Chapter XXVII: Act II

SCENE I.--_A Bed-Chamber; a Couch prepared, and set so near the
Pit that the Audience may hear._

ALPHONSO _enters with a Book in his Hand, and sits; reads to
himself a little while. Enter_ VICTORIA, _and sits by him, then
speaks._

_Vict._ If on your private business I intrude,
Forgive the excess of love, that makes me rude.
I hope your sickness has not reached your heart,
But come to bear a suffering sister's part;
Yet, lest I should offend you by my stay,
Command me to depart, and I obey.

_Alph._ The patient, who has passed a sleepless night,
Is far less pleased with his physician's sight.
Welcome, thou pleasing, but thou short reprieve,
To ease my death, but not to make me live.
Welcome, but welcome as a winter's sun,
That rises late, and is too quickly gone.

_Vict._ You are the star of day, the public light; }
And I am but your sister of the night; }
Eclipsed, when you are absent from my sight. }

_Alph._ Death will for ever take me from your eyes;
But grieve not you, for, when I set, you rise:
Don Garcia has deserved to be your choice, }
And 'tis a brother's duty to rejoice. }
}
_Vict._ And yet, methought, you gave him not your voice. }

_Alph._ You saw a sudden sickness left me weak;
I had no joy to give, nor tongue to speak:
And therefore I withdrew, to seek relief
In books, the fruitless remedies of grief.

_Vict._ But tell me what philosopher you found,
To cure your pain?

_Alph._ The fittest for my wound,
Who best the gentle passions knows to move;
Ovid, the soft philosopher of love.
His Love Epistles for my friends I chose;
For there I found the kindred of my woes.

_Vict._ His nymphs the vows of perjured men deplore;
One in the woods, and one upon the shore:
All are at length forsaken or betrayed;
And the false hero leaves the faithful maid.

_Alph._ Not all; for, Linus kept his constancy;
And one, perhaps, who more resembled me.

_Vict._ That letter would I view; in hope to find
Some features of the fair that rules your mind.

_Alph._ Read, for the guilty page is doubled down;
The love too soon will make the lover known.
[_Giving her the Book._
Read, if you dare; and, when the crime you see,
Accuse my cruel fate, but pity me.

Vict. [_Aside._] 'Tis what I feared, the unhappy Canace!--
Read you; for, to a brother 'twas designed, [_To him._
And sent him by a sister much too kind.
[ALPHONSO takes the Book, and reads.

_Why did thy flames beyond a brother's move?
Why loved I thee with more than sister's love?_
[He looks upon her, and she holds down her head. He reads again.

_My cheeks no longer did their colour boast;
My food grew loathsome, and my strength I lost;
Still, ere I spoke, a sigh would stop my tongue;
Short were my slumbers, and my nights were long.
I knew not from my love those griefs did grow,
Yet was, alas! the thing I did not know._
[She looks on him, and he holds down his Head.
_Forced at the last, my shameful pain I tell._

_Vict._ No more; we know our mutual love too well.
[_Both look up, and meet each other's Eyes._

_Alph._ Two lines in reading had escaped my sight;
Shall I go back, and do the poet right?

_Vict._ Already we have read too far, I fear;
But read no more than modesty may bear.

ALPHONSO READING.

_For I loved too, and, knowing not my wound,
A secret pleasure in thy kisses found._
[He offers to kiss her, and she turns her head away.
May we not represent the kiss we read?

_Vict._ Alphonso, no:--brother, I should have said!

ALPHONSO READING AGAIN.

_When half denying, more than half content,
Embraces warmed me to a full consent;
Then, with tumultuous joys my heart did beat,
And guilt, that made them anxious, made them great._

[She snatches the Book, and throws it down, then rises and walks;
he rises also.

_Vict._ Incendiary book, polluted flame,
Dare not to tempt the chaste Victoria's fame!
I love, perhaps, more than a sister should;
And nature prompts, but heaven restrains my blood.
Heaven was unkind, to set so strict a bound.
And love would struggle to forbidden ground.
Oh let us gain a Parthian victory!
Our only way to conquer, is to fly.

_Alph._ No more, Victoria; though my love aspires
More high than yours, and fiercer are my fires,
I cannot bear your looks; new flames arise
From every glance, and kindle from your eyes.
Pure are the beams which from those suns you dart;
But gather blackness from my sooty heart.
Then let us each with hasty steps remove;
Nor spread contagion, where we meant but love.

_Vict._ Hear, heaven and earth, and witness to my vows;
And Love, thou greatest power that nature knows!
This heart, Alphonso, shall be firmly thine;
This hand shall never with another join:
Or if, by force, my father makes me wed,
Then Death shall be the bridegroom of my bed.
Now let us both our shares of sorrow take;
And both be wretched for each other's sake.

_Alph._ By those relentless powers that rule the skies,
And by a greater power, Victoria's eyes,
No love but yours shall touch Alphonso's heart;
Nor time, nor death, my vowed affections part:
Nor shall my hated rival live to see
That hour which envious fate denies to me.
Now seal we both our vows with one dear kiss.

_Vict._ No; 'tis a hot, and an incestuous bliss!
Let both be satisfied with what we swore;
I dare not give it, lest I give you more.
[_Exit_ VICTORIA,
_looking back on him, and he gazing on her_.

_Alph._ Oh raging, impious, and yet hopeless fire!
Not daring to possess what I desire;
Condemned to suffer what I cannot bear;
Tortured with love, and furious with despair.
Of all the pains which wretched mortals prove,
The fewest remedies belong to love:
But ours has none; for, if we should enjoy,
Our fatal cure must both of us destroy.
Oh dear Victoria! cause of all my pain;
Oh dear Victoria! whom I would not gain;
Victoria, for whose sake I would survive!
Victoria, for whose sake I dare not live!

_Enter_ GARCIA _with Attendants. The two Princes salute_, _but_ ALPHONSO _very coldly_.

_Gar._ I come to show my grief for your distemper;
For, if my noble brother saw my heart,
There should you find a plain, a holy friendship,
Unmixt with interest, equally partaking
Of what affects you, both of good and ill.

_Alph._ I thank you; but my malady increases
At your approach. I have no more to say;
But wish you better health than I can boast,
And to myself a lonely privacy.

_Gar._ I find I am not welcome to your sight;
But know not from what cause.

Alph. [_Angrily._] My surest remedy is in your absence.
'Tis hard my lodgings cannot be my own,
But importuned with visits undesired;
And therefore, I must tell you, troublesome.

_Gar._ 'Tis an odd way of entertaining friends;
But, since I find you discomposed with sickness,
That shall excuse your humours; where I go,
I hope for better welcome.

_Alph._ Sir, I must ask, whom you pretend to visit?

_Gar._ My mistress, prince.

_Alph._ Your mistress! who's that mistress?

_Gar._ What need I name Victoria?

_Alph._ Who? my sister!

_Gar._ Whom else could you imagine?

_Alph._ Any other.

_Gar._ And why not her?

_Alph._ Because I know not if she will admit you.

_Gar._ Her father has allowed it.

_Alph._ But not she;
Or, if both have, yet my consent is wanting.
You take upon you in a foreign kingdom,
As if you were at home in your Navarre.

_Gar._ And you, methinks,
As if you had no father, or no king.
Farewell, I will not stay.

_Alph._ You shall not go:
Thus as I am, thus single, thus unarmed,
And you with guards attended--

_Gar._ You teach me to forget the rule of manners.

_Alph._ I mean to teach you better.

[_As_ GARCIA _is going to pass by him_, ALPHONSO _runs to one of
his Attendants, and snatches his Sword away, then steps between_
GARCIA _and the Door_.

_Enter_ VERAMOND _and_ XIMENA, _attended_.

_Vera._ What means this rude behaviour in my court?
As if our Arragon were turned to Thrace,
Unhospitable to her guests, and thou,
Alphonso, a Lycurgus.

_Alph._ He would pass,
Without my sister's leave, into her lodgings.
By heaven, if this be suffered to proceed,
The next will be to treat the royal maid
As coarsely, as she were some suburb girl.

_Gar._ [_To Vera._] Had I not your permission, sir?

_Vera._ You had.
But these, Alphonso, are thy ruffian manners.
How dar'st thou, boy, to break my orders,
And then asperse thy sister with thy crime?

_Alph._ She said his presence was unpleasing to her.

_Vera._ Come, thou beliest her innocence and duty:
She did not, durst not say it.

_Alph._ If she did not,
I dare, and will maintain to all the world,
That Garcia is not worthy of my sister.

_Vera._ Not worthy!

_Alph._ No; I say once more, not worthy.

_Gar._ Not in myself; for who deserves Victoria?
But, since her royal father bids me hope,
Not less unworthy than another prince:--
And none, with your permission, sir, shall dare [_To_ VER.
To interpose betwixt my love and me.

_Alph._ Sure a less price, than our infanta's bed,
Might pay thee for thy mercenary troops.

_Vera._ Peace, insolent; too long I have endured
Thy haughty soul, untamed and turbulent:
But, if I live, this shall not pass unpunished;
Darkness and chains are medicines for a madman.

_Xim._ My lord, I humbly beg you, spare your son;
And add not fury to a raging fire.
He soon will recollect his scattered reason,
Which heat of youth, and sickness and fatigues,
Have dissipated in his boiling blood.
Give him but time, and then his temperate humour
Will soon return into the native channel,
And, unopposed, be calm.

_Vera._ No; never more.
The moon has rolled above his head, and turned it;
As peals of thunder sour the generous wine.--
Hence from my presence, thou no more my son! [_To_ ALPH.

_Xim._ If he be mad, be madness his excuse;
And pardon nature's error, not his own.

_Vera._ Ximena, you have fondled him to this:
I prophesied; and now 'tis come to pass.

_Gar._ Perhaps I interrupted him too rudely;
And, since I caused myself that ill reception,
Forgive our mutual faults.

_Vera._ You shall prevail;
Though he deserves not such an intercessor.--
[_To_ ALPH.] Retire, Alphonso, to your inmost lodgings,
And there inclose yourself, and mourn your crimes.
Be this your last relapse; the next is fatal.

_Alph._ I will retire:
But, if I am a madman, as you say,
And as I half believe, expect no cure
But in Alphonso's death. [ALPHONSO _goes in_.

Xim. [_Aside._] It works apace;
But whither it will tend, heaven only knows.
[VERA. _sees the Book upon the Ground,
and takes it up_.

_Vera._ This book he left; go bear it after him.--
Yet stay; I know not why, but somewhat prompts me
To read this folded page.--
[_To_ GARCIA.] Go, royal youth:
I would myself conduct you to Victoria,
But lovers need no guide to their desires;
And love no witness, but himself, requires.

[_Exeunt the King and Queen one Way, with their Attendants; and_
DON GARCIA _with his, another_.

SCENE II.--_A Street._

_Enter_ CARLOS _before_ DON LOPEZ'S _Door_.

_Carl._ That is the door of Lopez, and Sancho must come out this way. Now, fool, sit fast, for thou shalt not want for pestilent advice: but first, I must know how far thou hast proceeded with the father and the daughter, that I may know what drugs I must prepare for the present condition of my patient.--Oh, the door opens already, and he bolts out single, as I wished.

_Enter_ SANCHO, _picking his Teeth_.

_San._ What, Carlos, you have dined before me; but, it may be, you have not fared so well.

_Carl._ The best part of your entertainment, I suppose, was the desert of the fair Dalinda after dinner; and how, and how go matters?

_San._ Better than thou wouldst have them; thou wouldst have put a spoke in my wheel, I know it.

_Carl._ No; fortune always sets those of your admirable understanding uppermost. But, remember, Dalinda was once mine, however.

_San._ Thou wouldst not have me give the box away, when I have thrown seven? Come, set upon it what thou darest, and I'll give thee leave to do thy worst.

_Carl._ You are very confident of your good luck.

_San._ Thou knowest I have a perpetual ascendant over thee.

_Carl._ And you are sure to carry her?

_San._ She is fond of my person; she ogled me all dinner-time; she put her foot under the table, and trod upon mine; and if these are not certain symptoms of passion, the devil's in womankind.

_Carl._ And her father?

_San._ The goodest old man! he drank my health to his daughter; and I, to comply with my obligation, answered the challenge. There, I think, I was with her again.

_Carl._ You have no more to do but to take out a licence.

_San._ Indeed, I have her licence for it.

_Carl._ What, quibbling too in your prosperity? If you let another, I shall be enraged. But you have not told me that her father is consenting.

_San._ In a manner; but--

_Carl._ But what? is he not absolutely yours?

_San._ There is a small demur upon the matter: in short, he hit me in the teeth with a damnable rich old Conde; who, I find, has been dabbling with this covetous old hunks; but, bating him, Don Lopez tells me I shall be the welcomest man alive.

_Carl._ Do you know that Conde's name?

_San._ Don something de Cardona, whom the devil confound!

_Carl._ My old acquaintance; he charged with me in the battle, but what became of him I know not. If he be the man, despair betimes, Sancho; he'll revenge my quarrel, and carry her in spite of you.

_San._ I am cunning, you know; and I believe he named that cursed Conde, only to draw me on the faster.

_Carl._ And do you think a gentleman can succeed against a Conde with a woman?

_San._ Why not?

_Carl._ No more than a Conde against a duke, and so upwards;--abandon her, I say.

_San._ No; I am resolute.

_Carl._ To be the shoeing-horn for the Conde?

_San._ I confess I would not be the shoeing-horn, to draw him on.

_Carl._ No, for that's to be a pimp for him.

_San._ Right; therefore I will leave her.

_Carl._ Then go back, and quarrel with her and her father; go, I say, immediately, before your virtue cools.

_San._ I'll give them their own, I'll warrant them.
What, make a shoeing-horn of a man of honour? [_Exit_ SANCHO.

_Carl._ [_alone_] If the Conde be in love, then why should Lopez admit of Sancho for a suitor? if not, the fool is in the right, that it was only feigned, to draw him on. However, my advice will strike on both sides; for, if Sancho quarrels, he's discarded; and for the Conde--stay a little--what, if I should play this Conde? I know him, and can mimic him exactly; 'tis but a jest if I am discovered; and if the Conde loves her, and she him, then I marry her in his shape.--Oh, they are coming out to quarrel in the open air, for the house is grown too hot for them; but I dare not stay to see the battle, for fear of getting blows on both sides. [_Exit_ CARLOS.

_Enter_ LOPEZ, DALINDA, _and_ SANCHO.

_Lop._ I'll wait upon you out of my house, however.

_San._ Father-in-law, that might have been, no more ceremonies; I'll be no shoeing-horn for any man.

_Lop._ You would not be my daughter's hindrance?

_San._ There's no more to be said on't; but either a bargain, or no bargain.

_Lop._ A bargain, if the Conde comes not on.

_San._ Then, as he comes on, I must go off, with a pox to you and to your daughter!

_Dal._ At least it shall not be a pox of your giving.

_San._ The Conde's pox take you then! that's an honourable pox, descended in a right line from Don Roderic the Goth, I'll warrant you.

_Lop._ Indeed, if your estate were as great as his--

_San._ Nay, for that matter, I can drop gold with him, as little as I care for her.

_Dal._ But then his title?

_San._ I have more gold yet, to weigh down his parchment: and then my wit against a Conde's wit; that's for overplus; for, though I say it--

_Lop._ Who should not say it--

_San._ Yet I do say it, and will say it, especially as lords go now. Come, there's no more to be said, Lopez; but take back your trumpery, I mean your daughter; or I'll send for the scavenger with a dung-cart.

_Lop._ This is insufferable; and by this honourable beard--

_San._ Which I'll pull off by handfuls, if you swagger--

Lop. [_Aside, to_ DAL.] What shall we do with this madman, daughter?

_Dal._ You should send for an alguazil to order him, if I were sure that the Conde would come on again; but, since that's uncertain, go in, father, and let me alone with him: if I make him your son-in-law, that's punishment sufficient for him.

_Lop._ Well, cavalier, you may chance to hear of me. [_Exit_ LOPEZ.

_San._ Yes, and of your daughter too, in the next lampoon, I doubt not.--[_To_ DALINDA.] Why don't you follow him? What do you and I together, madam countess?

_Dal._ Nay, I know not.

_San._ Nor I neither.

_Dal._ I hope you will not beat me.

[_She looks languishingly upon him._

_San._ I can't tell that; thou hast a damnable kind of leer, that would provoke me to somewhat--I say not what.

_Dal._ Beat me with my own hand, if I deserve it; there 'tis for you.

[_Gives him her hand, and squeezes his._

_San._ If I should beat thee now, as thou hast deserved richly, I could make thee satisfaction.

_Dal._ Indeed they say an old man should never beat a young woman, because he cannot make her satisfaction.

_San._ Abominable chuck! if I did not hate thee mortally, I could be content to love thee for a quarter of an hour or so.--Why, what's here to do? you are at your old tricks again. Pr'ythee, sweet devil, do not ogle me, nor squeeze my palm so feelingly; thou dear infernal, do not.

_Dal._ Why, do I hurt you?

_San._ No, but thou ticklest me to the very heart-strings, most wickedly.

_Dal._ You command me then to leave you?

[_Seems to be going._

_San._ Not command you neither, not absolutely.

_Dal._ I go then--

_San._ Then I do command thee. I mean to stay a little longer. Thou hast fired my blood most horribly with that squeezing: hast not thou the itch? speak, damnation! I think I have got the infection of thee.

[_He shakes his hands._

_Dal._ I'll go and comfort my old father for the affronts you gave him.

_San._ No, perverseness; I'll make thee stay: in very spite of thy proud sex, I'll humble thee.

_Dal._ But was not you a grievous man to use him so? you shall tell me, or I break your fingers.

_San._ Not a word, to save thee from perdition; I am as dumb as a heathen oracle.

_Dal._ Then I must squeeze it out of you.

[_Pressing his hand again._

_San._ Ah, ha! it runs through me like wild-fire.

[_Panting._

_Dal._ Did not Carlos give you this naughty counsel?

_San._ I should not answer thee, I know it. Hartlykins! this is just cramping a man when he's asleep, to make him tell his dream. Let go my hand, and Carlos did not advise me; but hold it, and he did:--now, will you be at quiet with me?

_Dal._ Not till you promise me to be friends with my father.

_San._ Well, confound thee, I am friends with him.

_Dal._ And to banish Carlos for an evil counsellor.

_San._ Upon condition you'll discharge the count from seeing you.

_Dal._ No conditions: either surrender upon discretion, or I'll put you to the sword.

_San._ Pox on thee for being so tyrannical; but I can't help myself, and therefore I totally submit.

_Dal._ Now, then, you shall perceive how gracious a princess I intend to be. My father doats upon this count, but I despise him.

_San._ That's a good girl; for love of me, I'll warrant you.

_Dal._ You think I coax you now.

_San._ No, I know my own merit too well for that.

_Dal._ Then do what I advise you. My father has not often seen this count; what if you should pass for him?

_San._ Hum! I do not apprehend thee.

_Dal._ A man of your wit, and be so stupid! you shall counterfeit the count.

_San._ Counterfeit the count! that's a pure quibble; but I can make no more on't.

_Dal._ He's an old fellow, and a fool: now, you shall take upon you to be this count, to deceive my father; and I'll keep your counsel, and teach you how to represent him.

_San._ Oh, now I understand you! but 'tis impossible for me to counterfeit a fool.

_Dal._ I'll warrant you; trust nature.

_San._ A man of my sense can never hide his parts.

_Dal._ No, but you may shew them. Go back to your lodgings; I'll provide you clothes, and send you directions in writing how to behave yourself before my father.--One word more; be sure you manage this in private, and shut out Carlos, lest he should discover our intrigue.

_San._ Well, I will strive for once to get the better of my wit, and play the natural as naturally as I can: but you had better come yourself and teach me, for you have put me in a pure way of taking your instructions. [_Exit_ SANCHO.

_Dal._ [_Alone._] When I consider what has passed between the count and me, there's little reason to believe a man should put on a foul shirt again, when he has put it off already, and has change of linen by him. However, my father shall know nothing of this disguise; for he, that sold my first maidenhead to the lord, may sell my second to the fool; and that would be too much in conscience, that a woman, once in twice, should not have the letting her own freehold. And therefore I will have the selling of myself, and Sancho shall have the refusal of the bargain.

Wise heaven, in pity to the sex, designed
Fools for the last relief of womankind.
Two married wits no quiet can enjoy;
Two fools together would the house destroy:
But providence, to level human life,
Made the fool husband for the witty wife. [_Exit_ DALINDA.