No More Learning

There is not a man living I would sooner choose for a
brother-in-law.

_Don Jer_. Very possible; and if you happen to have e'er a sister, who
is not at the same time a daughter of mine, I'm sure I shall have no
objection to the relationship; but at present, if you please, we'll
drop the subject.

_Don Ferd_. Nay, sir, 'tis only my regard for my sister makes me
speak.

_Don Jer_. Then, pray sir, in future, let your regard for your father
make you hold your tongue.

_Don Ferd_. I have done, sir. I shall only add a wish that you would
reflect what at our age you would have felt, had you been crossed in
your affection for the mother of her you are so severe to.

_Don Jer_. Why, I must confess I had a great affection for your
mother's ducats, but that was all, boy. I married her for her fortune,
and she took me in obedience to her father, and a very happy couple we
were. We never expected any love from one another, and so we were
never disappointed. If we grumbled a little now and then, it was soon
over, for we were never fond enough to quarrel; and when the good
woman died, why, why,--I had as lieve she had lived, and I wish every
widower in Seville could say the same. I shall now go and get the key
of this dressing-room--so, good son, if you have any lecture in
support of disobedience to give your sister, it must be brief; so make
the best of your time, d'ye hear? [_Exit_. ]

_Don Ferd_. I fear, indeed, my friend Antonio has little to hope for;
however, Louisa has firmness, and my father's anger will probably only
increase her affection. --In our intercourse with the world, it is
natural for us to dislike those who are innocently the cause of our
distress; but in the heart's attachment a woman never likes a man with
ardour till she has suffered for his sake. --[_Noise_. ] So! what bustle
is here--between my father and the Duenna too, I'll e'en get out of
the way. [_Exit_. ]


_Re-enter_ DON JEROME _with a letter, pulling in_ DUENNA.

_Don Jer_. I'm astonished! I'm thunderstruck! here's treachery with a
vengeance! You, Antonio's creature, and chief manager of this plot for
my daughter's eloping! --you, that I placed here as a scarecrow?

_Duen_. What?

_Don Jer_. A scarecrow--to prove a decoy-duck! What have you to say
for yourself?

_Duen_. Well, sir, since you have forced that letter from me, and
discovered my real sentiments, I scorn to renounce them. --I am
Antonio's friend, and it was my intention that your daughter should
have served you as all such old tyrannical sots should be served--I
delight in the tender passions and would befriend all under their
influence.

_Don Jer_. The tender passions! yes, they would become those
impenetrable features! Why, thou deceitful hag! I placed thee as a
guard to the rich blossoms of my daughter's beauty. I thought that
dragon's front of thine would cry aloof to the sons of gallantry:
steel traps and spring guns seemed writ in every wrinkle of it. --But
you shall quit my house this instant. The tender passions, indeed! go,
thou wanton sibyl, thou amorous woman of Endor, go!

_Duen_. You base, scurrilous, old--but I won't demean myself by naming
what you are. --Yes, savage, I'll leave your den; but I suppose you
don't mean to detain my apparel--I may have my things, I presume?

_Don Jer_. I took you, mistress, with your wardrobe on--what have you
pilfered, eh?

_Duen_. Sir, I must take leave of my mistress; she has valuables of
mine: besides, my cardinal and veil are in her room.

_Don Jer_. Your veil, forsooth! what, do you dread being gazed at? or
are you afraid of your complexion? Well, go take your leave, and get
your veil and cardinal! so! you quit the house within these five
minutes. --In--in--quick! --[_Exit_ DUENNA. ] Here was a precious plot of
mischief! --these are the comforts daughters bring us!

AIR.
If a daughter you have, she's the plague of your life,
No peace shall you know, though you've buried your wife!
At twenty she mocks at the duty you taught her--
Oh, what a plague is an obstinate daughter!
Sighing and whining,
Dying and pining,
Oh, what a plague is an obstinate daughter!

When scarce in their teens they have wit to perplex us,
With letters and lovers for ever they vex us;
While each still rejects the fair suitor you've brought her;
Oh, what a plague is an obstinate daughter!
Wrangling and jangling, Flouting and pouting,
Oh, what a plague is an obstinate daughter!


_Re-enter_ DONNA LOUISA, _dressed as_ DUENNA, _with cardinal and veil,
seeming to cry_.

This way, mistress, this way. --What, I warrant a tender parting; so!
tears of turpentine down those deal cheeks. --Ay, you may well hide
your head--yes, whine till your heart breaks! but I'll not hear one
word of excuse--so you are right to be dumb. This way, this way.
[_Exeunt_. ]


_Re-enter_ DUENNA.

_Duen_. So, speed you well, sagacious Don Jerome! Oh rare effects of
passion and obstinacy! Now shall I try whether I can't play the fine
lady as well as my mistress, and if I succeed, I may be a fine lady
for the rest of my life--I'll lose no time to equip myself. [_Exit_. ]



SCENE IV. --_The Court before_ DON JEROME'S _House.

Enter_ DON JEROME _and_ DONNA LOUISA.


_Don Jer_. Come, mistress, there is your way--the world lies before
you, so troop, thou antiquated Eve, thou original sin! Hold, yonder is
some fellow skulking; perhaps it is Antonio--go to him, d'ye hear, and
tell him to make you amends, and as he has got you turned away, tell
him I say it is but just he should take you himself; go--[_Exit_ DONNA
LOUISA. ] So! I am rid of her, thank heaven! and now I shall be able to
keep my oath, and confine my daughter with better security. [_Exit_].




SCENE V. -_The Piazza.

Enter_ DONNA CLARA _and_ MAID.


_Maid_. But where, madam, is it you intend to go?

_Don. Clara_. Anywhere to avoid the selfish violence of my mother-in-
law, and Ferdinand's insolent importunity.

_Maid_. Indeed, ma'am, since we have profited by Don Ferdinand's key,
in making our escape, I think we had best find him, if it were only to
thank him.

_Don. Clara_. No--he has offended me exceedingly. [_Retires_].

_Enter_ DONNA LOUISA.

_Don. Louisa_. So I have succeeded in being turned out of doors--but
how shall I find Antonio? I dare not inquire for him, for fear of
being discovered; I would send to my friend Clara, but then I doubt
her prudery would condemn me.

_Maid_. Then suppose, ma'am, you were to try if your friend Donna
Louisa would not receive you?

_Don. Clara_. No, her notions of filial duty are so severe, she would
certainly betray me.

_Don. Louisa_. Clara is of a cold temper, and would think this step of
mine highly forward.

_Don. Clara_. Louisa's respect for her father is so great, she would
not credit the unkindness of mine.

[DONNA LOUISA _turns and sees_ DONNA CLARA _and_ MAID. ]

_Don. Louisa_. Ha! who are those? sure one is Clara--if it be, I'll
trust her. Clara! [_Advances_. ]

_Don. Clara_. Louisa! and in masquerade too!

_Don. Louisa_. You will be more surprised when I tell you, that I have
run away from my father.

_Don. Clara_. Surprised indeed! and I should certainly chide you most
horridly, only that I have just run away from mine.

_Don. Louisa_. My dear Clara! [_Embrace_. ]

_Don. Clara_. Dear sister truant! and whither are you going?

_Don. Louisa_. To find the man I love, to be sure; and, I presume, you
would have no aversion to meet with my brother?

_Don. Clara_. Indeed I should: he has behaved so ill to me, I don't
believe I shall ever forgive him.

AIR.

When sable night, each drooping plant restoring,
Wept o'er the flowers her breath did cheer,
As some sad widow o'er her babe deploring,
Wakes its beauty with a tear;
When all did sleep whose weary hearts did borrow
One hour from love and care to rest,
Lo! as I press'd my couch in silent sorrow,
My lover caught me to his breast!
He vow'd he came to save me
From those who would enslave me!
Then kneeling, Kisses stealing,
Endless faith he swore;
But soon I chid him thence,
For had his fond pretence
Obtain'd one favour then,
And he had press'd again,
I fear'd my treacherous heart might grant him more.

_Don. Louisa_. Well, for all this, I would have sent him to plead his
pardon, but that I would not yet awhile have him know of my flight.
And where do you hope to find protection?

_Don. Clara_. The Lady Abbess of the convent of St. Catherine is a
relation and kind friend of mine--I shall be secure with her, and you
had best go thither with me.

_Don. Louisa_. No; I am determined to find Antonio first; and, as I
live, here comes the very man I will employ to seek him for me.

_Don. Clara_. Who is he? he's a strange figure.

_Don. Louisa_. Yes; that sweet creature is the man whom my father has
fixed on for my husband.

_Don. Clara_. And will you speak to him? are you mad?

_Don. Louisa_. He is the fittest man in the world for my purpose; for,
though I was to have married him to-morrow, he is the only man in
Seville who, I am sure, never saw me in his life.

_Don. Clara_. And how do you know him?

_Don. Louisa_. He arrived but yesterday, and he was shown to me from
the window, as he visited my father.

_Don. Clara_. Well, I'll begone.

_Don. Louisa_.
Hold, my dear Clara--a thought has struck me: will you
give me leave to borrow your name, as I see occasion?

_Don. Clara_. It will but disgrace you; but use it as you please: I
dare not stay. --[_Going_. ]--But, Louisa, if you should see your
brother, be sure you don't inform him that I have taken refuge with
the Dame Prior of the convent of St. Catherine, on the left hand side
of the piazza which leads to the church of St. Anthony.

_Don. Louisa_. Ha! ha! ha! I'll be very particular in my directions
where he may not find you. --[_Exeunt_ DONNA CLARA _and_ MAID. ]--So! My
swain, yonder, has, done admiring himself, and draws nearer.
[_Retires_. ]


_Enter_ ISAAC _and_ DON CARLOS.

_Isaac_. [_Looking in a pocket-glass_. ] I tell you, friend Carlos, I
will please myself in the habit of my chin.

_Don Car_. But, my dear friend, how can you think to please a lady
with such a face?

_Isaac_. Why, what's the matter with the face? I think it is a very
engaging face; and, I am sure, a lady must have very little taste who
could dislike my beard. --[_Sees_ DONNA LOUISA. ]--See now! I'll die if
here is not a little damsel struck with it already.

_Don. Louisa_. Signor, are you disposed to oblige a lady who greatly
wants your assistance? [_Unveils_. ]

_Isaac_. Egad, a very pretty black-eyed girl! she has certainly taken
a fancy to me, Carlos. First, ma'am, I must beg the favour of your
name.

_Don. Louisa_. [_Aside_. ] So! it's well I am provided. --[_Aloud_. ]--My
name, sir, is Donna Clara d'Almanza.

_Isaac_. What? Don Guzman's daughter? I'faith, I just now heard she
was missing.

_Don. Louisa_. But sure, sir, you have too much gallantry and honour
to betray me, whose fault is love?

_Isaac_. So! a passion for me! poor girl! Why, ma'am, as for betraying
you, I don't see how I could get anything by it; so, you may rely on
my honour; but as for your love, I am sorry your case is so desperate.

_Don. Louisa_. Why so, signor?

_Isaac_. Because I am positively engaged to another--an't I, Carlos?

_Don. Louisa_. Nay, but hear me.

_Isaac_. No, no; what should I hear for? It is impossible for me to
court you in an honourable way; and for anything else, if I were to
comply now, I suppose you have some ungrateful brother, or cousin, who
would want to cut my throat for my civility--so, truly, you had best
go home again.

_Don. Louisa_. [_Aside_. ] Odious wretch! --[_Aloud_. ]--But, good
signor, it is Antonio d'Ercilla, on whose account I have eloped.

_Isaac_. How! what! it is not with me, then, that you are in love?

_Don. Louisa_. No, indeed, it is not.

_Isaac_. Then you are a forward, impertinent simpleton! and I shall
certainly acquaint your father.

_Don. Louisa_. Is this your gallantry?

_Isaac_. Yet hold--Antonio d'Ercilla, did you say? egad, I may make
something of this--Antonio d'Ercilla?

_Don. Louisa_. Yes; and if ever you wish to prosper in love, you will
bring me to him.

_Isaac_. By St. Iago and I will too! --Carlos, this Antonio is one who
rivals me (as I have heard) with Louisa--now, if I could hamper him
with this girl, I should have the field to myself; hey, Carlos! A
lucky thought, isn't it?

_Don Car_. Yes, very good--very good!

_Isaac_. Ah! this little brain is never at a loss--cunning Isaac!
cunning rogue! Donna Clara, will you trust yourself awhile to my
friend's direction?

_Don. Louisa_. May I rely on you, good signor?

_Don. Car_. Lady, it is impossible I should deceive you.

AIR.

Had I a heart for falsehood framed,
I ne'er could injure you;
For though your tongue no promise claim'd,
Your charms would make me true.
To you no soul shall bear deceit,
No stranger offer wrong;
But friends in all the aged you'll meet,
And lovers in the young.

But when they learn that you have blest
Another with your heart,
They'll bid aspiring passion rest,
And act a brother's part:
Then, lady, dread not here deceit,
Nor fear to suffer wrong;
For friends in all the aged you'll meet,
And brothers in the young.

_Isaac_. Conduct the lady to my lodgings, Carlos; I must haste to Don
Jerome. Perhaps you know Louisa, ma'am. She's divinely handsome, isn't
she?

_Don. Louisa_. You must excuse me not joining with you.

_Isaac_. Why I have heard it on all hands.

_Don. Louisa_. Her father is uncommonly partial to her; but I believe
you will find she has rather a matronly air.

_Isaac_. Carlos, this is all envy. --You pretty girls never speak well
of one another. --[_To_ DON CARLOS. ] Hark ye, find out Antonio, and
I'll saddle him with this scrape, I warrant. Oh, 'twas the luckiest
thought! Donna Clara, your very obedient. Carlos, to your post.

DUET.

_Isaac_.
My mistress expects me, and I must go to her,
Or how can I hope for a smile?

_Don. Louisa_.
Soon may you return a prosperous wooer,
But think what I suffer the while.
Alone, and away from the man whom I love,
In strangers I'm forced to confide.

_Isaac_.
Dear lady, my friend you may trust, and he'll prove
Your servant, protector, and guide.

AIR.

_Don Car_.
Gentle maid, ah! why suspect me?
Let me serve thee--then reject me.
Canst thou trust, and I deceive thee?
Art thou sad, and shall I grieve thee?
Gentle maid, ah I why suspect me?
Let me serve thee--then reject me.

TRIO.

_Don. Louisa_.
Never mayst thou happy be,
If in aught thou'rt false to me.

_Isaac_.
Never may he happy be,
If in aught he's false to thee.

_Don Car_.
Never may I happy be,
If in aught I'm false to thee.

_Don. Louisa_.
Never mayst thou, &c.

_Isaac_.
Never may he, &c.

_Don Car_.
Never may I, &c. [_Exeunt_. ]




ACT II.

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

_Enter_ DON JEROME _and_ ISAAC.


_Don Jer_. Ha! ha! ha! run away from her father! has she given him the
slip? Ha! ha! ha! poor Don Guzman!

_Isaac_. Ay; and I am to conduct her to Antonio; by which means you
see I shall hamper him so that he can give me no disturbance with your
daughter--this is a trap, isn't it? a nice stroke of cunning, hey?

_Don Jer_. Excellent! excellent I yes, yes, carry her to him, hamper
him by all means, ha! ha! ha! Poor Don Guzman! an old fool! imposed on
by a girl!

_Isaac_. Nay, they have the cunning of serpents, that's the truth
on't.

_Don Jer_. Psha! they are cunning only when they have fools to deal
with. Why don't my girl play me such a trick? Let her cunning over-
reach my caution, I say--hey, little Isaac!