by John Dryden
Wild. Just drawing off on both sides. Adieu, Spain.
Jac. Farewell, old England.
Beat. Come away in triumph; the day’s your own, madam.
Mask. I’ll bear you off upon my shoulders, sir; we have broke their hearts.
Wild. Let her go first then; I’ll stay, and keep the honour of the field.
Jac. I’ll not retreat, if you stay till midnight.
Wild. Are you sure then we have done loving?
Jac. Yes, very sure; I think so.
Wild. ’Tis well you are so; for otherwise I feel my stomach a little maukish. I should have doubted another fit of love were coming up.
Jac. No, no; your inconstancy secures you enough for that.
Wild. That’s it which makes me fear my own returning: Nothing vexes me, but that you should part with me so slightly, as though I were not worth your keeping. Well, ’tis a sign you never loved me.
Jac. ’Tis the least of your care whether I did or did not: It may be it had been more for the quiet of myself, if I — but ’tis no matter, I’ll not give you that satisfaction.
Wild. But what’s the reason you will not give it me?
Jac. For the reason that we are quite broke off.
Wild. Why, are we quite, quite broke off?
Jac. Why, are we not?
Wild. Well, since ’tis past, ’tis past; but a pox of all foolish quarrelling, for my part.
Jac. And a mischief of all foolish disguisements, for my part.
Wild. But if it were to do again with another mistress, I would even plainly confess I had lost my money.
Jac. And if I had to deal with another servant, I would learn more wit than to tempt him in disguises: for that’s to throw a Venice-glass to the ground, to try if it would not break.
Wild. If it were not to please you, I see no necessity of our parting.
Jac. I protest, I do it only out of complaisance to you.
Wild. But if I should play the fool, and ask your pardon, you would refuse it.
Jac. No, never submit; for I should spoil you again with pardoning you.
Mask. Do you hear this, Beatrix! They are just upon the point of accommodation; we must make haste, or they’ll make a peace by themselves, and exclude us from the treaty.
Beat. Declare yourself the aggressor then, and I’ll take you into mercy.
Wild. The worst that you can say of me is, that I have loved you thrice over.
Jac. The prime articles between Spain and England are sealed; for the rest, concerning a more strict alliance, if you please, we’ll dispute them in the garden.
Wild. But, in the first place, let us agree on the article of navigation, I beseech you.
Beat. These leagues, offensive and defensive, will be too strict for us, Maskall: A treaty of commerce will serve our turn.
Mask. With all my heart; and when our loves are veering, We’ll make no words, but fall to privateering.
[Exeunt, the men leading the women.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Enter Lopez, Aurelia, and Camilla.
Lop. ’Tis true, if he had continued constant to you, I should have thought myself obliged in honour to be his friend; but I could no longer suffer him to abuse a person of your worth and beauty, with a feigned affection.
Aur. But is it possible Don Melchor should be false to love? I’ll be sworn I did not imagine such a treachery could have been in nature; especially to a lady who had so obliged him.
Lop. ’Twas this, madam, which gave me the confidence to wait upon you at an hour, which would be otherwise unseasonable.
Aur. You are the most obliging person in the world.
Lop. But to clear it to you that he is false, he is, at this very minute, at an assignation with your cousin in the garden; I am sure he was endeavouring it not an hour ago.
Aur. I swear this evening’s air begins to incommode me extremely with a cold: but yet, in hope of detecting this perjured man, I am content to stay abroad.
Lop. But withal, you must permit me to tell you, madam, that it is but just I should have some share in a heart, which I endeavour to redeem: In the law of arms, you know that they, who pay the ransom, have right to dispose of the prisoner.
Aur. The prize is so very inconsiderable, that ’tis not worth the claiming.
Lop. If I thought the boon were small, I would not importune my princess with the asking it: But since my life depends upon the grant —
Cam. Ma’am, I must needs tell your la’ship, that Don Lopez has deserved you, for he has acted all along like a cavalier, and more for your interest than his own. Besides, ma’am, Don Melchor is as poor as he is false: For my part, I shall never endure to call him master.
Aur. Don Lopez, go along with me. I can promise nothing, but I swear I will do my best to disengage my heart from this furious tender, which I have for him.
Cam. If I had been a man, I could never have forsaken you: Ah those languishing casts, ma’am; and that pouting lip of your la’ship, like a cherry-bough, weighed down with the weight of fruit!
Aur. And that sigh too, I think, is not altogether disagreeable; but something charmante and mignonne.
Cam. Well, Don Lopez, you’ll be but too happy.
Lop. If I were once possessor —
Enter Bellamy and Theodosia.
Theo. O we are surprised.
Bel. Fear nothing, madam; I think, I know them: Don Lopez?
Lop. Our famous astrologer, how come you here?
Bel. I am infinitely happy to have met you with Donna Aurelia, that you may do me the favour to satisfy this lady of a truth, which I can scarce persuade her to believe.
Lop. I am glad our concernments are so equal; for I have the like favour to ask from Donna Theodosia.
Theo. Don Lopez is too noble to be refused any thing within my power; and I am ready to do him any service, after I have asked my cousin, if ever Don Melchor pretended to her?
Aur. ’Tis the very question which I was furiously resolved to have asked of you.
Theo. I must confess he has made some professions to me: And withal, I will acknowledge my own weakness so far as to tell you, I have given way he should often visit me, when the world believed him absent.
Aur. O cavalier astrologer, how have you betrayed me! did you not assure me, that Don Melchor’s tender and inclination was for me only?
Bel. I had it from his star, madam, I do assure you; and if that twinkled false, I cannot help it. The truth is, there’s no trusting the planet of an inconstant man; he was moving to you when I looked on it, and if since it has changed the course, I am not to be blamed for it.
Lop. Now, madam, the truth is evident. And for this cavalier, he might easily be deceived in Melchor; for I dare affirm it to you both, he never knew to which of you he was most inclined: For he visited one, and writ letters to the other.
Bel. to Theo. Then, madam, I must claim your promise, (since I have discovered to you that Don Melchor is unworthy of your favours) that you would make me happy, who, amongst my many imperfections, can never be guilty of such a falsehood.
Theo. If I have been deceived in Melchor, whom I have known so long, you cannot reasonably expect, I should trust you at a day’s acquaintance.
Bel. For that, madam, you may know as much of me in a day, as you can in all your life: All my humours circulate like my blood, at farthest within twenty-four hours. I am plain and true, like all my countrymen; you see to the bottom of me as easily, as you do to the gravel of a clear stream in autumn.
Lop. You plead so well, sir, that I desire you would speak for me too: My cause is the same with yours, only it has not so good an advocate.
Aur. Since I cannot make myself happy, I will have the glory to felicitate another: and, therefore, I declare, I will reward the fidelity of Don Lopez.
Theo. All that I can say at present is, that I will never be Don Melchor’s: The rest, time and your service must make out.
Bel. I have all I can expect, to be admitted as e
ldest servant; as preferment falls, I hope you will remember my seniority.
Cam. Ma’am, Don Melchor.
Aur. Cavaliers, retire a little; we shall see to which of us he will make his court.
[The men withdraw.
Enter Don Melchor.
Don Melchor, I thought you had been a-bed before this time.
Mel. Fair Aurelia, this is a blessing beyond expectation, to see you again so soon.
Aur. What important business brought you hither?
Mel. Only to make my peace with you before I slept. You know you are the saint to whom I pay my devotions.
Aur. And yet it was beyond your expectances to meet me? This is furiously incongruous.
Theo. [advancing.] Don Melchor, whither were you bound so late?
Mel. What shall I say? I am so confounded, that I know not to which of them I should excuse myself.
[Aside.
Theo. Pray answer me truly to one question: Did you ever make any addresses to my cousin?
Mel. Fie, fie, madam, there’s a question indeed.
Aur. How, monster of ingratitude! can you deny the declaration of your passion to me?
Mel. I say nothing, madam.
Theo. Which of us is it, for whom you are concerned?
Mel. For that, madam, you must excuse me; I have more discretion than to boast a lady’s favour.
Aur. Did you counterfeit an address to me?
Mel. Still I say nothing, madam; but I will satisfy either of you in private; for these matters are too tender for public discourse.
Enter Lopez and Bellamy hastily, with their swords drawn.
Bellamy and Lopez! This is strange!
Lop. Ladies, we would not have disturbed you, but as we were walking to the garden door, it opened suddenly against us, and we confusedly saw, by moonlight, some persons entering, but who they were we know not.
Bel. You had best retire into the garden-house, and leave us to take our fortunes, without prejudice to your reputations.
Enter Wildblood, Maskall, Jacintha, and Beatrix.
Wild. [To Jacintha entering.] Do not fear, madam, I think I heard my friend’s voice.
Bel. Marry hang you, is it you that have given us this hot alarm?
Wild. There’s more in it than you imagine; the whole house is up: For seeing you two, and not knowing you, after I had entered the garden-door, I made too much haste to get out again, and have left the key broken in it. With the noise, one of the servants came running in, whom I forced back; and, doubtless, he is gone for company, for you may see lights running through every chamber.
Theo. Jac. What will become of us?
Bel. We must have recourse to our former resolution. Let the ladies retire into the garden-house. And, now I think on it, you gentlemen shall go in with them, and leave me and Maskall to bear the brunt of it.
Mask. Me, sir! I beseech you let me go in with the ladies too; dear Beatrix, speak a good word for me! I protest ’tis more out of love to thy company than for any fear I have.
Bel. You dog, I have need of your wit and counsel. We have no time to deliberate. Will you stay, sir?
[To Maskall.
Mask. No, sir, ’tis not for my safety.
Bel. Will you in, sir?
[To Melchor.
Mel. No, sir, ’tis not for my honour, to be assisting to you: I’ll to Don Alonzo, and help to revenge the injury you are doing him.
Bel. Then we are lost, I can do nothing.
Wild. Nay, an you talk of honour, by your leave, sir. I hate your Spanish honour, ever since it spoiled our English plays, with faces about and t’other side.
[Falls upon him and throws him down.
Mel. What do you mean, you will not murder me? Must valour be oppressed by multitudes?
Wild. Come yarely, my mates, every man to his share of the burden. Come, yarely, hay.
[The four men take him each by a limb, and carry him out, he crying murder.
Theo. If this Englishman save us now, I shall admire his wit.
Beat. Good wits never think themselves admired till they are well rewarded: You must pay him in specie, madam; give him love for his wit.
Enter the Men again.
Bel. Ladies, fear nothing, but enter into the garden-house with these cavaliers.
Mask. O that I were a cavalier too!
[Is going with them.
Bel. Come you back, sirrah. [Stops him.] Think yourselves as safe as in a sanctuary; only keep quiet, whatever happens.
Jac. Come away then, they are upon us.
[Exeunt all but Bel. and Mask.
Mask. Hark, I hear the foe coming: Methinks they threaten too, sir; pray let me go in for a guard to the ladies and poor Beatrix. I can fight much better, when there is a wall betwixt me and danger.
Bel. Peace, I have occasion for your wit to help me to lie.
Mask. Sir, upon the faith of a sinner, you have had my last lie already; I have not one more to do me credit, as I hope to be saved, sir.
Bel. Victoire, victoire! knock under, you rogue, and confess me conqueror, and you shall see I’ll bring all off.
Enter Don Alonzo, and six Servants; with lights, and swords drawn.
Alon. Search about there.
Bel. Fear nothing, do but vouch what I shall say.
Mask. For a passive lie I can yet do something.
Alon. Stand: who goes there?
Bel. Friends.
Alon. Friends! Who are you?
Bel. Noble Don Alonzo, such as are watching for your good.
Alon. Is it you, Sennor Inglis? Why all this noise and tumult? Where are my daughters and my niece? But, in the first place, though last named, how came you hither, sir?
Bel. I came hither — by astrology, sir.
Mask. My master’s in; heavens send him good shipping with his lie, and all kind devils stand his friends!
Alon. How! by astrology, sir? Meaning, you came hither by art magic.
Bel. I say by pure astrology, sir; I foresaw by my art, a little after I had left you, that your niece and daughters would this night run a risque of being carried away from this very garden.
Alon. O the wonders of this speculation!
Bel. Thereupon I called immediately for my sword, and came in all haste to advertise you; but I see there’s no resisting destiny; for just as I was entering the garden door, I met the women with their gallants all under sail, and outward bound.
Mask. Thereupon what does me he, but draws, by my advice —
Bel. How now, Mr Rascal? Are you itching to be in?
[Aside.
Mask. Pray, sir, let me go snip with you in this lie, and be not too covetous of honour. You know I never stood with you; now my courage is come to me, I cannot resist the temptation.
[Aside.
Bel. Content; tell on.
Mask. So, in short, sir, we drew, first I, and then my master; but, being overpowered, they have escaped us, so that I think you may go to bed, and trouble yourself no further, for gone they are.
Bel. You tell a lie! you have curtailed my invention: You are not fit to invent a lie for a bawd, when she would wheedle a young squire.
[Aside.
Alon. Call up the officers of justice, I’ll have the town searched immediately.
Bel. ’Tis in vain, sir; I know, by my art, you’ll never recover them: Besides, ’tis an affront to my friends, the stars, who have otherwise disposed of them.
Enter a Servant.
Ser. Sir, the key is broken in the garden-door, and the door locked, so that of necessity they must be in the garden yet.
Alon. Disperse yourselves, some into the wilderness, some into the alleys, and some into the parterre: You, Diego, go try to get out the key, and run to the corrigidor for his assistance: In the mean time, I’ll search the garden-house myself.
[Exeunt all the servants but one.
Mask. I’ll be unbetted again, if you please, sir, and leave you all the honour of it.
[To Bellamy aside.
> Alon. Come, cavalier, let us in together.
Bel. [holding him.] Hold, sir, for the love of heaven! you are not mad?
Alon. We must leave no place unsearched. A light there.
Bel. Hold, I say! do you know what you are undertaking? And have you armed yourself with resolution for such an adventure?
Alon. What adventure?
Bel. A word in private — The place you would go into is full of enchantments; there are at this time, for aught I know, a legion of spirits in it.
Alon. You confound me with wonder, sir!
Bel. I have been making there my magical operations, to know the event of your daughters’ flight; and, to perform it rightly, have been forced to call up spirits of several orders: And there they are humming like a swarm of bees, some stalking about upon the ground, some flying, and some sticking upon the walls like rear-mice.
Mask. The devil’s in him, he’s got off again.
Alon. Now, sir, I shall try the truth of your friendship to me. To confess the secret of my soul to you, I have all my life been curious to see a devil; and to that purpose have conned Agrippa through and through, and made experiment of all his rules, Pari die et incremento Lunæ, and yet could never compass the sight of one of these dæmoniums: If you will ever oblige me, let it be on this occasion.
Mask. There’s another storm arising.
Bel. You shall pardon me, sir; I’ll not expose you to that peril for the world, without due preparations of ceremony.
Alon. For that, sir, I always carry a talisman about me, that will secure me: And therefore I will venture in, a God’s name, and defy them all at once.
[Going in.
Mask. How the pox will he get off from this?
Bel. Well, sir, since you are so resolved, send off your servant, that there may be no noise made on’t, and we’ll take our venture.
Alon. Pedro, leave your light, and help the fellows to search the garden.
[Exit Servant.
Mask. What does my incomprehensible master mean?
Bel. Now, I must tell you, sir, you will see that, which will very much astonish you, if my art fail me not. [Goes to the door.] You spirits and intelligences, that are within there, stand close, and silent, at your peril, and fear nothing, but appear in your own shapes, boldly. — Maskall, open the door.
