Chapter IV: Act II: SCENE I. Lucasia's Chamber

_Enter_ Lucasia _and_ Lavinia.

_Lavin._ Upon my Life, Cousin, I think my Condition worse than yours, and yet you see I am not so much dejected.

_Luc._ Oh! What Condition is't can equal mine?
Much less exceed it; to be oblig'd to
Break my Vow, to part from my _Palante_;
Forc'd to the Arms of a mishapen Monster,
Whom Nature made to vex the whole Creation.
Nor is his crooked Body more deform'd
Than is his Soul, Ambition is his God;
He seeks no Heav'n but Interest; nor knows he
How to value ought but Gold.
Oh! my dearest Brother, had'st thou but liv'd
I had been truly happy, but now am
Doubly miserable, in losing thee and my _Palante_.

_Lavin._ For Heaven's Sake don't afflict yourself at this Rate, but study rather to avoid the Ill, if you would counter-plot my Uncle; dry up your Eyes, and let the Woman work, I warrant you may contrive some Way to get rid of this Lump of Worms-meat; I don't fear giving my Father the drop, for all his Care, yet tho' he made me ride post to Town, to meet the Fool he has pick'd out for me; it shall cost me a Fall, if I don't marry the Man I have a Mind to; I shall see who's the best Politician, my Dad, or I.

_Luc._ Thy Courage gives fresh Life and Liberty,
To poor _Lucasia_'s tired restless Soul,
Such Pow'r have chearful Friends t'ease our Sorrows.
Oh! my _Lavinia_, may thy Counsel prove
Prophetic, I'm going now, in this Disguise, to meet my
Dear _Palante_; may no malignant Star
Interpose to cross our mutual Wishes.
May thy Designs successful prove,
To fix thee ever in _Francisco_'s Arms.

_Lavin._ And make _Palante_ yours.

SCENE the Street.

Sancho _and_ Francisco _meeting_.

_Fran._ Don _Sancho_ your Servant; who thought of seeing you at _Palermo_, I thought you had been at the University of _Salamanca_?

_Sancho._ I came lately from thence.

_Fran._ Pr'ythee, what brought you hither?

_Sanc._ Why, that that brings some Men to the Gallows, a Wench.

_Fran._ What, I warrant, you have got your Bed-maker with Child, and so are expell'd the College.

_Sancho._ That's a Mistake.

_Fran._ What, thou art not come hither to take Physic, ha!

_Sancho._ No, not the Physic you mean; but am going to enter into a Course, that is, the Course of Matrimony.

_Fran._ Matrimony, with who, pr'ythee?

_Sanc._ Why, with Don _Larich_'s Daughter: Do you know her?

_Fran._ Ha! Is this my Rival? This was a lucky Discovery, [_Aside._] I know her; ay, very well, Sir. I can assure you she's very handsome, and as witty as she's fair: Thou won't visit her in that Dress, sure?

_Sancho._ To chuse, Sir, 'tis an Emblem of Learning; nay, I design my Man shall carry a Load of Books along with me too, that she may see what he is Master of, that is to be Master of her.

_Fran._ Indeed, my Friend, you'll never succeed upon those Terms.

_Tristr._ Sir, my Master has such an Itch to this foolish Learning, that he bestows more Money yearly upon Books, than would build an Hospital for all the Courtesans in _Italy_.

_Sancho._ No more, or you'll displease me, _Tristram_.

_Tristr._ I can't help that, Sir,--Sir, will you believe me, I have spent two Days in sorting Poets from Historians, and as many Nights in placing the Divines on their own Chairs, I mean their Shelves; then separating Philosophers, from those People that kill with a License, cost me a whole Day's Labour; and tho' my Master says Learning is immortal, I find the Sheets it is contain'd in savours much of Mortality.

_Sancho._ I hope my Books are in good Case, _Tristram_?

_Tristr._ Yes, yes, Sir, in as good Case as the Moths have left 'em.

_Sancho._ Od'so, I had forgot, to get me _Suarez Metaphysicks_, _Tolet de Anima_, and _Granados Commentaries_, on _Primum Secundae Thomae Aquinatis_.

_Tristr._ How the Devil does he do to remember all these Author's hard Names, I dare swear he understands not a Syllable of their Writings----Sir, would not the famous History of _Amidis de Gaul_ do as well?

_Fran._ Ay, better, better far, Man, hark'ee _Sancho_, you are not at _Salamanca_ now, amongst your square Caps, but in _Palermo_, come up to see your Mistress the fair _Lavinia_, the Glory of the City; go and court her like a Gentleman, without your Tropes and Figures, or all the Physics, Metaphysics, and Metaphors, will streight be made pitiful Martyrs.

_Sancho._ Martyrs, Sir, why, I thought--

_Fran._ Thyself an errant Idiot, thy Brain's more dull than a _Dutch_ Burghers. Is this a Dress fit for a Gentleman to court his Mistress in? Away, away, the Lady you speak of, I can assure you is too much a Gallant to be taken with a Band and a square Cap--If you would succeed, you must throw off that Pedant, and assume the Gentleman, learn the Toss of the Head, and know the Principles of each Man by the Cock of his Hat.

_Sancho._ How's that, pray?

_Fran._ Oh! I'll teach you: If you be but willing to improve, I'll warrant you carry the Lady.

_Sanch._ But I am to be married to her as soon as I see her, so my Father told me, and that her Father admired a Scholar above all Things.

_Fran._ I'll improve that Hint--Ay, as I told you, a Scholar that is read in Men, not in Books.

_Sancho._ In Men, what's that? in Men! _Tristram_, what does he mean? what Man is to be read? In Men! I don't understand you; but you'll teach me, you say.

_Fran._ Ay, ay, I'll give you a Lesson upon that Subject.

_Sancho._ Very well; but what shall I do for Cloaths to dress like a Gentleman?

_Fran._ If you please to step into my Lodgings here, I'll equip you with a Suit of mine till you can have one made, and there I'll teach you a little of the Town breeding, and I warrant you you'll succeed.

_Sancho._ Come on; faith I long to become thy Scholar.

_Fran._ And I to make you an Ass. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Eugenio _and his Man_.

_Eug._ What can this mean; where e'er I come the News is current of my Death, yet not two Days since, I wrote and received Letters from my Father, and here the Rumour goes, I have been dead this fortnight! I am resolv'd to know the Grounds, if possible. _Pedro_, go get me some Disguise, and for your Life discover not who I am, I'll stay here at this Inn 'till you return, and in the mean Time think what Method to pursue my Project in. [_Exit._

SCENE _changes to the Grove_. Lucasia _sola_.

_Lucasia._ Methinks this silent solitary Grove
Should strike a Terror to such Hearts as mine;
But Love has made me bold, the Time has been,
In such a Place as this, I should have fear'd
Each shaking Bough, and started at the Wind,
And trembled at the Rushing of the Leaves;
My Fancy would have fram'd a thousand Shapes;
But now it seems a Palace,
Delightful as the Poets feign
The _Elizian_ Fields; Here do I expect
To meet my Love, my faithful, dear _Palante_.
Why does he stay thus long? when last we
Parted, each Hour he said wou'd seem a Year,
Till we were met again, and yet I'm here
Before him; I'll rest a while, for come I
Know he will. [_Goes and sits down._

_Enter_ Palante _and_ Clerimont.

_Pal._ This _Clerimont_, this is the happy Place,
Where I shall meet the Sum of all my Joys,
And be possest of such a vast Treasure
As wou'd enrich a Monarch to receive;
And thou, my Friend, must give her to my Arms.

_Luc._ 'Tis my _Palante_'s Voice. [_Comes forward._

_Pal._ My Life, my Soul, what here before me? still
Thou prevent'st me in the Race of Love, and
Makest all my Endeavours poor in Competition
With thy large Favours----
But I forget, Dearest; bid my Friend here welcome,
This is he whom I dare trust, next my own
Heart, with Secrets.

_Luc._ I must admire him that loves _Palante_;
Friendship's a noble Name, 'tis Love refin'd;
'Tis something more than Love, 'tis what I wou'd
Shew to my _Palante_.

_Cler._ It is indeed a Beauty of the Mind, a Sacred Name,
In which so brightly shines that Heavenly Love,
That makes th' immortal Beings taste each others Joy;
'Tis the very Cement of Souls. Friendship's
A Sacred Name, and he who truly knows
The Meaning of the Word, is worthy of Estimation.
No Pains he'll spare, no Difficulties start,
But hazard all for th' Int'rest of his Friend.

_Pal._ Ay! Now methinks I'm Emperor of the World,
With my inestimable Wealth about me:
To such a Mistress, such a Friend, what can be
Added more to make me happy?----
Oh! thou darksome Grove, that wont to be call'd
The Seat of Melancholy, and Shelter
For the discontented Souls! sure thou'rt wrong'd!
Thou seem'st to me a Place of Solace and Content?
A Paradise! that gives me more than Courts
Cou'd ever do: Blest be then thy fair Shades,
Let Birds of Musick always chant it here;
No croaking Raven, or ill-boding Owl,
Make here their baleful Habitation:
But may'st thou be a Grove for Loves fair Queen
To sport in, for under thy blest Shade two faithful
Lovers meet----Why is my _Lucasia_ sad?

_Luc._ I know not, but I long to quit this Place,
My Thoughts seem to divine of Treachery,
But whence I know not; no Creature's conscious
To our meeting here but _Laura_; I have always
Found her honest, and yet I would she did not know it.

_Pal._ 'Tis only Fear assaults thy tender Mind;
But come, my Friend, let's to the Cell adjoining
To this Grove, and there the Priest
Shall make us one for ever. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Larich _and_ Lavinia.

_Lar._ Come, set your Face in order, for I expect young _Sancho_ here immediately, he arriv'd in Town last Night, and Sent me Word but now, he'd be here in an instant.

_Lav._ But, Sir.

_Lar._ Sir me no Sirs, for I'm resolv'd you shall be married to Night.

_Enter a Servant._

_Serv._ Sir, here's a Gentleman to wait on you calls himself Don _Sancho_.

_Lar._ Odso, shew him up; now, you Baggage, you shall see the Pink of Learning, one that can travel thro' the whole World in an Afternoon, and sup in _Palermo_ at Night, ha! you shall; you'll be as wise as the _Sibyls_ in a Month's Time, with such a Husband, and will bring forth a Race of Politicians that shall set the World together by the Ears, then patch it up again in the supping of a poach'd Egg.

_Enter_ Sancho _and_ Tristram.

_Lar._ Save you, Sir.

_Sanc._ You don't think me damn'd, Sir, that you bestow that Salutation upon me?

_Lar._ By no Means, Sir, 'tis only my Way of expressing a hearty Welcome.

_Sanc._ Sir, your humble Servant: Is this your fair Daughter, Sir?

_Lar._ Yes, Sir.

_Sanc._ She's very handsome, Faith.

_Lar._ She's as Heaven made her.

_Sanc._ Then she shou'd be naked; the Taylor shou'd have no Hand in her--I suppose you know my business, shall we be married instantly?

_Lar._ Won't to-morrow serve, Sir? I wou'd first hear a little of your Proceedings in the University; came you from _Salamanca_ now, Sir?

_Sanc._ From _Salamanca_! What do you see in my Face that shou'd make you judge me such a Coxcomb?

_Lar._ Your Father writ me word, that his Son that was to marry my Daughter, was a Scholar, wholly given up to Books.

_Sanc._ My Father was an errant Ass for his Pains, I ne'er read a Book in my Life but what I was beat to, and those I forgot as soon as I left School: A Scholar! he lies in his Throat that told you so.

_Lav._ In my Conscience, Sir, you may believe him; I dare swear he never saw a Book except the Chronicle chain'd in his Father's Hall.

_Lar._ Hold your Tongue, Hussy; how now?

_Sanc._ Sir, I understand a Horse, a Hawk, or Hound, as well as any Man living; nay, I understand Men too; I know now that you are an old covetous Hunks, by the sett of your Hat now; but no Matter for that, your Daughter is the better Fortune.

_Lav._ The Fool has hit right upon my Father, we shall have rare Sport presently.

_Sanc._ I have studied Men, Sir----I know each Man's inward Principle by his out-side Habit.

_Lav._ Does your profound Knowledge reach to Women too, Sir?

_Lar._ You will be prating----

_Sanc._ Look you, Sir, observe the Management of my Hat now----This is your bullying Gamester. [_Three Corners short Pinch._

_Lar._ What the Devil have we here! z'death this can never be Don _Sancho_'s Son?

_Lav._ This is indeed the Pink of Learning, Sir--I shall be as wise as the _Sybils_ with such a Husband; ha, ha, ha.

_Sanc._ Your Beaus wear their Hats [_Offering to put it on._] no, hold, thus, Sir; [_Clapping it under his Arm._] your conceited Wit, thus, [_Putting it on over the left Eye._] and your travell'd Wit thus [_Over the right Eye without a Pinch._] your Country 'Squire, thus, [_Putting it behind his Wig._]

_Lar._ I wonder how an Ass wears it, I'm sure thou art one; I am amaz'd! this must be some Trick certainly. [_Aside._

_Lav._ What think you now, Sir, shall we get a Race of Politicians? In my Conscience this falls out as well as I could wish. Oh that I could but once see _Francisco_. [_Aside._

_Lar._ Huzzy, hold your Tongue, or----or----
[_Holds up his Cane._

This may be some of your Contrivance, for ought I know. This is a very great Blockhead; Ounds, I--I--I--have a good Mind to add one Fashion more to your Hat, and knock it down to your Crown.

_Sanc._ Evermore, Sir, when you see a Man wear his Hat thus, [_Pulling it down on both Sides._] he's a Projector, a Projector, Sir, or a Member of the Society of the Reformation of Manners, [_In another Tone._] What think you of this, old Gentleman? ha! is not this a greater Knowledge than ever Man attain'd to by Books? ha!

_Lar._ I admire that my old Friend, knowing my Aversion for these foolish Fopperies, shou'd breed up his Son to 'em, then write me Word he had made him a Scholar, purposely because I was a Lover of Learning; pray, Sir was you ever in _Palermo_ before?

_Sanc._ No, Sir; but I like it very well now I am in't.

_Lar._ I must be satisfied that you are Seignor _Sancho_'s Son, e'er I shall like you for mine. [_Aside._

_Sanc._ What think you of a Glass of Champaign, Sir? If you'll go to the Tavern, I'll give you a Bottle of the best the House affords; what say you, old Dad? ha! and there we will consult about our Marriage.

_Lar._ If you'll go to the Tavern that joins to the Piazza, I'll wait on you in a quarter of an Hour.

_Sanc._ Sir, I shall wait your Pleasure.

_Lar._ I took the Hint, to get rid of him, what shall I do to find the Truth of this? [_Exeunt._

_Enter a Servant._

_Serv._ Sir, a Scholar enquires for you.

_Lar._ A Scholar! admit him immediately.

_Enter_ Francisco _in_ Sancho_'s Habit_.

_Fran._ So, I watch'd _Sancho_ out, now for my Cue. [_Aside._ If you be the venerable Man to whom this goodly Mansion is impropriated; I come to negociate about authentic Business.

_Lav._ This rather shou'd be Don _Sancho_'s Son----his Words and Habit speak him most learned----I am the Person, pray let me be bold to crave your Name.

_Fran._ My Appellation, or _pro Nomen_, as the Latins term it, is call'd _Jeremie_; but my _Cognomen_, in our Mother Tongue, is call'd _Sancho_.

_Lav._ Ha! upon my Life 'tis _Francisco_; oh, for an Opportunity to speak to him: I hope to Heaven, my Father won't find out the Cheat. [_Aside._

_Lar._ Ay, this is he, this is he; what Don _Sancho_'s Son?

_Fran._ The _Nominals_, the _Thomists_, and all the Sects of old and modern School-men, do oblige me to pay to that Gentleman filial Duty.

_Lar._ I am glad to hear it with all my Heart, I know the other must be an Imposter, but I'm resolv'd to apprehend and punish him: Sir, you are welcome; I guess your Business, my Daughter is yours.

_Fran._ My Business is about Propagation, as the civil Lawyers do learnedly paraphrase, is of Concomitance, or Cohabitation, or what you please to term it.

_Lar._ How am I blest that this wonderful Scholar shall be match'd into my Family----Daughter, what say you now, here's a Husband for you now, here's a Husband for you.

_Lav._ Pray Heaven you hold but in the Mind 'till you have made him such. [_Aside._

_Lar._ Does he not speak like an Oracle? 'egad I'll maintain't, he shall put down ten Universities and Inns of Court in twenty Syllables----Pray, Sir, speak learnedly to my Girl, for, tho' I say it, she has a good Capacity.

_Fran._ Most rubicund, stilliferous, splendant Lady, the occular Faculties by which the beams of Love are darted into every Soul, or human Essence, have convey'd into my Breast the Lustre of your Beauty; and I can admire no other Object; therefore pardon me, Sir, if I only express myself in Terms Scholastic, and in Metaphors, my Phrase to her. [_Turning to_ Larich.

_Lar._ Learned, learned, young Man, how happy am I in thee?

_Lav._ Now do I long to see my Father's Back turn'd, that he might change his learned non-sense, and talk more modern, to talk more wise; you may spare your Rhetoric, Sir, unless you come down to my Understanding; but I know just enough of your Meaning, to tell you it does not suit with my Inclination.

_Lar._ What don't suit with your Inclination, ha, forsooth?

_Lav._ Marriage, Sir.

_Lar._ 'Tis false, hussy, you have an Inclination, and you shall have an Inclination; not an Inclination, quoth the Baggage: Sir, I say she's yours, come into the next Room, and I'll have the Settlement drawn immediately, and you shall be married to Night. Not an Inclination! [_Exit._