ferd. How's this? my sister! Clara, too! I'm Why, who the devil have we here? confounded. Louisa. 'Tis even so, good brother. Paul. How! what impiety! Did the man want to marry his own sister? Louisa. And arn't you ashamed of yourself, not to know your own sister? Clara. To drive away your own mistressLouisa. Don't you see how jealousy blinds people? Clara. Ay, and will you ever be jealous again? Ferd. Never-never You, sister, I know will forgive me but how, Clara, sball I presume Clara. No, no; just now you told me not to tease you." Who do you want, good signior?" "Not you, not you." Oh you blind wretch! But swear never to be jealous again, and I'll forgive Isaac. Nay, Don Jerome, you promised her forgiveness; see how the dear creature droops! Jerome. Droops, indeed! Why, Gad take me, this is old Margaret! But where's my daughter? where's Louisa? Isaac. Why, here, before your eyes: nay, don't be abashed, my sweet wife! Jerome. Wife with a vengeance! Why, zounds, you have not married the Duenna! Duenna. [Kneeling.] O dear papa! you'll not disown me, sure! Jerome. Papa! papa! Why, zounds, your impudence is as great as your ugliness! Isaac. Rise, my charmer: go throw your snowy arms about his neck, and convince him you are Duenna. Oh, sir, forgive me! [Embraces him. Jerome. Help! murder! Servants. What's the matter, sir? Jerome. Why, here, this damned Jew has brought an old harridan to strangle me. Isaac. Lord, it is his own daughter, and he is so hard-hearted, he won't forgive her! up, and all the time I told you she was as old as my mother, and as ugly as the devil. Duenna. Why, you little insignificant reptile! Jerome. That's right-attack him, Margaret. Duenna. Dares such a thing as you pretend to talk of beauty? A walking rouleau !-a body that seems to owe all its consequence to the dropsy !— a pair of eyes like two dead beetles in a wad of brown dough a beard like an artichoke, with dry shriveled jaws that would disgrace the mummy of a monkey! Jerome. Well done, Margaret! Duenna. But you shall know that I have a bro. ther, who wears a sword, and if you don't do me justice Isaac. Fire seize your brother, and you too! I'll fly to Jerusalem, to avoid you. Duenna. Fly where you will, I'll follow you. Jerome. Throw your snowy arms about him, But, Duenna. Come, then, Don Jerome, I will-Margaret. [Exeunt ISAAC and Duenna.] though our habits might inform you all. Look on Louisa, are you really married to this modest genyour daughter, there, and on me. Isaac. What's this I hear? Duenna. The truth is, that in your passion this morning, you made a small mistake; for you turned your daughter out of doors, and locked up your humble servant. ! Isaac. O lud! O lud! Here's a pretty fellow to turn his daughter out of doors instead of an old Duenna. Jerome. And, O lud! O lud! Here's a pretty fellow, to marry an old Duenna instead of my daughter! But how came the rest about? Duenna. I have only to add, that I remained in your daughter's place, and had the good fortune to engage the affections of my sweet husband here. Isaac. Her husband! Why, you old witch, do you think I'll be your husband now! This is a trick, a cheat, and you ought all to be ashamed of yourselves. Ant. Hark ye, Isaac, do you dare to complain of tricking? Don Jerome, I give you my word, this cunning Portuguese has brought all this upon himself, by endeavouring to overreach you, by getting your daughter's fortune, without making any settlement in return. Jerome. Why, Gad take me, it must be so, or he could never have put up with such a face as Margaret's-so, little Solomon, I wish you joy of your wife, with all my soul. tleman? Louisa. Sir, in obedience to your commands, I gave him my hand within this hour. Jerome. My commands! Ant. Yes, sir; here is your consent, under your own hand. Jerome. How would you rob me of my child by a trick, a false pretence? and do you think to get her fortune by the same means? Why, 'slife, you are as great a rogue as Isaac ! Ant. No, Don Jerome; though I have profited by this paper in gaining your daughter's hand, I scorn to obtain her fortune by deceit. There, sir. [Gives a letter.] Now give her your blessing for a dower, and all the little I possess shall be settled on her in return. Had you wedded her to a prince, he could do no more. Jerome. Why, Gad take me, but you are a very extraordinary fellow! But have you the impudence to suppose no one can do a generous action but yourself? Here, Louisa, tell this proud fool of yours, that he's the only man I know that would renounce your fortune; and, by my soul, he's the only man in Spain that's worthy of it. There, bless you both; I'm an obstinate old fellow when I'm in the wrong; but you shall now find me as steady in the right. Enter FERDINAND and CLARA. Another wonder still! Why, sirrah! Ferdinand you have not stole a nun, have you? Ferd. She is a nun in nothing but her habit, sir. Louisa. Isaac, tricking is all fair in love :-let-look nearer, and you will perceive, 'tis Clara you alone for the plot. d'Almanza, Don Guzman's daughter; and, with pardon for stealing a wedding, she is also my wife. Ant. A cunning dog, ar'n't you? A sly little villain, eh? Louisa. Roguish, perhaps; but keen, devilish keen. Jerome. Yes, yes; his aunt always called him little Solomon. Jerome. Gadsbud, and a great fortune. Ferdinand, you are a prudent young rogue, and I forgive you; and, ifecks, you're a pretty little damsel. Give your father-in-law a kiss, you smiling rogue! Clara. There, old gentleman: and now mind Isaac. Why, the plagues of Egypt upon you all!-but do you think I'll submit to such an im-you behave well to ns. position? Ant. Isaac, one serious word :-you'd better be content as you are; for, believe me, you will find, that, in the opinion of the world, there is not a fairer subject for contempt and ridicule, than a knave become the dupe of his own art. Isaac. I don't care-I'll not endure this. Don Jerome, 'tis you have done this-you would be so cursed positive about the beauty of her youl ocked Jerome. Ifecks, those lips ha'n't been chilled by kissing beads. Egad, I believe I shall grow the best-humoured fellow in Spain. Lewis! Sancho! Carlos! d'ye hear? Are all my doors thrown open? Our children's weddings are the only holidays our age can boast; and then we drain, with pleasure, the little stock of spirits time has left us. [Music within.] But see, here come our friends and neighbours! Enter Masqueraders, from the back of the stage. And, 'faith, we'll make a night on't, with wine, and dance, and catches-then old and young shall join us. FINALE. Jerome. Come now for jest and smiling, Let us laugh and play, so blithe and gay, Louisa. Thus crown'd with dance and song, With a heart at ease, merry, merry Can never fail to please. Ferd. Each bride with blushes glowing, Ant. Let us laugh and play, so blithe and gay, Then healths to every friend The night's repast shall end, With a heart at ease, merry, merry glees, Can never fail to please. Clara. Nor, while we are so joyous, Let us laugh and play, so blithe and gay, Jerome. For generous guests like these, So we'll laugh and play, so blithe and [Exeunt PIZARRO. A TRAGIC PLAY. BY RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN, Author of "The School for Scandal," &c. Val. I am his servant, it is true-trusted by him-and I know him well; and therefore 'tis I ask, by what magic could Pizarro gain thy heart, by what fatality still holds he thy affection? Elv. Hold! thou trusty secretary! Val. Ignobly born! in mind and manners rude, ferocious, and unpolished, though cool and crafty if occasion need-in youth audacious-ill his first manhood-a licensed pirate-treating men as brutes -the world as booty; yet now the Spanish hero he is styled-the first of Spanish conquerors! and for a warrior so accomplished, 'tis fit Elvira should leave her noble family, her fame, her home, to share the dangers, humours, and the crimes of such a lover as Pizarro ! Elv. What! Valverde moralizing! But grant I am in error, what is thy incentive? Passion, infatuation, call it what thou wilt; but what attaches thee to this despised, unworthy leader? Base lucre is thy object, mean fraud thy means. SCENE I.-A Tented Field in the back-ground-Could you gain me, thou only hop'st to win a the fore-ground, a Pavilion near Pizarro's Tent. higher interest in Pizarro-I know you. Val. On my soul, thou wrong'st me; what else ELVIRA discovered reclining on a couch.—VALVERDE my faults, I have none towards thee: but indulg enters, and attempts to kiss her hand.-ELVIRA the scorn and levity of thy nature; do it while yet the time permits; the gloomy hour, I fear, too rises. Elv. Valverde a prophet, too! Val. Hear me, Elvira-Shame from his late de Elr. Audacious! Whence is thy privilege to ir-soon approaches. terrupt the few moments of repose my harassed mind can snatch amid the tumults of this noisy camp? Shall I inform thy master, Pizarro, of this presumptuous treachery? feat, and burning wishes for revenge, again have brought Pizarro to Peru; but trust me, he over rates his strength, nor measures well the foe. En- surmounted! when landed with a slender host camped in a strange country, where terror cannot upon an unknown land-then, when I told how force, nor corruption buy, a single friend, what famine and fatigue, discord and toil, day by day, have we to hope? The army murmuring at in- did thin our ranks; and close-pressing enemies, creasing hardships; while Pizarro decorates with how, still undaunted, I endured and dared-maingaudy spoil the gay pavilion of his luxury, each tained my purpose and my power, in despite of day diminishes our force. growling mutiny or bold revolt, till, with my faithful few remaining, I became at last victorious!When, I say, of these things I spoke, the youth, Alonzo, with tears of wonder and delight, would throw him on my neck, and swear his soul's ambition owned no other leader. Ele. But are you not the heirs of those that fall? Val. Are gain and plunder, then, our only purpose? Is this Elvira's heroism? Elv. No, so save me Heaven! I abhor the motive, means, and end of your pursuits; but I will trust none of you :-in your whole army there is not one of you that has a heart, or speaks ingenuously-aged Las Casas, and he alone, excepted. Val. He an enthusiast in the opposite and worst extreme! Elv. Oh! had I earlier known that virtuous man, how different might my lot have been? Val. I will grant Pizarro could not then so easily have duped you! forgive me, but at that event I still must wonder. Ev. Hear me, Valverde. When first my virgin fancy waked to love, Pizarro was my country's idol. "Tis known that when he left Panama in a slight vessel, his force was not a hundred men. Arrived at the island of Gallo, with his sword he drew a line upon the sand, and said, "Pass those who fear to die or conquer with their leader." Thirteen alone remained, and at the head of these the warrior stood his ground. Even at the moment when my ears first caught this tale, my heart exclaimed, “Pizarro is its lord!" What since I have perceived, or thought, or felt! you must have more worth to win the knowledge of. Val. I press no further; still assured, that while Alonzo de Molina, our general's former friend and pupil, leads the enemy, Pizarro never more will be a conqueror. [Trumpets without. Elv. Silence! I hear him coming; look not perplexed. How mystery and fraud confound the countenance? Quick, put on an honest face, if thou canst. Val. What could subdue attachment so begun. Piz. Las Casas.-He it was, with fascinating craft and canting precepts of humanity, raised in Alonzo's mind a new enthusiasm, which forced him, as the stripling termed it, to forego his country's claims for those of human nature. Val. Yes, the traitor left thee, joined the Peruvians, and became thy enemy, and Spain's. Piz. But first with weariless remonstrance he sued to win me from my purpose, and untwine the sword from my determined grasp. Much he spoke of right, of justice, and humanity, calling the Peruvians our innocent and unoffending brethren. Val. They!-Obdurate heathens!- They our brethren! Piz. But when he found that the soft folly of the pleading tears he dropped upon my bosom, fell on marble, he flew and joined the foe; then, profiting by the lessons he had gained in wronged Pizarro's school, the youth so disciplined and led his new allies, that soon he forced me—Ha! I burn with shame and fury while I own it!-in base retreat and foul discomfiture to quit the shore. Val. But the hour of revenge is come. Piz. It is; I have returned-my force is strengthened, and the audacious boy shall soon know that Pizarro lives, and has-a grateful recollection of the thanks he owes him. Fal. 'Tis doubted whether still Alonzo lives. Pis. [Speaking without ] Chain and secure him:mour-bearers is just made prisoner; twelve thouI will examine him myself. Enter PIZARRO. Piz. [Advancing.] Why dost thou smile, vira? sand is their force, as he reports, led by Alonzo and Peruvian Rolla. This day they make a solemn sacrifice on their ungodly altars. We must El-profit by their security; and attack them unprepared-the sacrificers shall become the victims. Elv. To laugh or weep without a reason, is one of the few privileges poor women have. Piz. Elvira, I will know the cause, I am resolved. Elv. I am glad of that, because I love resolution, and am resolved not to tell thee. Now my resoJution, I take it, is better of the two, because it depends u; on myself, and thine does not. Pis. Psha! trifler! Elv. [Advancing.] Wretched innocents! and Pir. Because men are to meet here, and on manly business. Elv. O men! men! ungrateful and perverse! 0 woman! still affectionate though wronged! The l'al. Elvira was laughing at my apprehensions beings to whose eyes you turn for animation, hope, that and rapture, through the days of mirth and revelry, and on whose bosoms, in the hour of sore calamity, you seek for rest and consolation, them, when the pompous follies of your mean ambition are the question, you treat as playthings or as slaves!-I shall not retire. |