The STRANGERS AT HOME; A Comic Opera, In Three Acts: As performed at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane.
LONDON: Printed for Harrison & Co. No.18. Paternoster Row. MDCCLXXXVI.
IT being peculiarly the buſineſs of a dramatic writer, to ſelect thoſe popular topics upon which he is aſſured of having the public voice with him, it might na⯑turally be expected that, after receiving Your ROYAL HIGHNESS's gracious per⯑miſſion to lay this Dramatic Eſſay at Your feet, I ſhould eagerly have availed myſelf of the opportunity thus given me, of ex⯑patiating on thoſe manners, talents, and virtues, which conſtitute ſo general a theme of admiration. But minds truly [] conſcious of meriting praiſe are ever re⯑ſerved and delicate in accepting it: and perhaps Your ROYAL HIGHNESS will not ſuffer a ſincere acknowledgment of merit, becauſe the panegyric of Princes has been too often ſtained with adulation.
Reſtrained by this conſideration, I muſt content myſelf with offering my humble acknowledgments for the honour confer⯑red on me, in the countenance of my fee⯑ble endeavours to cultivate an elegant art which ſo eminently boaſts the protection of Your ROYAL HIGHNESS.
THE Author of the STRANGERS AT HOME would think himſelf guilty of great injuſtice, if at a moment when the Piece is ſo highly honoured by the public approbation, he ſhould forget how much of that approbation he owes to the abilities of the Performers, all of whom ſo kindly intereſted themſelves in its ſuc⯑ceſs. To Mr. KING he has peculiar obligations, for the care and attention with which he ſuperintended the rehearſals of the Opera; and to that Gentleman's judi⯑cious criticiſms he is likewiſe highly indebted. Al⯑though it might be ſuperfluous for the Author to add his praiſes to thoſe which the public have ſo liberally and deſervedly beſtowed on Mr. LINLEY's Muſic, he cannot but congratulate himſelf on having had the aſ⯑ſiſtance of ſo able a Maſter.
☞ The Paſſages marked with inverted Commas are omitted in the Repreſentation.
What a glorious proceſſion, Ma'am!
Glorious indeed, Alice! to ſee ſo many of our countrymen redeemed from foreign ſlavery, and all by the munificence of the young and noble Octavio!
Ah, Madam! I fancy this ſame Signor Octavio has enſlaved you at the very moment when he was giving others their liberty.
Oh, that my long loſt brother were but among theſe ran⯑ſom'd captives!
And oh! that my long loſt huſband were among them too! Lord, Ma'am! talk of a brother—I'm ſure, when I was of your age, I ſhould have thought one huſband worth twenty brothers.
Hark!—I hear the muſic again!—Let us liſten.
Viola!
There is that croaking old raven, your guardian.
Viola, my dear! where are you?
Don't anſwer him, Ma'am.
Look, Alice! there are two men whoſe eyes ſeem rivetted upon us.
Where?—Eh!—Why, ſure—Yes—No—Yes, it is my poor huſband! It is Laurence!
Alice! why, Alice!
Coming, Sir, preſently.
Yes, there is Alice, ſure enough! My rib, my ſpouſe! and as plump as ever. She has not pined much after me, I ſee.
It is my ſiſter! my Viola.
Viola!—Alice!—where are you?
Coming, Sir!—Plague take the old curmudgeon! You muſt go to him, Ma'am.
She looks on me, but does not know me.
And ſee! they vaniſh like ſpirits at the dawn of day.
Spirits! I am ſure, then, they are choice ſpirits. Heaven bleſs you, Sir, they are fleſh and blood, I'll warrant; at leaſt, I can anſwer for Alice.—But I think I ſcent the ſupper! Oh, for a fat capon, and a bottle of good wine!—I'll knock at the door.
By no means: you know my ſuſpicions of Aldobrand, with whom I left the charge of my ſiſter, and my houſe. I am re⯑ſolved to remain concealed till I can ſatisfy thoſe ſuſpicions.
But may'nt I ſatisfy my hunger, in the mean while, Sir?
Have a little patience.
Ah, Sir! patience is a bad phyſician; he has worn me to a ſkeleton already. If I don't change my doctor, he'll ſoon make a dreadful change in me! But here comes the Algerine cap⯑tain who brought us over.
Noble Ibrahim! I thank Heaven that I am at length arrived where I may be enabled properly to acknowledge that benevo⯑lence whoſe rays illumined our night of ſlavery. Nay, ſtart not! are you ſurprized to find gratitude among the Chriſtian virtues?
No, my generous friend; wide as the ſun darts his beams, he finds that precious jewel, which decks alike the Turban and the Croſs!
Then let me expreſs the grateful ſentiments I feel—
It will be ſufficient that you ſuffer me to remain unknown and unnoticed in this city.
We muſt haſten to offer our reſpects to the generous Oc⯑tavio.
I had much rather offer my reſpects to a well-covered table: we ſhall be in better ſpirits after ſupper; my gratitude will grow ſtronger as my ſtomach gets fuller.
Away! no trifling. We muſt pay our compliments where they are due.
Well, Sir, if it muſt be ſo, I'll follow you preſently: though mine, I fear, will be but empty compliments.—Ha! here comes [13] our fellow-captive, Firelock, the Engliſh ſoldier; that merry old fellow, whoſe jeſts and ſongs made us ſo often forget our ſorrows.
Once more welcome to European ground, my old ſon of fun and frolic!
Aye, my boy! and a ſon who has never diſhonour'd his family. 'Tis only your common dull metal that ruſts with the breath of care and misfortune: the high poliſh of mirth and good-humour always caſt off the envenomed damp.
And did you really never meet with any misfortune which obliged you to complain?
Faith, I never remember lamenting but two misfortunes in my whole life: one, that I was not at the Pruſſian re⯑view; and the other, that I had not the honour of being among the brave fellows beſieged in Gibraltar.—But that's all over now! However, I hope I ſhall yet live to fight for my country.
I am going to return thanks to Signor Octavio.
So ſhall I, as ſoon as I am dreſt.
Dreſt!
Aye, I hardly dare call myſelf an Engliſhman while I wear the badges of ſlavery. Our noble captain, Ibrahim, has kindly preſented me with the very cloaths in which I was taken by the Algerines: ſo, within an hour, you ſhall ſee me in that character which commands reſpect in every part of the world—a Britiſh ſoldier!—and then I ſhall want nothing but a miſtreſs to make me compleatly happy.
They, you know, are to be purchaſed every where.
Aye, but I would as ſoon think of buying a friend as a miſ⯑treſs. Always barter love for love, and friendſhip for friend⯑ſhip: for, egad! when either of the commodities are put up to ſale, depend upon it they are not worth buying. However, I don't deſpair of making myſelf pretty well underſtood by ſome kind Florentine girl or other. Love, I take it, is an univerſal language; much the ſame in moſt countries.
But, you will remember, it is a language in which the oldeſt ſcholars are not generally the greateſt proficients!
I underſtand you, young man! But I fear nothing. I am a mixture of ſpring and autumn: old Time and I have had ſo long a battle, that he has given up the point at laſt, and left me maſter of the field. Beſides, if even a miſtreſs ſhould be coy, I have yet my bottle to comfort me.
There are all the people in Florence out at their windows, gaping at this ſcurvy proceſſion of ſlaves. Tinkle but an old braſs ſhovel in the ſtreets of this city, and the inhabitants will ſwarm like bees at the ſound! One would think there was a triumph for ſome victory, to-day.
And what can be a nobler triumph, than the triumph of hu⯑manity! what a nobler victory, than that of freedom over ſlavery!
Pſha! don't tell me! Self-preſervation is the firſt tie of nature.
But is it the only tie, Sir?
Charity ſhould begin at home.
And ſhould charity end at home, too?
Certainly! you would not have me turn Charity out of doors? She keeps houſe with ſober decent people, and only goes aſtray with ſuch ſpendthrifts as Octavio.—By the bye, Viola, Octavio has invited us to his houſe to-day.
To his houſe, Sir!
How my heart beats!] And do you mean that we ſhould accept of his invitation?
Why, yes! for once in a way.—We are to meet Signor Lu⯑cilio and his wife Laura there.
Laura is a charming creature!]
I am aſtoniſhed, Sir!
Don't be alarmed! I'll take care to watch Octavio: for I ſuppoſe he'll teaze you with a parcel of ſtuff, that he is dying for love of you, and—
Do you really think he will?
Oh, yes! theſe rakiſh young dogs begin to make love the moment they ſee a woman, juſt as naturally as you would ſay 'Pretty Pol!' to a parrot: but you muſt not anſwer him.
Perhaps, then, he'll think that my ſilence gives conſent.
Frown at him, as you do at me when I make love to you, and I'll be hang'd if he miſtakes your ſilence for conſent then!
Well, Signor Aldobrand, ſince you teach me the leſſon of diſ⯑ſimulation, you muſt e'en take the conſequences.
Fabio! this prodigal fool, Octavio, has ranſom'd another parcel of ſlaves from Algiers.
Yes; the proceſſion has diſturb'd the whole city.
And this is called generoſity! For my part, Fabio, I think ſuch doings ſhould not be tolerated. When Fate has thought fit to ſend a man into ſlavery, I think it is flying in the face of Fate to releaſe him from his ſituation.
Your reaſoning is very juſt, Sir.
Fabio! I never hear of a releaſed captive, but I think of Regnalto. If by any ill luck he ſhould find his way back to Florence—
Impoſſible, Sir! You know, I have aſſured you—
Why, yes, you have aſſured me: but you muſt know, friend Fabio I don't think that telling truth is your forte!—However, run and view this new cargo of ſlaves. Bring me but a true account of Regnalto's not being among them, and I'll com⯑pound with you for a month's lying afterwards.
Well, Alice, any news of the worthy Regnalto?
Alas! no, Sir.
Ah!—Nor of your huſband?
No, Sir. I have heard nothing of poor Laurence.
The old wretch ſhan't diſcover that I have ſeen him.]
My poor friend! I muſt give a tear to humanity.
Certainly, Sir.
It coſts you nothing, or elſe you would not give that.]
Now to our own concerns!—Do you know, Alice, I have reſolved to take Viola with me to viſit Octavio?
To viſit Laura, you mean! I find ſhe is to be of the party.
Ha! ha!—Why I don't think Laura has been inſenſible to my amorous glances!—Only I have never yet had an opportunity of explaining myſelf.
An old fool!—I'll turn this to Viola's account.] Lord, Sir, what a Turk you are among the women! Marrying a young girl of eighteen, and ſeducing a married woman of twenty, at the ſame time! I declare, I ſhould not expect it from you!
Pſha! pſha! the older a man grows, the better uſe he ſhould make of his time.—But tell me, Alice, how can I contrive to get a private interview with Laura?—Suppoſe in ſome diſguiſe? Let me tell you, diſguiſe is very uſeful to us men of gallantry.
No bad thought, Sir!—What ſay you to the dreſs of a [19] Monk? It will not be the firſt time that garb has covered de⯑ſigns as pious as yours.
A Monk's habit!—Zounds! a man might as well make love in his ſhrowd! 'Tis a monument erected to ſignify the deceaſe of human frailty.
Oh! no, Sir! It will only, like other monuments, point out where the remains are depoſited.—But, Sir, you know, a little money will be neceſſary for this buſineſs.
Money!
Certainly, Sir! Generoſity is the only teſt of a lover's being in earneſt.
But, egad! I run a great hazard here.—Indeed, it is true, I have no other means to get at Laura, than by riſquing Viola in Octa⯑vio's houſe: but then I muſt depend on your watchful care over her, Alice!
Truſt to me, Sir.
If the young ſlut ſhould dare to liſten to him—If ſhe ſhould forget herſelf ſo far, as to—
Follow her own inclinations, as you do, her crime would certainly be of the blackeſt dye.
Pſha! But you know the weakneſs and inexperience of young girls.
For which reaſon their faults are to be more ſeverely puniſhed! Well, I admire the men! who, while they are continually boaſt⯑ing a ſuperiority of underſtanding, very modeſtly reſerve to them⯑ſelves the privilege of committing acts of folly with impunity.
Lord, Sir! we have waited a great while to ſee Signor Oc⯑tavio. I dare ſay he will excuſe our going now. Ceremony, I am told, is quite out of faſhion with great folks.
What, would you quit his houſe without thanking him for your liberty? Do you not feel the warmth of gratitude for ſo ineſtimable a gift?
I think humility ſhould teach us, that to wait among the ſer⯑vants is the propereſt ſituation for us.—I hear them now at ſup⯑per, Sir; and, as we are but ſlaves—
Slaves! the noble Octavio will receive us as friends.
Then, Sir, for that very reaſon we ſhould go to ſupper!—When a generous man entertains his friends at his own houſe, he is always beſt pleaſed to ſee them eat heartily.
Peace! Here comes Octavio.
Generous Octavio! we owe you thanks which language can never expreſs.
Silence, Sir, will be the moſt acceptable eloquence on that ſubject. Your mien and deportment beſpeak you of no vulgar rank.
He ſays nothing of my mien and deportment.
Do not miſtake me; I have not the ſmalleſt wiſh to know any thing you may deſire to conceal. No one is under reſtraint here: as long as it ſuits your convenience, make this your home; and accept, in the mean time, whatever my houſe affords.
Thank you, my lord! I wiſh we had known as much before; perhaps we ſhould have made free: I am ſure I ſhould. But to night we ſup at Signor Regnalto's; though, I think, a little ſnack before ſupper—
What! were you acquainted with Regnalto?
Yes, my lord; and he had a very great regard for him, too, or I am much miſtaken.
Perhaps, then, you know his ſiſter?
Alas, Sir! I fear ſhe has forgotten me. It is ten years ago ſince I held the little prattler on my knee.
And now, I ſuppoſe, Signor Octavio would be glad, in turn, to hold the little prattler on his knee.
Alas! had Viola a parent living, there would be no longer any obſtacle to our happineſs: but, to have my hopes blaſted thus, by an avaricious guardian!—
Sir, I will confer on you what, to the noble mind, is one of the moſt acceptable favours—an opportunity of ſhewing your gra⯑titude. I love Signora Viola: here is a letter, in which I pro⯑poſe that ſhe ſhould fly with me this evening, from the power of the wretch with whom her unſuſpecting brother too haſtily en⯑truſted her. This letter you ſhall do me the favour to deliver.
A mighty pretty employ my maſter has got into!
I have invited Aldobrand to bring the charming Viola with him to-day: but as I hardly expect any ſucceſs from that ſcheme, this letter is my laſt reſource.
The captain of the ſhip from Algiers, Sir, begs to ſpeak with you.
Adieu! I will not offend your zeal to ſerve me, by urging that ſecreſy on which my ſucceſs depends.
Laurence!
Sir!
This is rather a ſingular ſituation!
Not at all, Sir! Nothing can be more regular. When a lover thinks of marrying his miſtreſs, her neareſt relation ſhould always be one of the firſt perſons conſulted on the buſineſs.—But here comes my dear Alice!
Don't diſcover who I am, Laurence.
I wont, Sir; I won't!—How her eyes ſparkle while ſhe is looking for me!
Enquire after my ſiſter.
I will, Sir.—Pretty rogue!—Pretty rogue!
I am very impatient—
Yes, Sir; ſo am I!
Ah! my poor Laurence!—
Poor indeed, Alice!—I—I—Well! and how d'ye do? I had a thouſand things to ſay to you: but they are all jumbled to⯑gether; and, like a great crowd trying to get out of the playhouſe, they preſs on one another till they quite choak up the paſſage.
You are waſted away prodigiouſly!
Aye! I am not the man I was, Alice.
I am very ſorry for it, Laurence!
When you and I parted, I was as plump as good living and laughing could make me; but now I may, indeed, ſay—my wife is my better half!
And pray, how does your young lady do?—Pretty little ſoul! ſhe—
Why, I'll tell you!—But I ſee we are not alone. Who is that?
A brother captive of mine. He is both deaf and dumb, ſo you may ſay what you will before him.
The rogue has not loſt his old knack at invention.
La! what a pity it is, that ſuch a well-looking man ſhould have any deficiencies!
But tell me, how is your young lady?
As well as any poor girl can be, when ſhe is doom'd to marry a miſerly old guardian; who tells her, forſooth, that ſhe ſhall find a father in him.
An old villain!
Well, Alice, and do you think there ſo any thing ſo much amiſs in a huſband's becoming a father!
Signor Regnalto, he ſays, has certainly died in ſlavery.—Now I think of it, can you tell me any news of our old maſter?
I can't indeed, Alice; ſo don't aſk me any thing about him.
Poor man! Gone, I ſuppoſe! I am ſorry for him.
We ſhall never have ſuch another maſter!
No, never! He was the moſt good temper'd creature! One of the beſt men in the world for a ſervant to live with. So eaſily cheated!
Eaſily cheated! No, no, Alice! That's too much.
Nay, Laurence, I am ſure you know it as well as any body living. How many bottles of his beſt wine did you drink, and made him believe the rats got into the cellar and eat away the corks?
Lord! Lord!
I ſhall make ſome intereſting diſcoveries.
Not another word, Alice!
Why, what the deuce are you afraid of? You may be ſure a dumb man can't make any words about the matter.
'Tis lucky for you, ſirrah, that you have deprived me of my ſpeech!
Hey-day!—What, can he whiſper?
No; but he makes a queer comical kind of a noiſe; which I, who am uſed to him, can underſtand as well as if he ſpoke ever ſo diſtinctly.
And what does he mean?
Why, to let me know he is hungry, as I am: and, i'faith, 'tis no wonder, conſidering how long it is ſince we taſted roaſt-meat! Let us take him home with us, Alice. You will find him a mighty agreeable companion; he will never contra⯑dict you!
I declare, he ſeems as if he underſtood every word we ſay!
Oh, he is very intelligent; I can teach him any thing.—But come! Never did ſoldier long more for conqueſt than I do to attack my ſupper.—My dear Alice, we'll be as merry as love and good wine can make us.
Heavens! Montano, what a difference muſt this Algerine ha⯑bit make in you! when even I did not diſcover you, who but three years ago was the moſt intimate friend you had in Flo⯑rence.
But Laura!—
Inconſolable for your loſs, ſhe ſequeſter'd herſelf from the world for ſome time.
That was kind!
At length, however, to the ſurprize of every one, after ſlighting the firſt noblemen in Florence, ſhe ſuddenly married a young ſtranger.
A ſtranger!
Named Lucilio. Gentle, yet lively in his manners; in his perſon, an Adonis in miniature.
Do not oppreſs me with his praiſes; rather ſay that he is baſe! unworthy!—that my ſword—
Hold, Montano! I conjure you, by our friendſhip!—Lucilio and Laura are here. Conſider, this houſe is their ſanctuary: retire but for a moment, you ſhall ſee Laura preſently; nay, you ſhall even ſpeak to her.—I beg only a moment's delay.
Oh, Roſa! this uncertainty of my Montano's fate, like the torturing arts of medicine, protracts my unhappy life but too long!
Upon my word, Madam, you muſt think me a very com⯑plaiſant huſband, thus to make me the confidante of your affec⯑tion for another!
You are a ſtrange girl! However, I muſt own, it was a lucky thought for me, which ſuggeſted this ſcheme of calling you my huſband, to get rid of the importunities of my lovers.
Yes, really! and lucky for me, too; from your humble companion in petticoats, to become your lord and maſter in breeches.—I am ſure I may truly ſay, marriage has made a man of me!
But hear me, Roſa!
Roſa!—you forget that I am your huſband! Aye, and ſo kind! and ſo indulgent, too! Am not I the beſt of huſbands?
Ah! you will never know my value, till you have got your beloved Signor Montano; and then you'll ſoon find the difference between us!
You trifler!
However, though we may forget ourſelves in private, let us at leaſt take care to behave like huſband and wife in pub⯑lic; that is no more than many married couples oblige them⯑ſelves to do. But, ſeriouſly, my dear Madam, is it poſſible you can doubt Montano's conſtancy? Duty and reaſon will ſecure—
Duty and reaſon, when oppoſed to love!—Oh, Roſa!
My friend Ibrahim is lately from Algiers, Madam.
I—I—had a friend carried to that part of the world, Sir, for whom I am much intereſted.
How guilt fluſhes her cheeks!] I knew him well, Madam.
You knew him—a—his name was—
Zounds! I forgot to wait for my name.
Montano; a native of Florence.
Montano!—He—he—was my friend, Madam.
Then you can tell me news of him!
Now for life or death!]
He is no longer conſidered as a Chriſtian ſlave. He has taken the turban. I myſelf ſaw him laſt in the Algerine habit.
Heaven and earth!
I have heard him often repeat the name of Laura.
Indeed!—You diſtreſs me, Sir!
Montano lov'd her once; lov'd her, as the ſlave who now adores her!
You are bold, Sir!
And is that, Madam, a fault, in the eſtimation of a lady?
I have a huſband, Sir, who will anſwer whether it ought not to be ſo in mine!—Signor Octavio, a word with you.
And do you, Sir, take upon you to chaſtiſe every one who dares to love that lady?
Not I, upon my ſoul, Sir! It would be a very troubleſome office. Beſides, it is too flattering to my vanity, to have my wife univerſally beloved—
She was beloved by Montano! Did you know him, Sir?
Montano! Montano!—Oh! the man who went one after⯑noon to fiſh in the Mediterranean, and was himſelf caught by an Algerine rover!
Did you know Montano, young Sir?
Oh! yes, Sir! I recollect he had the vanity to be my rival. Poor man! I ought not to abuſe him; for I owe him infinite obligations, for the merriment Laura and I have ſo often had at his expence!
'Sdeath! Sir, you dare not repeat what you ſay!
Really, Sir, I don't deſire it. Tautology in converſation is very diſagreeable.
If Montano were here—
Why, if he were, Sir, I ſhould certainly pity the poor devil! To be laugh'd at by a ſucceſsful rival would be intolerable; and, really, I could not help it!—Ha! ha! ha!
Hark'e, Signor Lucilio; I will not hear Montano inſulted with impunity! I ſhall walk by the river-ſide, two miles from the city, at ſix to-morrow morning! You underſtand me, Sir?
A pretty ſcrape I am got into!]—Perfectly, Sir! You find the air from the water beneficial to your health.
Inſulting coward! draw inſtantly!
Zounds, Sir! with all my heart. This is not to be borne!—Signor Octavio, nothing but the reſpect I bear you, prevents my puniſhing that boaſter as he deſerves! Your pre⯑ſence protects him from my rage!
Let us be gone; I am frightened out of my wits!]
Signor Lucilio, I am concerned for my friend's warmth!
As to that, Sir, I am very happy you interfered. I declare, I tremble to think what might have been the conſequence!
Signor Octavio, what has paſſed will, I am ſure, plead my apology for begging your permiſſion to retire.
TELL the cook to make haſte, Alice. I like my victuals rather under done.
You have been us'd to eat your meat rare, I ſuppoſe?
Yes, the meat that came to my ſhare in Algiers was very rare, indeed!—not above once a month.
And how did they treat you, Laurence? Tell me all about it.
They treated me with my board, to be ſure—to ſleep on, I mean; a ſcarcity of bread and water; and plenty of ſtripes and hard labour. For my part, I had rather pay my own way in Florence, than be treated ſo by the beſt Algerine of 'em all!
Pray, Laurence, had your maſter many wives?
Wives! aye, in every hole and corner of his houſe: they ran about like rabbits in a warren!
And did not you turn poacher now and then, and ſnap up a ſtray rabbit?—Eh! Laurence?
Not I, indeed! I had a much keener appetite for a fat capon.—Hunger is a bitter enemy to gallantry!—Beſides, the Infidels have ways of keeping their wives to themſelves, which we have not yet attain'd.
By making ſlaves of them!—Thank my ſtars, that odious faſhion does not prevail in Chriſtendom!
"No, the matter is juſt revers'd with us: in all Chriſtian countries, the wives keep their huſbands in ſubjection."—But here comes Madam Viola!
Honeſt Laurence, I am rejoic'd to ſee you once more at home!
Thank ye, Ma'am!—I am much rejoiced to ſee myſelf here!
I imagine you have had a ſufficient ſample of travelling?
Enough to laſt me my life, Ma'am!
And what think you of the men and manners where you have been?
As for the men, the leaſt ſaid about them is the beſt; and, as for their manners, egad! I never was treated with ſo much ill-manners, by any other ſet of people, before or ſince!
Laurence, you are releaſed from the chains of a tyrant, juſt time enough to ſee me in fetters!
"To-morrow is the day fix'd by my inexorable guardian to make me his wretched wife.—Oh, for the preſence of a brother, to ſave me from this living death!"
But Alice tells me you can give no tidings of the unfortunate Regnalto?
I know no more of him than this good man!
And who is he?
He can't tell you that himſelf; he is dumb.
The poor fellow is juſt return'd from ſlavery, Madam!
Perhaps he may have ſeen my brother: I'll queſtion him. How complacently he ſmiles upon me! I hope I ſhall be able to underſtand him.
Well, Ma'am, my wine is out; ſo we'll leave you with our ſilent friend, while we go and toaſt you in bumpers from a freſh bottle!
Poor ſlave! perhaps he has a ſiſter in ſome foreign land, who, like me, mourns the abſence of a brother!
Here is Regnalto's picture!—Precious image of a beloved brother, let me preſs thee to my heart!
"How ſhall I ſupport myſelf in this trying ſcene!"
If he has ever ſeen Regnalto, he will remember the likeneſs.
Alas! he knows not the reſemblance.
I had almoſt forgot my errand!
What would you with me, gentle ſlave?
A letter!
And from Octavio!
‘'Deareſt Viola! our ſituation muſt plead my excuſe for the pro⯑poſal I thus abruptly offer. To-morrow is to make you the wife of Aldobrand; ſuffer me to ſnatch you from the miſery in which this deteſted marriage would involve us. Do not doubt my honour: warm as my paſſion is for the charming Viola, I can never forget the reſpect due to the ſiſter of Regnalto—’
Noble youth!
‘—'On a word depends your fate and mine. I ſhall be with ſome choſen friends, at the balcony which looks into the gar⯑den, a little before midnight. Let me hope that happy hour will conſign you to the care of the impatient Octavio!'—’What am I to do!
He endeavours to perſuade me; he pleads for his be⯑nefactor.—Will you accompany me?—
Then I will meet Octavio!
My guardian here!
Hey-day! whom have we here? A lover in diſguiſe! This is your gallant-elect, I ſee, Madam; and he is kiſſing hands on his appointment!—Who the devil are you?
He is now my ſervant.
That is to ſay, you are his miſtreſs. So I ſuſpected!
How you miſunderſtand things! He is—
I aſk him, and not you, what he is!—I ſuppoſe he can ſpeak for himſelf?
Indeed he can't, Sir.
Not ſpeak for himſelf! A pretty kind of a lover, then, he muſt be!
A lover! The poor creature is juſt come from Algiers; and I have employ'd him as my ſervant, from motives of compaſ⯑ſion.—I tell you, he can't ſpeak.
But I ſuppoſe he can eat and drink; and that comes very expenſive!
And is this the way you think to gain my regard, by thwart⯑ing me in every thing I propoſe?
Nay, nay! my dear wife, that is to be! I'm ſure I'll do all I can to make you happy. I agree, then, to take this ſpeechleſs gentleman into our ſervice.
I thank you, Signor.
Thanks! And is that all I am to receive from your lips, Viola?—I muſt! indeed, I muſt!—
—Well, I ſhall make you pay for all to-morrow! Thoſe roſy lips will be mine when we are married, Viola!
When we are married, they ſhall be yours; but, till then, good Signor, they muſt remain my own!
Well, Fabio, what news?
Why, Sir, on this occaſion, we may really ſay, no news is good news: for I can hear nothing of Regnalto. You may depend upon it, he is not in Florence.
I am heartily glad of it, good Fabio! and will double the reward I promis'd you.
Fortune has thrown an excellent opportunity in my way, to diſcover the villainy of this falſe friend, in whoſe honour I have ſo unwarily confided.
Hey, Roberto! get wine and glaſſe: and, d'ye hear! ſhew Dum⯑my the way to the cellar. We muſt try to make ſomething of him!—
—Come, Fabio! let's ſit down and enjoy ourſelves! You have put me in charm⯑ing ſpirits; and we'll have a bottle of my beſt wine on the ſtrength of your good news!
Well, Roberto, does he appear to be a handy fellow?
O, yes, Sir!
he ſeems to know the ways about the houſe as well as if he had been us'd to it!
Aye, aye! we muſt converſe with him by ſigns: I dare ſay he'll ſoon be able to find us out.
I hope ſo!
Roberto, you need not ſtay: let him wait on us.
A dumb waiter is ſometimes very convenient!
Why, Sir, you retain not only your ſpirits, but your wit!
My dear Fabio, the news you bring of Regnalto gives me new life! Let him but keep out of my ſight, and my bottle in it—and then, Time and Care, I defy you!
Where do you think Regnalto is now, Fabio?
At a pretty good diſtance from us, I'll anſwer for it. You know I bargain'd with a Turkiſh merchant to buy him at Al⯑giers, and tranſport him from thence to Conſtantinople!
So you told me!
After which, he was to be convey'd to Arabia, and ſold to a chief of the wild Arabs.
A pretty journey theſe good people have mark'd out for me!
"And, I dare ſay, by this time, he is as expert at robbing a caravan as the beſt freebooter among them.
"Then he has travell'd to ſome end, Fabio.
"Yes, Sir! and I hope that will be the end of his travels.
"With all my heart! Give Dummy a bumper to that toaſt—"May Regnalto end his travels where he is now!
"Well done, honeſt Dummy! Egad! he empties his glaſs to that toaſt!
"He little thinks that he is drinking to the captivity of his old acquaintance; for I dare ſay Regnalto and he have had the baſtinado together many a time in Algiers."
Signor Lucilio, Sir.
Lucilio! What the devil can he want with me? I hope he has not diſcovered my deſigns on his wife!—Shew him up.—Fabio, let Dummy retire with you for the preſent.
Signor Lucilio, ten thouſand thanks for this honour! Believe me, I am heartily glad to ſee you!
I am come, Signor Aldobrand, to requeſt your advice and aſſiſtance in a matter of great moment to me.
"I am ſure I ſhall be particularly happy—
"I know you are a man of gallantry—
"Egad! I am ſorry for that.
"And therefore I wiſh for your counſel.—But, are we out of hearing?
"As ſnug as a conclave of cardinals!"
Give me leave to aſk you, what meaſures do you think I ought to purſue with the man who has dar'd to make love to my wife?
A—a—
Oh! that I were but ſafe out of the room!] Why, ſurely—is it poſſible that—
Poſſible! why not, Sir? Is not Laura handſome enough to be an object of temptation?
Upon my ſoul, I think ſo, Sir! Don't miſtake me.
What ſhall I ſay to him?]
When I conſider the nature of the affront!—
But conſider, at the ſame time, good Signor, how liable we all are to frailty! Temptation is an enemy who wreſtles with us through life, growing ſtronger as we grow weaker; and if youth can't reſiſt him, 'tis not to be wondered at that he ſhould eaſily trip up an old man's heels!
I am reſolv'd to puniſh him ſeverely!
I ſhall be expos'd to all Florence!] Are there no apologies which you could be prevailed on to receive?
What apologies can he offer, after having had the aſſurance to threaten my life!—
I threaten his life!—What the devil does he mean now?
The preſumption to challenge me to ſingle combat!
Challenge you!—Upon my veracity, I never dreamt of ſuch a thing!
Yes, the haughty Algerine dared me to meaſure ſwords with him!
The haughty Algerine!
Ibrahim, the commander of the veſſel laſt from Algiers!
I am reſtor'd to life!] Give me your hand, my dear Signor Lucilio! We'll have the ſcoundrel hang'd, drawn, quarter'd, flay'd, and carbonaded!—A dog! a raſcal! a villain!—a—ſuch an abominable attempt!
But how ſhall we manage, my dear friend? I have every thing to dread from him while he is at liberty. You are a magiſtrate, and can aſſiſt me.
He ſhall be thrown into priſon in two hours time!
Will that be ſtrictly legal?
Legal! aye, to be ſure, if it can ſerve a friend. Laws were made for the benefit of ſociety; and are not our friends the very flower of ſociety?
But let us be careful not to infringe the ſtrict letter of the law.
Aye, that is a true oracle; always doubtful in it's meaning. We lawyers are the prieſts, and who ſo proper to expound it as we who make it? The letter of the law reminds me of a fanciful cloud in a ſummer ſky; though no two perſons can agree in what it really repreſents, you may look at it till you make what you will of it.
"And yet how beautiful are thoſe clouds when gilded by the ſun of equity!
"Pſha! pſha! when the clouds gather faſt, the ſun of equity, as you call it, ſometimes finds it a deviliſh hard taſk to ſhine through them." But come, let us to buſineſs; we have not a moment to loſe. I'll diſpatch the officers of juſtice after this Ibrahim, and they'll ſeize him the inſtant they ſet eyes on him!
Well, Signor Aldobrand, I perceive you improve on the poets, who repreſent Juſtice as blind: you kindly remove the band from her eyes, that ſhe may diſtinguiſh objects clearly.
Modern Juſtice is only blind to the faults of her friends.
And what does ſhe do with her ſword?
Reſerves that for their enemies.
Ha! ha! ha!—Then her ſcales only remain to be diſpos'd of!
Which are too uſeful to be parted with. They are for the receipt of fees; one ſcale for the plaintiff, and the other for the defendant: of courſe, you know, that which is beſt fill'd makes the other kick the beam!—And ſo much for juſtice.
Well, Alice, then the charming Viola is permitted by her guardian to viſit this houſe to-day? You may depend on my gratitude!
"I will, Sir; though I own it is not a quality on which, generally ſpeaking, I place the greateſt dependance.
"Surely you do not doubt it's exiſtence: you do not think it a mere phantom."
Why really, Sir, my experience has taught me, that gratitude is ſomething like a ghoſt; every body talks of it, but nobody ſees it appear!
As to that, I can eaſily conjure up the apparition!—
How do you like it?
Oh! I admire your ſpirit, I aſſure you, Sir! It could not ap⯑pear in a prettier ſhape.
But tell me, dear Alice! how am I to elude the vigilance of Aldobrand?
Very eaſily, Sir. You muſt know the old fool expects to meet Laura her, with whom he is moſt deſperately in love!—But I ſee him coming: I'll engage him, while you ſlip down ſtairs, and entertain your miſtreſs.
Here I am! ſo amorous—but ſo frighten'd! My heart is like a volcano in Iceland; fire and froſt at the ſame time. If Lau⯑ra ſhould not requite my paſſion—if I ſhould fail, Alice!—
Fail, Sir! there is no ſuch word in the lover's dictionary.
Then I ſuppoſe mine is the old edition; for, egad! I think I ſee it in the title-page, in black letter. It frightens me ſo, that I can't turn over a new leaf!
Come, Sir, I'll comfort you with an example, in a ballad which I learnt of an Engliſh captain who us'd to viſit my poor maſter, Signor Regnalto.
A lover is like a ſwimmer: fear will be ſure to ſink him.
Then, egad! I ſhall certainly go to the bottom, Alice!
Never fear that, Sir!—Truſt to the cork-jacket I have brought you.—
—This will keep your head above water, I'll warrant.—Come, Sir, let me help you on with it.
Heigho! make haſte, and lead me to Laura, that I may face the enemy, while I have courage enough left for the attack.
I'll go and reconnoitre, Sir.
And, d'ye hear? keep an eye on Viola!—You know Oc⯑tavio is a few years younger than I am; and young girls have a deviliſh hankering after green fruit!
Who have we here? a Friar! I did not expect to meet with ſo holy a man. I was in ſearch of one Signor Aldobrand, a rich old lawyer of this city.—Do you know him, father?
I know the man!
Perhaps you are his confeſſor? I'faith! if you are, you muſt have a troubleſome taſk of it, by all accounts: I am ſure you deſerve to be paid well for keeping ſuch a batter'd old conſcience in repair!
How I long to break the raſcal's head!
But I can't think where the old fellow can be gone! He was ſeen to enter this room not half an hour ago.
Why, what the devil! are you ſet to watch him, you dog?
Hey-day! here's language for a man of mortification! You ſeem to have forgot yourſelf, father.
Rather ſo, indeed!—But, if you knew me better, you would find me a true ſon of the church.
Aye, I dare ſay! One of thoſe dutiful children who are ſel⯑dom better pleas'd than when they are drinking their mother-church in full bumpers; and, leſt her family ſhould be extinct, like good ſons, take all the care in their power to provide her with grandſons.
I forgive your ſcurrility, friend!—You ſhall find, that Monkiſh manners can cover liberality of ſentiment.
As an extinguiſher covers a candle!—But here come Octavio and Viola.
A comfortable ſituation I ſhall be in, to be ſure! for, though I ſhould be cuckolded before my face, I muſt, like a ſnail, draw my horns within my ſhell!
We are all ſafe, Sir! the enemy has retreated, and left you maſter of the field.
Follow Aldobrand, my faithful friend, leſt he ſhould return unexpectedly.—But who is this?
Oh! as for this ghoſtly father, though he may hitherto have been a neutral power, I dare ſay, he is a true politician; and, now victory has declared for you, will have no objection to be⯑come your ally.
A lucky thought! This good prieſt ſhall join our hands.—You tremble, Viola?
Oh, Octavio! you will forgive that timidity which makes me ſtart at the precipitancy of a meaſure—
Which alone can releaſe you from the power of an avaricious tyrant!—I'll ſubmit the caſe to this worthy man; convinc'd that I could not have fix'd on any perſon better qualified to de⯑cide the matter.
I wiſh to my ſoul the worthy man were ſafe at home!—A plague on this maſquerading! If he finds me out, I ſhall have his ſword through me in a twinkling!
My good father, this lady is threatened with marriage by her guardian; a wretch whom, if you knew, you muſt deſpiſe!—She has bleſs'd me with the avowal of her affection!
That avowal, Octavio, I willingly repeat. Why ſhould I bluſh to own my acquaintance with Love, while he is the com⯑panion of Virtue?
The devil take her fine ſentiments!
Thus, then, let me ſeize this charming hand! and our good friend, here, I am perſuaded, will chearfully aſſiſt me in making it my own.
"What, you ſay 'No!' Perhaps you are not aware what a ſad old fellow this guardian is: he reviles eccleſiaſtical government where⯑ever he goes; and declares he hates a prieſt ſo much, that he is ready to faint at the ſight of his habit. He ſays it reſem⯑bles charity, for it is always ſure to cover a multitude of ſins."
You ſeem to be miſtaken in the perſon to whom you apply, Octavio?
Moſt curſedly miſtaken, if he knew all!
As to his ſhaking his head, that is a diſorder eaſily cur'd by a proper application to the palm of the patient's hand!
Egad! if I refuſe money, he'll ſoon diſcover me to be no churchman.
Are you better, father?—Not quite cur'd yet, eh!—I muſt touch the other hand, then.—
—Now, I'll anſwer for it, he'll find himſelf perfectly well!
Then I'll e'en get off while I am well!
Not ſo faſt, my good friend!
My guardian, do you ſay?
Bleſs me, what do I ſee—To what a paſs of wickedneſs is this world arrived!—Oh, my poor maſter! how he has been im⯑poſed upon! And now, perhaps, he'll think me an accomplice in the plot. I ſhall run mad with vexation!—As for you, Sig⯑nora Viola, I ſhall take care that you ſhall never ſpeak another word to that vile ſeducer!
Tell him im⯑mediately how we are circumſtanced.]—
OCTAVIO—Ah! my dear Sir, how lucky it was for us all that I came in juſt at the moment I did!—What deceit there is in the world!
A d—n'd deal, indeed!—Alice, you muſt take care they don't ſuſpect me.
Leave that to me, Sir.] I bluſh for you, Signora Viola, to behave ſo to your guardian!—And as for you, Signor Octavio—
I ſhould have been married by this time, had it not been for that piece of mock ſanctity, "who dar'd to receive money for what he never intended to perform." But I'm reſolv'd to take the moſt ſignal revenge!
Dear Sir! what do you mean?
Stick to that.] Bleſs me, how your eyes roll! Don't be raſh!
What is to become of me, Alice?
Surely, Signor Octavio, you don't mean to attempt his life?
Hold your tongue! He won't think of killing me, if you don't put him in mind of it!
To be ſure, the poor gentleman is entirely in your power. It would be the eaſieſt thing in the world to deſtroy him with⯑out it's being diſcover'd. You might hang him in the garden, or drown him in the river—or ſhoot him——or—let me ſee!—
The devil's in the wench!—You forget that you are counſel for the defendant!
It may happen to the beſt advocate, who has no retaining fee to remind him: that is the only anchor which can keep him ſteady to you.
Why, I gave you one this morning! But you ſeem ſoon blown from your anchor, as you call it.
Conſider, Sir, what a ſtorm we are in!—
It is impoſſible, my dear Viola! Not even your entreaties can diſarm my reſentment!
What, Sir! not if he agrees to marry you?
Agrees to marry me!—What the devil can ſhe mean now?—On that condition, indeed!—
Leave me to calm the fears of the good man!
Well, father, I leave you to your female friend. Eloquence, you know, is the gift of the ſex: I dare ſay, Alice will perſuade, you to liſten to the voice of reaſon, though I cannot.
Egad! if Reaſon ſpeaks through your voice, I don't wonder that ſo few people in the world liſten to her; for the very tone [51] of it is enough to throw one into a quaking fit!—A pretty ſort of an engagement you have form'd for me, Alice! How the devil am I to fulfil it?
Why, Sir, you muſt e'en run away: that's the moſt ap⯑proved remedy, when a man can't fulfil his engagements!
"A confeſſion ſcene, as I take it: I may chance to profit by it."
But then I leave Viola behind me!
I'll take care ſhe ſhall ſoon follow you. I can perſuade Oc⯑tavio to any thing. You ſee I have gain'd his confidence!
Egad! if you have gain'd his confidence, you have made a pretty comfortable addition to your own ſtock; for I think he has as good a ſhare as any man I ever knew!
I have news to tell you of your beloved Laura!—
His beloved Laura!
"But I fancy, in this jumble of paſſions, love has ſunk to the bottom.
"Why, i'faith, fear is the oil of the paſſions: attempt to mix it with whatever you will, it is always ſure to ſwim at top.
"Which proves that, with you, love is weighty, and fear light. But I have to inform you, Sir, that Laura left this houſe on pre⯑tence of illneſs, and that ſhe is now at home, where ſhe ex⯑pects you."
I'm on the rack!
Why, I—I—ſhould like to viſit her!—But are you ſure ſhan't meet with another couple who want to be married?
My dear Signor Aldobrand, conſider what an opportunity! I have ſettled every thing with Laura's maid: ſhe will admit you as a friar ſent to viſit her miſtreſs by her confeſſor, who is indiſpoſed.
Diſtraction!
To perſonate a confeſſor!—Excellent!—I—I will go, Alice!
Then I will ſtep into the garden, to ſecure Octavio and Viola in chat. You follow me preſently.
Upon my ſoul, a father confeſſor, who has the keeping of a pretty girl's conſcience, leads a mighty agreeable life! The pleaſure of giving abſolution muſt be ſo great, that, like a ſkilful phyſician who delights in being conſtantly employed, one might be tempted now and then to make a flaw in a patient's conſti⯑tution, for the ſatisfaction of performing the cure!
Stop, doctor!
Ah, good Signor! what would you have? Do you wiſh to be married!—Spare my life, and command my ſervices!
Signor Aldobrand, I have overheard the whole of your pious converſation; and am ſo much edified by it, that I am reſolv'd to quit the turban, and aſſume the religious habit which you wear!—Yes, I am determined to try the virtues of that magic garment, which can blind the eyes of a fine woman to age and infirmity; for, ſurely, without ſuch aſſiſtance, you could never have preſumed to think of gallantry!
I don't know that!
"Can that ſhrivell'd countenance, and thoſe tottering limbs, be form'd for ſeduction?
There is no fix'd ſtandard for beauty: and ladies often dif⯑fer in their taſtes!
We'll ſettle that point another time. In the mean while, we muſt exchange dreſſes; you ſhall have my veſt and turban, in return for your diſguiſe of holineſs!
Turn Mahometan!
Men of true piety, like you, never regard externals. Come, uncaſe, my old Adonis! No more words to the bargain.
Upon my ſoul, 'tis a deviliſh hard bargain!
Now, then, Diſſimulation aſſiſt me to avenge the cauſe of an injur'd lover, and puniſh the loſt and guilty Laura!—Signor Aldobrand, one ſerious word before we part!
One ſerious word!—Why then, perhaps, you have hitherto been in jeſt?
Dare not, as you regard your life, to follow me; nor to diſ⯑cover whither I am going! And ſo, adieu!
Good bye to ye!—Heigho! a pretty metamorphoſis!
I am made a mere peg, to hang caſt-off cloaths on! A child's doll, dreſs'd and undreſs'd ten times in a day! I ſuppoſe I ſhall keep my Algerine dreſs no longer than till ſomebody elſe takes a fancy to it!—Oh, here comes one of the footmen! I may as well begin to ſtrip, for I dare ſay I muſt put on his livery.
Signor Montano, my maſter begs you will conceal yourſelf immediately. The officers of juſtice are in queſt of you. He ſuſpects foul play, as they are ſent hither by Aldobrand, who was ſeen here juſt now diſguiſed as a Friar.
So! I have iſſued a warrant to apprehend myſelf!
Hark! the officers are forcing their way in; and my maſter and his followers are defending the entrance with their ſwords!
Ah! 'tis all over with me! Here am I, in my rival's houſe, with another man's cloaths on my back; having loſt my cha⯑racter, my wife, my miſtreſs, and almoſt loſt myſelf! I am an actual numeration-table of loſſes; they riſe upon me by tens, hundreds, and thouſands.—And here come more plagues! How the devil ſhall I manage to conceal myſelf! Egad, I'll ſlip down this ſtair-caſe!
Caſt away your ſcruples, my love! and rely upon me.
Make yourſelf perfectly eaſy, my dear Viola! Montano will protect you. I thought he was here: but I know the agonies of his mind drive him from ſociety, to ſeek relief in ſolitude.
Alice! where is the Algerine captain?
Algerine captain!—Oh, you mean the man with the turban, whom I met juſt now ſtealing down the dark private ſtair-caſe which leads to the garden, with his hands before his face, like a ſulky child endeavouring to eſcape a whipping! There is no fear of your loſing him, Sir, except he can creep through the key-hole; for I lock'd the door as I came up, and put the key in my pocket, to prevent old Aldobrand's ſurprizing us.
The door is faſt, ſure enough!—I muſt try t'other ſide, as ſoon as the coaſt is clear!
That gentleman whom you met in the Algerine dreſs is a native of this city; "and unfortunately attach'd to Signora Laura.
"The devil! then I am diſcover'd!"
His name is Montano.
That's very well, i'faith!
I have the ſtrongeſt reliance on his friendſhip.
He little thinks that my appearance of friendſhip is like ſome other friendſhips—a mere diſguiſe, which I ſhall throw off as ſoon as convenient.
In a word, I will entruſt Viola to his care, while I ſtay to face the expected ſtorm.
"Shall I run and fetch him, Sir?
"It is by no means neceſſary: at this unfortunate moment, my converſation would ſerve only to diſtreſs him.
"It would, indeed, moſt plaguily!
"Only beg him to accompany Viola to my houſe by the river-ſide. Two truſty ſervants will attend him.
"Surely, Octavio, I ſhould be ſafer under this roof?
"No, my charmer! Montano will conduct you to a more agreeable aſylum; to a place which, I hope, my Viola will ſhortly call her home.
"Yes, egad! I'll take care ſhe ſhall ſoon find herſelf at home!
"Oh, Montano! I commit my exiſtence into your hands!"—Tell him, my dear Alice, to watch over her as if ſhe were the darling of his own ſoul. I know he will with pleaſure receive the precious pledge from me.
With great pleaſure, indeed! "And, I fancy, when once I get the precious pledge in my poſſeſſion, you will find it no eaſy matter to redeem it.—But I muſt retreat to my hiding-place."
We have no time to loſe, my love! Give your hand to my friend, and your guardian!
Ha! ha! ha!
But conſider, your friend is unknown to me. I never even ſaw him.—Oh, Octavio! I have a thouſand fears!
Diſpel them all, my love! Our conſtancy will render us in⯑vulnerable to the attacks of fortune.
[57]INDEED, Roſa, my mind is too ſeverely wounded by this dreadful news of Montano.
I cannot muſter up ſpirits enough to execute your ſcheme.
"But conſider, my dear Madam, it is the only means by which I can ſave myſelf from the fury of this mad Algerine."
How can you aſk me at this time, when my heart is ſo ſen⯑ſibly touch'd?
Well, Madam! and do not I run the riſque of having my heart ſenſibly touch'd by the point of a ſmall-ſword! Let me tell you, that is much the worſt touch of the two. I repeat to you, Madam, that old rogue Aldobrand has let Ibrahim eſcape; and, while he is at liberty, I dare not venture abroad.
And ſo you would really wiſh me to receive this odious viſit from Aldobrand—
That I may ſurprize him with you, and work on the fears of the old wretch, to make him ſecure Ibrahim.
I don't like your ſcheme, Roſa. There is an indelicacy in ſubjecting my ears to be offended with the mention of an illicit paſſion.
There might be, I grant you, from the lips of a youthful gal⯑lant, like Ibrahim; "in whoſe breaſt the paſſion glows hotenough to ſcorch the reputation of every female who expoſes herſelf to it's influence:" but, as for poor old Aldobrand—Lord, Ma'am! in him it is the mere Aurora Borealis of love; a few ſtraggling faint rays from the ſun that is ſet, which vaniſh al⯑moſt as ſoon as they are ſeen, and have only the appearance of heat without the reality!—To give me a fair occaſion for com⯑ing into the room, you muſt ſcream out; upon which I ruſh in, and—But who have we here?
My abrupt viſit will apologize for itſelf, Sir, when I tell you that I come to offer you my ſervices in aſſiſting to puniſh Aldo⯑brand, who is now entering your houſe diſguis'd as a friar.
Heavens, Roſa! how could he have diſcover'd—
Do not be ſurprized: I was inform'd of the whole affair by a very pretty girl at Signor Octavio's.
He means Alice.
The ſame, Sir! She order'd me to engage in your ſervice; and I would no more diſobey the commands of Beauty than the ar⯑ticles of war.
Ha! ha! ha!—Perhaps you have expectations of reward from your fair employer?
Why, look ye, Madam! Love and Honour have ever been my commanding officers; and I ſhould not deſerve the name of their ſoldier, if I wanted the inducement of reward to do my duty.
You have been bred a ſoldier, I preſume?
No, Madam; I once had a pretty ſnug little eſtate, which my wife and my friends obligingly help'd me ſoon to get rid of: ſo, as I was too honeſt, or too proud, to live by the ſame means as many of my neighbours, I paid my debts, as far as I could, and took up a brown muſquet. The expectation of happier days has ſupported me through all my misfortunes, and the an⯑ticipation of ſocial mirth has ſmiled on me even in the hour of battle.
Here comes Aldobrand, I vow!—We muſt leave you.
Let me accompany you; for I muſt have a few moments to prepare myſelf for the meeting.
If you'll ſit down a moment, my good father, I'll acquaint Signora Laura that you are here.
To what a dilemma have my ill ſtars reduc'd me. My er⯑rand here is to tempt that virtue which I hope to find ſuperior to temptation. "I muſt engage in a conflict where I dread to obtain the victory. If ſhe reſiſts my importunities as Ibrahim, it will at leaſt afford me a ſatisfaction to find that, though falſe to love, ſhe is yet true to virtue." But ſhe comes.
Perhaps, Signor Aldobrand, you are not a little ſurpriz'd at my conſenting to this interview?—
'Sdeath! then ſhe has really expected Aldobrand!
"I can venture to aſſure you, however, that my motives for it are very different from what you may imagine. I hope you will not miſinterpret my conduct.
"No, it ſeems to ſpeak pretty plainly for itſelf!"
I rely entirely on your diſcretion.
So it appears.—Alas! ſhe don't ſeem to have made any uſe of her own, indeed!
What can occaſion his ſilence? I am in a moſt aukward ſi⯑tuation!—A—a—Sir, I underſtood that you had ſomething of a particular nature to communicate.
I hope Roſa will be at hand to relieve me!]
"Perhaps ſhe apprehends an interruption from her huſband, and means that I ſhould faſten the door.
"That is not at all neceſſary: you may—you may venture to declare your ſentiments to me freely.
"This is taking effectual care that I ſhan't miſinterpret her, indeed! I ſhall never be able to contain myſelf!"
I hear no ſcreaming yet: I fancy Laura has no reaſon to com⯑plain of the violence of the old gentleman's paſſions.
You are ſtill ſilent, Signor Aldobrand!
What the deuce can be the matter with the man?]—
—Hold, Sir! this freedom is too much! Can this be the wiſe, prudent, and diſcreet Aldobrand?
No, Madam! 'tis the fond, the faithful Ibrahim!
Ah! I am betray'd; and am fallen a victim to my own im⯑prudence!
Your ſervant, good Signor Aldobrand! I have caught you at laſt. "Poſſibly you have aſſum'd this diſguiſe in order to give Laura ſome intelligence of Ibrahim?
"He little thinks that he is ſo near the truth.
"Or very likely you have reſolved to make love in maſque⯑rade, as it might not be quite convenient to appear in your own perſon?
"Right again! The man has an admirable knack at gueſſing!
"You ſee I am not ignorant of the perſon whom that diſ⯑guiſe conceals, nor of the purpoſe for which it was aſſum'd.
"I'faith, I rather perceive you are ignorant of it, by your bullying in ſo high a ſtile."
I find the Algerine is not yet taken: that rogue who was to be hang'd, drown'd, flay'd, and carbonaded! You have let him eſcape, after all your promiſes to impriſon him in ſpite of law or equity.
A pretty hair's-breadth eſcape I have had!
But you have been bribed: I doubt not that you are intereſted in his being at liberty?
Rather ſo, indeed!
And I am to be aſſaſſinated by him! I dare ſay, I am be⯑trayed! and that, at this moment, he knows that you iſſued the order for apprehending him at my requeſt?
Not till this moment did he know it, good Signor Lucilio!
Not that I fear the arm of the haughty Moor, could I but meet him face to face. I only dread leſt, lurking under ſome diſguiſe, he may attack me at a moment when I am not prepar'd; for I fancy my courage was never yet brought in diſpute.
I dare believe not: there can be but one opinion of it!
But not even the abject ſilence which guilt impoſes on your tongue ſhall ſave you from my juſt revenge!—I have a very cu⯑rious piece of ſteel here!
And I believe I have juſt ſuch another!
And, here's a third, which I'll match with either of them!
Ibrahim!
My friend, the Algerine captain, fighting in ambuſcade!
The ſame.—But perhaps, Signor Lucilio, this is one of your unprepar'd moments?
I—I—am not yet prepar'd for you, indeed, Sir!—You—you are ſafe.—
—Aldobrand muſt be the firſt victim of my vengeance!
Pitiful boy! draw inſtantly! Are theſe the evaſions—
I am not to be frighten'd, Sir!—I—I ſhall not fight at pre⯑ſent! True courage, Sir, like mine—always calm—always calm, I ſay—and intrepid, looks down, Sir, with contempt, on the impotent attacks of—of—of malice—and—and, in ſhort, Sir—I—I ſhall find another time to ſee you!
I am not ſorry he has eſcap'd you: ſuch a conqueſt would have diſgraced your ſword.
And this is the being for whom Laura has quitted me! But I'll think no more of it!—Ere I quit Florence for ever, the vil⯑lainy of this Aldobrand, in perverting the laws to his unworthy purpoſes, ſhall be puniſhed. He is a traitor to his country, who tamely beholds her laws and liberties invaded, either by the aſ⯑ſaſſin hand of knavery, or the bolder attacks of tyranny.
Alas, how ſuddenly have I been awaken'd from my dream of bliſs! How unexpected the reverſe! But a moment ago, I ſeem'd to be treading the paths of happineſs, and whither have they led me! Yet does not Hope deſert me: I will careſs the kind gueſt; and, like a drowning wretch, ſtill continue to claſp him while I ſeem to be irrecoverably ſinking!
Once more I bid you welcome home, my young Madam!—Why, you made but a ſhort viſit to your lover!—Egad! ne and I have been playing the Engliſh game of cricket with you: I bowl you at him, he bats you back again to me; you come plump into my hands, ſo he is caught out, and there is an end of the game!—Go to your chamber, and ſtudy the charms of retirement.
Well, Sir, I am quite impatient to hear your ſucceſs with Laura?
Ah, the cockatrice!—But I'll diſſemble.]—Don't mention her, Alice: I have had enough of gallantry; the very name is poiſon to my ears—a piſtol to my head—a dagger to my breaſt!—
Signora Laura is below.
Indeed!—Why—why—there is great condeſcenſion in her vi⯑ſiting me.—I'll wait on her!
What, Sir! would you put the ſteel to your breaſt?
Ah, Alice! if it be ſteel, it is certainly touched with a loadſtone; for I am irreſiſtibly drawn to it, though I dread it's point.
Poor Viola! thus to be awakened in a fright from her dream of happineſs!—But I'll aſſiſt her to fit the old dotard, yet!—
Bleſs me, Signor Aldobrand! can I believe my eyes? Why, I parted with you but this moment, and now I ſee you in the very dreſs—
Which was intended as Aldobrand's paſſport to Laura!—I have done with it, my dear, and am come for my own cloaths!
Are not you the Algerine captain who behaved ſo kindly to the poor ſlaves?—I am ſure you muſt be a good Chriſtian in your heart!
Alice, give orders that my doors be inſtantly ſhut againſt that ruffian Ibrahim!—Here is poor Lucilio come to claim my protection: he and Laura are afraid to truſt themſelves in their own houſe.—That fellow is born to be the plague of my life; wherever I go, I am ſure to meet him!
I underſtand that you have iſſued an order to apprehend me, good Signor?
I hope the captain will give him a ſound beating!—I'll go and keep the ſervants out of hearing.
I mean to ſurrender myſelf to Juſtice, if neceſſary; but I fear, though you call yourſelf her repreſentative, you do not ſpeak the [67] voice of your conſtituent; but are like a bad inn, which pro⯑miſes good accommodation on its ſign, while there is nothing but extortion within!
How dare you thus affront a magiſtrate?
Miſcreant! do not rouze my anger! or, by all your villanies, I ſwear—
Help! help!
But I beg pardon! your life is that gentleman's property; he has ſworn to diſpatch you before he fights me.
I'll give up my turn, with all my ſoul!
Signor Aldobrand, pay no attention to the idle dreams of a madman.
Well, if you will have them dreams, I dreamt that, under this diſguiſe—
—I believe we are all three acquainted with it—under this diſguiſe, I ſay, the ſeducing, gallant Aldobrand, meant to attempt the chaſtity of that gen⯑tleman's wife—
How, Signor Aldobrand!
And that the brave and noble Lucilio, conniving at the de⯑ſigns of this youthful raviſher, lay in wait for him, to take ad⯑vantage of his cowardice.
How, Signor Lucilio!—And who the devil told you all this?
There is my author; who, alſo, while I was diſguis'd as a friar, informed me of your kind intention, not only to impriſon, but to hang, drown, flay, and carbonade me!—I think thoſe were your words, Signor Aldobrand?—I make no ceremony, gentle⯑men, in acquainting you with each other's raſcality! I am per⯑ſuaded you are both too much of the poltroon, for me to appre⯑hend any bloodſhed between you.
Very pretty, upon my ſoul!—They ſeem to be excellent com⯑pany, ſo I'll e'en leave them together.
Yes, yes, I ſhall remember this!—But I muſt keep down my paſſion.
My friend, my Montano! how happy your preſence makes me!—Then my Viola is ſafe!—My viſit here, at this time, will prevent Aldobrand's ſuſpecting the ſcheme by which he is de⯑priv'd of his prey—
He muſt mean my perſonating Aldobrand at Laura's! How could it have reach'd his ears?
Tell me, Montano, how did ſhe look? what did ſhe ſay? Relate every circumſtance?
Why, when I firſt entered the houſe, ſhe took me for Aldo⯑brand.
Took you for Aldobrand!—Ha! ha! ha! A ridiculous miſ⯑take! and no great compliment to you, neither!—Well, did ſhe not often call upon Octavio?
No, ſhe never mention'd your name.
That's ſtrange!
Her tongue faltering with conſcious guilt—
Conſcious guilt! What a ſtrange phraſe for the amiable ti⯑midity of the ſex!—But proceed.
Juſt as I caught her in my arms—
What!
Her huſband ruſh'd into the room, and ſurpriz'd us.
Her huſband!—What huſband?—I talk to you of my Viola; the lovely charge whom I entruſted to you not two hours ago.
Viola entruſted to me!—Why, my dear friend, either you or I muſt have loſt our wits, for I don't recollect that I ever ſaw the lady in my life.
I am in torment!—Oh, Viola!
She is now in the houſe: Alice, by your own orders, gave her into the hands of Aldobrand; who, by ſome unaccountable ac⯑cident, was dreſs'd like Ibrahim.
Rather whimſical in you to miſtake Aldobrand for me; and no great compliment to me neither, as you ſay!
It is not too late to retrieve every thing.—Signor Ibrahim, you muſt not be ſeen here: wait near the garden-gate; your friend Octavio will need your ſervices.
Well, Octavio, take care you make no more miſtakes.
But we are interrupted: diſſemble your chagrin at what is paſs'd, and fear nothing.
Signor Aldobrand, my errand will apologize for this unſea⯑ſonable viſit.
Rather unſeaſonable, to be ſure; and eſpecially as Viola—
Sir, I ſpeak to you of Regnalto—I hear he is releaſed from ſlavery.
Releaſed from ſlavery!—Ha!
Why, you ſeem ſurpriz'd: you—
My joy overcomes me!—that's all.
He is ſoon to make his appearance in Florence.
I ſhould be heartily glad to ſee him—
At the de⯑vil!] But, pray, how did you hear this news?
My lacquey had it this moment from Regnalto's ſervant, Laurence, who is his old acquaintance.
I'm in a cold chill!] Regnalto's ſervant in Florence!
In your houſe at this moment!
In my houſe!—Run, Fabio, and bring him hither immedi⯑ately!—My old friend's ſervant to be under my roof, and I not know it!
It rather ſeems as if he meant to conceal himſelf from you.
Egad! that's very true, as you ſay!—Perhaps the dog may have robb'd his maſter; and, when he finds himſelf diſcover'd, he may make off. I had better go and ſee after him myſelf. There are ſo many rogues in the world!
Tell me what means—
Aſk me no queſtions! They believe me dumb; ſtill let them think ſo.
The charming Viola—
Accepts the offer which your letter convey'd to her. I will aſſiſt in her elopement; and have a ladder of ropes ready placed at the balcony in the garden.
Tranſport!—And this news of Regnalto—
Is true!—But here comes Aldobrand.
Then we muſt not be ſeen together.—The garden, at twelve!
Depend on me.
Aye, there's that dog Laurence, ſure enough!—But there's no fear of his running away; he is ſo tipſy, he can hardly ſtand.
You muſt feel a ſingular ſatisfaction at the approaching return of your old friend Regnalto?
A very ſingular ſatisfaction, indeed!—I never felt any thing like it before!
Is that Regnalto's ſervant?
He himſelf, Sir.
There you are miſtaken; for I am not myſelf at preſent.
And your maſter—
Like man, like maſter; he is not himſelf, neither. But we ſhall come to ourſelves, both of us, before to-morrow morning!
Where is your maſter?
I ſit on pins and needles!]
My maſter is at home.
At home!
And yet he is not at home—becauſe the people make a ſtran⯑ger of him.
Is he in Florence?
How can I tell? I hardly know where I am myſelf: and if I did, I would not tell you; for, to ſpeak the truth, I have my ſu⯑ſpicions of you, my old boy!
Old boy!—Familiar rogue!
Familiar! I am ſure you and I have been very diſtant for theſe nine years paſt.
A bleſſed ſtate you are in, ſirrah!
Yes, I am married; and that is a bleſſed ſtate you'll never be in.—Do you think, now, that Signora Viola will ever marry ſuch an ugly, decrepit, old——
Why, you abuſive raſcal!—Out of my ſight!
Signor Octavio, ſhe is a fine girl, and walks in the garden ſometimes!—Love lights her; ſhe does not want the light of the moon.
Eh! what?
That fellow's tongue will diſcover all!
"What's that you ſaid about the moon?
"That if you were married, you would be very much like the moon.
"How!"
"Why, in the courſe of a month, you would certainly have horns!"
Signor Octavio, you'll pardon my reminding you that it is very late?
I underſtand you, Signor: and, as it is near my hour, I'll take my leave.
Good night, ſweet Signor!—
—Fabio, I don't know whether I am upon my head or my heels! This Reg⯑nalto is certainly in Florence: and then, I don't like what that drunken fellow ſaid to Octavio about Viola's walking in the gar⯑den; I fear there is ſome miſchief ſtirring. Tell Guiſeppe and Roberto to get their carbines, and we'll take a walk round the garden; Signor Lucilio, too, ſhall join our company—I am al⯑ways moſt valiant when I am beſt ſupported!
This, I think, is the ſpot where Octavio appointed me to ſtand guard.—Alas! if my endeavours for my friend's happineſs are crown'd with no better ſucceſs than thoſe for my own—But I hear voices!
I wiſh we could ſee ſome one appear at the window, that we might apprize Viola of her danger.
Happy Viola! to love, and be beloved! while I have laviſh'd my affection on an ingrate; who, perhaps, at this very moment amuſes a happy miſtreſs with the fond tale of my weakneſs!
Think no more of your falſe lover, Madam. Take my ad⯑vice; and, from among the noble youths of Florence, who lan⯑guiſh for your ſmiles, chuſe one to whom I may reſign you.
Pretty advice from a huſband!—'Sdeath! I cannot ſuffer this diſgrace of manhood to exiſt.
Oh, my dear girl—
How, a girl!
How continually has my tongue dwelt on it's deareſt theme—the praiſes of my Montano!
Montano!—Do I live!
But it is all over, Roſa!—I will retire from a world which has loſt it's only charm for me; a convent ſhall—
This exceſs of joy is too much!
Hark!
It is the voice of Ibrahim!
No, it is a voice with which the gentle Laura ſhould be bet⯑ter acquainted; a voice which, during four cruel years of ſlavery, has never ceaſed to invoke Heaven for her happineſs!
Oh, Roſa! it is—it is my Montano!
And ſo ends my firſt chapter of matrimony!—A very excel⯑lent mode of getting rid of a wife, without the trouble of a di⯑vorce, or the expence of a ſeparate maintenance!—How many poor huſbands would envy me!—But, my dear Madam—and, Sir—you forget that this is a moment as critical to Viola as to yourſelves; and I hear footſteps in the garden.
Let us retire then, my love. From this arbour I can watch whether any one approaches the balcony.
'Tis rather a dark night; or elſe I don't ſee clear!
I wonder where my maſter is! As for old Aldobrand, I ſup⯑poſe he is in bed and aſleep—
But I can't think what's become of my good friend Dummy, as they call him!—Ah, Sir, are you there? I have been looking for you all over the garden.—What! not come to your ſpeech yet?—I'faith, I think you have infected me; for I have not my ſpeech half ſo well as I had a little while ago.—Where is [76] Signor Octavio?—You don't ſtand ſtill! What makes you ſtagger ſo?—Why don't you anſwer me, Sir? Old Aldobrand can't hear us now.
But he can hear, you hang-dog!—So Dummy can ſpeak, can he?
Ah, Signor Aldobrand, is it you?—Upon my ſoul, I did not know you!
I'll make you know me, you dog, before I have done with you!
Huſh, I hear ſomebody!—Come this way, Sir!
Sit you down there.
I will—and take a nap!
Signor Octavio, where are you?
I am frighten'd to death! Signor Octavio—
Bleſs their ſwee't tongues! There is more muſic in a pretty woman's voice than in all the orcheſtras in Italy!
Say who you are?
The friend of Octavio; in a word, the dumb ſlave. The ladder of ropes is render'd uſeleſs, for I've ſecur'd the key of the door. But ſomebody approaches!—Deſcend, and I'll be ready to re⯑ceive you.
Well met, my truſty friends! True, I ſee, to your appointment.
Suppoſe, in caſe of a diſcovery, I were to perſonate Regnalto: his cloaths fit me exactly; and I might by that means further your deſigns.
Not at the expence of my honour; I will not owe my ſucceſs to artifice.
Pſha! a little artifice is often very uſeful: 'tis only retreating from an enemy when he is too powerful for us; and a good pair of heels is ſometimes very ſerviceable—Eh! friend Fire⯑lock?
A good pair of heels may be as uſeful to a coward as ar⯑tifice is to a knave: but honeſty as much deſpiſes the aid of the one, as courage diſdains the aſſiſtance of the other!
Viola approaches.
My Viola!
What a tranſition from deſpair to happineſs!—Octavio, I commit myſelf to your honour.
Charming Viola! my affection ſhall prove that your confi⯑dence is not miſplaced.
Lights there!—Guiſeppe!—Roberto!—where are you?
Your ſervant, Signor Octavio!—
—This ſcheme is no better than the other: and you have not got your Algerine friend to back you now.
Here I am, Signor Aldobrand, at your ſervice!
And here am I! You are among friends, you ſee.
Why then, as I am among friends, I ſhall make free!
Stand off, if you regard your life!
Thank you for tho hint: I'll take your advice!—
But as for you, my lads,
fall on!—Seize the lady!
Not while I have an arm to defend her!
Well ſaid, Dummy!—Kill him, my boys, in the firſt place!
Firſt you have to conquer me, ſlaves!
Why, Signor Octavio! are you mad?—What right has that fellow to Viola?—Am not I her guardian?
And am not I her brother!
It is a pity you ſent for the lights, Sir!
Sheathe your ſwords; I am maſter here!—Your term is ex⯑pired, Signor Aldobrand.
Yes, and I am turn'd out at a moment's warning, I ſee!
Do I at length embrace my brother!—Kind Heaven, I have no more to aſk!
Except a huſband, Viola! and him I give to you without aſking—
—A huſband to whom your brother owes his liberty and life!
Hey-day! my old boy, why you are miſtaken again!—You have made a curſed number of blunders this evening!—Rot me, if I believe you are quite ſober!
And now, my generous friend Ibrahim!—
No longer Ibrahim, but Montano!—Fortune, who made us companions in adverſity, has compenſated for all by giving you to me as a companion in happier days.
Signor Montano, I hope you will not forget my firſt huſband!
Believe me, I ſhall not forget your ſecond as long as I live! I am ſure I found it ſo hard a taſk to perſonate the huſband—
That, I ſuppoſe, the next time you get married, you'll per⯑ſonate the wife!—Depend upon it, you'll act the part much more naturally.
If ſhe wants a good example, let her copy me, Laurence!
As for you, my noble ſoldier!—
As for me, Signor, I have to thank you for two favours: firſt, for reſtoring to me the greateſt of bleſſings—my liberty! and, ſecondly—for affording me the opportunity of ſhewing my gratitude!
Wretch! what have you to ſay in defence of yourſelf?
Nothing, good Signor Regnalto!—Leaſt ſaid is ſooneſt mended.
Repent, then, of your villainy, in ſilence: let us only hear the voice of joy!—We have now the higheſt bleſſing mortals can poſſeſs—that of ſharing the happineſs we create!