Act III Scene, Don Felix’s House
Enter Don Felix, Don Pedro, Leonora, and Jacinta.
Don Fel. How, Son! oblig’d to leave us immediately, say you?
Don Ped. My ill Fortune, Sir, will have it so.
Leo. [Aside.] What can this be?
Don Fel. Pray, what’s the Matter? You surprise me.
Don Ped. This Letter, Sir, will inform you.
Don Fel. [Reads.] My dear Son, Bertrand has brought me the welcome News of your Return, and has given me your Letter; which has in some Sort reviv’d my Spirits in the Extremity I am in. I daily expect my Exit from this World. ’Tis now six Years since I have seen you; I shou’d be glad to do it once again before I die: If you will give me that Satisfaction, you must be speedy. Heaven preserve you.
[To Don Ped.] ’Tis enough: The Occasion I’m sorry for, but since the Ties of Blood and Gratitude oblige you, far be it from me to hinder you. Farewel, my Son, may you have a happy Journey; and if it be Heaven’s Will, may the sight of so good a Son revive so kind a Father. I leave you to bid your Wife adieu.
[Exit Don Fel.
Don Ped. I must leave you, my lovely Bride; but ’tis with bitter Pangs of Separation. Had I your Heart to chear me on my Way, I might with such a Cordial run my Course: But that Support you want the Power to give me.
Leo. Who tells you so?
Don Ped. My Eyes and Ears, and all the Pains I bear.
Leo. When Eyes and Ears are much indulg’d, like favourite Servants they are apt to abuse the too much Trust their Master places in ’em.
Don Ped. If I’m abus’d, assist me with some fair Interpretation of all that present Trouble and Disquiet, which is not in my Power to overlook, nor yours to hide.
Leo. You might methinks have spar’d my Modesty; and without forcing me to name your Absence, have laid my Trouble there.
Don Ped. No, no, my Fair Deluder, that’s a Veil too thin to cover what’s so hard to hide; my Presence not my Absence is the Cause. Your cold Reception at my first Approach, prepar’d me for the Stroke; and ’twas not long before your Mouth confirmed my Doom: Don Guzman, I am yours.
Leo. Is’t then possible the Mouth shou’d utter one Name for another?
Don Ped. Not at all, when it follows the Dictates of the Heart.——
Leo. Were it even so, what Wrong is from that Heart receiv’d, where Duty and where Virtue are its Rulers?
Don Ped. Where they preside, our Honour may be safe, yet our Minds be on the Rack.
Leo. This Discourse will scarce produce a Remedy; we’ll end it, therefore, if you please, and leave the rest to Time: Besides, the Occasion of your Journey presses you.
Don Ped. The Occasion of my Delay presses you, I fear, much more; you count the tedious Minutes I am with you, and are reduc’d to mind me of my Duty, to free yourself from my Sight.
Leo. You urge this thing too far, and do me wrong. The Sentiments I have for you are much more favourable than your Jealousy suffers ’em to appear. But if my Heart has seem’d to lean another way, before you had a Title to it, you ought not to conclude I shall suffer it to do so long.
Don Ped. I know you have Virtue, Gratitude and Truth; and therefore ’tis I love you to my Ruin. Cou’d I believe you false, Contempt would soon release me from my Chains, which yet I can’t but wish to wear for ever: therefore indulge at least your Pity to your Slave; ’tis the soft Path in which we tread to Love. I leave behind a tortur’d Heart to move you:
Weigh well its Pains, think on its Passion too, }
Remember all its Torments spring from you; }
And if you cannot love, at least be true. }
[Exit Don Pedro.
Jacin. Now by my troth, Madam, I’m ready to cry. He’s a pretty Fellow, and deserves better Luck.
Leo. I own he does: And his Behaviour wou’d engage any thing that were unengag’d. But, alas! I want his Pity more than he does mine.
Jacin. You do! Now I’m of another Mind. The Moment he sees your Picture, he’s in love with you; the Moment he’s in love with you, he imbarks; and, like Lightning, in a Moment more, he’s here: Where you are pleas’d to receive him with a Don Guzman, I am yours. Ah——poor Man!
Leo. I own, Jacinta, he’s unfortunate, but still I say my Fate is harder yet. The irresistible Passion I have for Guzman, renders Don Pedro, with all his Merit, odious to me; yet I must in his favour, make eternal War against the Strength of Inclination and the Man I love.
Jac. [Aside.] Um——If I were in her Case, I cou’d find an Expedient for all this Matter. But she makes such a Bustle with her Virtue, I dare not propose it to her.
Leo. Besides, Don Pedro possesses what he loves, but I must never think on poor Don Guzman more.
[Weeping.
Jac. Poor Don Guzman, indeed! We han’t said a Word of the Pickle he’s in yet. Hark! somebody knocks——at the old Rendezvous. It’s he, on my Conscience.
Leo. Let’s be gone; I must think of him no more.
Jac. Yes, let’s be gone; but let’s know whether ’tis he or not, first.
Leo. No, Jacinta; I must not speak with him any more. [Sighing.] I’m married to another.
Jac. Married to another! Well, Married to another; why, if one were married to twenty others, one may give a civil Gentleman an Answer.
Leo. Alas! what would’st thou have me to say to him?
Jac. Say to him! Why, one may find twenty Things to say to a Man: Say, that ’tis true you are married to another, and that ’twould be a—Sin to think of any Body but your Husband; and that——you are of a timorous Nature, and afraid of being damn’d; and that a——You wou’d not have him die neither: That a——Folks are mortal, and Things sometimes come strangely about, and a Widow’s a Widow, and——
Leo. Peace, Levity [Sighing.] But see who ’tis knocks.
Jac. Who’s there?
Isa. [Behind the Scenes.] ’Tis I, Isabella.
Leo. Isabella! What do you want, my Dear?
Isa. Your Succour, for Heaven’s sake, Leonora. My Brother will destroy himself.
Leo. Alas! it is not in my power to save him.
Isa. Permit him but to speak to you; that possibly may do.
Leo. Why have not I the Force to refuse him?
Don Guz. [Behind the Scenes.] Is it you I hear, my poor lost Mistress? Am I so happy, once more to meet you, where I so often have been blest!
Jac. Courage, Madam, say a little something to him.
Don Guz. Not one kind Word to a distracted Lover? No Pity for a Wretch, you have made so miserable?
Leo. The only Way to end that Misery, is to forget we ever thought of Happiness!
Don Guz. And is that in your Power? Ah, Leonora, you ne’er lov’d like me.
Leo. How I have lov’d, to Heaven I appeal! But Heaven does now permit that Love no more.
Don Guz. Why does it then permit us Life and Thought? Are we deceiv’d in its Omnipotence? Is it reduc’d to find its Pleasures in its Creatures Pain?
Leo. In what, or where, the Joys of Heaven consist, lies deeper than a Woman’s Line can fathom; but this we know, a Wife must in her Husband seek for hers, and, therefore, I must think of you no more.——Farewel.
[Exit Leo.
Don Guz. Yet hear me, cruel Leonora.
Jac. It must be another Time, then, for she’s whipt off now. All the Comfort I can give you, is, that I see she durst not trust herself any longer in your Company. But hush, I hear a Noise, get you gone; we shall be catch’d.
Leo. [Within.] Jacinta!
Jac. I come, I come, Madam.
[Exit Jac.
Enter Lopez.
Lop. If I mistake not, there are a Brace of Lovers intend to take some Pains about Madam, in her Husband’s Absence. Poor Don Pedro! Well; methinks a Man’s in a very merry Mood, that marries a handsome Wife: When I dispose of my Person, it shall be to an ugly one. They take it so kindly, and are so full of Acknowledgment; watch you, wait upon you, nurse you, humour you, are so fond, and so chaste. Or, if the Hussy has Presumption enough to think of being otherwise, away with her into the Mountains, fifty Leagues off; no Body opposes. If she’s mutinous, give her Discipline; every Body approves on’t. Hang her, says one, he’s kinder than she deserves: Damn her, says another, why does not he starve her? But, if she’s handsome, Ah, the Brute, cries one: Ah the Turk, cries t’other: Why don’t she cuckold him, says this Fellow? Why does not she poison him, says that? and away comes a Pacquet of Epistles, to advise her to’t. Ah poor Don Pedro! But enough: ’Tis now Night, all’s hush and still: every Body’s a-bed, and what am I to do? Why, as other trusty Domesticks, sit up to let the Thief in. But I suppose he won’t be here yet; with the help of a small Nap beforehand, I shall be in a better Condition to perform the Duty of a Centinel, when I go to my Post. This Corner will just fit me: Come, Lopez, lie thee down, short Prayers, and to sleep.
[He lies down.
Enter Jacinta with a Candle in her Hand.
Jac. So, I have put my poor Lady to Bed, with nothing but Sobs, Tears, Sighs, Wishes, and a Pillow to mumble, instead of a Bridegroom, poor Heart.——I pity her; but every Body has their Afflictions, and by the Beads of my Grandmother, I have mine. Tell me, kind Gentlemen, if I have not something to excite you? Methinks I have a rogueish Eye, I’m sure I have a melting Heart. I’m soft, and warm, and sound, may it please ye. Whence comes it then, this Rascal Lopez, who now has been two Hours in the Family, has not yet thought it worth his while, to make one Motion towards me? Not that the Blockhead’s Charms have moved me, but I’m angry mine han’t been able to move him. I doubt, I must begin with the Lubber: my Reputation’s at stake upon’t, and I must rouze the Drone, somehow.
Lopez rubbing his Eyes, and coming on.
Lop. What a damn’d Condition is that of a Valet! No sooner do I, in comfortable Slumber, close my Eyes, but methinks my Master’s upon me, with fifty Slaps o’ th’ Back, for making him wait in the Street. I have his Orders to let him in here to-night, and so I had e’en——Who’s that?——Jacinta!——Yes, a-caterwauling!—like enough.
Jac. The Fellow’s there; I had best not lose the Occasion.
Lop. The Slut’s handsome. I begin to kindle: But if my master shou’d be at the Door——Why there let him be, till the Matter’s over.
[Aside.
Jac. Shall I advance?
[Aside.
Lop. Shall I venture?
[Aside.
Jac. How severe a Look he has!
[Aside.
Lop. She seems very reserv’d.
[Aside.
Jac. If he shou’d put the Negative upon me.
[Aside.
Lop. She seems a Woman of great Discretion; I tremble.
[Aside.
Jac. Hang it, I must venture.
[Aside.
Lop. Faint Heart never won fair Lady.
[Aside.
Jac. Lopez!
Lop. Jacinta!
Jac. O dear Heart! Is’t you?
Lop. Charming Jacinta, fear me not.
Jac. O ho! he begins to talk soft——then let us take upon us again.
[Aside.
Lop. Cruel Jacinta, whose Mouth (small as it is) has made but one Morsel of my Heart.
Jac. It’s well he prevents me. I was going to leap about the Rascal’s Neck.
[Aside.
Lop. Barbare Jacinta, cast your Eyes On your poor Lopez, ere he dies.
Jac. Poetry too! Nay then I have done his Business.
[Aside.
Lop. Feel how I burn with hot desire, Ah! pity me, and quench my Fire. Deaf, my fair Tyrant, deaf to my Woes! Nay, then, Barbarian, in it goes.
[Drawing a Knife.
Jac. Why, how now, Jack Sauce? why, how now, Presumption? What Encouragement have I given you, Jack-a-lent, to attack me with your Tenders? I cou’d tear your Eyes out, Sirrah, for thinking I’m such a one. What Indecency have you seen in my Behaviour, Impudence, that you shou’d think me for your beastly Turn, you Goat, you?
Lop. Patience, my much offended Goddess, ’tis honourably I wou’d share your Bed.
Jac. Peace, I say—Mr. Liquorish. I, for whom the most successful Cavaliers employ their Sighs in vain, shall I look down upon a crawling Worm? Pha—See that Crop Ear there, that Vermin that wants to eat at a Table, would set his Master’s Mouth a-watering.
Lop. May I presume to make an humble Meal upon what savoury Remnants he may leave?
Jac. No.
Lop. ’Tis hard! ’tis wondrous hard!
Jac. Leave me.
Lop. ’Tis pitiful, ’tis wondrous pitiful!
Jac. Begone, I say. Thus, Ladies ’tis, perhaps, sometimes with you; With Scorn you fly the Thing, which you pursue.
[Exit Jac.
Lop. [Solus.] ’Tis very well, Mrs. Flipflap, ’tis very well; but do you hear——Tawdry, you are not so alluring as you think you are——Comb-brush, nor I so much in love——your Maidenhead may chance to grow mouldy with your Airs—the Pox be your Bedfellow; there’s that for you. Come, let’s think no more on’t. Sailors must meet with Storms; my Master’s going to Sea, too. He may chance to fare no better with the Lady, than I have done with her Abigail: There may be foul Weather there, too. I reckon, at present, he may be lying by under a Mizen, at the Street-Door; I think it rains too, for his Comfort. What if I shou’d leave him there an Hour or two, in fresco, and try to work off the Amour that Way? No; People will be physick’d their own Way. But, perhaps, I might save his Life by’t——yes, and have my Bones broke, for being so officious; therefore, if you are at the Door, Don John, walk in, and take your Fortune.
[Opens the Door.
Enter Don John.
Don John. Hist! hist!
Lop. Hist! hist!
Don John. Lopez!
Lop. [Aside.] The Devil—Tread softly.
Don John. Are they all asleep?
Lop. Dead.
Don John. Enough; shut the Door.
Lop. ’Tis done.
Don John. Now, begone.
Lop. What! Shut the Door first, and then begone! Now, methinks, I might as well have gone first, and then shut the Door.
Don John. I bid you begone, you Dog, you, do you find the way.
Lop. [Aside.] Stark mad, and always so when a Woman’s in chace. But, Sir, will you keep your chief Minister out of the Secrets of your State? Pray, let me know what this Night’s Work is to be.
Don John. No Questions, but march.
[Lop. goes to the Door, and returns.
Lop. Very well—— But, Sir, shall I stay for you in the Street?
Don John. No, nor stir out of the House.
Lop. So: well, Sir, I’ll do just as you have order’d me; I’ll be gone, and I’ll stay; and I’ll march, and I won’t stir, and—just as you say, Sir.
Don John. I see you are afraid, you Rascal, you.
Lop. Possibly.
Don John. Well, be it so; but you shan’t leave the House, Sir; therefore, begone to your Hogstye, and wait further Orders.
Lop. [Aside.] But, first, I’ll know how you intend to dispose of yourself.
[Lop. hides behind the Door.
Don John solus.
Don John. All’s hush and still; and I am at the Point of being a happy——Villain. That Thought comes uninvited——Then, like an uninvited Guest, let it be treated: Begone, Intruder. Leonora’s Charms turn Vice to Virtue, Treason into Truth; Nature, who has made her the supreme Object of our Desires, must needs have designed her the Regulator of our Morals. Whatever points at her, is pointed right. We are all her due, Mankind’s the Dower which Heaven has settled on her; and he’s the Villain that would rob her of her Tribute. I, therefore, as in Duty bound, will in, and pay her mine.
Lop. [Aside.] There he goes, i’faith; he seem’d as if he had a Qualm just now; but he never goes without a Dram of Conscience-Water about him, to set Matters right again.
Don John. [Aside.] This is her Door, ’tis lock’d; but I have a Smith about me will make her Staple fly.
[Pulls out some Irons, and forces the Lock.
Lop. [Aside.] Hark! hark! if he is not equipt for a Housebreaker, too. Very well, he has provided two Strings to his Bow; if he ‘scapes the Rape, he may be hang’d upon the Burglary.
Don John. [Aside.] There, ’tis done, so: No Watch-Light burning? [Peeping into her Chamber.] All in darkness? So much the better, ’twill save a great deal of blushing on both Sides. Methinks I feel myself mighty modest, I tremble too; that’s not proper at this Time. Be firm, my Courage, I have Business for thee—So—How am I now? Pretty well. Then by your Leave, Don Pedro, I must supply your Neglect. You should not have married till you were ready for Consummation; a Maidenhead ought no more to lie upon a handsome Bride, than an Impeachment upon an innocent Minister.
[Don John enters the Chamber.
Lop. [Coming forwards.] Well done, well done; God-a-mercy, my little Judas. Unfortunate Don Pedro! thou hast left thy Purse in the Hands of a Robber; and while thou art galloping to pay the last Duty to thy Father, he’s at least upon the Trot to pay the first to thy Wife. Ah the Traitor! What a Capilotade of Damnation will there be cook’d up for him! But softly: Let’s lay our Ear to the Door, and pick up some Curiosities——I hear no Noise——There’s no Light; we shall have him blunder where he should not do, by and by——commit a Rape upon her Tea-Table, perhaps, break all her China, and then she’ll be sure to hang him. But hark—now I hear—nothing; she does not say a Word; she sleeps curiously. How if she shou’d take it all for a Dream, now? Or her Virtue shou’d be fallen into an Apoplexy? Where the Pox will all this end?
Leo. [Within.] Jacinta! Beatrix! Fernandez! Murder! Murder! help! help! help!
Lop. Now the Play begins, it opens finely.
Leo. [Within.] Father! Alphonso! Save me, O save me!
Lop. Comedy or Tragedy, for a Ducat! for fear of the latter, decamp Lopez.
[Exit Lopez.
Scene Changes to Leonora’s Bed-Chamber; Discovers Leonora in a Gown, Holding Don John by the Sleeve
Leo. Whoever you are, Villain, you shan’t escape me; and tho’ your Efforts have been in vain, you shan’t fail to receive the Recompence of your Attempt: Help, ho, help there! help!
[Don John breaks from her, but can’t find the Door.
Don John. [Aside.] S’death, I shall be undone! Where is this damn’d Door?
Leo. He’ll get away: a Light there, quickly.
Enter Don Guzman with his Sword drawn.
Don Guz. Where are you, fair Angel? I come to lose my Life in your Defence.
Don John. [Aside.] That’s Guzman’s Voice? The Devil has sent him: But we are still in the dark; I have one Tour yet—Impudence, be my Aid. Light there, ho! Where is the Villain that durst attempt the virtuous Leonora.
Don Guz. His Life shall make her Satisfaction.
Don John. Or mine shall fall in his pursuit.
Don Guz. ’Tis by my Hands that she shall see him die.
Don John. My Sword shall lay him bleeding at her Feet.
Leo. [Aside.] What can this mean? But here’s Light at last, thank the just bounteous Heaven.
Don John. Enter with the Light there; but secure the Door, lest the Traitor ‘scape my Vengeance.
Enter Don Pedro, with a Light, he finds Leonora between them; both their Swords drawn.
Leo. O Heavens! what is’t I see?
Don John. Don Pedro here!
Don Ped. What monstrous Scene is this?
[Aside.
Don Guz. What Accident has brought him here?
[Aside.
Don John. How I’m intrigu’d, indeed.
[Aside.
[Don Pedro steps back and shuts the Door.
Don Ped. [Aside.] This Mystery must unfold before we part. What Torments has my Fate provided me? Is this the Comfort I’m to reap, to dry my Tears, for my poor Father’s death? [To Leo.] Ah Leonora!
Leo. [Aside.] Alas! where will this end!
[Falling into a Chair.
Don Ped. [Aside.] Naked! and thus attended at the dead of Night! My Soul is froze at what I see. Confusion sits in all their Faces, and in large Characters I read the Ruin of my Honour and my Love.
[To the Men.] Speak, Statues, if you yet have Power to speak, why at this Time of Night you are found with Leonora?——None speak! Don John, it is from you I ought to know.
Don John. My Silence may inform you.
Don Ped. Your Silence does inform me of my Shame, but I must have some Information more; explain the whole.
Don John. I shall. You remember, Don Pedro——
Don Ped. Be quick.
Don John. You remember you charged me before you went——
Don Ped. I remember well; go on.
Don John. With the Care of your Honour.
Don Ped. I did; dispatch.
Don John. Very well; you see Don Guzman in this Apartment, you see your Wife naked, and you see me, my Sword in my Hand;—that’s all.
Don Ped. [Drawing upon Don Guz.] ’Tis here, then, I am to revenge my Wrongs.
Don Guz. Hold.
Don Ped. Villain, defend thyself.
Leo. O Heaven!
Don Guz. Yet hear me.
Don Ped. What canst thou say?
Don Guz. The Truth, as holy Heaven itself is Truth! I heard the Shrieks and Cries of Leonora; what the Occasion was I knew not; but she repeated them with so much Vehemence, I found, whatever her Distress might be, her Succour must be sudden; so leapt the Wall that parts our Houses, and flew to her Assistance. Don John can, if he please, inform you more.
Don Ped. [Aside.] Mankind’s a Villain, and this may be true; yet ’tis too monstrous for a quick Conception. I shou’d be cautious how I wrong Don John. Sure ’tis not right to balance. I yet have but their Words against their Words; I know Don John for my Friend, and Guzman for my Rival. What can be clearer? Yet hold! If Leonora’s innocent, she may untangle all. Madam, I shou’d be glad to know (if I have so much Interest left) which Way your Evidence will point my Sword.
Leo. My Lord, I’m in the same Perplexity with you: All I can say is this; one of them came to force me, t’other to save me: but the Night confounding the Villainy of the Guilty with the Generosity of the Innocent, I still am ignorant to which I owe my Gratitude, or my Resentment.
Don Guz. But, Madam, did you not hear me cry, I came to help you?
Leo. I own it.
Don John. And did you not hear me threaten to destroy the Author of your Fears?
Leo. I can’t deny it.
Don Guz. What can there be more to clear me?
Don John. Or me?
Don Ped. Yet one’s a Villain still.
[Aside.] My Confusion but increases; yet why confus’d? It is, it must be Guzman. But how came Don John here? Right. Guzman has said how he came to her Aid, but Alvarada cou’d not enter but by Treason. Then perish——
Don Guz.. Who?
Don John. Who?
Don Ped. Just Gods, instruct me who!
Don. Felix knocks.
Don Fel. [Within.] Let me in, open the Door.
Leo. ’Tis my Father.
Don Ped. No Matter; keep the Door fast. [Aside.] I’ll have this Matter go no further, till I can reach the Depth on’t. Don Guzman, leave the House; I must suspend my Vengeance for a Time.
Don Guz. I obey you; but I’ll lose my Life, or shew my Innocence.
[Exit Don Guz.
Don Fel. [Within.] Open the Door; why am I kept out?
Don Ped. Don John, follow me by this back Way. And you, Leonora, retire.
[Exit Leonora.
Don John. [Aside, following Don Ped.] If Don Guzman’s Throat were cut, would not this Bustle end?—Yes——Why then, if his Throat be not cut, may this Bustle end me!