The Duenna: A Comic Opera

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!

_Isaac_. True, true; or let me see any of the sex make a fool of me!-- No, no, egad! little Solomon (as my aunt used to call me) understands tricking a little too well.

_Don Jer_. Ay, but such a driveller as Don Guzman!

_Isaac_. And such a dupe as Antonio!

_Don Jer_. True; never were seen such a couple of credulous simpletons! But come, 'tis time you should see my daughter--you must carry on the siege by yourself, friend Isaac.

_Isaac_. Sir, you'll introduce----

_Don Jer_. No--I have sworn a solemn oath not to see or to speak to her till she renounces her disobedience; win her to that, and she gains a father and a husband at once.

_Isaac_. Gad, I shall never be able to deal with her alone; nothing keeps me in such awe as perfect beauty--now there is something consoling and encouraging in ugliness.

Song. Give Isaac the nymph who no beauty can boast, But health and good humour to make her his toast; If straight, I don't mind whether slender or fat, And six feet or four--we'll ne'er quarrel for that.

Whate'er her complexion, I vow I don't care; If brown, it is lasting--more pleasing, if fair: And though in her face I no dimples should see, Let her smile--and each dell is a dimple to me.

Let her locks be the reddest that ever were seen, And her eyes may be e'en any colour but green; For in eyes, though so various in lustre and hue, I swear I've no choice--only let her have two.

'Tis true I'd dispense with a throne on her back, And white teeth, I own, are genteeler than black; A little round chin too's a beauty, I've heard; But I only desire she mayn't have a beard.

_Don Jer_. You will change your note, my friend, when you've seen Louisa.

_Isaac_. Oh, Don Jerome, the honour of your alliance----

_Don Jer_. Ay, but her beauty will affect you--she is, though I say it who am her father, a very prodigy. There you will see features with an eye like mine--yes, i'faith, there is a kind of wicked sparkling-- sometimes of a roguish brightness, that shows her to be my own.

_Isaac_. Pretty rogue!

_Don Jer_. Then, when she smiles, you'll see a little dimple in one cheek only; a beauty it is certainly, yet, you shall not say which is prettiest, the cheek with the dimple, or the cheek without.

_Isaac_. Pretty rogue!

_Don Jer_. Then the roses on those cheeks are shaded with a sort of velvet down, that gives a delicacy to the glow of health.

_Isaac_. Pretty rogue!

_Don Jer_. Her skin pure dimity, yet more fair, being spangled here and there with a golden freckle.

_Isaac_. Charming pretty rogue! pray how is the tone of her voice?

_Don Jer_. Remarkably pleasing--but if you could prevail on her to sing, you would be enchanted--she is a nightingale--a Virginia nightingale! But come, come; her maid shall conduct you to her antechamber.

_Isaac_. Well, egad, I'll pluck up resolution, and meet her frowns intrepidly.

_Don Jer_. Ay! woo her briskly--win her, and give me a proof of your address, my little Solomon.

_Isaac_. But hold--I expect my friend Carlos to call on me here. If he comes, will you send him to me?

_Don Jer_. I will. Lauretta!--[_Calls_.]--Come--she'll show you to the room. What! do you droop? here's a mournful face to make love with! [_Exeunt_.]

SCENE II.--DONNA LOUISA'S _Dressing-Room_.

_Enter_ ISAAC _and_ MAID.

_Maid_. Sir, my mistress will wait on you presently.

[_Goes to the door_.]

_Isaac_. When she's at leisure--don't hurry her.--[_Exit_ MAID.]--I wish I had ever practised a love-scene--I doubt I shall make a poor figure--I couldn't be more afraid if I was going before the Inquisition. So, the door opens--yes, she's coming--the very rustling of her silk has a disdainful sound.

_Enter_ DUENNA _dressed_ as DONNA LOUISA.

Now dar'n't I look round, for the soul of me--her beauty will certainly strike me dumb if I do. I wish she'd speak first.

_Duen_. Sir, I attend your pleasure.

_Isaac_. [_Aside_.] So! the ice is broke, and a pretty civil beginning too!--[_Aloud_.] Hem! madam--miss--I'm all attention.

_Duen_. Nay, sir, 'tis I who should listen, and you propose.

_Isaac_. [_Aside_.] Egad, this isn't so disdainful neither--I believe I may venture to look. No--I dar'n't--one glance of those roguish sparklers would fix me again.

_Duen_. You seem thoughtful, sir. Let me persuade you to sit down.

_Isaac_. [_Aside_.] So, so; she mollifies apace--she's struck with my figure! this attitude has had its effect.

_Duen_. Come, sir, here's a chair.

_Isaac_. Madam, the greatness of your goodness overpowers me--that a lady so lovely should deign to turn her beauteous eyes on me so.

[_She takes his hand, he turns and sees her_.]

_Duen_. You seem surprised at my condescension.

_Isaac_. Why, yes, madam, I am a little surprised at it.--[_Aside_.] Zounds! this can never be Louisa--she's as old as my mother!

_Duen_. But former prepossessions give way to my father's commands.

_Isaac_. [_Aside_.] Her father! Yes, 'tis she then.--Lord, Lord; how blind some parents are!

_Duen_. Signor Isaac!

_Isaac_. [_Aside_.] Truly, the little damsel was right--she has rather a matronly air, indeed! ah! 'tis well my affections are fixed on her fortune, and not her person.

_Duen_. Signor, won't you sit? [_She sits_.]

_Isaac_. Pardon me, madam, I have scarce recovered my astonishment at your condescension, madam.--[_Aside_.] She has the devil's own dimples, to be sure!

_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. Louisa_. As I live, here is your friend coming with Antonio! I'll retire for a moment to surprise him. [_Exit_.]

_Enter_ ISAAC _and_ DON ANTONIO.

_Don Ant_. Indeed, my good friend, you must be mistaken. Clara d'Almanza in love with me, and employ you to bring me to meet her! It is impossible!

_Isaac_. That you shall see in an instant. Carlos, where is the lady?-- [DON CARLOS _points to the door_.] In the next room, is she?

_Don Ant_. Nay, if that lady is really here, she certainly wants me to conduct her to a dear friend of mine, who has long been her lover.

_Isaac_. Psha! I tell you 'tis no such thing--you are the man she wants, and nobody but you. Here's ado to persuade you to take a pretty girl that's dying for you!

_Don Ant_. But I have no affection for this lady.

_Isaac_. And you have for Louisa, hey? But take my word for it, Antonio, you have no chance there--so you may as well secure the good that offers itself to you.

_Don Ant_. And could you reconcile it to your conscience to supplant your friend?

_Isaac_. Pish! Conscience has no more to do with gallantry than it has with politics. Why, you are no honest fellow if love can't make a rogue of you; so come--do go in and speak to her, at least.

_Don Ant_, Well, I have no objection to that.

_Isaac_. [_Opens the door_.] There--there she is--yonder by the window--get in, do.--[_Pushes him in, and half shuts the door_.] Now, Carlos, now I shall hamper him, I warrant! Stay, I'll peep how they go on. Egad, he looks confoundedly posed! Now she's coaxing him. See, Carlos, he begins to come to--ay, ay, he'll soon forget his conscience.

_Don Car_. Look--now they are both laughing!

_Isaac_. Ay, so they are--yes, yes, they are laughing at that dear friend he talked of--ay, poor devil, they have outwitted him.

_Don Car_, Now he's kissing her hand.

_Isaac_, Yes, yes, faith, they're agreed--he's caught, he's entangled. My dear Carlos, we have brought it about. Oh, this little cunning head! I'm a Machiavel--a very Machiavel!

_Don Car_, I hear somebody inquiring for you--I'll see who it is. [_Exit_.]

_Re-enter_ DON ANTONIO _and_ DONNA LOUISA.

_Don Ant_. Well, my good friend, this lady has so entirely convinced me of the certainty of your success at Don Jerome's, that I now resign my pretensions there.

_Isaac_. You never did a wiser thing, believe me; and, as for deceiving your friend, that's nothing at all--tricking is all fair in love, isn't it, ma'am?

_Don. Louisa_. Certainly, sir; and I am particularly glad to find you are of that opinion.

_Isaac_. O Lud! yes, ma'am--let any one outwit me that can, I say! But here, let me join your hands. There you lucky rogue! I wish you happily married from the bottom of my soul!

_Don. Louisa_. And I am sure, if you wish it, no one else should prevent it.

_Isaac_. Now, Antonio, we are rivals no more; so let us be friends, will you?

_Don Ant_. With all my heart, Isaac.

_Isaac_. It is not every man, let me tell you, that would have taken such pains, or been so generous to a rival.

_Don Ant_. No, 'faith, I don't believe there's another beside yourself in all Spain.

_Isaac_. Well, but you resign all pretensions to the other lady?

_Don Ant_. That I do, most sincerely.

_Isaac_. I doubt you have a little hankering there still.

_Don Ant_. None in the least, upon my soul.

_Isaac_. I mean after her fortune.

_Don Ant_. No, believe me. You are heartily welcome to every thing she has.

_Isaac_. Well, i'faith, you have the best of the bargain, as to beauty, twenty to one. Now I'll tell you a secret--I am to carry off Louisa this very evening.

_Don. Louisa_. Indeed!

_Isaac_. Yes, she has sworn not to take a husband from her father's hand--so I've persuaded him to trust her to walk with me in the garden, and then we shall give him the slip.

_Don. Louisa_. And is Don Jerome to know nothing of this?

_Isaac_. O Lud, no! there lies the jest. Don't you see that, by this step, I over-reach him? I shall be entitled to the girl's fortune, without settling a ducat on her. Ha! ha! ha! I'm a cunning dog, an't I? a sly little villain, eh?

_Don Ant_. Ha! ha! ha! you are indeed!

_Isaac_. Roguish, you'll say, but keen, eh? devilish keen?

_Don Ant_. So you are indeed--keen--very keen.

_Isaac_. And what a laugh we shall have at Don Jerome's when the truth comes out I hey?

_Don. Louisa_. Yes, I'll answer for it, we shall have a good laugh, when the truth comes out, Ha! ha! ha!

_Re-enter_ DON CARLOS.

_Don Car_. Here are the dancers come to practise the fandango you intended to have honoured Donna Louisa with.

_Isaac_. Oh, I shan't want them; but, as I must pay them, I'll see a caper for my money. Will you excuse me?

_Don. Louisa_. Willingly.

_Isaac_. Here's my friend, whom you may command for any service. Madam, our most obedient--Antonio, I wish you all happiness.-- [_Aside_.] Oh, the easy blockhead! what a tool I have made of him!-- This was a masterpiece! [_Exit_.]

_Don. Louisa_. Carlos, will you be my guard again, and convey me to the convent of St. Catherine?

_Don Ant_. Why, Louisa--why should you go there?

_Don. Louisa_. I have my reasons, and you must not be seen to go with me; I shall write from thence to my father; perhaps, when he finds what he has driven me to, he may relent.

_Don Ant_. I have no hope from him. O Louisa! in these arms should be your sanctuary.

_Don. Louisa_. Be patient but for a little while--my father cannot force me from thence. But let me see you there before evening, and I will explain myself.

_Don Ant_. I shall obey.

_Don. Louisa_. Come, friend. Antonio, Carlos has been a lover himself.

_Don Ant_. Then he knows the value of his trust.

_Don Car_. You shall not find me unfaithful.

Trio. Soft pity never leaves the gentle breast Where love has been received a welcome guest; As wandering saints poor huts have sacred made, He hallows every heart he once has sway'd, And, when his presence we no longer share, Still leaves compassion as a relic there. [_Exeunt_.]