Vio. The man's drunk.

[Kicks him all this while, and he shrugs, and rubs his eyes, and yawns.

Gib. That's true, an' like yer honour; but I thought that when yence ye had her in yer ane hands, ye might a' ordered her yer sel weel eneugh without me, en ye ken, an' like yer honour.

Col. Sirrah, hold your impertinent tongue, and make haste after her. If you don't bring me some account of her, never dare to see my face again, [Exit. Gib. Ay, this is bony wark indeed! to run three hundred mile to this wicked town, and before I can weel fill my weam to be sent a whorehunting after this black she devil.-What gate sal I gang to speer for this wutch now? Ah, for a ruling elder-or the kirk's treasurer-or his mon-I'd gar my master mak twa o' this--But I am sure there's na sic honest people here, or there wud na be sa mickle sculdudrie.

Enter an English Soldier passing along. Gib. Geud mon, did you see a woman, a lady, ony gate hereawa e'en now?

Englishman. Yes, a great many. What kind of a woman is it you enquire after?

Gib. Geud troth, she's na kenspeckle, she's aw in a cloud.

Englishman. What! 'tis some Highland monster which you brought over with you, I suppose: I see no such, not I. Kenspeckle, quoth-a!

Gib. Huly, huly, mon; the deel pike out yer een, and then ye'll see the better, ye Portigise tike.

Englishman. What says the fellow?

[Turning to GIBBY. Gib. Say! I say I'm a bater fellow than e'er stude upon yer shanks--and gin I hear mair o' yer din, deel o' my saul, sir, but Ise crack yer

croon.

Gib. In troth am I not And gin I had na found ye, madam, the Laird knows when I should; for my maister bad me ne'er gang hame without tidings o' ye, madam.

Vio. Sirrah! get about your business, or I'll have your bones drubb'd.

Gib. Geud faith, my maister has e'en done that t'yer honds, madam.

Vio. Who is your master, sir?

Gib. Mony a ane speers the gate they ken right weel: it is no sa lang sen ye parted wi' him. I wish he ken ye half as weel as ye ken him.

Vio. Pugh! the creature's mad, or mistakes me for somebody else; and I should be as mad as he to talk to him any longer.

[VIOLANTE enters Don PEDRO's house. Enter LISSARDO at the upper end of the Stage.

Liss. So she's gone home, I see. What did that Scots fellow want with her? I'll try to find it out; perhaps I may discover something that may make my master friends with me again.

Gib. Are ye gone, madam? A deel scope in yer company, for I'm as weese as I was. But I'll bide and see wha's house it is, gin I can meet with ony civil body to speer at.-Weel, of aw men in the warld, I think our Scotsmen the greatest feuls, to leave their weel-favour'd honest women at hame to rin walloping after a pack of gycarlings here, that shame to shew their faces, and peur men, like me, are forced to be their pimps. A pimp! Godswarbit! Gibby's ne'er be a pimp- -and yet, in troth, it's a thriving trade: I remember a countryman o' my ane, that by ganging o' sic like errants as I am now, came to get preferment.-My lad, wot ye wha lives here? [Turns and sees LISSARDO.

Liss. Don Pedro de Mendosa.

Gib. And did you see a lady gang in but now?
Liss, Yes, I did.

Gib. And d'ye ken her tee?

Liss. It was Donna Violante, his daughter.What the devil makes him so inquisitive? Here is something in it, that is certain. [Aside.] 'Tis a cold morning, brother, what think you of a dram? Gib. In troth, very weel, sir.

Liss. You seem an honest fellow; pr'ythee, let's drink to our better acquaintance.

Grib. Wi' aw my heart, sir; gang your gate to the next house, and Ise follow ye.

Liss. Come along then.

[Exit,

Gib. Don Pedro de Mendosa !-Donna Vio lante, his daughter!-that's as reight as my leg now-Ise need na mare; I'll tak a drink, and then to my maister.

Ise bring him news will mak his heart full blee; Gin he rewards it not, deel pimp for me. [Exit.

SCENE I-VIOLANTE'S Lodgings.

Enter ISABELLA in a gay temper, and VIOLANTE out of humour.

Isab. My dear! I have been seeking you this half hour, to tell you the most lucky adventure. Vio. And you have pitch'd upon the most unlucky hour for it that you could possibly have found in the whole four-and-twenty.

Isab. Hang unlucky hours! I won't think of them; I hope all my misfortunes are past. Vio. And mine all to come.

Isab. I have seen the man I like.

Vio. And I have seen the man that I could wish to hate.

Isab. And you must assist me in discovering whether he can like me or not.

Vio. You have assisted me in such a discovery already, I thank ye.

Isab. What say you, my dear?

Vio. I say I am very unlucky at discoveries, Isabella; I have too lately made one pernicious to my ease: your brother is false.

Isab. Impossible!

Vio. Most true.

Isab. Some villain has traduced him to you. Vio. No, Isabella; I love too well to trust the eyes of others; I never credit the ill-judging world, or form suspicions upon vulgar censures; no, I had ocular proof of his ingratitude.

Isub. Then I am most unhappy. My brother was the only pledge of faith betwixt us; if he has forfeited your favour, I have no title to your friendship.

Vio. You wrong my friendship, Isabella; your own merit entitles you to every thing within my power.

1sab. Generous maid!-But may I not know what grounds you have to think my brother false? Vio. Another time.-But tell me, Isabella, how can I serve you?

Isab. Thus then-The gentleman that brought me hither I have seen and talk'd with upon the Terriero de Passa this morning, and I find him a man of sense, generosity, and good humour; in short, he is every thing that I could like for a husband, and I have dispatch'd Mrs Flora to bring him hither: I hope you'll forgive the liberty I have taken.

Vio. Hither! to what purpose?

Isab. To the great universal purpose, matri

ger here, it might make him hurry me into a monastery immediately. I cann't for my life admire your conduct, to encourage a person altogether unknown to you.-'Twas very imprudent to meet him this morning, but much more so to send for him hither, knowing what inconveniency you have already drawn upon me.

Isab. I am not insensible how far my misfortunes have embarrass'd you; and, if you please, sacrifice my quiet to your own.

Vio. Unkindly urged!-Have I not preferr'd your happiness to every thing that's dear to me?

Isub. I know thou hast-then do not deny me this last request, when a few hours, perhaps, may render my condition able to clear thy fame, and bring my brother to thy feet for pardon.

Vio. I wish you don't repent of this intrigue. I suppose he knows you are the same woman that he brought in here last night.

Isub. Not a syllable of that; I met him veil'd, and to prevent his knowing the house, I ordered Mrs Flora to bring him by the back-door into the garden.

Vio. The very way which Felix comes! if they should meet, there would be fine work.-Indeed, my dear, I cann't approve of your design.

[Exit.

Col. Very well- This is a very fruitful soil. I have not been here quite four-and-twenty hours, and I have three intrigues upon my hands already; but I hate the chase without partaking of the game.-[Enter VIOLANTE veil'd.]—Ha! a fine sized woman- -pray Heaven she proves handsome I am come to obey your ladyship's commands.

Vio. Are you sure of that, colonel?

Col. If you be not very unreasonable indeed, madam. A man is but a man.

[Takes her hand, and kisses it.

Col. Purchase! humph! this is some kept mistress, I suppose, who industriously lets out her leisure hours.-[Aside.]-Look ye, madam, you must consider we soldiers are not overstock'd with money-but we make ample satisfaction in love; we have a world of courage upon our hands now, you know-then pr'ythee use a conscience, and I'll try if my pocket can come up to your price. Vio. Nay, don't give yourself the trouble of drawing your purse, colonel; my design is levell'd at your person, if that be at your own disposal. Col. Ay, that it is, faith, madam! and I'll settle it as firmly upon thee

Vio. As law can do it.

Col. Hang law in love affairs; thou shalt have right and title to it out of pure inclination.-A matrimonial hint again. Gad, I fancy the women have a project on foot to transplant the union into Portugal. [Aside.

Vio. Then you have an aversion to matrimony, colonel. Did you never see a woman in all your travels that you could like for a wife?

Col. A very odd question.-Do you really expect that I should speak truth now?

Vio. I do, if you expect to be dealt with, colo

nel.

Vio. Her name is

-Pray, ma

Col. Ay, how is she called, madam ? Vio. Nay, I ask you that, sir. Col. O ho! Why, she is calleddam, how is it you spell your name? Vio. Oh, colonel, I am not the happy woman, nor do I wish it.

Col. No! I'm sorry for that. What the devil does she mean by all these questions? [Aside. Vio. Come, colonel, for once be sincere-perhaps you may not repent it.

Col. This is like to be but a silly adventure, here's so much sincerity required. [Aside.] 'Faith, madam, I have an inclination to sincerity, but I'm afraid you'll call my manners in question. Vio. Not at all: I prefer truth before compliment in this affair.

Col. Why, then, to be plain with you, madam, a lady last night wounded my heart by a fall from a window, whose person I could be content to take, as my father took my mother, till death do us part-but who she is, or how distinguish- | ed, whether maid, wife, or widow, I cann't inform you; perhaps you are she.

Vio. Not to keep you in suspense, I am not she-but I can give you an account of her. That

lady is a maid of condition-has ten thousand pounds-and, if you are a single man, her person and fortune are at your service.

Col. I accept the offer with the highest transports: But say, my charming angel! art thou not she? Offers to embrace her.] This is a lucky ad[Aside.

venture.

Vio. Once again, colonel, I tell you I am not she-but at six this evening you shall find her on the Terriero de Passa with a white handkerchief in her hand. Get a priest ready, and you know the rest.

Col. I shall infallibly observe your directions, madam.

Enter FLORA hastily, and whispers VIOLANTE, who starts, and seems surprised.

Vio. Ha! Felix crossing, say you? What shall I do now!

Col. You seem surprised, madam.

Vio. Oh, colonel, my father is coming hither and if he finds you here, I am ruined.

Col. Odslife, madam, thrust me any where. Cann't I go out this way?

Vio. No, no, no, he comes that way. How shall I prevent their meeting? Here, here, step into my bed-chamber.

Col. Oh, the best place in the world, madam! Vio. And be still, as you value her you love. Don't stir till you've notice, as ever you hope to have her in your arms.

Col. On that condition, I'll not breathe.

Enter FELIX.

[Exit Col.

Fel. I wonder where this dog of a servant is all this while-But she is at home, I findHow coldly she regards me!- -You look, Violante, as if the sight of me were troublesome to yon.

Vio. Can I do otherwise, when you have the assurance to approach me after what I saw today?

Fel. Assurance! rather call it good-nature, after what I heard last night. But such regard to honour have I in my love to you, I cannot bear to be suspected, nor suffer you to entertain false notions of my truth, without endeavouring to convince you of my innocence; so much good nature have I more than you, Violante.Pray give me leave to ask your woman one question; my man assures me she was the person you saw at my lodgings.

Flo. I confess it, madam, and ask your pardon. Vio. Impudent baggage! not to undeceive me sooner: what business could you have there? Fel. Lissardo and she, it seems, imitate you and I.

Flo. I love to follow the example of my betters, madam.

Fel. I hope I am justified.

Vio. Since we are to part, Felix, there needs no justification.

Fel. Methinks you talk of parting as a thing

indifferent to you. Can you forget how I have loved?

Vio. I wish I could forget my own passion, I should with less concern remember yours.But for Mistress Flora

Fel. You must forgive her-Must, did I say? I fear I have no power to impose, though the injury was done to me.

Vo 'Tis harder to pardon an injury done to what we love, than to ourselves; but at your request, Felix, I do forgive her. Go watch my father, Flora, lest he should awake and surprise us. Flo. Yes, madam. [Exit FLORA. Fel. Dost thou then love me, Violante? Vio. What need of repetition from my tongue, when every look confesses what you ask?

Fel. Oh, let no man judge of love but those who feel it: what wondrous magic lies in one kind look! -One tender word destroys a lover's rage, and melts his fiercest passion into soft complaint. Oh, the window, Violante! wouldst thou but clear that one suspicion !

Vio. Prythee, no more of that, my Felix; a little time shall bring thee perfect satisfaction.

Fel. Well, Violante, on condition you think no more of a monastery, I'll wait with patience for this mighty secret.

Vio. Ah, Felix, love generally gets the better of religion in us women. Resolutions made in the heat of passion ever dissolve upon reconciliation.

Enter FLORA hastily.

Flo. Oh, madam, madam, madam! my lord your father has been in the garden, and locked the back-door, and comes muttering to himself this way.

Vio. Then we are caught. Now, Felix, we are undone.

Fel. Heavens forbid! This is most unlucky. Let me step into your bed-chamber; he won't look under the bed; there I may conceal myself.

[Runs to the door, and pushes it open a little. Vio. My stars! if he goes in there, he'll find the colonel.- -No, no, Felix, that's no safe place my father often goes thither, and should you cough or sneeze we are lost.

Fel. Either my eye deceived me, or I saw a man within: I'll watch him close.

Flo. Oh, invention, invention!--I have it, madam. Here, here, sir, off with your sword, and I'll fetch you a disguise. [Exit.

Fel. She shall deal with the devil if she conveys him out without my knowledge. Vio. Bless me, how I tremble!

Enter FLORA with a Riding-hood.

Flo. Here, sir, put on this.

Fel. Ay, ay, any thing to avoid Don Pedro.

Vio. Oh, quick, quick! I shall die with hension.

Fel. Not for the Indies-But I shall observe you closer than you imagine.

[Aside. Ped. [Within.] Violante, where are you, child? Enter Don PEDRO.

Why, how came the garden door open?-Ha! how now, who have we here?

Vio. Humph!-he'll certainly discover him. [Aside. Flo. 'Tis my mother, an't please you, sir.

[She and FELIX both courtesy. Ped. Your mother! By St Andrew, she's a strapper! Why, you are a dwarf to her.-How many children have you, good woman? Vio. Oh, if he speaks we are lost. [Aside. Flo. Oh, dear signior, she cannot hear you; she has been deaf these twenty years. Ped. Alas, poor woman!-Why, you muffle her up as if she were blind too.

[Aride.

Fel. Would I were fairly off. Ped. Turn up her hood. Vio. Undone for ever!- -St Anthony forbid. Oh, sir, she has the dreadfullest unlucky eyes

-Pray don't look upon them: I made her keep her hood shut on purpose.- -Oh, oh, oh, oh! Ped. Eyes!-Why, what's the matter with her eyes?

Flo. My poor mother, sir, is much afflicted with the cholic, and, about two months ago, she had it grievously in her stomach, and was overpersuaded to take a dram of filthy English Geneva-which immediately flew up into her head, and caused such a defluxion in her eyes, that she could never since bear the day-light.'

Ped. Say you so ?- -Poor woman!Well, make her sit down, Violante, and give her a glass of wine.

Vio. Let her daughter give her a glass below, sir :-for my part, she has frighted me so I sha'n't be myself these two hours-I am sure her eyes are evil eyes.

Fel. Well hinted.

-Evil eyes! there are

Ped. Well, well, do so.no evil eyes, child. Flo. Come along, mother.-[Speaks loud.]— [Exeunt FELIX and FLORA. Vio. I'm glad he's gone. [Aside. Ped. Hast thou heard the news, Violante? Vio. What news, sir?

Ped. Why, Vasquez tells me that Don Lopez's daughter, Isabella, is run away from her father: that lord has very ill fortune with his children.Well, I'm glad my daughter has no inclination to mankind, that my house is plagued with no sui [Aside.

tors.

Vio. This is the first word ever I heard of it. I pity her frailty.

Ped. Well said, Violante. Next week I intend thy happiness shall begin.

[She puts it on. appre

Enter FLORA.

Vio. I don't intend to stay so long, thank you, [Aside.

Ped. My lady abbess writes word she longs to see thee, and has provided every thing in order for thy reception.-Thou wilt lead a happy life, my girl-fifty times before that of matrimony-where an extravagant coxcomb might make a beggar of thee, or an ill-natured surly dog break thy heart.

Flo. Break her heart! She had as good have her bones broke, as to be a nun; I am sure I had rather of the two. You are wondrous kind, sir: but if I had such a father, I know what I would do. Ped. Why, what would you do, minx, ha? Flo. I would tell him I had as good a right and title to the law of nature and the end of the creation as he had.

seems

Ped. You would, mistress! Who the devil doubts it?A good assurance is a chambermaid's coat of arms, and lying and contriving the supporters.- -Your inclinations are on tiptoe, it -If I were your father, housewife, I'd | have a penance enjoined you, so strict, that you should not be able to turn you in your bed for a month.-You are enough to spoil your lady, housewife, if she had not abundance of devotion. Vio. Fie, Flora! are you not ashamed to talk thus to my father?--You said yesterday you would be glad to go with me into the monastery. Flo. Did I? I told a great lie then.

Ped. She go with thee! No, no, she's enough to debauch the whole convent. -Well, child, remember what I said to thee: next week

Vio. Ay, and what I am to do this, too. [Aside.] -I am all obedient, sir; I care not how soon I change my condition.

means.

Flo. But little does he think what change she [Aside. Ped. Well said, Violante.——I am glad to find her so willing to leave the world; but it is wholly owing to my prudent management. Did she know that she might command her fortune when she came at age, or upon day of marriage, perhaps she'd change her note.- -But I have always told her that her grandfather left it with this proviso, that she turned nun. Now, a small part of this twenty thousand pounds provides for her in the nunnery, and the rest is my own.There is nothing to be got in this life without licy.-[Aside.]-Well, child, I am going into the country for two or three days, to settle some affairs with thy uncle; and when I return, we'll proceed for thy happiness, child.Good bye, Violante; take care of thyself.

po

[Exeunt Don PEDRO and VIOLANTE. Flo. So, now for the colonel.- -Hist, hist, colonel !

Enter FELIX.

Fel. I have lain perdue under the stairs till I watched the old man out. [VIOLANTE opens the door.] 'Sdeath! I am prevented. [Exit FELIX. Enter VIOLANTE.

Vio. Now to set my prisoner at liberty. [Goes to the door where the Colonel is hid.] Sir, sir, you may appear.

Enter FELIX, following her.

Fel. May he so, madam? I had cause for my suspicion, I find. Treacherous woman! Vio. Ha, Felix here! Nay, then all is discovered.

Fel. [Draws.] Villain! whoever thou art, come out, I charge thee, and take the reward of thy adulterous errand.

Vio. What shall I say?-Nothing but the secret, which I have sworn to keep, can reconcile this quarrel. [Aside.

Fel. A coward! Nay, then I'll fetch you out: think not to hide thyself: no; by St Anthony, an altar should not protect thee; even there I'd reach thy heart, though all the saints were armed in thy defence. [Exit.

Vio. Defend me, Heaven! What shall I do? I must discover Isabella, or here will be murder.

try me?

Vio. Won't you believe your eyes?

Fel. My eyes! No, nor my ears, nor any of my senses, for they have all deceived me. Well, I am convinced that faith is as necessary in love as in religion; for the moment a man lets a woman know her conquest, he resigns his senses, and sees nothing but what she'd have him.

Vio. And as soon as that man finds his love

return'd, she becomes as arrant a slave as if she had already said after the priest.

Fel. The priest, Violante, would dissipate those fears which cause these quarrels. When wilt thou make me happy?