And stands arraign'd for his life, Alack, and well-a-day! Oh! ev'ry month was May. Gaoler. Some friends of yours, captain, desire to be admitted-I leave you together. Enter BEN BUDGE and MAT-O'THE-MINT. Mac. For my having broke prison, you see, husband is to die to-day; therefore, if you gentlemen, I am ordered immediate execution are not already provided, 'tis high time to -The sheriff's officers, I believe, are now at look about for another.-There's comfort for the door. That Jemmy Twitcher should 'peach you, you slut! Peach. Set your heart at rest, Polly-your Lockit. We are ready, sir, to conduct you to the Old Bailey. AIR. MACHEATH. The charge is prepared, the lawyers are met, A debt on demand, so take what I owe. Then farewell, my love-dear charmers, adieu! Contented I die-'tis the better for you. me, I own surprised me--'Tis a plain proof that the world is all alike, and that even our gang can no more trust one another than other people; therefore, I beg you, gentlemen, to look well to yourselves, for, in all probability, you may live some months longer. Mat. We are all heartily sorry, captain, for your misfortune; but 'tis what we must all come to. Mac. Peachum and Lockit, you know, are infamous scoundrels-their lives are as much in your power, as yours are in theirs-Remember your dying friend-'Tis my last request-Bring those villains to the gallows before you, and I am satisfied. Mat. We'll do it. [Drinks. [Turns up the empty Pot. Polly. No token of love? Mac. [Drinks. See, my courage is out! [Turns up the empty Bottle. Lucy. No token of love? Much bolder with brandy. [Pours out a Bumper of Brandy. So I drink off this bumper- and now I can And stand the test, my comrades shall see that I die as brave as the best. eyes, [Drinks. But can I leave my pretty hussies Without one tear, or tender sigh? Their their lips, their busses, Recall my love-Ah! must I die? Since laws were made for every degree, To curb vice in others, as well as in me, I wonder we ha'n't better company Mac. But hark! I hear the toll of the bell. Re-enter GAOLER. Gaoler. Four women more, captain, with a child a-piece. Mac. Tell the sheriff's officers I am ready. [Exeunt. Mob. [Within] A reprieve! a reprieve! Re-enter MACHEATH, POLLY, Lucy, etc. Mae. So, it seems, I am not left to my choice, but must have a wife at last-Look ye, my dears, we will have no controversy Com. Opera by Richard Brinsley Sheridan. Acted at Covent Garden, 1775. This piece (the plot of which seem borrowed from Il Filosofo di Campagna, from Moliere's Sicilien, and from The Wonder of Mrs. Centlivre) w29 ** ceived with applause by crowded audiences through a run of sixty-five nights, during the first season of its appearance In the following year, it was repeated at least thirty times, and still continues a favourite with the public. It exhiber so happy a mixture of true humour and musical excellence, that it deservedly stands second on the list of its kindred performances. The Beggar's Opera perhaps will always remain the first, says the Biographia Dramatica; but Lard Byron maintains that Sheridan wrote the best comedy (School for Scandal), the best Opera (Duenna), the best farce (Critic), and the best speech (the famous Begum speech) in the English language; and calls the Beggar's Opera, a more St. Giles's production. a LAY BROTHER. THE DUENNA. That, though my sleeping love shall know you awaked her. Ant. Nay, then, I'll convince you, [Sings. Enter LOPEZ, with a dark lantern. Lop. PAST three o'clock! soh! a notable hour for one of my regular disposition, to be 1 Mask. Antonio, your mistress will never strolling like a bravo through the streets of wake, while you sing so dolefully: love, like Seville! Well, of all services, to serve a young cradled infant, is lulled by a sad melody. lover is the hardest-not that I am an enemy Ant. I do not wish to disturb her rest. to love; but my love, and my master's, differ 1 Mask, The reason is, because you know strangely-Don Ferdinand is much too gallant she does not regard you enough to appear, to eat, drink, or sleep-now, my love gives if me an appetite-then I am fond of dreaming of my mistress, and I love dearly to toast her -This cannot be done without good sleep and good liquor; hence my partiality to a feather-bed and a bottle, What a pity now, that I have not further time for reflections! but my master expects thee, honest Lopez, to secure his retreat from Donna Clara's window, as I guess [Music without] hey! sure, I heard music! So, so! who have we here? Oh, Don Antonio, my master's friend, come from the masquerade, to serenade my young mistress, Donna Louisa, I suppose: soh! we shall have the old gentleman up presently-lest he should miss his son, I had best lose no time in getting to my post. [Exit. LOUISA-replies from a Window. DON JEROME-from a Window. To such deceitful stuff? Quick, from the window, fly! Louisa. Adieu, Antonio! Ant. Must you go? Louisa. Ant.. We soon, perhaps, may meet our The god of love will fight for us. Jerome. Hence, or these slugs are through [Exeunt severally. SCENE II-A Piazza. Ant. Yes, yes; he has a singular affection for music, so I left him roaring at his barred window, like the print of Bajazet in the cage. And what brings you out so early? Ferd. I believe I told you, that to-morrow was the day fixed by Don Pedro and Clara's unnatural stepmother, for her to enter a convent, in order that her brat might possess her fortune: made desperate by this, procured a key to the door, and bribed Clara's maid to leave it unbolted; at two this morning, I entered, unperceived, and stole to her chamber-I found her waking and weeping. Ant. Happy Ferdinand! Ferd. 'Sdeath! hear the conclusion-I was rated as the most confident ruffian, for daring to approach her room at that hour of night. Ant. Ay, ay, this was at first? Ferd. No such thing; she would not hear a word from me, but threatened to raise her mother, if I did not instantly leave her. Ant. Well, but at last? Ferd. Peace, fool, don't mention sleep to me. Lopez. No, no, sir, I don't mention your low-bred, vulgar, sound sleep; but I can't help thinking that a gentle slumber, or half an the house, as I came in. hour's dozing, if it were only for the novelty of the thing Ferd. At last! why, I was forced to leave Ferd. Peace, booby, I say!-Oh Clara, dear, cruel disturber of my rest! Lopez. And of mine too. Ferd. 'Sdeath! to trifle with me at such a juncture as this-now to stand on punctilios -love me! I don't believe she ever did. Lopez. Nor I either. Ferd. Or is it, that her sex never know their desires for an hour together? Lopez. Ah, they know them oftener than they'll own them." Ferd. Is there, in the world, so inconstant a creature as Clara? Lopez. I could name one. Ferd. Yes; the tame fool, who submits to her caprice. Ant. And did you do nothing to offend ber? Ferd. Nothing, as I hope to be saved-I believe, I might snatch a dozen or two of kisses. Ant. Was that all? well, I think, I never heard of such assurance! Ferd. Zounds! I tell you, I behaved with the utmost respect. Ant. O Lord! I don't mean you, but in her -but, hark ye, Ferdinand, did you leave your key with them? Ferd. Yes; the maid, who saw me out, took it from the door. Ant. Then, my life for it, her mistress elopes after you. Ferd. Ay, to bless my rival, perhaps I am in a humour to suspect every body-you loved her once, and thought her an angel, as I do now. Lopez. I thought he couldn't miss it. Ferd. Is she not capricious, teasing, tyrannical, obstinate, perverse, absurd? ay, a wil-1 Ant. Yes, I loved her, till I found she wouldn't derness of faults and follies; her looks are love me, and then I discovered that she hadn't scorn, and her very smiles-'Sdeath! I wish I a good feature in her face. hadn't mentioned her smiles; for she does smile such beaming loveliness, such fascinating brightness-Oh, death and madness! I shall die if I lose her. Lopez. Oh, those damned smiles have undone all! presently. Lopez. Ah, those cursed smiles! Enter ANTONIO. [Exit. AIR. I ne'er could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; That heaving bosom sigh for me. Besides, Ferdinand, you have full security in my love for your sister; help me there, and I can never disturb you with Clara. Ferd. Antonio, Lopez tells me he left you Ferd. As far as I can, consistently with the chanting before our door-was my father honour of our family, you know I will; but waked? there must be no eloping. Ant. And yet, now, you would carry off herence to what he has once said, you have Clara? formed this plan for my escape - But have Ferd. Ay, that's a different case—we never you secured my maid in our interest? mean that others should act to our sisters and Duenna. She is a party in the whole; but wives, as we do to others'-But, to-morrow, remember, if we succeed, you resign all right Clara is to be forced into a convent. and title in little Isaac, the Jew, over to me. Louisa. That I do with all my soul; get him, if you can, and I shall wish you joy, most heartily. He is twenty times as rich as my poor Antonio.' Ant. Well, and am not I so unfortunately circumstanced? To-morrow, your father forces Louisa to marry Isaac, the Portuguese - but come with me, and we'll devise something, I warrant. Ferd. I must go home. Ant. Well, adieu! Ferd. But, Antonio, if you did not love my sister, you have too much honour and friendship to supplant me with Clara. AIR. ― ANTONIO. Friendship is the bond of reason; Heaven dissolves all other treason The faith which to my friend I swore, But to the charms which I adore, 'Tis religion to be true. Then if to one I false must be, Can I doubt which to preferA breach of social faith with thee, Or sacrilege to love and her? [Exit. Ferd. There is always a levity in Antonio's manner of replying to me on this subject that is very alarming-'Sdeath! if Clara should love him after all! SONG. AIR. Thou canst not boast of fortune's store, I loved him for himself alone. Duenna. I hear Don Jerome comingQuick, give me the last letter I brought you from Antonio-you know that is to be the ground of my dismission-I must slip out to seal it up, as undelivered. [Exit. Enter DON JEROME and FERDINAND. Jerome. What, I suppose, you have been serenading too! Eh, disturbing some peaceable neighbourhood with villanous catgut, and lascivious piping! Out on't! you set your sister, here, a vile example; but I come to tell you, madam, that I'll suffer no more of these midnight incantations-these amorous orgies, that steal the senses in the hearing; as, they say, Egyptian embalmers serve mummies, extracting the brain through the ears; however, there's an end of your frolics-Isaac Mendoza will Ah! none but the jealous-the jealous can be here presently, and to-morrow you shall Though cause for suspicion appears, know! House. Enter LOUISA and DUENNA. Louisa. But, my dear Margaret, my charming Duenna, do you think we shall succeed? Duenna. It tell you again, I have no doubt on't; but it must be instantly put to the trial -Every thing is prepared in your room, and for the rest, we must trust to fortune. Louisa. My father's oath was, never to see me till I had consented to Duenna. 'Twas thus I overheard him say to his friend, Don Gusman,-'I will demand of her to-morrow, once for all, whether she will consent to marry Isaac Mendoza; if she hesitates, I will make a solemn oath never to see or speak to her, till she returns to her duty-These were his words. Louisa. And on his known obstinate marry him. Louisa. Never, while I have life. Ferd. Indeed, sir, I wonder how you can think of such a man for a son-inlaw. Jerome. Sir, you are very kind, to favour ine with your sentiments-and pray, what is your objection to him? Ferd. He is a Portuguese, in the first place. Jerome. No such thing, boy; he has forsworn his country. Louisa. He is a Jew. Jerome. Another mistake: be has been a Christian these six weeks. Ferd. Ay, he left his old religion for an estate, and has not had time to gel a new one. Louisa. But stands like a dead wall between church and synagogue, or like the blank leaves between the Old and New Testament. Jerome. Any thing more? Ferd. But the most remarkable part of his character is his passion for deceit and tricks of cunning. Louisa. Though at the same time, the fool predominates so much over the knave, that I am told he is generally the dupe of his own art. Ferd. True, like an unskilful gunner, he usually misses his aim, and is hurt by the read-coil of his own piece. SCENE 1.] ness, and my father's anger will probably only Jerome. Any thing more? Louisa. To sum up all, he has the worst increase her affection.-In our intercourse with fault a husband can have-he's not my choice. the world, it is natural for us to dislike those Jerome. But you are his; and choice on who are innocently the cause of our distress; one side is sufficient-two lovers should never but in the heart's attachment a woman never meet in marriage-be you sour as you please, likes a man with ardour till she has suffered he is sweet-tempered, and for your good fruit, for his sake. [Noise] Soh! what bustle is here! between my father and the Duenna too there's nothing like ingrafting on a crab. Louisa. I detest him as a lover, and shall-I'll e'en get out of the way. ten times more as a husband. Jerome. I don't know that-marriage generally makes a great change-but, to cut the matter short, will you have him or not?, [Exit. Enter DON JEROME with a Letter, pulling in the DUENNA. Jerome. I'm astonish'd! I'm thunderstruck! Louisa. There is nothing else I could dis- here's treachery and conspiracy with a vengeance! you, Antonio's creature, and chief obey you in. Jerome. Do you value your father's peace? manager of this plot for my daughter's elopLouisa. So much, that I will not fasten on ing! you, that I placed here as a scare-crow? Duenna. What? him the regret of making an only daughter Jerome. A scare-crow-to prove a decoy wretched. Jerome. Very well, ma'am, then mark me duck-what have you to say for yourself? Duenna. Well, sir, since you have forced -never more will I see or converse with you till you return to your duty-no reply this that letter from me, and discovered my real and your chamber shall be your apartments: sentiments, scorn to renounce them.-1 am I never will stir out, without leaving you Antonio's friend, and it was my intention that under lock and key, and when P'm at home your daughter should have served you as all no creature can approach you but through such old tyranuical sots should be served-I my library-we'll try who can be most obsti- delight in the tender passions, and would benale-out of my sight-there remain till you friend all under their influence. Jerome. The tender passions! yes, they Ferd. Surely, sir, my sister's inclinations would become those impenetrable features!should be consulted in a matter of this kind, why, thou deceitful hag! I placed thee as a and some regard paid to Don Antonio, being guard to the rich blossoms of my daughter's Beauty-I thought that dragon's front of thine my particular friend. Jerome. That, doubtless, is a very great would cry aloof to the sons of gallantry-steel recommendation-I certainly have not paid traps and spring guns1) seemed writ in every wrinkle of it--but you shall quit my house sufficient respect to it. know your duty. [Pushes her out. Ferd. There is not a man living I would this instant-the tender passions, indeed! go, thou wanton sybil, thou amorous woman of sooner choose for a brotherin-law. Jerome. Very possible; and if you happen Endor, go! Duenna. You base, scurrilous, old - but I to have e'er a sister, who is not at the same time a daughter of mine, I'm sure I shall have won't demean myself by naming what you no objection to the relationship--but at pre-are-yes, savage, I'll leave your den; but I sent, if you please, we'll drop the subject. suppose you don't mean to detain my apparel Ferd. Nay, sir, 'tis only my regard for my-I may have my things, I presume? sister makes me speak. Jerome. Then pray, sir, in future, let your regard for your father make you hold your tongue. Ferd. I have done, sir-I shall only add a wish that you would reflect what at our age you would have felt, had you been crossed in your affection for the mother of her you are so severe to. Jerome. I took you, mistress, with your wardrobe on-what have you pilfered, heh? Duenna. Sir, I must take leave of my mistress; she has valuables of mine: besides, my cardinal and veil are in her room. Jerome. Your veil forsooth! what, do you dread being gazed at? or are you afraid of your complexion? well, go take your leave, and get your veil and cardina!! soh! you quit Jerome. Why, I must confess I had a great the house within these five minutes In-inaffection for your mother's ducats, but that quick. [Exit Duenna] Here was was all, boy-I married her for her fortune, plot of mischief! these are the comforts daughand she took me in obedience to her father, ters bring us! and a very happy couple we were-we never expected any love from one another, and so AIR. your life, a precious we were never disappointed-if we grumbled If a daughter you have, she's the plague of a little now and then, it was soon over, for we were never fond enough to quarrel; and No peace shall you know, though you've buwhen the good woman died, why, why-I bad ried your wife! her as lieve she had lived, and I wish every wi- At twenty she mocks at the duty you taught -I shall dower in Seville could say the samenow go and get the key of this dressing-room Oh, what a plague is an obstinate daughter! -so, good son, if you have any lecture in support of disobedience to give your sister, it must be brief; so make the best of your time, [Exit. d'ye hear? Ferd. I fear, indeed, my friend Antonio has little to hope for-however, Louisa has firm 1) Steel-traps and spring-guns," is generally written on the doors of gardens near London, in order to deter thieves from entering the garden and stealing the fruit-these things have done a great deal of harm, and taken away the life of many an innocent person, accidentally walking in the garden. 105 |
