able a light. Sir, sir, I must tell you, I have seen those who have owed their success to nothing else. Car. Say no more; I have been to blame, but there shall be no more on't.

Jac. I should punish you but justly however for what's past, if I carried back what I have Drought you; but I'm good-natured, so here 'tis; open it, and see how wrong you timed your jealousy.

Car. [Reads.]" If you love me with that tenderness you have made me long believe you do, this letter will be welcome; 'tis to tell you, you have leave to plead a daughter's weakness to a father's indulgence: and if you prevail with him to lay his commands upon me, you shall be as happy as my obedience to them can make you. LEONORA."

Then I shall be what man was never yet. [Kissing the letter.] Ten thousand blessings on thee for thy news; I could adore thee as a deity. [Embracing JAC. Jac. True flesh and blood, every inch of her, for all that.

Car. [Reads again.] " And if you prevail with him to lay his commands upon me, you shall be as happy as my obedience to them can make you." O happy, happy Carlos! But what shall I say to thee for this welcome message? [To JACINTA.] Alas! I want words-But let this speak for me, and this, and this, and

[Giving her his ring, watch, and purse. San. Hold, sir; pray leave a little something for our board-wages. You cann't carry 'em all, I believe: [To JACINTA.] Shall I ease thee of this? [Offering to take the purse. Jac. No; but you may carry-that, sirrah. [Giving him a box on the ear. San. The jade's grown purse-proud already. Car. Well, dear Jacinta, say something to your charming mistress, that I am not able to say myself: But, above all, excuse my late unpardonable folly, and offer her my life to expiate my

crime.

Juc. The best plea for pardon will be never to repeat the fault.

Car. If that will do, 'tis sealed for ever. Jac. Enough; but I must be gone; success attend you with the old gentleman. Good-by t'ye, sir. [Exit JAC.

Car. Eternal blessings follow thee. San. I think she has taken them all with her; the jade has got her apron full.

Car. Is not that Lorenzo coming this way? San. Yes, 'tis he; for my part now I pity the poor gentleman.

Enter LORENZO.

Car. I'll let him see at last I can be cheerful too. Your servant, Don Lorenzo; how do you do this morning?

Lor. I thank you, Don Carlos; perfectly well

both in body and in mind.

Car. What! cured of your love then?

Car. Increasing every hour: we are very con stant both.

Lor. I find so much delight in being so, I hope I never shall be otherwise.

Car. Those joys I am well acquainted with ;but should lose them soon, were I to meet a cool reception.

Lor. That's every generous lover's case, no doubt; an angel could not fire my heart but with an equal flame.

Car. And yet you said you still loved Leonora.
Lor. And yet I said I loved her.
Car. Does she then return you—
Lor. Every thing my passion can require.
Car. Its wants are small I find.
Lor. Extended as the heavens.
Car. I pity you.

Lor. He must be a deity that does so.

Car. Yet I'm a mortal, and once more can pity you. Alas, Lorenzo, 'tis a poor cordial to an aching heart, to have the tongue alone an nounce it happy; besides 'tis mean; you should be more a man.

Lor. I find I have made you an unhappy one, so can forgive the boilings of your spleen.

Car. This seeming calmness might have the effect your vanity proposes by it; had I not a tes timony of her love would (should I shew it) sink you to the centre.

Lor. Yet still I'm calm as ever. Car. Nay, then have at your peace. Read that, and end the farce.

[Gives him LEONORA's letter. Lor. [Reads.] I have read it. Car. And know the hand? Lor. 'Tis Leonora's; I have often seen it. Car. I hope you then at last are satisfied. Lor. I am. [Smiling.] Good-morrow, Carlos. (Exit LOR.

San. Sure he's mad, master. Car. Mad! sayest thou? San. And yet, by'r lady, that was a sort of a dry sober smile at going off.

Car. A very sober one! had he shewn me such a letter, I had put on another countenance. San. Ay, o' my conscience had you.

Cur. Here's mystery in this-I like it not. San. I see his man and confidant there, Lopez. Shall I draw him on a Scotch pair of boots, master, and make him tell all?

Car. Some questions I must ask him; call

him hither.

San. Hem, Lopez, hem!

Enter LOPEZ.

Lop. Who calls?

San. I, and my master.
Lop. I cann't stay.
San. You can indeed, sir.

[Laying hold on his, Car. Whither in such haste, honest Lopez? What! upon some love-errand?

Lop. Sir, your servant; I ask your pardon,

you how 'tis with yours?

Car. I guess where, but you need not be shy

of me any more; thy master and I are no longer rivals; I have yielded up the cause; the lady will have it so, so I submit.

Lop. Is it possible, sir? shall I then live to see my master and you friends again?

San. Yes, and what's better, thou and I shall be friends too. There will be no more fear of Christian bloodshed. I give thee up Jacinta; she's a slippery hussy, so master and I are going to match ourselves elsewhere.

Lop. But is it possible, sir, your honour should be in earnest? I'm afraid you are pleased to be merry with your poor humble servant.

Car. I'm not at present much disposed to mirth; my indifference in this matter is not so thoroughly formed: but my reason has so far mastered my passion, to shew me, 'tis in vain to pursue a woman whose heart already is another's. 'Tis what I have so plainly seen of late, I have roused my resolution to my aid, and broke my chains for ever.

Lop. Well, sir, to be plain with you, this is the joyfullest news I have heard this long time; for I always knew you to be a mighty honest gentleman; and, good faith, it often went to the heart o' me to see you so abused. Dear, dear, have I often said to myself (when they have had a private meeting just after you have been gone)

Car. Ha!

San. Hold, master, don't kill him yet. [To CAR. asiae. Lop. I say I have said to myself, what wicked things are women, and what pity it is they should be suffered in a Christian country; what a shame they should be allowed to play will-in-the-wisp with men of honour, and lead them through thorns and briars, and rocks, and rugged ways, till their hearts are all torn to pieces, like an old coat in a fox-chace! I say, I have said to myself

Car. Thou hast said enough to thyself, but say a little more to me: where were these secret meetings thou talk'st of?

Lop. Nor I-at present, sir.

Car. Speak then the truth, as thou wouldst do it at the hour of death.

Lop. Yes, at the gallows, and be turned off as soon as I've done. [Aside.

Cur. What's that you murmur? Lop. Nothing but a short prayer. Car. I am distracted, and fright the wretch from telling me, what I am upon the rack to know. [Aside.] Forgive me, Lopez; I am to blame to speak thus harshly to thee: let this obtain my pardon. [Gives him money.] Thou see'st I am disturbed.

Lop. Yes, sir, I see I have been led into a snare; I have said too much.

Car. And yet thou must say more; nothing can lessen my torment, but a farther knowledge of what causes my misery. Speak then! have I any thing to hope?

Lop. Nothing; but that you may be a happier bachelor, than my master may probably be a married man.

Car. Married, say'st thou?

Lop. I did, sir, and I believe he'll say so too in a twelvemonth.

Car. O torment!- -But give me more on't: when, how, to whom, where?

Lop. Yesterday to Leonora, by the parson, in the pantry.

Car. Look to it; if this be false, thy life shall pay the torment thou hast given me: be gone. · Lop. With the body and the soul of me.

[Exit LOPEZ.

San. Base news, master. Car. Now my insulting rival's smile speaks out: O cursed, cursed woman!

Enter JACINTA.

Jac. I'm come in haste to tell you, sir, that, as soon as the moon's up, my lady will give you a meeting in the close-walk by the back-door of the garden; she thinks she has something to propose to you will certainly get her father's consent to marry you.

was

Car. In hell. Lop. Sir!

Car. Speak, fury, what dost thou mean by the kiss of kisses?

Lop. The kiss of peace, sir, the kiss of union, the kiss of consummation.

Car. Thou liest, villain!

Lop. I don't know but I may, sir-What the devil's the matter now? [Aside.

Car. There's not one word of truth in all thy cursed tongue has uttered.

Lop. No, sir, I-1-believe there is not.
Car. Why then didst thou say it, wretch?
Lop. Oonly in jest.

Car. I am not in a jesting condition.

strong.

[Exit CAR. Jac. Won't you explain? what's this storm

for?

San. And darest thou ask me questions, smooth-faced iniquity, crocodile of Nile, siren of the rocks? Go carry back the too gentle answer thou hast received; only let me add with the poet :

We are no fools, trollop, master nor me; And thy mistress may go-to the devil with thee. [Exit SANCHO.

JACINTA sola.

Jac. Am I awake!I fancy not; a very idle dream this. Well, I'll go talk in my sleep to my lady about it; and when I awake, we'll try what interpretation we can make on't. [Exit.

SCENE I.

Enter CAMILLO and ISABELLA.

Isa. How can you doubt my secrecy? have you not proofs of it?

Cam. Nay, I am determined to trust you; but are we safe here? can nobody overhear us? Isa. Safer much than in a room. Nobody can come within hearing, before we see them. Cam. And yet how hard 'tis for me to break silence!

Isa. Your secret sure must be of great importance.

Cam. You may be sure it is, when I confess 'tis with regret I own it e'en to you, and were it possible, you should not know it.

Isa. 'Tis frankly owned indeed: but 'tis not kind, perhaps not prudent, after what you know I already am acquainted with. Have not I been bred up with you? and am I ignorant of a secret, which, were it known-

Cum Would be my ruin; I confess it would. I own you know why both my birth and sex are thus disguised; you know how I was taken from my cradle to secure the estate, which had else been lost by young Camillo's death; but which is now safe in my supposed father's hands, by my passing for his son; and 'tis because you know all this, I have resolved to open farther wonders to you. But, before I say any more, you must resolve one doubt, which often gives me great disturbance; whether Don Alvarez ever was himself privy to the mystery which has disguised my sex, and made me pass for his son?

Isa. What you ask me is a thing has often perplexed my thoughts as well as yours, nor could my mother ever resolve the doubt. You know, when that young child Camillo died, in whom was wrapt up so much expectation, from the great estate his uncle's will (even before he came into the world) had left him; his mother made a secret of his death to her husband Alvarez,| and readily fell in with a proposal made her to take you, (who then was just Camillo's age,) and bring you up in his room. You have heard how you were then at nurse with my mother, and how your own was privy and consenting to the plot; but Don Alvarez was never let into it by them.

Cam. Don't you then think it probable his wife might after tell him?

Isa. "Twas ever thought nothing but a deathbed repentance could draw it from her to any one; and that was prevented by the suddenness of her exit to t'other world, which did not give her even time to call Heaven's mercy on her. And yet, now I have said all this, I own the correspondence and friendship I observe he holds with your real mother, gives me some suspicion, and the presents he often makes her (which

people seldom do for nothing) confirm it. But since this is all I can say to you on that point, pray let us come to the secret, which you have made me impatient to hear.

Cum. Know then, that though Cupid is blind, he is not to be deceived: I can hide my sex from the world, but not from him: his dart has found the way through the manly garb I wear, to pierce a virgin's tender heart-I love— Isa. How!

Cam. Nay, ben't surprised at that; I have other wonders for you.

Isa. Quick, let me hear 'em.
Cam. I love Lorenzo.

Isa. Lorenzo! most nicely hit. The very man from whom your imposture keeps this vast estate; and who, on first knowledge of your be ing a woman, would enter into possession of it. This is indeed a wonder.

Cam. Then wonder farther still-I am his wife.
Isa. Ha! his wife!

Cam. His wife, Isabella; and yet thou hast not all my wonders; I am his wife without his knowledge: he does not even know I am a woman.

Isa. Madam, your humble servant; if you please to go on, I won't interrupt you, indeed I won't.

Cam. Then hear how these strange things have past: Lorenzo, bound unregarded in my sister's chains, seemed in my eyes a conquest worth her care. Nor could I see him treated with contempt, without growing warm in his interest; I blamed Leonora for not being touched with his merit; I blamed her so long, till I grew touched with it myself: and the reasons I urged to vanquish her heart, insensibly made a conquest of my own: 'twas thus, my friend, I fell. What was next to be done my passion pointed out; my heart I felt was warmed to a noble enterprise; I gave it way, and boldly on it led me. Leonora's name and voice, in the dark shades of night, I borrowed to engage the object of my wishes. I met him, Isabella, and so deceived him; he cannot blame me sure, for much I blest him. But, to finish this strange story: in short, I owned I long had loved, but, finding my father most averse to my desires, I at last forced myself to this secret correspondence; I urged the mischiefs would attend the knowledge on't, I urged them so, he thought them full of weight, so yielded to observe what rules I gave him: they were to pass the day with cold indifference, to avoid even signs or looks of intimacy, but gather for the still, the secret night, a flood of love to recompence the losses of the day. I will not trouble you with lovers' cares, nor what contrivances we formed to bring this toying to a solid bliss. Know only, when three nights we thus had passed, the fourth, it was agreed, should make us one for ever; each kept their promise, and last night has joined us.

Isa. Indeed your talents pass my poor extent: you serious ladies are well formed for business; what wretched work a poor coquette had made on't! but still there's that remains will try your skill; you have your man, but

Cam. Lovers think no farther, the object of that passion possesses all desire; however I have opened to you my wondrous situation. If you can advise me in my difficulties to come, you will. But see-my husband!

Enter LORENZO.

Lor. You look as if you were busy; pray tell me if I interrupt you? I'll retire.

Cam. No, no, you have a right to interrupt us, since you were the subject of our discourse. Lor. Was I?

Cam. You were; nay, I'll tell you how you entertained us too.

Lor. Perhaps I had as good avoid hearing that. Cam. You need not fear, it was not to your disadvantage; I was commending you, and saying, if I had been a woman, I had been in danger; nay, I think I said should infallibly have been in love with you.

Lor. While such an if is in the way, you run no great risque in declaring; but you'd be finely catched now, should some wonderful transformation give me a claim to your heart.

Cam. Not sorry for't at all, for I ne'er expect to find a mistress please me half so well as you would do if I were yours.

Cam. I have a secret to unfold to you, will put you even to a fiery trial.

Lor. What do you mean, Camillo ? Cum. I mean, that I love where I never durst yet own it; yet, where 'tis in your power to make me the happiest of

Lor. Explain, Camillo; and be assured, if your happiness is in my power, 'tis in your own. Cam. Alas! you promise me you know not what.

Lor. I promise nothing but what I will perform; name the person.

Cam. 'Tis one who's very near to you. Lor. If 'tis my sister, why all this pain in bringing forth the secret?

Cam. Alas! it is your-
Lor. Speak!

Cam. I cannot yet-Farewell.
Lor. Hold pray speak it now.

Cam. I must not; but when you tell me your secret, you shall know mine.

Lor. Mine is not in my power, without the consent of another.

Cam. Get that consent, and then we'll try who best will keep their oaths.

Lor. I am content. Cam. And i. Adieu. Lor. Farewell.

[Exit LORENZO.

Cum. Indeed I should not.

Lor. Then my obligation is but small to you. Cam. Why, would you have a woman, that is in love with you herself, employ her interest to help you to another?

Lor. No; but you, being no woman, might. Cam. Sir, 'tis as a woman I say what I do, and I suppose myself a woman when I design all these favours to you: therefore, out of that supposition, I have no other good intentions to you than you may expect from any one that says, he's-sir, your humble servant.

Lor. So, unless Heaven is pleased to work a miracle, and, from a sturdy young fellow, make you a kind-hearted young lady, I'm to get little by your good opinion of me?

Cam. Yes, there is one means yet left (on this side a miracle) that would perhaps engage me, if, with an honest oath, you could declare, were I a woman, I might dispute your heart, even with the first of my pretending sex.

Lor. Then solemnly and honestly I swear, that, had you been a woman, and i the master of the world, I think I should have laid it at your feet. Cam. Then honestly and solemnly I swear, henceforwards all your interest shall be mine.

Lor. I have a secret to impart to you will quickly try your friendship.

Cam. How, sister! so sudden a turn? This inequality of temper indeed is not commendable.

Leo. Your change, brother, is much more justly surprising; you hitherto have pleaded for him strongly, accused me of blindness, cruelty, and pride; and now I yield to your reasons, and resolve in his favour, you blame my compliance, and appear against his interest.

Cam. I quit his service for what's dearer to me, yours. I have learned, from sure intelligence, the attack he made on you was but a feint, and that his heart is in another's chain; I would not therefore see you so exposed, to offer up yourself to one who must refuse you.

Leo. If that be all, leave me my honour to take care of; I am no stranger to his wishes; he won't refuse me, brother, nor I hope will you, to tell him of my resolution ; if you do, this moment with my own tongue (through all the virgin's blushes) I'll own to him I am determined in his favour. You pause as if you'd let the task lic

on me.

Cam. Neither on you nor me; I have a reason you are yet a stranger to: know then, there is a virgin, young and tender, whose peace and happiness so much are unine, I cannot see her miserable; she loves him with that torrent of desire, that, were the world resigned her in his stead, she'd still be wretched. I will not pique you to a female strife, by saying you have not charms to

tear him from her; but I would move you to a female softness, by telling you her death would wait your conquest. What I have more to plead is as a brother; I hope that gives me some small interest in you; whatever it is, you see how I'd employ it.

Leo. You never could put it to a harder service; I beg a little time to think: pray leave me to myself a while.

Cam. I shall; I only ask that you would think, and then you won't refuse me. [Exit CAM. Jac. Indeed, madam, I'm of your brother's mind, though for another cause; but sure 'tis worth thinking twice on for your own sake: you are too violent.

Leo. A slighted woman knows no bounds. Vengeance is all the cordial she can have, so snatches at the nearest. Ungrateful wretch ! to use me with such insolence.

Jac. You see me as much enraged at it, as you are yourself, yet my brain is roving after the cause, for something there must be; never letter was received by man with more passion and transport; I was almost as charming a goddess as yourself, only for bringing it. Yet when, in a moment after, I come with a message worth a dozen on't, never was witch so handled; something must have passed between one and t'other,

that's sure.

Leo. Nothing could pass worth my enquiring after, since nothing could happen that can excuse his usage of me. He had a letter under my hand, which owned him master of my heart; and, till I contradicted it with my mouth, he ought not to doubt the truth on't.

Jac. Nay, I confess, madam, I ha'n't a word to say for him; I'm afraid he's but a rogue at bottom, as well as my shameless that attends him: we are bit, by my troth, and haply well enough served, for listening to the glib tongues of the rascals. But be conforted, madam; they'll fall into the hands of some foul sluts or other before they die, that will set our account even with 'em.

Leo. Well; let him laugh, let him glory in what he has done, he shall see I have a spirit can use him as I ought.

Jac. And let one thing be your comfort by the way, madam, that, in spite of all your dear affections to him, you have had the grace to keep him at arm's length. You ha'n't thanked me for it; but, good faith, 'twas well I did not stir out of the chamber that fond night; for there are times the stoutest of us are in danger, the rascals wheedle so. Leo. In short, my very soul is fired with his treatment; and if ever that perfidious monster should relent, though he should crawl like a poor worm beneath my feet, nay plunge a dagger in his heart, to bleed for pardon, I charge thee strictly, charge thee on thy life, thou do not urge a look to melt me toward him, but strongly buoy me up in brave resentment; and if thou see'st (which heavens avert) a glance of weakness in me, rouse to my memory the vile wrongs I've borne, and blazon them with skill in all their glaring colours.

Jac. Madam, never doubt me; I'm charged to the mouth with fury; and if ever I meet that fat traitor of mine, such a volley will I pour about his ears-Now Heaven prevent all hasty vows; but, in the humour I am, methinks I'd carry my maidenhead to my cold grave with me, before I'd let it simper at the rascal. But soft, here comes your father.

Enter ALVAREZ.

Alv. Leonora, I'd have you retire a little, and send your brother's tutor to me, Metaphrastus. Exeunt LEO. and JAC.] I'll try if I can dis cover, by his tutor, what it is that seems so much to work his brain of late; for something more than common there plainly does appear, yet nothing sure that can disturb his soul like what I have to torture mine upon his account. Sure nothing in this world is worth a troubled mind! What racks has avarice stretched me on! I wanted nothing; kind Heaven had given me a plenteous lot, and seated me in great abundance; why then approve I of this imposture? What have I gained by it: Wealth and misery. I have bartered peaceful days for restless nights; a wretched bargain! and he that merchandizes thus, must be undone at last.

Enter METAPHRASTUS.

Met. Mandatum tuum curo diligenter. Alv. Master, I had a mind to ask youMet. The title master, comes from Magis and Ter, which is as much as to say, thrice worthy. Alv. I never heard so much before, but it may be true, for aught I know. But, masterMet. Go on.

Alv. Why so I will if you'll let me, but don't interrupt me then.

Met. Enough, proceed.

Alo. Why then, master, for a third time, my son Camillo gives me much uneasiness of late; you know I love him, and have many careful thoughts about him.

Met. 'Tis true. Filio non potest præferri nisi filius.

Alv. Master, when one has business to talk on, these scholastic expressions are not of use; I believe you a great Latinist; possibly you may understand Greek: those who recommend you to me said so, and I am willing it should be true; but the thing I want to discourse you about at present, does not properly give you an occasion to display your learning. Besides, to tell you truth, 'twill at all times be lost upon me; my father was a wise man, but he taught me nothing beyond common sense; I know but one tongue in the world, which luckily being understood by you as well as me, I fancy, whatever thoughts we have to communicate to one another, may reason. ably be conveyed in that, without having recourse to the language of Julius Cæsar.

Met. You are wrong, but may proceed. Alv. I thank you: what is the matter I do not know; but, though it is of the utmost con sequence to me to marry my son, what match so