Fred. If you are not provided of a lodging, colonel, pray command my house while you stay. Col. If I were sure I should not be troublesome, I would accept your offer, Frederick. Fred. So far from trouble, colonel, I shall take it as a particular favour. What have we here? Col. My footman: this is our country dress, you must know, which, for the honour of Scotland, I make all my servants wear. Enter GIBBY, in a highland dress. Gib. What maun I de with the horses, and like yer honour? They will tack cald gin they stand in the causeway. Fred. Oh, I'll take care of them. What, hoa! Vasquez! Enter VASQUEZ. Put those horses, which that honest fellow will shew you, into my stable, do you hear, and feed them well. Vas. Yes, sir.-Sir, by my master's orders, I am, sir, your most obsequious humble servant. Be pleased to lead the way. Gib. 'Sbleed! gang your gate, sir; and I sall follow ye. Ise tee hungry to feed on compli[Erit. Fred. Ha, ha! a comical fellow. Well, how do you like our country, colonel? ments. Col. Why, faith, Frederick, a man might pass his time agreeably enough within side of a nunnery; but to behold such troops of soft, plump, tender, melting, wishing, nay, willing girls, too, through a damned grate, gives us Britons strong temptations to plunder. Ah, Frederick your priests are wicked rogues; they immure beauty for their own proper use, and shew it only to the laity to create desires, and inflame account, that they may purchase pardons at a dearer rate. Fred. I own wenching is something more difficult here than in England, where womens' liberties are subservient to their inclinations, and husbands seem of no effect but to take care of the children which their wives provide. Col. And does restraint get the better of inclination with your women here? No, I'll be sworn, not even in fourscore. Don't I know the constitution of the Spanish ladies? Fred. And of all the ladies where you come, colonel; you were ever a man of gallantry. Col. Ah, Frederick! the kirk half starves us Scotsmen. We are kept so sharp at home, that we feed like cannibals abroad. Hark ye, hast thou never a pretty acquaintance now that thou wouldst consign over to a friend for half an hour, ha?. Fred. Faith, colonel, I am the worst pimp in Christendom; you had better trust to your own luck: the women will soon find you out, I warrant you. Col. Aye, but it is dangerous foraging in an enemy's country; and since I have some hopes of VOL. II. seeing my own again, I had rather purchase my pleasure than run the hazard of a stiletto in my guts. Egad, I think I must e'en marry, and sacrifice my body for the good of my soul. Wilt thou recommend me to a wife, then; one that is willing to exchange her moidores for English liberty? ha, friend? Fred. She must be very handsome, I suppose? Col. The handsomer the better-but be sure she has a nose. Fred. Aye, aye; and some gold. Col. Oh, very much gold; I shall never be able to swallow the matrimonial pill, if it be not well gilded. Fred. Puh! beauty will make it slide down nimbly. Col. At first, perhaps, it may; but the second or third dose will choke me. I confess, Frederick, women are the prettiest play-things in nature; but gold, substantial gold, gives them the air, the mien, the shape, the grace, and beauty of a goddess. Fred. And has not gold the same divinity in their eyes, colonel ? Col. Too often-Money is the very god of marriage; the poets dress him in a saffron robe, by which they figure out the golden deity; and his lighted torch blazons those mighty charms which encourage us to list under his banner. None marry now for love; no, that's a jest: The self-same bargain serves for wife and beast. Fred. You are always gay, colonel. Come, shall we take a refreshing glass at my house, and consider what has been said? Col. I have two or three compliments to discharge for some friends, and then I shall wait on, you with pleasure. Where do you live? Fred. At yon corner-house with the green rails. Col. In the close of the evening, I will endeavour to kiss your hand! Adieu. [Exit CoL. Fred. I shall expect you with impatience. [Exit FRED. SCENE II-A room in DON LOPEZ's house. Enter ISABELLA, and INIS her maid. Inis. For goodness sake, madam, where are you going in this pet? Isa. Any where to avoid matrimony. The thoughts of a husband are as terrible to me as the sight of a hobgoblin. Inis. Ay, of an old husband: but if you may choose for yourself, I fancy matrimony would be no such frightful thing to you. Isa. You are pretty much in the right, Inis: but to be forced into the arms of an idiot, a sneaking, snivelling, drivelling, avaricious fool! who has neither person to please the eye, sense to charm the ear, nor generosity to supply those 3 Z defects-Ah, Inis! what pleasant lives women | lead in England, where duty wears no fetter but inclination! The custom of our country enslaves us from our very cradles, first to our parents, next to our husbands, and, when Heaven is so kind to rid us of both these, our brothers still usurp authority, and expect a blind obedience from us; so that, maids, wives, or widows, we are little better than slaves to the tyrant, man. Therefore, to avoid their power, I resolve to cast myself into a monastery. Inis. That is, you'll cut your own throat to avoid another's doing it for you. Ah, madam! those eyes tell me you have no nun's flesh about you. A monastery, quotha!-where you'll wish yourself into the green-sickness in a month. Isa. What care I? there will be no man to plague me. Inis. No; nor, what's much worse, to please you, neither-Odslife, madam, you are the first woman that ever despaired in a Christian country -Were I in your place Isa. Why, what would your wisdom do, if you were? Isa. Do not mistake, sir. The fatal stroke, which separates soul and body, is not more terrible to the thoughts of sinners, than the name of Guzman to my ear. Lop. Puh, puh! you lie, you lie. Isa. My frighted heart beats hard against my breast, as if it sought a passage to your feet, to beg you'd change your purpose. Lop. A very pretty speech, this! if it were turned into blank verse, it would serve for a tragedy. Why, thou hast more wit than I thought thou hadst, child. I fancy this was all extempore; I don't believe thou didst ever think one word on't before. Inis. Yes, but she has, my lord; for I have heard her say the same things a thousand times. Lop. How, how!-What, do you top your second-hand jests upon your father, hussy, who knows better what's good for you than you do yourself? Remember 'tis your duty to obey. Inis. I'd embark with the first fair wind with all my jewels, and seek my fortune on t'other side the water: no shore can treat you worse than your own. There's ne'er a father in Chris-the harsh commands you lay. tendom should make me marry any man against my will. Isa. [Rising.] I never disobeyed before; and I wish I had not reason now; but nature has got the better of my duty, and makes me loathe the Isa. I am too great a coward to follow your advice. I must contrive some way to avoid Don Guzman, and yet stay in my own country. Enter DON LOPEZ. Lop. Must you so, mistress? but I shall take care to prevent you. [Aside.]—Isabella, whither are you going, my child? Isa. Ha! my father!-To church, sir. Inis. The old rogue has certainly overheard her. [Aside. Lop. Your devotion must needs be very strong, or your memory very weak, my dear. Why, vespers are over for this night. Come, come; you shall have a better errand to church than to say your prayers there. Don Guzman is arrived in the river, and I expect him ashore to-morrow. Isa. Ha! to-morrow! Lop. He writes me word, that his estate in Holland is worth twelve thousand crowns a-year, which, together with what he had before, will make thee the happiest wife in Lisbon. Isa. And the most unhappy woman in the world. Oh, sir, if I have any power in your heart; if the tenderness of a father be not quite extinct, hear me with patience. Lop. No objection against the marriage, and I will hear whatsoever thou hast to say. Isa. That's torturing me on the rack, and forbidding me to groan. Upon my knees, I claim the privilege of flesh and blood. [Kneels. Lop. I grant it; thou shalt have an armful of Lop. Ha, ha! very fine! ha, ha! Isa. Death itself would be more welcome. Isu. I am your daughter, my lord, and can boast as strong a resolution as yourself. I'll die before I'll marry Guzman. Lop. Say you so? I'll try that presently. [Draws.] Here, let me see with what dexterity you can breathe a vein now. [Offers her his sword.] The point is pretty sharp-'twill do your business, I Lop. Ay, ay, child; thou hadst better take the man; he'll hurt thee the least of the two. Isa. I shall take neither, sir: Death has many doors; and, when I can live no longer with pleasure, I shall find one to let him in at without your aid. Lop. Say'st thou so, my dear Bell? Ods, I'm afraid thou art a little lunatic, Bell. I must take care of thee, child. [Takes hold of her, and pulls out of his pocket a key.] I shall make bold to secure thee, my dear; I'll see if locks and bars can keep thee till Guzman come. Go, get into your chamber: There I'll your boasted resolution try, [Pushes her in, and locks the door. ACT II. SCENE I-A room in DON PEDRO's house. Enter DONNA VIOLANTE, reading a letter, and Flo. WHAT, must that letter be read again? Vio. Yes, and again, and again, and again; a thousand times again; a letter from a faithful lover can ne'er be read too often; it speaks such kind, such soft, such tender things [Kisses it. an English colonel; but I should have rather Flo. You'd make one believe you are wondrous foud now. Lis. Od, if I had you alone, housewife, I'd shew you how fond I would be- [Aside to FLO. Flo. But always the same language. Vio. Where did you leave your master? Vio. It does not charm the less for that. Lis. At a little farm-house, madam, about five Flo. In my opinion, nothing charms that does miles off. He'll be at Don Frederick's in the not change and any composition of the four-evening--Od, I will so revenge myself of those and-twenty-letters, after the first essay, from the lips of thinesame hand, must be dull, except a bank-note, or a bill of exchange. Vio. Thy taste is my averson.-[Reads.] My 'all that's charming, since life's not life, exiled from thee, this night shall bring me to thy arms. "Frederick and thee are all I trust. These six 'weeks' absence, has been, in love's account, six 'hundred years. When it is dark, expect the 'wonted signal at thy window: till when, adieu. | Thine, more than his own, FELIX.' Flo. Who would not have said as much to a lady of her beauty, and twenty thousand pounds? -Were I a man, methinks I could have said a hundred finer things. Vio. What would you have said? Flo. I would have compared your eyes to the stars, your teeth to ivory, your lips to coral, your neck to alabaster, your shape to Vio. No more of your bombast; truth is the best eloquence in a lover.What proof remains ungiven of his love? When his father threatened to disinherit him for refusing Don Antonio's sister, from whence sprung this unhappy quarrel, did it shake his love for me? and now, though strict inquiry runs through every place, with large rewards to apprehend him, does he not venture all for me? Flo. But you know, madam, your father, Don Pedro, designs you for a nun-to be sure, you look very like a nun!—and says your grandfather left you your fortune upon that condition. Vio. Not without my approbation, girl, when I come to one-and-twenty, as I am informed. But, however, I shall run the risk of that. Go, call in Lissardo. Flo. Yes, madam. Now for a thousand verbal questions! Re-enter with LISSARDO. [Exit. Vio. Well, and how do you do, Lissardo? Lis. En chevalier, madam; upon a hackney jade, which, they told me, formerly belonged to [TO FLORA. Vio. Is he in health? [TO LISSARDO. Lis. A pox on't; I hate to be interrupted.Love, madam, love-In short, madain, I believe he has thought of nothing but your ladyship ever since he left Lisbon. I am sure he could not, if I may judge of his heart by my own. [Looking lovingly upon FLORA. Vio. How came you so well acquainted with your master's thoughts, Lissardo? Lis. By an infallible rule, madam; words are the pictures of the mind, you know: now, to prove he thinks of nothing but you, he talks of nothing but you. For example, madam; coming from shooting t'other day with a brace of partridges, Lissardo, said he, go bid the cook roast me these Violantes.I flew into the kitchen, full of thoughts of thee, cried, Here, cook, roast me these Floras. [TO FLORA. Flo. Ha, ha excellent!-You mimic your master, then, it seems? Lis. I can do every thing as well as my master, you little rogue.-Another time, madam, the priest came to make him a visit; he called out hastily, Lissardo, said he, bring a Violante for my father to sit down on. -Then he often mis took my name, madam, and called me Violante : in short, I heard it so often, that it became as familiar to me as my prayers. Vio. You live very merrily, then, it seems? Lis. Oh! exceeding merry, madam. [Kisses FLORA's hand. Vio. Ha! exceeding merry: had you treats and balls? Lis. Oh! yes, yes, madam, several. Flo. You are mad, Lissardo; you don't mind what my lady says to you. [Aside to LISSARDO. Vio. Ha! balls-Is he so merry in my absence? And did your master dance, Lissardo? Lis. Dance, madam! where, madam? Vio. Why, at those balls you speak of. Vio. Why, sure you are in love, Lissardo! did not you say, but now, you had balls where you have been? Lis. Balls, madam! Odslife, I ask your pardon, madam! I, I, I, had mislaid some washballs of my master's t'other day; and, because I could not think where I had laid them, just when he asked for them, he very fairly broke my head, madain; and now, it seems, I can think of nothing else. Alas! he dance, madamn! No, no, poor gentleman! he is as melancholy as an unbraced drum. Vio. Poor Felix! There, wear that ring for your master's sake, and let him know I shall be ready to receive him. [Exit VIOLANTE. Lis. I shall, madam.- [Puts on the ring.] Methinks, a diamond ring is a vast addition to the little finger of a gentleman. [Admiring his hand. Flo. That ring must be mine.-Well, Lissardo, what haste you make to pay off arrears now! Look how the fellow stands! Lis. Egad, methinks I have a very pretty hand— and very white-and the shape!-Faith, I never minded it so much before-In my opinion, it is a very fine shaped hand-and becomes a diamond ring as well as the first grandee's in Portugal. this Flo. The man's transported! Is this your love, your impatience? Lis. [Takes snuff] Now, in my mind-I take suuff with a very jantee air-Well, I am persuaded I want nothing but a coach and a title to make me a very fiue gentleman. [Struts about. Flo. Sweet Mr Lissardo! [Curtsying.] if I may presume to speak to you, without affronting your little finger Lis. Odso, madam, I ask your pardon-Is it to me, or to the ring-you direct your discourse, madam? Flo. Madam! Good lack! how much a diamond ring improves one! Lis. Why, though I say it-I can carry myself as well as any body-But what wert thou going to say, child? Flo. Why, I was going to say, that I fancy you had best let me keep that ring it will be a very pretty wedding-ring, Lissardo, would it not? Lis. Humph! ah! But-but-but-I believe I shan't marry yet awhile. Flo. You shan't, you say!-Very well! I suppose you design that ring for Inis? Flo. Little rogue! Prithce, fellow, don't be so familiar; [Pushing him away.] if I mayn't keep your ring, I can keep my kisses. Lis. You can, you say! spoke with the air of a chambermaid. Flo. Replied with the spirit of a serving man, Lis. Prithee, Flora, don't let you and I fall out; I am in a merry humour, and shall certainly fall in somewhere. Flo. What care I where you fall in ! Enter VIOLANTE. Vio. Why do you keep Lissardo so long, Flora, when you don't know how soon my father may awake? his afternoon naps are never long. Flo. Had Don Felix been with her, she would not have thought the time long. These ladies consider nobody's wants but their own. [Aside. Vio. Go, go; let him out, and bring a candle. Flo. Yes, madam. Lis. I fly, madam. [Exeunt Lis, and FLORA, Vio. The day draws in, and night, the lover's friend, advances-night, more welcome than the sun to me, because it brings my love. Flo. [Shrieks within.] Ah, thieves, thieves! Murder, Murder! Vio. [Shrieks.] Ah! defend me, Heaven! What do I hear? Felix is certainly pursued, and will be taken. Enter FLORA, running. Vio. How now? why dost stare so? Answer me quickly; what's the matter? Flo. Oh, madam! as I was letting out Lissardo, a gentleman rushed between him and I, struck down my candle, and is bringing a dead person in his arms into our house. Vio. Ha! a dead person! Heaven grant it does not prove my Felix! Flo. Here they are, madam. Vio. I'll retire till you discover the meaning of this accident. [Exit. Enter COLONEL, with ISABELLA in his arms; sets her down in a chair, and addresses himself to FLORA. Col. Madam, the necessity this lady was under of being conveyed into some house with speed and secrecy, will, I hope, excuse any indecency I might be guilty of in pressing so rudely into this-I am an entire stranger to her name and circumstances-would I were so to her beauty, too. [Aside.] I commit her, madam, to your care; and fly Lis. No, no; I never bribe an old acquaint- to make her retreat secure, if the street be clear: ance-Perhaps I might let it sparkle in the eyes permit me to return, and learn, from her own of a stranger a little, till we come to a right un-mouth, if I can be further serviceable. Pray, maderstanding-but, then, like all other mortal things, it would return from whence it came. Flo. Insolent!-is that your manner of dealing? Lis. With all but thee-Kiss me, you little rogue, you. [Hugging her. dam, how is the lady of this house called? Col. Your humble servant, mistress. Pray, be careful of the lady. [Gives her two moidores, and exit. Flo. Two moidores! Well, he is a generous fellow. This is the only way to make one careful. I find all countries understand the constitution of a chambermaid. Enter VIOLANTE. Vio. Was you distracted, Flora! to tell my name to a man you never saw! Unthinking wench! who knows what this may turn to?What, is the lady dead? Ah! defend me, Heaven! 'tis Isabella, sister to my Felix. What has befallen her? Pray Heaven he's safe.-Run and fetch some cold water.-Stay, stay, Flora.-Isabella, friend, speak to me; Oh! speak to me, or I shall die with apprehension! Flo. See, she revives! Isa. I know not; I desired the stranger to convey me to the next monastery; but, ere I reached the door, I saw, or fancied that I saw, Lissardo, my brother's man; and the thought that his master might not be far off, flung me into a swoon; which is all that I can remember.Ha! What's here? [Takes up a letter.] For 'Colonel Briton, to be left at the post-house in 'Lisbon.' This must be dropt by the stranger which brought me hither. Vio. Thou art fallen into the hands of a soldier; take care he does not lay thee under contribution, girl. Isa. I find he is a gentleman; and if he is but Vio. What makes you sigh, Isabella? Isa. Oh! hold, my dearest father! do not clutches again. force me; indeed, I cannot love him. Vio. How wild she talks! Isa. Ha! where am I? Vio. With one as sensible of thy pain, as thou thyself canst be. Isa. Violante! what kind star preserved and lodged me here? Flo. It was a terrestrial star, called a man, madam; pray Jupiter he proves a lucky one! Isa. Oh! I remember now. Forgive me, dear Violante! my thought ran so much upon the danger I escaped, I forgot. Vio. May I not know your story? Vio. Can I be serviceable to you? Isa. Yes, if you conceal me two or three days. Vio. I'll send her to you.-I must watch if dad be still asleep, or here will be no room for Felix. [Exit. Isa. Well, I don't know what ails me; methinks I wish I could find this stranger out. Enter FLORA. Isab. Thou are no stranger to one part of it. I have often told thee, that my father designed to sacrifice me to Don Guzman, who, it seems, is just returned from Holland, and expected ashore to-morrow, the day that he has set to celebrate our nuptials. Upon my refusing to obey him, he locked me into my chamber, vow-this as a token of my gratitude. ing to keep me there till he arrived, and force me to consent. I know my father to be positive, never to be won from his design; and having no hope left me to escape the marriage, I leaped from the window into the street. Flo. Does your ladyship want me, madam? Isa. Ay, Mrs Flora: I resolve to make you my confidante. Flo. I shall endeavour to discharge my duty, madam. Isa. I doubt it not, and desire you to accept Vio. You have not hurt yourself, I hope? Isa. No; a gentleman, passing by accident, caught me in his arms: at first, my fright made me apprehend it was my father, till he assured me to the contrary. Flo. Oh, dear Seniora! I should have been your humble servant without a fee. -Do Isa. I believe it-But to the purposeyou think, if you saw the gentleman who brought me hither, you should know him again? Flo. From a thousand, madam; I have an excellent memory, where a handsome man is concerned. When he went away, he said he would return again immediately. I admire he comes not. Isa. Here, did you say? You rejoice methough I'll not see him, if he comes. Could not you contrive to give him a letter? Flo. He is a very fine gentlemen, I promise you, madam, and a well-bred man I warrant him. I think I never saw a grandee put his hand into his pocket with a better air in my Flo. With the air of a duennawhole life-time; then he opened his purse Isa. Not in this house--you must veil and with such a grace, that nothing but his man-follow him--He must not know it comes from ner of presenting me with the gold could equal. me. Vio. There is but one common road to the Flo. What, do you take me for a novice in heart of a servant, and 'tis impossible for a love affairs? Though I have not practised the generous person to mistake it. Go, leave art since I have been in Donna Violante's serus, Flora. But how came you hither, Isa-vice, yet I have not lost the theory of a chambella? bermaid-Do you write the letter and leave the |