No More Learning

_Duen_. I do not wonder, sir, that you are surprised at my affability--
I own, signor, that I was vastly prepossessed against you, and, being
teased by my father, I did give some encouragement to Antonio; but
then, sir, you were described to me as quite a different person.

_Isaac_. Ay, and so you were to me, upon my soul, madam.

_Duen_. But when I saw you I was never more struck in my life.

_Isaac_. That was just my case, too, madam: I was struck all of a
heap, for my part.

_Duen_. Well, sir, I see our misapprehension has been mutual--you
expected to find me haughty and averse, and I was taught to believe
you a little black, snub-nosed fellow, without person, manners, or
address.

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ] Egad, I wish she had answered her picture as well!

_Duen_. But, sir, your air is noble--something so liberal in your
carriage, with so penetrating an eye, and so bewitching a smile!

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ] Egad, now I look at her again, I don't think she
is so ugly!

_Duen_. So little like a Jew, and so much like a gentleman!

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ] Well, certainly, there is something pleasing in
the tone of her voice.

_Duen_. You will pardon this breach of decorum in praising you thus,
but my joy at being so agreeably deceived has given me such a flow of
spirits!

_Isaac_. Oh, dear lady, may I thank those dear lips for this
goodness? --[_Kisses her_. ] [_Aside_. ]Why she has a pretty sort of
velvet down, that's the truth on't.

_Duen_. O sir, you have the most insinuating manner, but indeed you
should get rid of that odious beard--one might as well kiss a
hedgehog.

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ] Yes, ma'am, the razor wouldn't be amiss--for
either of us. --[_Aloud_. ] Could you favour me with a song?

_Duen_. Willingly, though I'm rather hoarse--ahem! [_Begins to sing_. ]

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ] Very like a Virginia nightingale! --[_Aloud_. ]
Ma'am, I perceive you're hoarse--I beg you will not distress----

_Duen_. Oh, not in the least distressed. Now, sir.

SONG.

When a tender maid
Is first assay'd
By some admiring swain.
How her blushes rise
If she meet his eyes,
While he unfolds his pain!
If he takes her hand, she trembles quite!
Touch her lips, and she swoons outright!
While a pit-a-pat, &c.
Her heart avows her fright.

But in time appear
Fewer signs of fear;
The youth she boldly views:
If her hand he grasp,
Or her bosom clasp,
No mantling blush ensues!
Then to church well pleased the lovers move,
While her smiles her contentment prove;
And a pit-a-pat, &c. Her heart avows her love.

_Isaac_. Charming, ma'am! enchanting! and, truly, your notes put me in
mind of one that's very dear to me--a lady, indeed, whom you greatly
resemble!

_Duen_. How I is there, then, another so dear to you?

_Isaac_. Oh, no, ma'am, you mistake; it was my mother I meant.

_Duen_. Come, sir, I see you are amazed and confounded at my
condescension, and know not what to say.

_Isaac_. It is very true, indeed, ma'am; but it is a judgment, I look
on it as a judgment on me, for delaying to urge the time when you'll
permit me to complete my happiness, by acquainting Don Jerome with
your condescension.

_Duen_. Sir, I must frankly own to you, that I can never be yours with
my father's consent.

_Isaac_. Good lack! how so?

_Duen_. When my father, in his passion, swore he would never see me
again till I acquiesced in his will, I also made a vow, that I would
never take a husband from his hand; nothing shall make me break that
oath: but if you have spirit and contrivance enough to carry me off
without his knowledge, I'm yours.

_Isaac_. Hum!

_Duen_. Nay, sir, if you hesitate----

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ] I'faith no bad whim this! --If I take her at her
word, I shall secure her fortune, and avoid making any settlement in
return; thus I shall not only cheat the lover, but the father too. Oh,
cunning rogue, Isaac! ay, ay, let this little brain alone! Egad, I'll
take her in the mind!

_Duen_. Well, sir, what's your determination?

_Isaac_. Madam, I was dumb only from rapture--I applaud your spirit,
and joyfully close with your proposal; for which thus let me, on this
lily hand, express my gratitude.

_Duen_. Well, sir, you must get my father's consent to walk with me in
the garden. But by no means inform him of my kindness to you.

_Isaac_. No, to be sure, that would spoil all: but, trust me when
tricking is the word--let me alone for a piece of cunning; this very
day you shall be out of his power.

_Duen_. Well, I leave the management of it all to you; I perceive
plainly, sir, that you are not one that can be easily outwitted.

_Isaac_. Egad, you're right, madam--you're right, i'faith.

_Re-enter_ MAID.

_Maid_. Here's a gentleman at the door, who begs permission to speak
with Signor Isaac.

_Isaac_. A friend of mine, ma'am, and a trusty friend--let him come
in--[_Exit_ MAID. ] He's one to be depended on, ma'am.


_Enter_ DON CARLOS.

So coz. [_Talks apart with_ DON CARLOS. ]

_Don Car_. I have left Donna Clara at your lodgings, but can nowhere
find Antonio.

_Isaac_. Well, I will search him out myself. Carlos, you rogue, I
thrive, I prosper!

_Don Car_. Where is your mistress?

_Isaac_. There, you booby, there she stands.

_Don Car_. Why, she's damned ugly!

_Isaac_. Hush! [_Stops his mouth_. ]

_Duen_. What is your friend saying, signor?

_Isaac_. Oh, ma'am, he is expressing his raptures at such charms as he
never saw before. Eh, Carlos?

_Don Car_. Ay,--such as I never saw before, indeed!

_Duen_. You are a very obliging gentleman. Well, Signor Isaac, I
believe we had better part for the present. Remember our plan.

_Isaac_. Oh, ma'am, it is written in my heart, fixed as the image of
those divine beauties. Adieu, idol of my soul! --yet once more permit
me----[_Kisses her_. ]

_Duen_. Sweet, courteous sir, adieu!

_Isaac_. Your slave eternally! Come, Carlos, say something civil at
taking leave.

_Don Car_. I'faith, Isaac, she is the hardest woman to compliment I
ever saw; however, I'll try something I had studied for the occasion.

SONG.

Ah! sure a pair was never seen
So justly form'd to meet by nature!
The youth excelling so in mien,
The maid in ev'ry grace of feature.
Oh, how happy are such lovers,
When kindred beauties each discovers;
For surely she Was made for thee,
And thou to bless this lovely creature!

So mild your looks, your children thence
Will early learn the task of duty--
The boys with all their father's sense,
The girls with all their mother's beauty!
Oh, how happy to inherit
At once such graces and such spirit!
Thus while you live
May fortune give
Each blessing equal to your merit! [_Exeunt_. ]




SCENE III. --_A Library in_ DON JEROME'S _House_.

DON JEROME _and_ DON FERDINAND _discovered_.


_Don Jer_. Object to Antonio! I have said it. His poverty, can you
acquit him of that?

_Don Ferd_. Sir, I own he is not over rich; but he is of as ancient
and honourable a family as any in the kingdom.

_Don Jer_. Yes, I know the beggars are a very ancient family in most
kingdoms; but never in great repute, boy.

_Don Ferd_. Antonio, sir, has many amiable qualities.

_Don Jer_. But he is poor; can you clear him of that, I say? Is he not
a gay, dissipated rake, who has squandered his patrimony?

_Don Ferd_. Sir, he inherited but little; and that his generosity,
more than his profuseness, has stripped him of; but he has never
sullied his honour, which, with his title, has outlived his means.

_Don Jer_. Psha! you talk like a blockhead! nobility, without an
estate, is as ridiculous as gold lace on a frieze coat.

_Don Ferd_. This language, sir, would better become a Dutch or English
trader than a Spaniard.

_Don Jer_. Yes; and those Dutch and English traders, as you call them,
are the wiser people. Why, booby, in England they were formerly as
nice, as to birth and family, as we are: but they have long discovered
what a wonderful purifier gold is; and now, no one there regards
pedigree in anything but a horse. Oh, here comes Isaac! I hope he has
prospered in his suit.

_Don Ferd_. Doubtless, that agreeable figure of his must have helped
his suit surprisingly.

_Don Jer_. How now? [DON FERDINAND _walks aside_. ]


_Enter_ ISAAC.

Well, my friend, have you softened her?

_Isaac_. Oh, yes; I have softened her.

_Don Jer_. What, does she come to?

_Isaac_. Why, truly, she was kinder than I expected to find her.

_Don Jer_. And the dear little angel was civil, eh?

_Isaac_. Yes, the pretty little angel was very civil.

_Don Jer_.
I'm transported to hear it! Well, and you were astonished
at her beauty, hey?

_Isaac_. I was astonished, indeed! Pray, how old is Miss?

_Don Jer_. How old? let me see--eight and twelve--she is twenty.

_Isaac_. Twenty?

_Don Jer_. Ay, to a month.

_Isaac_. Then, upon my soul, she is the oldest-looking girl of her age
in Christendom!

_Don Jer_. Do you think so? But, I believe, you will not see a
prettier girl.

_Isaac_. Here and there one.

_Don Jer_. Louisa has the family face.

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ] Yes, egad, I should have taken it for a family
face, and one that has been in the family some time, too.

_Don Jer_. She has her father's eyes.

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ]Truly, I should have guessed them to have been so!
If she had her mother's spectacles, I believe she would not see the
worse.

_Don Jer_. Her aunt Ursula's nose, and her grandmother's forehead, to
a hair.

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ]Ay, 'faith, and her grandfather's chin, to a hair.

_Don Jer_. Well, if she was but as dutiful as she's handsome--and hark
ye, friend Isaac, she is none of your made-up beauties--her charms are
of the lasting kind.

_Isaac_. I'faith, so they should--for if she be but twenty now, she
may double her age before her years will overtake her face.

_Don Jer_. Why, zounds, Master Isaac! you are not sneering, are you?

_Isaac_. Why now, seriously, Don Jerome, do you think your daughter
handsome?

_Don Jer_. By this light, she's as handsome a girl as any in Seville.

_Isaac_. Then, by these eyes, I think her as plain a woman as ever I
beheld.

_Don Jer_. By St. Iago! you must be blind.

_Isaac_. No, no; 'tis you are partial.

_Don Jer_. How! have I neither sense nor taste? If a fair skin, fine
eyes, teeth of ivory, with a lovely bloom, and a delicate shape,--if
these, with a heavenly voice and a world of grace, are not charms, I
know not what you call beautiful.

_Isaac_. Good lack, with what eyes a father sees! As I have life, she
is the very reverse of all this: as for the dimity skin you told me
of, I swear 'tis a thorough nankeen as ever I saw! for her eyes, their
utmost merit is not squinting--for her teeth, where there is one of
ivory, its neighbour is pure ebony, black and white alternately, just
like the keys of a harpsichord. Then, as to her singing, and heavenly
voice--by this hand, she has a shrill, cracked pipe, that sounds for
all the world like a child's trumpet.

_Don Jer_. Why, you little Hebrew scoundrel, do you mean to insult me?
Out of my house, I say!

_Don Ferd_. [_Coming forward_. ] Dear sir, what's the matter?

_Don Jer_. Why, this Israelite here has the impudence to say your
sister's ugly.

_Don Ferd_. He must be either blind or insolent.

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ]So, I find they are all in a story. Egad, I believe
I have gone too far!

_Don Ferd_. Sure, sir, there must be some mistake; it can't be my
sister whom he has seen.

_Don Jer_. 'Sdeath! you are as great a fool as he! What mistake can
there be? Did not I lock up Louisa, and haven't I the key in my own
pocket? and didn't her maid show him into the dressing-room? and yet
you talk of a mistake! No, the Portuguese meant to insult me--and, but
that this roof protects him, old as I am, this sword should do me
justice.

_Isaac_. I[_Aside_. ] must get off as well as I can--her fortune is not
the less handsome.

DUET.

_Isaac_.
Believe me, good sir, I ne'er meant to offend;
My mistress I love, and I value my friend
To win her and wed her is still my request,
For better for worse--and I swear I don't jest.

_Don Jer_.
Zounds! you'd best not provoke me, my rage is so high!

_Isaac_.
Hold him fast, I beseech you, his rage is so high!
Good sir, you're too hot, and this place I must fly.

_Don Jer_.
You're a knave and a sot, and this place you'd best fly.

_Isaac_. Don Jerome, come now, let us lay aside all joking, and be
serious.

_Don Jer_. How?

_Isaac_. Ha! ha! ha! I'll be hanged if you haven't taken my abuse of
your daughter seriously.

_Don Jer_. You meant it so, did not you?

_Isaac_. O mercy, no! a joke--just to try how angry it would make you.

_Don Jer_. Was that all, i'faith? I didn't know you had been such a
wag. Ha! ha! ha! By St. Iago! you made me very angry, though. Well,
and you do think Louisa handsome?

_Isaac_. Handsome! Venus de Medicis was a sybil to her.

_Don Jer_. Give me your hand, you little jocose rogue! Egad, I thought
we had been all off.

_Don Ferd_. [_Aside_. ] So! I was in hopes this would have been a
quarrel; but I find the Jew is too cunning.

_Don Jer_. Ay, this gust of passion has made me dry--I am seldom
ruffled. Order some wine in the next room--let us drink the poor
girl's health. Poor Louisa! ugly, eh! ha! ha! ha! 'twas a very good
joke, indeed!

_Isaac_. [_Aside_. ] And a very true one, for all that.

_Don Jer_, And, Ferdinand, I insist upon your drinking success to my
friend.

_Don Ferd_. Sir, I will drink success to my friend with all my heart.

_Don Jer_. Come, little Solomon, if any sparks of anger had remained,
this would be the only way to quench them.

TRIO.
A bumper of good liquor
Will end a contest quicker
Than justice, judge, or vicar;
So fill a cheerful glass,
And let good humour pass.
But if more deep the quarrel,
Why, sooner drain the barrel
Than be the hateful fellow
That's crabbed when he's mellow.
A bumper, &c. [_Exeunt_. ]




SCENE IV. --ISAAC'S _Lodgings_.

_Enter_ DONNA LOUISA.


_Don. Louisa_. Was ever truant daughter so whimsically circumstanced
as I am? I have sent my intended husband to look after my lover--the
man of my father's choice is gone to bring me the man of my own: but
how dispiriting is this interval of expectation!

SONG.

What bard, O Time, discover,
With wings first made thee move?
Ah! sure it was some lover
Who ne'er had left his love!
For who that once did prove
The pangs which absence brings,
Though but one day He were away,
Could picture thee with wings?
What bard, &c.


_Enter_ DON CARLOS.

So, friend, is Antonio found?

_Don Car_. I could not meet with him, lady; but I doubt not my friend
Isaac will be here with him presently.

_Don. Louisa_. Oh, shame! you have used no diligence. Is this your
courtesy to a lady, who has trusted herself to your protection?

_Don Car_. Indeed, madam, I have not been remiss.

_Don. Louisa_. Well, well; but if either of you had known how each
moment of delay weighs upon the heart of her who loves, and waits the
object of her love, oh, ye would not then have trifled thus!

_Don Car_. Alas, I know it well!

_Don. Louisa_. Were you ever in love, then?

_Don Car_. I was, lady; but, while I have life, I will never be again.

_Don. Louisa_. Was your mistress so cruel?

_Don Car_. If she had always been so, I should have been happier.

SONG.

Oh, had my love ne'er smiled on me,
I ne'er had known such anguish;
But think how false, how cruel she,
To bid me cease to languish;
To bid me hope her hand to gain,
Breathe on a flame half perish'd;
And then with cold and fixed disdain,
To kill the hope she cherish'd.

Not worse his fate, who on a wreck,
That drove as winds did blow it,
Silent had left the shatter'd deck,
To find a grave below it.
Then land was cried--no more resign'd,
He glow'd with joy to hear it;
Not worse his fate, his woe, to find
The wreck must sink ere near it!

_Don.