The rival sisters, or, The violence of love a tragedy : as it is acted at the Theatre-Royal by His Majesty's servants / written by Mr. Gould.

THE Rival Sisters: OR, The Violence of LOVE.

ACT the First.

Scene a Garden.

Enter Antonio, Berinthia, Julia, at a distance.

Anto.

COME to my Arms, my Love! In this dear Circle, all that's charming dwells. Ev'n this stol'n hour of Love I prize as much As dying Saints the Heav'n they have in store; I've all I wish, and they can have no more.

Berin.

Much more, the sure continuance of their Joys: Our Bliss below each giddy chance destroys, As we too soon may find— For O!—

Anto.

For what? by Heav'n that Sigh unmans me!

Berin.

If after all our mutual Vows of Love, Some fatal Hand shou'd tear me from your Arms, And set whole Worlds between us; If such a cross shou'd come (as O! I fear I have already too much cause to doubt it) Wou'd you not think Fortune had done her worst? Or Heav'n it self were angry?

Anto.

Think, Berinthia? I shou'd be all thought, Lost in the Whirl pool of Imagination! But where's the Wretch so indiscreet or rash, That dares but mutter to himself, he'll part us?

Berin.

Forbear, my Lord,—you know I have a Father.

Anto.

Thou hast, indeed, the best that bears the Name, My Friend, and which is more, a Friend to Justice. But that makes for us still.

Berin.

He oft has said, That he wou'd marry Catalina first: And I much fear—

Anto.

Alas! thy Fears are vain, He may do that, and we, too, may be happy.

Berin.

But here, my Lord, here comes the Dart will wound you, The Shaft that thro' your Ear will reach your Soul, Unless you call your Reason to your aid To blunt the pointed Ruine—It is you To whom he has design'd her, For without you she is no more her self. Prepost'rous Chance! O Heav'n, you shou'd have quench'd Her growing Flame, or not have kindl'd mine! In short, my Lord, she loves you, and last Night (So much her Tears and her Intreaties mov'd him) My Father made a Vow she shou'd be yours, If half his Wealth—

Anto.

Not half the World shall win me.

Berin.

That I believe, Or else you had not heard this Secret from me. But O! so constant is my Father's Temper, What he resolves is Fate.

Julia coming forwards.

Julia.

Madam, your Father's in the Orange Walk, And seems to make this way.

Berin.

I must avoid him.

[Exeunt Berin. Julia.

Anto.

So will not I, for he's the Oracle Where I this moment must enquire my Doom.

Enter Vilarezo, Attendants.

Vilar.

Alone? 'tis to my wish.

[aside.

My Lord, good morrow.

[Embraces him.

Thy Father was my Friend, my better half, Yet, while I clasp thee thus, Methinks I have not lost him; his great worth Is all reviv'd in thee: but were he living, Thou wert not dearer to his Arms than mine.

Anto.

I see which way he drives, and must prevent him.

[aside.

Vilar.

While you are here, then think your self at home, For by my Life I love thee as a Child.

Anto.

Heav'n grant your Mind may always be the same.

Vilar.

It shall—but why that wish?—thou droop'st, Antonio.

Anto.

A melancholly Fume! but 'twill be gone; Life's short, and nothing can torment as long.

Vilar.

Mysterious still—but prithee be more plain. Your Words betray the trouble of your Heart,

Your Eyes don't sparkle with their usual Lustre, I thought you had been proof against the Charms Of the Fair Sex—yet why shou'd you complain? For whom can brave Antonio love in vain?

Anto.

Since you, my Lord, so readily have guess'd My cause of Grief, I will confess my frailty: 'Tis true, I love; and, if I'm not deceiv'd, My Passion is return'd with equal ardor: There only wants her Father's kind consent To make me fully happy.

Vilar.

Who e'er he is, I'll warrant for him, he denies thee nothing That he can give, or thou canst ask with Honour: Then boldly on, I'll second thy Petition.

Anto.

I take you at your Word, and on my Knees—

[Kneels.

Vilar.

Nay rise, Antonio, why to me this distance? O rise! this posture—

Anto.

Best becomes my Duty, A posture fit for what I sue: which is, Your Bounty in Berinthia to impart, And give her Hand where she bestows her Heart.

Vilar.

Curst chance! O giddy turn! how Fate does sport With human Expectation!—rise Antonio.

Anto.

Forgive me if this once I disobey you: I must not rise till my request is granted.

Vilar.

Then you must kneel for ever.

Anto.

Call back! call back that Sentence e're it play

[rises.

The Tyrant in my Heart, and yield me up To Madness or Despair? Can you forget so soon your noble Promise? That you'd deny me nothing you cou'd give, Or I cou'd ask with Honour.

Vilar.

Nor do I now, and be your self the Judge— I thought you had not been to learn the Custom Of your own Native Country, which enjoyns The Eldest Sister first shou'd taste the Joys, That wait the Nuptial Bed: yet were it not The Custom, 'tis but Justice.

Anto.

Then be it so, my Lord; I'll wait with patience Till Catalina's Nuptials are perform'd: Nor doubt I but Berinthia will approve An Action that so well declares my Love.

Vilar.

Still you are wide, Antonio, And will not see where I direct my aim. O think not of Berinthia, from thy Breast Expel her, fix not on that hope thy rest, For I shall never grant thee that request.

Anto.

Confusion! Pain and Torture!——O my Lord! Your said but now you lov'd me as a Child.

Vilar.

I did indeed, and I will prove a Father,— Witness the Pow'rs that know our secret Thoughts, That my denial springs not from dislike, But from the force of Friendship and of Love. Of all the Blessings which Indulgent Heav'n Has with a bounteous hand showr'd down upon me, There is but one I prize above the rest, And that I give to thee.—Yes, my Antonio, My Elder hope I'll to thy Arms assure; But think, ah! think not of Berinthia more.

Anto.

Down swelling Heart and keep the Balance ev'n.

[aside.

Vilar.

Her Mind is virtuous, and her Form is lovely: And for her Dowry, it shall be enough To satisfie Ambition.

Anto.

Now either my denial or compliance Are dangerous Rocks, and I must steer between.

[aside.

My Lord, this Favour does require an Answer That may preserve our Friendship still entire: Therefore I'll beg your leave A little to consult my Inclination. But must, withal, intreat you to consider, That where so firm a Knot of Love is ty'd, 'Tis Heav'n that joyns, and Man shou'd not divide.

Vilar.

I will consider, but it shall be how To tear Berinthia's Image from thy Heart. That Knot of Loye no matter who did joyn, If I can make her elder Sister thine.

[aside going off.

[Exeunt Vilar. Atten.

Enter on the other side Berinthia, Julia.

Anto.

Berinthia— Oh!—

Berin.

That Sigh confirms our Ruine. I knew his temper was not to be mov'd. There's no way left but to despair and dye.

Anto.

No, since w'ave gone so far we'll stop not here: All ways we'll try to make him less severe, And if all fail we can but then despair.

Enter Diego.

Diego.

My Lord, your Sister's just arriv'd from Sevil, And does enquire for you.

Anto.

Conduct her hither. 'Tis ev'n beyond my wish! I have not seen her

Since she was Ten Years old, and yet ev'n then Sh'ad something in her that was soft and charming; Your Brother found th'effect; at whose request I sent her word to meet me at Averos. You know the rest, she's here.

Enter Alphanta, Clara, Diego.

Berin.

And is indeed a Wonder!

Alphan.

With such an eager Joy as Parents fly, T'embrace the Heir that has been absent long, And had for Years despair'd of his Return, I meet my Noble Brother!

Anto.

With such a Joy I take thee in my Arms! O Sister! thou art come as sent from Heav'n!

Alphan.

Then blessed be the Pow'rs that brought me hither.

Berin.

And for your good we hope as well as ours. You will not only meet your Brother here, But find a Lover too.

Alphan.

A Lover!

Anto.

Yes: She tells you true, you here will find a Lover, In whose Composure there is nothing wanting That goes to make a Man up truly Noble. From rising Morn till Noon, from Noon to Night, Till time it self were past, I cou'd talk on And praise him still— But what I've said will prove That he is worthy of Alphanta's Love.

Alphan.

Worthy d'ye say? alas! he is too worthy: But were he yet more worthy than he is, I ne'er can love him.

Anto.

Not love him! were you Queen of the whole World, And were your Charms as boundless as your Pow'r, Nay, cou'd your Voice call Angels from their Orbs To doat upon the Musick of your Tongne, When I shall tell thee 'tis this Ladies Brother, My Gallant Friend Sebastian, you wou'd blush, And be the first that gave thy self the Lye— There needs no pause; he's Young, an Heir, and Noble.

Alphan.

Wou'd he had never seen me.

Anto.

Ha! why that wish? or does my Heart misgive me? Hear me, Alphanta, by the Pow'rs above If thou hast dar'd, unknown to me, to marry, Y'ad better have taken cold Aspicks to thy Bed, That kill ev'n with their Kisses.

Berin.

Where will this end?

Anto.

Thou art not marry'd?

Alphan.

No, indeed I am not.

Anto.

Nor plighted Faith to any?

Alphan.

No by Heav'n.

Anto.

Why dost thou hold me then in this suspence? And when descending Happiness does smile, And Fortune seem to court her to your Arms, Spurn 'em so rashly from you?

Alphan.

[Smiling]

Pardon me, Brother, if to try your Temper, I feign'd my self concern'd: I thro' your Care of me perceive your Love, And had no other aim, Assur'd of that, what e'er Commands you lay, You'll find that I shall readily obey.

Berin.

This is a turn above my Expectation!

Anto.

And thou canst love my Friend!

Alphan.

Yes, any thing, I'm to be molded to what Shape you please.

Anto.

Then Blessings on thy Heart for easing mine: Berinthia too shall thank thee.—O Alphanta! Just now you brought me to a Precipice, Where sure Destruction waited for our fall, And storms of Indignation hover'd o'er us; But now 'tis all serene, below, above, And the whole Prospect is made up of Love.

[Exeunt Anto▪ Berim Diego.

Manent Alphanta, Clara.

Clara.

O Madam! What d'ye mean? Have you forgot The Vows you made so lately?

Alphan.

Not yet I have not, but I must forget 'em; Love must make way for Interest—don't repine, For my advance is yours.

Clara.

Let me be Wretched, so you be not Criminal.

Alphan.

I grieve for that as much as you—but see, My Brother turns,—and I must tell thee, Clara, What e'er my Promises have been, Alonzo Must ne'er be thought on more.

[Exit Alphan.

Clara.

I've done—but may Heav'n never think of me, If I not let him know your Perjur'd Thoughts E're yet an hour be past: He's nearer t'ye Than y'imagine.

[Exit.

Enter Catalina, Ansilva.

Cata.

This day will make me blest or wretched ever. E're this my Father has propos'd the Match,

And I am on the Rack to know my Fate. Ha! who are those?

Ansil.

Antonio and his Sister.

Cata.

His Sister! are you sure that 'tis his Sister?

Ansil.

I am, Madam.

Cata.

I was afraid too soon: I shou'd be loth to have so fair a Rival. This way and we shall meet 'em.

[Exeunt Cata. Ansil.

Enter Antonio, Alphanta.

Anto.

Now you know all: and you may see I place In thee and in Sebastian all my Hope, Who went this morning early to the Field To chase the swift pac'd Deer: and 'tis his use, When the Sun's scorching Beams inflame the Air, To come back to a cool and shady Grove, Hard by adjoyning, there to recreate Himself with rural Sports.—Thither we'll go. Ha! Catalina here!—malicious Fortune!— But we must avoid her.

[Exeunt hastily another way.

Enter Catalina, Ansilva.

Cata.

My Lord!—my Lord Antonio!—ha! Ansilva, Did you observe the strangeness of his Courage? With how much hast he shun'd me? nay, he look'd As if he had disdain'd to answer me. Curst be the fatal hour I saw him first: O Fool, Fool that I am to throw away My Youth and Love on one that does despise 'em.

Ansil.

'Tis your Impatience that creates your Trouble. How can you think he scorns you, when, perhaps, He knows not that you love him?

Cata.

O too well! My Eyes have told him so, my treach'rous Eyes, That let him in to triumph o'er my Heart, And play the Tyrant: He in them might read All the whole Story of a faithful Passion, How first it was begot with gazing on him; And listning to his dear harmonious Voice, For who can hear him talk and not be taken? Ingrateful man! and am I thus requited? O that I cou'd but hate him!—say, Ansilva, Have I ought in me that's deform'd and loathsome? Am I not Young? Is not m'Extraction Noble? My Fortune too the fairest in the Nation? And yet no more regarded!

Ansil.

For Heav'ns sake, Madam—

Cata.

Nay, talk not of Heav'n, I am all Hell within, hot burning Love: Tho' I am running on to sure Destruction I have no Pow'r to turn. For not long since, (But 'twas before I'd ever seen Antonio) Walking abroad alone to take the Air, I met an ancient Man, who having with A melancholy look survey'd me round, Broke into such Prophetick words as these. Lady, avoid that smiling mischief Love, That Serpent in the Figure of a Dove: If e'er y'are past your one and twentieth Year, You fall into that vain bewitching Snare, Y'are ruin'd—I have warn'd you, and beware. In vain, alas' I had the Friendly Caution, I disobey'd and the Reward o'ertakes me. Prithee let Melvia sing that Song I gave thee, For 'tis a Glass where I may see my Folly.

SONG.

Not tho' I know he fondly lies Prest in my Rival's Arms, Nor tho' my Friends with Tears advise That I shou'd shun his Charms; Nor one nor t'other frees my Heart, (Such Arts he does display) Or can my longing Eyes divert From gazing still that way. Tell me, ye Pow'rs, that rule our Fate, Why are we made so vain, Most earnestly to wish for that We have least hope t'attain? Or if attain'd, is but at best, A Mine of rifl'd Ore; An empty Cabinet the Breast, The Jewel gone before. Yet on I pass, and Reason's lore, Take pleasure to Despise, As if 'twere Prudence to be Poor, And Nonsence to be Wise: O you that do my Passion blame, Did you the Shepherd see, You'd either perish in the Flame, Or cease from warning me!

Cata.

In life what is there that deserves our Care? What Blessings can we hope that soil will bear When Love, which shou'd our greatest Pleasure be, So often causes all our Misery?

Ansil.

When many different Paths to Pleasure lead, And we perversely but in one will tread, And that the very One we are forbid, We swim against the stream of Reason's laws, And if w'are wretched are our selves the cause: Then cease to Love and you may soon rejoyce, Or, if you must Love! make another Choice.

Cata.

Hold! on that hateful subject speak no more: Inconstancy I from my Soul abhor: Nor Fate, nor force, nor Chance shall change my mind, I'll love him were I sure he'd be unkind: But O! how shou'd I that unkindness bear, When but to think on't drives me to Despair?

[Weeps.

Enter Vilarezo.

Vilar.

What? Melancholy? still in Tears? for shame Give o'er this heedless Grief, And trust thy self to my Paternal care: For if that hope deceive me not, which but Just now Antonio gave me, Thou art as happy as thy wish can make thee! Happy as then e're thy unwary Eyes Gaz'd thy fond Heart away.

Cata.

That Day I'd see, If there's a Day of Happiness for me.

Vilar.

Thou hast had many, and may yet have more: But why that thought?

Cata.

O! if with such indifference he cou'd hear What you propos'd, as but to give you hope, I know my doom!—if he at all had lov'd, He wou'd have listning stood as Heav'n had spoke, And with a greedy Ear devour'd your words. He is not to be mov'd, and I am lost!

Vilar.

Forbear this Passion, rash unthinking Girl. I tell thee I have us'd my utmost care That with an equal Flame he cherish thine: Nor do I doubt, but in a little space He will pay all his future Homage here.

Cata.

O Death to all my Hopes! then he's in Love!

Vilar.

I've taken Order to prevent its progress. Droop not, my Child, I'll mould him to thy wishes. In the mean time I'd have you entertain No anxious thoughts, but leave th' affair to me;

And you shall find, e're a day elder grown, I'll compass thy Repose, or lose my own.

[Exit. Vilar.

Cata.

Ha! taken Order to prevent it's progress— By Heav'n! if what I still have fear'd is true, Berinthia is my Rival! True did I say? Fool that I was to doubt it: 'Tis all too true for my eternal quiet!— Yet I'll not tamely lose him—Christian Practice Shews me the way—What has not angry zeal Made those that differ from her Interest Feel? Does it regard Alliance, does it spare Women with Child, or kneeling Saints at Prayer? Me a much stronger cause does forward move, No Zeal can be so warm as injur'd Love.

[Exit Cata.

As Ansilva is going off, Enter Gerardo and pulls her back by the Sleeve.

Ansil.

Well, what now?—if 'tis to discourse over the old story 'tis but breath thrown away—and you have but little of that to spare—and not much of any thing else.

Gerar.

How? how?—

Ansil.

A Lover of threescore!—Fy! 'tis as unnatural as the Ass in the Fable that fawn'd upon his Master, and thought he might take all the little Li∣berties of a Lap-Dog.

Gerar.

Or the great ones of a Monkey—To the Ladies, I hope, you'll grant an Ass is not altogether useless—Better Brutes have e'er now been forc'd to give place to 'em.

Ansil.

'Tis a great many years ago, however, since you were useful.

Gerar.

Dost thou treat als men with this Indifference?

Ansil.

No; but I wou'd, if they were all as thou art.

Gerar.

Why, what am I?

Ansil.

The shadow of a Lover., nothing else, though you talk so much of the substance. You may, I grant, please your own Imagination; but that will scarce reach far enough to satisfy a Mistress—In fine, you can only think Love, not act it, and so will be Damn'd for the Sin, without enjoying the Pleasure.

Gerar.

Certainly thou hast held thy Leg over a nettle this Morning—I defy e'er a young, noisy, fashionable Fool of 'em all to do you better Reason than my self.—Look here Child—observe this Caper—D'ye see?—meer strength of back! meer Chine!—I'd undertake, if thou wou'd but love me, to shake of twenty years with as much ease as a Courtier does his Promise, a Fanatick his Allegiance, or a Statesman his Religion; and come to thy Arms all warmth! all Love!—

Ansil.

And all wrapt up in Sear-Cloath like a Mummy—My Imagination sickens at it—Hear me Gerardo, for now I'm serious—if I thought any Be∣haviour

of mine encourag'd yon to this Impudent Application, I'd turn Nun to be reveng'd on my self: and there is but the Devil and thee I'd sooner avoid.

Gerar.

Nay, now you'are too severe, and in not seeing my Affection, are blind to your Interest.—I could every day have presented thee with some such pieces as these—

[Chinks 'em.

Ansil.

[Aside.]

Ha! the right Colour! and I confess they look prevailingly—if he part with his money there is hope he may be drawn on a little further.

Gerar.

And have made thee outshine any Lady in Portugal for Bravery, Jew∣els, and all that—

Ansil.

[Aside.]

And now I think on't I'll try him; if he will bite at Matri∣mony; I don't care if I angle for the Gudgeon.

Gerar.

But time is, time was, and agad time's—

Ansil.

Not past, I hope, Noble Sir.

Gerar.

But take these, however, in Earnest of what I wou'd have done, if you had us'd me better.

Ansil.

How? use you better than by a feign'd unkindness to be assur'd your pretences were real? as now, to my great Comfort, I am: If you think I had any other design, here, I'll refund.—I scorn to be oblig'd to one that doubts me.

Gerar.

Doubt thee? no, no—A Man need not doubt the Corrupting a Saint when twenty Broad pieces are his Bawd.

[Aside.

Ansil.

Then, upon consideration, I will accept of your love; but it must be upon Conditions.

Gerar.

Let 'em be what they will I agree to 'em: Tho' you shou'd put me to the same Drudgery my Lady Amble did her Porter, whom she us'd to call her Limbeck, fill'd him three times a day with Jelly and Cock-broath, which she still drew off in Spirits.

Ansil.

Then I enjoin you upon pain of my lasting displeasure to talk, think, and Dream of no other Female but my self.

Gerar.

Good.—no, hold, hold. How shall I do to bridle carnal Ap petite in sleep?—I'd know that now?

Ansil.

Nay if you don't like my Propositions—

Gerar.

I do, I do: proceed.

Ansil.

Then, lastly, you must not dare to mention that exploded thing call'd Marriage to me.—Now I shall try him.

[Aside.

Gerar.

Better and better, we were certainly cut out for one another. I never design'd it, Child, I never design'd it; that was premis'd when I gave thee my Money, with a Wife I wou'd have had some: and that may serve to shew how much I respect thee above one.

Ansil.

O, goes it so?—then I know how to use you.

[Aside.

Gerar.

And upon the Performance of all this I shall embrace—

Ansil.

Your own Desires—but nothing else by Heav'n, for me.

[Aside.

But hark, my, Lord Sebastian's

[Horns, as at the Death of a Stag.

Return'd from Hunting. I must be gone.

Gerar.

A Kiss at parting.

Ansil.

Nay, then don't force it.

Gerar.

Gad but I must, 'tis not to be had else I find.

Ansil.

[Aside.]

O Garlick, Goats and Monkeys.

[Exit Spitting.

Gerar.

some marry'd Man, perhaps, may think me a Coxcomb for parting with my Money so easily: but if his Wive's separate Coach, Gaming, Servants, Nurses and Pin-Money▪ were seriously consider'd at the Years end;

He'd find himself much farther gone in Folly, And own a Husband is the greatest Cully.

[Exit.

ACT II.

Scene a GROVE.

Enter Sebastian, Vilander, Gentlemen, Attendants, as from Hunting. To them Gerardo.

Gerar.

VVHAT sport, my Lord?

Sebast.

The best w'ave had this Season.

Gent.

'Twas a hard chase: I never knew a Deer That stood, or dy'd so nobly.

Vilan.

O who wou'd leave such manly sports as these To wast his youth and strength in fond Embraces? To whine, and fawn, and Dy to gain a Smile Of some fantastick Creature, made to serve him?

Gent.

Still on this Subject?

Sebast.

'Tis habitual to him. The Mistress he ador'd prov'd false, and now He rails at all because one broke her Vow.

Vilan.

Do I rail when I tell you Love's a Toy Which they that seek for most the least enjoy? Or that 'tis, when most faithfully defin'd, The flux o'th' Purse, the Gangreen of the Mind? When e'er we fondly think that we may call It ours, 'tis surely ours the least of all. Love Hounds and Horses, and if you'd enjoy Yet more, let Books your private hours employ: Objects like these the nicest Eye will please: But love not Woman—if you love your Ease.

Sebast.

Since from this▪ Theme, I see, thou wilt not move, Pray tell, what are the ill effects of Love?

Vilan.

First, he that loves waits on a Woman's will: Which, tho' 'tis shifting, tho' 'tis changing still, Is yet not half so changeable, as ill. The solid Pleasures which the Wise esteem He leaves to follow a fantastick Dream,

The Ignis Fatuus of his wild Desires, Which makes a glare, misleads him and Expires. His Interest, Honour, nay his future good Is not regarded, or not understood, When Love has cramp'd his Brain and fir'd his blood. If he has Rivals (for 'tis never known But the fair snare does catch more Fops than one) He fights, he kills, and, when from Justice fled, The Living Fool's more Wretched than the dead. Yet after all these Miseries are ran thro' Can he be certain she'll continue true? And if her Coyness was with torture born, How will he relish falshood, back't with Scorn?

Sebast.

In what y'ave said, Vilander, The badness of your Choice is understood, And argues not but we may love the Good. Women! whose kindness all our Care controuls, And breaths Divinity into our Souls! Their charms declare they were by Heav'n design'd To glad the Heart and raise the drooping Mind And give us Joys we no where else can find.

Vilan.

Young man, let this bold Truth employ your thoughts, The very best of Women has her Fau'ts; If thro' those Fau'ts my life uneasy be, What signify her Virtues then to me?

Gerar.

I am of Opinion, Gentlemen, y'are both wide—to love 'em too well makes 'em proud, and too little Peevish: a man must walk between you, if he intends to come between any thing else.

A mistress believes him disabl'd that rails, And a Coxcomb that whines and w'ont tell what he ails; 'Tis the Frollick, the free, and the bold that prevails: For Woman's a Sphinx that puts forth a Riddle, Which nothing resolves like a Treat and a Fiddle.—and so set ye Merry.

[Exit Gerar.

Vilan.

True Leacher still.— When once we tread the Harlot's beaten way, Not stone, nor Gout have Pow'r to make us stay, In Spite of Age we still love fornication, And upon Crutches travail to Damnation. But see! what have we here?

Enter Gerardo with Alonzo, Boy.

Gerar.

One that says Love has sent him with a Hue and Cry after his Mi∣stress. As y'are at present enclin'd I thought him very fit Company for you.—I never see half a dozen Lovers together but I think it a great chance if six of 'em are not Madmen.

[Exit.

Alon.

Here, here, here.——This to the East, this

[Gives 'em Papers.

to the West, this to the North, and this to the South—let 'em be sent from Tything to Tything with all Possible haste. She's describ'd to the life—Of a Moderate height, aged about Sixteen, soft as an Angel, trea∣cherous as a Devil!—away with 'em.—I'll Stay here till you bring news of her. In the mean time, Boy, Sing the Song Amintor made, who us'd to say his Mistresses Vows were like Ropes of sand, onely more apt to break in the Twisting.

Boy Sings.

CAelia has a thousand Charms, 'Tis Heav'n to ly within her Arms! While I stand gazing on her Face, Some new and some resistless Grace Fills with fresh Magick all the Place! Love his Darts around her throwing, Her Breath Arabian Perfume blowing, And Venus was not half so knowing. But while the Nymph we thus adore, We shou'd our Wretched Fate deplore; For O Mirtillo! have a Care, Her sweetness is above compare, But then she is more false than fair: Her chief delight is in undoing, And we run down so steep to Ruin, There is no stopping when w'are going.

Gent.

Vilander, your disease.

Vilan.

Mine's not so bad Like you to marry, or like him be mad.

Alon.

I'm cold! I starve with cold! My heart is turn'd to Ice with her Disdain! Oh! it oppresses—but I'll tear it out. Alas! here are too many Stains of sin, But look it thro' and thro' (for 'tis transparent) You'll find no Stains of Love. Did you e'er see a Woman's Heart?

Sebast.

No.

Alon.

I have a Receit how the first was made, saw the Ingredients mixt that make up the Curs'd Composition. Honey, Balm and Cassia; Hemlock, Worm∣wood and Opium, and ten thousand other such Inconsistent Drugs are con∣fus'dly shuffl'd together: So that your Sweets are dash'd with Gall, your Smiles with Frowns, and your Hopes with Despair. Like the Camelion it varies all Colours, like Proteus all shapes, Like Madness all Humors, and like Interest all Religions.

Vilan.

His dress is onely mad and not his Language.

Alon.

Yet this light, giddy, vain, fantastick thing, I thought my own—believ'd, and was undone. And now Despair—see how he glares upon me! With a long flaming Whip of twisted steel, Does lash me naked round about the World, That cou'd debase Humanity so low As to believe a Woman.—O give o'er! Not yet? nay then I shall submit no more, Be gone, fly from me swift as Nothern wind.— Ha! now 'tis worse—I have thee in my Mind.

Sebast.

To pity him tho' 'tis indeed in Vain, To do it not were barbarous.

Alon.

Ha! ha! ha! See there how that vain, witless, abject thing, That Animal that calls himself a Man, Cringes and bows and Deifies a Woman: Now he implores her leave to kiss her Hand, But see! she thinks it is too great a favour, Nay says 'twas Impudence to make the Motion, And flies like light'ning from him: Yet for all this th' Industrious Fop pursues her, But he may spare the pains! for, see, for fear He shou'd not follow she her self does turn, Smiles, Blushes, Sighs, and vows sh'as lov'd him long, And ev'n at first her Passion wou'd have own'd, Did she not fear he wou'd have thought her fond.— But now—ha! ha!—O frail and faithless Beauty!

Sebast.

Well, what now?

Alon.

Nay look your self and see it. This Woman that but now did swear she lov'd him, E're the Breath's cold with which she form'd her Vows Has to another sworn the same and left him— But let her go, for who can trace a Bubble? And cast your Eye on the forsaken Wretch Who, mad with Grief, blasphemes his Fate, and curses Those faithless looks that charm'd him to Destruction: Till weary'd with his Sorrows and his wrongs, He falls asleep and wishes 'twere his last.— I, too, am heavy—see! the Leaden God, Appears and charms me with his Drowsy Rod.

[Lies down, as to sleep.

Vilan.

"At once by Woman all Mankind was slain, "And one by one they kill us o'er again!

Enter Antonio, Diego.

Sebast.

O, Wellcome Friend, we miss't you in the Field But why so heavy?

Anto.

Can you not Remember. Since you last saw my Sister?

Sebast.

Very well: Why at this time that Question?

Anto.

'Tis so long since I fancy you'd not know her.

Sebast.

O yes, she left her Image in my Heart, And there it still continues to inform me.

Enter Alphanta, Clara.

Anto.

Then this is she, and she is yours for ever.

Sebast.

What shall I say? the Gift's so great! and thanks Is a Return so poor—I'll find a nobler way. But fair one, say (for without your Consent My Joys will have no Rellish) can y' approve Antonio's Choice, and give me Love for Love?

Alphan.

It was my Brother's absolute command, I hope I shall obey him.

Sebast.

O charming Voice! here let me breath my Raptures!

[Embraces her. [Alonzo rises hastily and looks upwards.

Alon.

stay! I charge you stay and tell her so your self, I have renounc't the curst Inconstant Sex, O that I'd done it sooner! I had not then ran wandering up and down, Reduc'd to the most abject state of Fortune, The Pity of Women and the Scorn of Fools. Did any of y' see it?

Sebast.

What shou'd we see?

Alon.

A soft sweet smiling Angel 'twas, From Heav'n I saw him cut the yielding Sky, To me he did directly shape his flight, And hov'ring o'er me with extended Wings, Greeted me thus. Mortal, awake, and the next Nymph you see, Tell her this Truth, this Sacred Truth from me: Tho' she a while Successfully betray, She'll once Severely for that Error pay; For if there is no Hell for Perjury Heav'n is unjust, and that it cannot be.

Clara.

Can you hear this and—

Alphan.

Hold, and learn your Duty.

[Aside.]

Clara.

My Duty's—

Alphan.

To be silent when I bid you.

Alon.

to Alph.

But you are cast in a sublimer mould, So chaste and pure, y'are of a piece with Heav'n— Therefore my Message can't be meant to you, So much Divinity must needs be true.

Anto.

What can this mean? he does not know her sure.

[Aside.

Alon.

But an Inconstant Woman—ha! ha! ha!—here, take this Eel in this Hand, and this Woman in this hand—hold hard, gripe close, closer yet—so—now open—ha! ha! ha!—the Eel re∣mains, the slipp'ry Woman's gone.

Vilan.

Excellent! They are not in their Senses that say thou'rt out of thine.

Sebast.

Y'are thoughtful, Love.

Alphan.

Those thoughts are then of you.

Sebast.

How will enjoyment all my Pow'rs confound, If thus she charm my Senses with her sound!

Alon.

O dark! dark! dark! a thick Egyptian Fog Has cover'd me all o'er—But who can see That's clouded with Despair? Despair's a Whirlpool!—now I'm swallow'd up! I'm gone! I'm sunk ten thousand Fathoms down! The Globe's unhing'd, the sun has lost his light, Th' Eternal Chain is broke, Chaos is come, For Truth and Faith and Virtue are no more!

[Exeunt. Alon. Boy.

Sebast.

Take care of him, till we can know from whence, And what he is.

Vilan.

That charge, my Lord, be mine.

[Exit Vilan.

Sebast.

Antonio!

Anto.

Ha!

Sebast.

Still Melancholy? not a word to spare us? Sit down, come, we'l endeavour to divert you.

[They all Sit.

[An Antick by Forresters, with other Dancing. After which this Dialogue by a Shepherd and Shepherdess.

Shepherdess.

To me y'ave made a thousand Vows, A thousand tender things have said; I gave you all that Love allows, The naked Pleasure of the Bed. Yet now my Eyes have lost their Charms, Or you abate in your desire; You dream y'ave Caelia in your Arms, And burn with an unhallow'd Fire. Aloud you Name her in your sleep; And if towards me y'are pleas'd to stir (A Kindness that but makes me weep) 'Tis onely when you think of Her.

Shepherd.

That charming Caelia I admire, I must, with Pleasure, own it true; But had I ten times more desire, How cou'd my Passion injure you? Love is the Sacred Tree of Life, And up to Heav'n it's Branches rears;

Yet Admiration's but the Leaf, Enjoyment is the Fruit it bears, Then while you raise this vain dispute, Your Fondness but it self deceives: When you your▪ self have all the Fruit, What need you Envy her the Leaves?

Sebast.

O do not doubt me, but I know thou dost not. All that a Son can say to move a Father You may be sure I'll urge; nor need you fear

[Exeunt. Sebast. Gent.

But I shall prove successful.

Anto.

The Eloquence of Angels guide thy Tongue To plead this holy cause. Like me no Lover e're was us'd before, I feeding, starve, and Riches make me poor.

Enter Berinthia, Julia.

Ha! why those Precious Tears?

Berin.

W'are lost!—w'are lost! my Father is enrag'd, My sister raves and has Resolv'd my Ruin. Nay with her Ponyard drawn, her Eyes up heav'd To Heav'n, that it might Witness what she said, With many a fearful Oath she vow'd my Death, Unless I did remit my Title to you. He's mine (cry'd she) for I first made my claim! I'll serve, adore, and Love him while I've breath, And grapple with thee for him in the Pangs of Death!

Anto.

I ever thought her Violent and Rash.

Alphan.

Strange! that a Man so wise as Vilarezo Shou'd not perceive her frailty: But I forget, there's Bigotry in filial Love As well as in Religion. Time, perhaps, May make him see his Errour.

Berin.

O no, she casts a mist before his Eyes, And with a tear, will melt him as she pleases. He allways lov'd her best. She's sixt, she's grav'd, she's rooted in his heart, Nor will one Grain of Int'rest in't resign; And 'tis as certain that she'll ruin mine!

Anto.

Rather forget this Wretch that is the cause, Reject, despise, and drive me from your Heart; Though to my own Confusion I desire it. Heav'n has, perhaps, design'd thee to another, One that is Rich, great, Young, Lovely and Loving: Leave me then, Madam, leave me to my Fortune.

Berin.

Can you forget me then?

Anto.

O never! never!

Berin.

Why then d'ye bid me leave you?

Anto.

'Tis for thy good, thy Peace, thy future safety, Which otherways, I fear, are lost for ever. Alas! my Passion no decrease shou'd sind; I may be wretched, but I must be Kind.

Berin.

Then what a Wretch were I if I shou'd leave you? No, my dear Lord, in Truth I will not yield, Even to you: what ere my chance does prove I must love on. Th' Eternal Pow'rs above (If Mortals may presume to guess at Fate) Doom'd me to love e're yet I saw the Light. The onely business of my life is Love, My Words, my Thoughts, my very Dreams are Love! I am all Love! I am a World of Love, And give that World to thee!

Anto.

Talk on! talk on! the Musick of thy Tongue So charms my Soul that I cou'd hear thee ever! And think Eternity thus better Spent Then Poets e're cou'd feign, or Priests invent.

Enter Sebastian.

But see, thy Brother—ha! by Heav'n I read Our Ruin on his Face! his looks betray, And tell beforehand, what he has to say.

Sebast.

Pardon me, dearest Friend, for promising More than I cou'd perform: But sighs and tears Soften my Father's flinty breast no more Than Waves a Rock, that stands for ever firm Against Wind, Storms and Tydes, and so does he. I prest his Filial Piety, his care Of this unhappy Creature's future wellfare, Which wholy did depend upon his Grant. I urg'd my Passion for the fair Alphanta With all the tenderness Love could Inspire. I nam'd our Friendship—which must still remain. I did what Man cou'd do, but all in Vain.

Anto.

Look down, ye Pow'rs and wonder why you made The Heart of Man so cruel!

Sebast.

At last, on my Obedience, he enjoyn'd That I shou'd say no more,—but yet said he, To show you that I prize Antonio's Worth, Tell him once more from me, my Elder Daughter I freely give into his Arms for ever, If he but quit his Passion for her Sister.

Anto.

First quit my hope of bliss: when she is gone The onely end for which I liv'd is cancell'd. Eternity wou'd be a blank without her, An o'ergrown Cypher, a round endless nothing.

Sebast.

Which if he does deny (thus he went on) Tell him that I beseech him to return, To his own home, while I make whole the Breach Which else will be more widn'd by his stay.

Anto.

O my Berinthia! O my mourning Love! Our parting pang draws nigh.

Berin.

I heard our doom, and it, has reach'd my Soul! O hold me! O support me, or I faint! Here let me sink! here let me dy away, And make your Arms my Tomb!—you must not go!

[Weeping.

Enter Vilarezo. Attendants.

Vilar.

Enough! my Eyes have seen what till this hour I never cou'd believe: what Plague is there Above a stubborn Child?—for you, my Lord, To whom I made my Resolution known; In wronging him that priz'd you as a Son, Y'ave forfeited the Title of a Friend. But since my Elder Daughter you despise, Thus I snatch this for ever from your Eyes.

Berin.

O Father! Brother! O Antonio! Farewell! Farewell!

[Exeunt Vilar. Berin. Jul. Atten.

Anto.

Angels protect and guard thee! O Friend! thou cordial to my fainting Soul! Did not thy presence in some sort support me, I think, by Heav'n I think I cou'd not bear it. She's gone! for ever gone!—and yet I live, I tamely live to say it.

[Drawing.

Alphan.

Hold! O hold!—

Sebast.

It is indeed too cruel.—but afflict Not thus your self; I'll try him yet again, Intreat, Implore, and hang upon his Knees, Nor be deny'd tho' he shou'd spurn me from him: He must have Nature in him, and I'll wake It, fast as 'tis, or sleep my self in Death

Anto.

In vain you'll strive to move him, he is fixt. How much are Mortals made the Sport of Fate? W'are both in Love, yet the strange difference see, Observe but how our Fortunes disagree, It is thy Paradise—and Hell to me!

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

Scene the GROVE.

Enter Vilarezo, Catalina, Ansilva, Attendants.

Vilar.

BE Patient, O be Patient! I yet will find a way to make thee happy.

Cata.

Name it no more! happy without Antonio? O Contradiction never to be solv'd! Alas! I am more Wretched now than ever. Had he continu'd here, with sighs and tears I might have softn'd his obdurate Heart, As drops of Rain in time will wear through Marble. But y'ave unkindly forc't him hence, and now My hopes and Charms are vain. What Plague, what Torture is like Love despis'd? O 'tis too much! I will not, cannot bear it— I'll bleed, I'll burn! run mad, despair and Dy, But I will make 'em all as curst as I!

Vilar.

Once more I say be patient and observe me, By Heav'n you else shall perish in your Folly. I bring you Comfort and you spurn it from you.

Cata.

O on my Knees I beg you to forgive me,

[Kneels.

For letting Love thus get the start of Duty. But what's the Comfort you have brought me? speak!

[Rising.

And ease a wretched Heart that else must break.

Vilar.

Thinking you cou'd not brook Antonio's absence, I've sent a Messenger to fetch him back, And let him know, I'm sorry that my Rage Transported me so far; And that if he Return I'll make him happy.

Cata.

O worse and worse! Despair instead of Comfort! And where? O where will my Afflictions end? To make him happy? that's in plain terms To let him know you'll give Berinthia to him, He can't believe y'ave any other meaning.

Vilar.

I wou'd not have him.

Cata.

Then a long farewel To Worldly Comfort, all my Hope ends here.

Vilar.

Rash Girl, no, here thy happyness begins, If you'll but be assisting to your self. 'Tis true, he'll think that I intend Berinathia. For him, nor must he yet be undeceiv'd:

Therefore, when next you meet him, Behave your self as freely as you can; Let him not see you wear a mournful look, Or drop a tear, but bear him still in hand As if all mov'd according to his wish.

Cata.

Alas I can't dissemble, thro' my Eyes He'll see my Heart, the Blushes too will rise, And shew my easyness is all Disguise.

Vilar.

You must attempt it if you'd happy prove, Mean to please me, or have the man you Love.

[Exit Vilar.

Cata.

Have him? Heav'n knows 'tis sirmly my design: But take your Method, and I'll follow mine. My sister? yes, that Bar must be remov'd, Or I can never hope to be belov'd.

Ansil.

What mean you, Madam?

Cata.

Mean? I thought y'ad known. Sebastian and Alphanta on their Knees Have to my Father mov'd Antonio's suit, And half prevail'd to make the match go on, For tho' he did deny 'em, 'twas with tears: The next assault, perhaps, they make him yield, Berinthia triumphs, and I lose the Field O killing thought! but e're that day does come, My sure revenge shall seal her fatal Doom.

Ansil.

Consider, Madam, that one Mother bore you.

Cata.

Away, preach no Consideration to me, That were the way to melt me into Pity, Which now must be a stranger to my Breast; While I had Pity I cou'd have no rest.

Ansil.

But Conscience, Madam.

Cata.

Conscience, foolish Girl? The Covetous, th' Ambitious and the Jealous Know no such thing.

Ansil.

Think of the Danger then.

Cata.

There can be none, If thou art faithful to me.

Ansil.

D'ye doubt me Madam?

Cata.

No, by Heav'n I do not, For you have promis'd fair.—here—here's more Gold. The fatal War's begun; between us two Love, Nature, Pity and Remorse must cease, And curst be she that sirst proposes Peace.

[Exit Cata.

Ansil.

What have I done? I am in Love my self, and can I yield To Poison one whose frailty is the same? Tho' undertook it must not be perform'd,

If not perform'd I'm ruin'd.—This Fool too? He finds me in ill Humor.

Enter Gerardo.

Gerar.

Dear soft Tempter well met.—Ha! What? not a word? Me∣lancholy? if the perpetual Clack of thy Tongue has left moving y'are in an ill case I can tell you that now.

Ansil.

And if you provoke that Clack to move you are in a worse case, I can tell you that too.

Gerar.

And that I shall do, Child, I shall provoke thee, my Desires stand a tip toe, and—

Ansil.

I shall humble 'em, by Heav'n I shall.

Gerar.

Yes, yes, they that raise the Devil may lay him again, that's Certain.

Ansil.

Does this Behaviour suit with your grey hairs? O Heav'n! how can the Youthful chuse but fall, When Age does go before and give the call?

Gerar.

Nay, if thou art turn'd Preacher 'tis time for the wicked to reform. I ha' done, I ha' done.

Ansil.

And so y'ad best: but, since I'm in my Lecture, Prepare to hear the rest, and mark me well. If e'er you attempt my Chastity agen, I'll use thee as thou art, the worst of Men. In all Bruits else, When Age comes on, decrease of Lust we find, But it does last till Death in—

Gerar.

Womankind.

Ansil.

Swine! Monkey! Toad!

[Exit Ansil.

Gerar.

She is in earnest I find—and with very little pains has made an Ass of me: done like a Woman—triok't me of my money—like a Woman still—brok•• ••er Promise—more of the Woman. Baulk'd a good opportu∣nity—ga〈…〉〈…〉 ••hat was not like a Woman at all. Well, this is my Comfort, I have made 〈◊〉〈◊〉 once in vain, and many a Coxcomb does it all his Life time.—Ha! who comes yonder? the very young Dog that makes me

Enter Diego.

fish 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈…〉〈…〉ubled Water: This Page's flesh is swallow'd more glibly than my Gold—Draw, Sir, d'ye apprehend me? Draw.

Diego.

What mean you, good Gerardo?

Gerar.

'Tis no matter what I mean—neither, indeed, has fighting any great store of meaning in't.—Draw, Sir.

Diego.

You'll let me first know why.

Gerar.

That were to break a Custom, 'tis never done now adays—A Man is now whipt through the Lungs before he knows any thing of a Quar∣rel. Come, come, draw, or I shall give you your Dispatch, Sir.

Diego.

The Dotard makes me angry—Well, what now, Sir?

[Draws.

Gerar.

Nay that's all—now you may put up agen if you please: (the Rogue has mettle I find). But I shall take the Liberty to tell you y'are sawcy for at∣tempting, her Love that has mine, Sir.

Diego.

O sits the Wind there?

Gerar.

One that deserves—

Diego.

More than you can give her however.

Gerar.

How now Sawce-Box? how d'ye know that? did I ever make love to you that thus you pretend to be a Judge of Abilities?—In short she's meat for your Masters.

Diego.

Well, granting that, I hope 'twill be no dishonour to you to have a Taster.

[Exit Diego.

Gerar.

Smart and home Faith—and if to have Tasters in that sense could make us of the Blood-Royal, gad I believe most men wou'd be Princes.

Enter Alonzo, Vilander, Boy.

Alon.

Hear me, Pluto.

Gerar.

What, does he take me for the Devil?

Vilan.

Ay, and for the Master Devil too.

Gerar.

Hum—there's some civility even in that, tho'.

Alon.

Hear me insernal Monarch, by the Pow'rs That chain'd thee down in this abyss for ever, To dwell in glimmering Flames of Liquid sulphor, I'll pluck thee from thy ever-burning Throne, And lash thee worse than Furies do the damn'd, Unless you give me Justice.

Gerar.

You shall have it.

Alon.

Why, who art thou?

Vilan.

The same you take him for—or, at least, a very good Servant of his.

Alon.

How can I have Justice then from thee? I've Faith, and that has arm'd me. Thou hast heard How Hercules, the Monster-killer, took The Tripple-headed Porter from thy Gate, And drag'd him up to Light: What hinders me to do the same to Thee? Nothing—then Tyrant come along with me.

[Shoulders him.

Gerar.

Hold, hold.—if I am the Devil the Devil take me.

Vilan.

Ha! ha! ha!—there's some civility even in this too.

Gerar.

As much as in your laughing—Death! he did not consider that, like an old watch, I have been twenty times new set together.

Vilan.

Ay, always mending and still growing worse and worse—but come, we'll see him again when he's in better Temper.—I begin to suspect—but I'll watch him narrowly.

[Exeunt Vilan. Gerar.

Enter Alphanta, Clara, Boy.

Alphan.

It was an Error, but'tis now beyond my Power to redress,—Where hast thou brought me?

Alon.

The Song, Boy.

[Aside to the Boy.

Boy Sings.

I.

FAir, and soft, and gay, and young, All Charm! she plaid, she danc'd, she sung! There was no way to scape the Dart, No care cou'd guard the Lover's Heart. Ah! why cry'd I, and drop'd a Tear, (Adoring, yet desparing e'er To have her to my self alone,) Was so much sweetness made for One?

II.

But, growing bolder, in her ear I in soft Numbers told my care: She heard, and rais'd me from her feet, And seem'd to glow with equal heat. Like Heav'ns, too mighty to express, My Joys cou'd but be known by guess. Ah! Fool (said I) what have I done, To wish her made for more than One?

III.

But long she had not been in view, Before her Eyes their Beams withdrew: E'er I had reckon'd half her Charms, She sunk into another's Arms. But she that once cou'd faithless be, Will favour him no more than me: He too, will find he is undone, And that she was not made for One.

Alon.

Will Inconstancy make her live e'er the longer? or 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sweeter relish to her Pleasures? Can it keep her freer from the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 future punishment? or lull her Conscience into a softer security than Peace? Ha! Boy.

Clara.

I need not tell you that Alonzo loves you Ev'n to madness, wou'd it not grieve your Soul

To see him thus? and yet, alas! who knows To what your scorn and his despair may drive him?

Alphan.

Prithee, no more, thou and a guilty Conscience will distract me—come, away.

Alon.

O leave me not, thou life-reviving Beauty! Your Presence has reduc'd my Mind to Reason. Gazing on you, I've lost the sense of all my Woes and Cares, As Vapors vanish when the Sun appears.

Clara.

What was it first occasion'd your misfortune?

Alon.

Love! Love! the Tirant Love! that God! that Devil! That sometimes does assume a Charming shape, Shews us a painted Scene of smiling Joy, And says 'tis all our own; when straight we see Our Hopes were vain, our Pleasures but a shadow, As I will instance in a mournful Story.

Alphan.

I tremble! O what Wretch wou'd e'er be wicked?

[Aside.

Alon.

There were two Lovers, none more blest than they, The Man was faithful, and the Woman fair; Kind were the hours, and, wing'd with pleasures, flew So fast away, that Months appear'd but Days. What others do but dream of future Bliss, And soft Elisian Joys, they tasted here: And these in such a plenteous measure given, No Mortal State before so near resembl'd Heaven. —But, Oh!—

Clara.

Go on.

Alon.

How vain are Womens Vows? After all this, she in a trice forsook him, Forgot the everlasting Love sh'had sworn, And, like a Traytress, left him for another, Because more Wealthy, and false Fortune's Darling. But Ah! will Riches ever buy her Peace? Or make Content wait on her Pomp and Splendor? No! no!—or if it shou'd, let all Men be As wicked as they please, for Heav'n is blind, And Vertue but a Notion.

Alphan.

Let us go! There's something in his words that shocks my Soul!

Clara.

Pray, Madam, have a moment's patience—well, And what became of the forsaken Lover?

Alon.

At the same time he heard the killing News, His Eves erect towards Heav'n, he challeng'd all The nicest Niceties and Rules of Love To say, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 done the slightest thing that might Provoke her scorn: then, pensive and alone, In solitary Musings past his hours,

Thoughts met with Thoughts, and overpow'r'd his Reason; And now he ranges through the Fields and Forrests, The Wildest Creature there; His Body expos'd to all the wrath of Heav'n. Instead of Beds of Down, A Clod of damp unwholsom Earth's his Pillow. Instead of Cloth that comes from neighbouring Spain, He's wrap't in coursest Rags. Instead of Food that Luxury invents, And sprightly Wines, he eats and drinks with Bruits.

Clara.

Ingrateful Woman—pray what is her Name?

Alon.

A blank—I have bequeath'd it to oblivion: Tho' she is cruel, I'll not be malicious, And make her failings publick: but the Man, The hapless man that was so much abus'd, Is call'd—Alonzo.

[Plucks off his Disguise.

Alphan.

Alonzo! O my eyes, are now unseal'd! I see and know! Alonzo! Oh Alonzo!

[Swoons.

Alon.

Help! Clara! help! chafe, chafe her Temples gently. To thy Contrivance I owe this, and if I live I will reward thee—Ha! she comes, Her blood begins to rise, her Cheeks to glow.

Enter Vilander behind 'em.

Vilan.

What's here to do?—ha! frenzy and folly in conjunction—O sweet Women! worth and honour make their application in vain: but Fools and Madmen may plead their merit to your favour.

[Aside.

Alphan.

Where am I now?

Alon.

In your Alonzo's arms.

Alphan.

There let me lie for ever—O my Love! O how shall I attone this breach of virtue?

Alon.

This recompence you make has cancel'd all.

Vilan.

One might safely swear, if there were distinction of Sexes in the Stars, there are not two Females in the whole Firmament.

[Aside.

Alphan.

If a Repentance but to end with Life Can expiate my offence, it shall be done.

Alon.

O my Alphanta! dare I call you mine? I must, I will—there is no Heav'n without thee. O be no more consenting to my ruine.

Alphan.

Not for the wealth that both the Indies hold: No, if I ruine thee it shall be thus, Thus on thy neck to cling, and breath my Vows Into thy bosom, to be broke no more. O that my Tongue cou'd but express the Transport That my heart feels!

Alon.

And I too am all Rapture!

Come close, close to my Breast, my Soul not dearer, My Joy! my Life! my all!

[Embrace.

Clara.

Ay, now 'tis as it shou'd be.

Vilan.

No, not just as you wou'd have it neither; tho', in truth, 'tis something near it.—I'll be gone, for fear of the worst.

[Exit Vilan.

Clara.

O Heav'n! your Brother, Madam, comes this way! Nay hast, y'are ruin'd by a moments stay.

[Exeunt.

Enter Antonio.

Anto.

Methinks I feel not that uncommon pleasure Which us'd, at other times, to warm my Heart, Mount to my Eyes, and revel in my Veins, When the soft Charmer of my Soul was near: Something instead of it sits heavy here.

Enter Catalina Veil'd.

But see! she comes! why Dearest this disguise? Unveil, unveil, and feed my famish'd eyes. Ha!

[Starts.

Cata.

There's something strangely hideous, sure, in me, That thus can make Antonio start to see.

Anto.

Madam, you are what all men else adore: My heart you know was long engag'd before. Had I but seen you first, You first had kindl'd the same lasting Fire; But I'm so far advanc'd I can't retire.

Cata.

I praise your Constancy,—but cannot be So fond to love the Man, that loves not me; No longer then let that remain your fear: A more important thing is now my care▪ True, had you kindly the Proposal heard My Father made, y'ad met with my regard, To name no more: But since my Sister you to me prefer, That Flame's extinct, I leave you all to her: And may your Love be equal to her Charms, And both grow old in one another's Arms.

Anto.

Blest be thy Charming Voice! thy gen'rous Prayer Must needs prevail, the God of Love will hear, Heav'n ne'er denies Petitioners so Fair.

Cata.

And next, Antonio, to shew that He I've once esteem'd, shall ne'er unhappy be, If ought that may prevent it lies in me. I have (concern'd to see Berinthia mourn) Desir'd my Father that you might return,

That he wou'd joyn your Hands, and make you one: Which he has freely granted shall be done.

Anto.

What Angel's Voice cou'd warble softer sounds! At once it Charms, amazes, and confounds, And my unruly Pleasure knows no bounds! Thus on my knees, (For under such a favour who can stand?) With eager Transport let me press your hand! Here print my thanks with many an earnest kiss,— And sure Berinthia will not grudge you this.

Cata.

How blest were I were all this kindness shown To me? and that these Kisses were my own? But, as it is, it turns upon a Hinge That gives the stronger swing to my Revenge.

[Aside.

Anto.

But (may I ask you) does your Sister know What to your matchless goodness she does owe? And that her Father's mind is alter'd?

Cata.

No.

Anto.

Then far the happy News I need not bear, For, by Appointment, she's to meet me here. Yes, Madam (since y'are now declar'd a Friend) This hour we meant to give our fears an end, The Priest, hard by, does but our call attend: In Duty now we'll wait a Father's time, And mount the Genial Bed without a Crime.

Cata.

Nay stay not now your happy News to tell, And doubt not but from me 'twill do as well. For your return my Father waits at home, And will be all impatience till you come. Hast then, my Lord, be happy while you may, 'Tis Love and Pleasure call—

Anto.

And I obey.

[Exit Anto. bowing.

Cata.

Mount to the Genial Bed? first sink to Hell! I'd rather have thee Circl'd round with Fire, Than with Berinthia's Arms—but see! she comes, And I'm with fresh Revenge and Rage inspir'd. Her Lover I have pleas'd, But rougher usage to her share must fall; He had the sweets, but she shall have the Gall.

Enter Berinthia.

Berin.

My Sister! what can be her business here? At once she moves my anger, and my fear: If the design's discover'd, we're undone, And if she stay, 'twill certainly be known.

[Aside.

Cata.

Alone? how idly do the Lovers prate, That say no Turtle lives without its Mate?

Berin.

I now am not alone, but wou'd be so: Why don't you, now you hear 'twill please me, go?

Cata.

False wretch! I know you wou'd not be alone, But must, for he that you expect is gone.

Berin.

That I expect?

Cata.

Yes, yes, I have releas'd Him, and his useless Rosie colour'd Priest.

Berin.

W'are ruin'd, how shou'd she the secret learn? Curst Chance! but I must stifle my concern.

[Aside.

Cata.

What! does it grieve, because her Bird is flown? Indeed she's likely now to lye alone: Weak head to lay so shallow a Design.— An even Wager that the Man is mine.

Berin.

'Tis but a Suitor gone then, let him go; I'm not the first that has been cozen'd so. Why shou'd the loss of a false Love be wept; Whose Heart's not worth the Charge of being kept? It is not sit a Maid shou'd sigh and sue; Or if it be, I leave that Task to you, Who, tho' not to be woo'd, know what it is to woo.

Cata.

No more concern'd! she cuts me to the heart! O curse on curse! but she shall have her part,

[Aside.

I'll reach her yet, in spight of all her Art. Well, if I woo, I've done it with success, Ev'n you that have been woo'd, will find y'ave lest. Had the hard Fate been mine, Thus to be trick'd of him I lov'd so dear, I wou'd have drain'd my Eyes of ev'ry Tear, You bear it tamely, like a mourning Heir; So tamely, had I no way else to prove The Truth, I'd swear you never were in Love: And who wou'd think Berinthia cou'd appear So easie, and this outward smoothness wear, When she's within struck thro' the Soul with grief? And, I thank Heav'n, can never hope relief.

Berin.

She grates so deep, that I can bear no more! And yet to stoop beneath her rage were poor: Tho' youngest, I will not be overborn, But meet her rage with rage, and scorn with scorn.

[Aside.

Shou'd all the ills you wish upon me seize, Amid'st 'em all, this thought shou'd give me ease: My loss is not your gain; if false he be, He's not so blind, to make the Change for thee. But he is true, and not one thought will give From me, tho' sure an Empress wou'd receive: Then All the spiteful Darts you throw at me Rebound, with a redoubl'd strength, on thee:

So Envy, in her rage, and her dismay, Feeds on her self, when she's depriv'd of Prey. But above all, To vex thy Soul, and to encrease thy pain, I'm pleas'd, and laugh to see thee Love in vain; Tho' who wou'd think your Charms cou'd meet disdain?

Cata.

O Heav'n! I know not what to do, or say! Too strong to bend, too haughty to obey,

[Aside.

I've rais'd a Devil, that I cannot lay! My Charms, vain Wretch! here,

[Offering a Pocket-Glass.

Be your self the Judge. What is there in that Face, That is not with advantage writ in mine? Does the Rose there wear a Diviner Blush? Or can the Lilly shew a softer Tincture?

Berin.

I boast not what I am, Pride's worst disease, I please, without the taking pains to please: The little Arts of Paint, and Patch, and Dress, I leave to you that need 'em.

Cata.

Confusion! Death, and Hell!

Berin.

Rave on, rave on, No more I'll tremble at a Sister's frown—

Cata.

You will not.

Berin.

No, by Heav'n, But rather make that Sister shake at mine.

Cata.

Bravely resolv'd.

Berin.

And I'll as bravely do it.

Cata.

You will?

Berin.

I will.

Cata.

Blast me with Lightning, Heav'n, Send Thunder down, and nail me to the Centre, If thus I tamely bear these vile reproaches, If you dare urge me further.

Berin.

Send down, ye Powr's, the same afflictions on me, If ought that she can do I value more Than this frail breath of Air—which now is nothing.

Cata.

Be gone, lest you provoke my rage too far, And draw that vengeance on your guilty head, Which yet you may avoid.

Berin.

I tell thee, once again, I do not fear thee: So far from it, that if you rail much more, You'll find I'm not so tame as you imagine.

Cata.

Shall find it?

Berin.

Ay, is not that Language plain?

Cata.

'Tis wond'rous well, ye Gods, 'tis wond'rous well!

Berin.

No, 'tis not well to see you walk in State, Admire your haughty Meen, and twirl those Curls That do so ill become you.

Cata.

Ill become me?

Berin.

Yes, if again you'll hear it—ill become you. Or else, sure, among all the Race of Men, Long since, some Fool or other had been found, That wou'd have thought you worthy of his Love, And pluck'd the Rose before it had been wither'd.

Cata.

I can endure no more! Look back, thou wretch, look back on me and tremble!

[Shews a Dagger.

Flye from my sight, this very moment leave me, Dare not to speak, or make the least reply, Be still as if the sleep of Death had seiz'd thee! I'll bury else this Dagger in thy Heart, And let the hot blood out, that thus does brave me.

Berin.

Dare not to speak?

Cata.

No, dare not for thy Soul!

Berin.

Ha! ha! ha! ha!

Cata.

D'ye laugh, Minx?

Berin.

Yes, I do, And—(to give you yet more torture) 'tis at you.

Cata.

Nay, then it is vain to trifle longer, You've drawn my vengeance to the highest bent, And thus I let it loose.

[Moves toward her.

Berin.

And thus I meet it.

[Shews her Dagger.

D'ye start?—I'm now provided for you. Yes, here I throw the tame observance off That's due to Elder blood: Thy haughty Carriage shall no longer aw me: For so, proud Wretch, may I be blest, or curst, As here I stand and dare, fearless your worst.

Cata.

Where got she all this Spirit? or is mine Transfus'd into her breast? her rage does flow, And mine begins to ebb—let me consider—

[Aside.

Taking her Life may now endanger mine: No, my Revenge must work a closer way. But why do I thus vex and chafe my self? The Fatal Draught already is prepar'd:

[Aside.

Her next sleep is her last.

Berin.

What, Madam, are you cool again?

Cata.

I am.

Berin.

Then I have got a Cordial that will warm you. Tho' I am banish'd from Antonio's sight, I'll banish him from thine. Or, say it be thy chance to see him more, Thou shalt be met with scorn, but I with Love, With all the Love that longing Maids can wish for. Nay, in your sight I'll pant upon his Breást, Die in his Arms, melt into Charms away,

And think of nothing but of Love and Pleasure! While you, despis'd, unpittied, and forlorn, Hang down your head, and curse our happy State, But curse in vain, for all the Pow'rs above Shall brand you with his Hate, and Crown me with his Love.

Cata.

Have you said all?

Berin.

What if I have, or have not?

Cata.

I wou'd have beg'd your leave to've made my Answer.

Berin.

You'll take it, I suppose.

Cata.

I will, by Heav'n! And every word I speak shall make thee pale: The shrieks of Owls, the groans of dying Men, Compar'd with what I tell thee, shall be Musick: That dear lov'd man, that Idol of your Heart, That Spring from whence you drink whole draughts of Love, And, never satisfy'd, still thirst for more, Shall never lie with Rapture in your Arms, Ne'er taste the Sweets of his belov'd Berinthia; Ne'er languish with delight, or faint with pleasure: To summ up all in one Prophetick word, (A word which, like an angry Thunderbolt, Shall all thy Faculties of Sense destroy) The Man you Love, you never shall enjoy.

[Exit Cata.

Berin.

She's gone! and her last words a passage find To my sad Soul, and leave a sting behind: I went too far, yet scarce can be reprov'd, Angels had done so, had they so been mov'd.

[Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE A Chamber of State.

Enter Ansilva.

Ansil.

LET me think a little—If I succeed in this Business my Life may answer it; if I miscarry I'm discarded:

Diego, too, makes no advance towards Marriage, I must set up my rest then in Gerardo, Tho' put on scurvy terms. Help me, dissimulation, To fill this Spunge, with hopes that I'll comply, And if he Marrys me, I'll squeeze him dry.

Enter Gerardo.

Gerar.

Gad! here she is, and the Devil has got such an ascendant over me, that I must attempt her again: Lewdness, like an old Beggar, takes no denial, but gets more by importunity, than Modesty can by merit.—In contemplation? I'll observe her.

Ansil.

'Tis true he's Old, but of a generous temper: Did he solicit me the lawful way, His Suit wou'd soon be granted.

Gerar.

Hum—my Amour goes on very luckily.

Ansil.

I must confess, indeed, th' ill-natur'd World Heaps strange Invectives on him; says he's one That will bequeath his Riches to a Whore, Rather than get a lawful Heir in Wedlock.

Gerar.

So—

Ansil.

But were this so (as I believe it is not) His lively disposition makes amends. A Chearful Husband's a continual comfort: He has a thousand ways to please a Wife, Beside that one destroy'd in the enjoyment; That fulsom bliss that makes the vulgar joyn, Who aim but at the sensual part of pleasure, When 'tis a mutual temper makes us happy.

Gerar.

Nay then, agad, 'tis all serious, and I'll shew my self.

Ansil.

Ah—

[Seems surpriz'd.

Gerar.

You have confest, my dear, and you shall have an easi Absolution.

Ansil.

Betray'd! undone! I'll blush my self to death!

Gerar.

The Wind's chop'd about of a sudden, and sits fair for a Voy∣age to the Island of Love—

But, Child, to be in earnest, you must needs think Diego the more agree∣able Person; were I a Virgin I shou'd let him—

Ansil.

Hang himself.

Gerar.

Ha! ha! ha!

I love thee the better for hating that Prig. To day I took thee in the pur∣ging of thy Gall; now thou art all luscious, and season'd to the Pallat of an Epicure—There only wants the dishing up, and then—

Ansil.

You'd fall on without saying Grace, I warrant.

Gerar.

Ay, what else? I shou'd be a Madman in such a case, to make use of a Chaplain:—But, come, now thou'rt in a good humour, I'll give thee my Favourite Song.

TAke not a Woman's anger ill; But let this be your Comfort still, That if one won't, another will: Tho she that's Foolish does deny, She 'that is Wiser will comply; And if 'tis but Woman, what care I?

Then who'd be damn'd to swear untrue? And sigh and weep, and whine and woo, As all our supple Coxcombs do? All Women love it, and tho' this Does sullenly forbid the Bliss, Try but the next, and you cannot miss.

Ansil.

Oh! Oh!—

Gerar.

Ha! what's the matter?

Ansil.

Sick! sick in my Head! my Stomach! You us'd to have good Cordials in your Closet, Gerardo.

Gerar.

Ah Rogue!—the best Surfeit-Water in the Kingdom: a drara has brought several to life, I'll assure you—you'll find in a short time how powerfully 'twill quicken.

Ansil.

Away, I'll follow: 'tis not fit we should be seen together.

Gerar.

Don't go the Gallery way, but come thro' my Chamber.

Ansil.

For what?

Gerar.

For what? O Lord! O Lord! what shou'd we do at my Chamber, but—come you shall guess what now, you shall guess, Child.

Ansil.

Nay, if I trouble you, I can have some of my Lady.

Gerar.

She's in need enough her self; you see she's running mad for't—Well, I'll go open the Gallery door, for what? ha! ha!

[Exit Gerar.

Ansil.

I have rais'd his expectation, but on purpose indeed to deceive it; if I keep him keen, perhaps he may cut thro' his discretion to Mar∣riage. Heav'n! what Monsters are we forc'd to embrace for convenience? His Closet's a perfect Apothecary's Shop, furnish'd with all sorts of Drugs, and his Conduct indeed has made it but necessary—He, perhaps, gives the Disease to his House-keeper; she stoops as low as to the Horses heels, and transmits it to the Groom; he conveys it from the Stable to the Lan∣dry, and from thence it goes back with the clean Linnen to their Master. So that the Pox in his Family, like the blood in his Veins, is in a perpe∣tual Circnlation.

[As she is going off,

Enter Sebastian.

Sebast.

Pray tell Alphanta I am here, And shou'd esteem her Company a favour.

Ansil.

I will, my Lord.

[Exit Ansil.

Sebast.

She's but a Woman, and she may be false, We have enow Examples of their frailty— I am to blame—Vilander—

[Goes to the Door

Enter Alphanta, Clara, and speak Entring.

Clara.

To Night?

Alphan.

At Twelve, And meets me in the Grove. Let every thing that I shall want be ready.

[Exit Clara.

Enter Vilander.

Sebas.

But here she is, and all y'ave said is cancell'd: I cannot see her and believe a Sin, (So Fair she is without) can Lodge within.

Vilan.

Is't that you call'd me back for?

[Is going.

Sebas.

Stay a little.

Alphan.

What means all this? pray Heav'n I'm not discover'd!

[Aside.

Sebas.

While thus I gaze upon thy Lovely face, Where Innocence does seem to sit Enthron'd, With all the lesser Graces waiting on, Methinks thou shou'dst be Faithful.

Alphan.

Ha! my Lord! What means th' ambiguous Phrase? I shou'd be Faithful? What Hell-bred Villain can affirm the contrary?

Vilan.

So—I'm well enough serv'd.—If e're I endeavour again to keep Fool and Strumpet from Coupling, may I marry a Punk, live a Pimp, and die of the Pox; a Lineal succession, Madam.

[Aside.

Sebas.

Nay hold, Vilander, I'le Reason it a little Calmly with you. Did not her Brother give her to my Arms? Has she not since in publick own'd her Passion? Can any one without the loss of Reason Quit Virtue, Pleasure, Riches, State and Honour And all to run into a Madman's Arms?

Vilan.

I told you he's some Nobleman disguis'd, And sensible as I am.

Sebas.

That may be, And yet his Brain distemper'd— The Man that truly Loves does never doubt; 'Tis Vulgar to distrust: My Soul acquits her.

Alphan.

My Lord, I now perceive what wrought your Change, And thank you that your thoughts are like your self, Noble and Brave in spite of black Aspertion. I grant indeed, at Claras earnest suit I went to see this Lunatick he speaks of, To know of him the Story of his Love, For that we judg'd had brought him to distraction: And while he eagerly pursu'd his Tale, Sometimes to Clara, once or twice to me, He cry'd thus, thus she Swore, thus she Embrac'd me, And clasp'd his Arms about us.

Sebas.

D'ye here Vilander?

Vilan.

Yes,

[Thunder and Lightning.

Heav'n hears her too, and redd'ns at the Sound; But she has got a Secret against blushing.

Alphan.

O frontless Impudence! my Lord, let's leave him; He is not fit to breath where Lovers are.

Sebas.

Not sit to live that cou'd wrong one so fair. And but his Blood some shew of ours contains, It had not now been running in his Veins,

[Exeunt Sebast. Alphan.

Vilan.

Credulous Wretch!—Here comes another too, Doubly belov'd, yet can't be singly happy.

Enter Antonio, Vilarezo.

O Woman! Woman! Woman! only giv'n To plague Mankind—Hell in the shape of Heav'n.

[Exit Vilan.

Anto.

'Tis done! 'tis done! the mystick Union's made, And now the bright Berinthia's all my own! But why, my Lord, did she so soon take leave? E're I cou'd turn to kiss her she was gone, When e'en the Ceremony scarce was done.

Vilar.

'Twas by my Order to prepare for Bed, For till to morrow I'd not have it known. This is the door.

[Thunder.

The Storm grows lowder still. My Lord good Night; I wish you much more bliss Than can be had in such a Night as this.

[Thunder.

Anto.

Good Night my Lord—and let the Thunder rowl? The Body Lust may fear, but Love's the Soul: Lockt fast in lawful Joys, we shall not hear This Rack of Heav'n and loud Aetherial War: One broken Murmur, one short Sigh in Love Will seal our Ears, and drown those Peals of Jove.

[Exit Anto.

Vilar.

He's gone! how far is Innocence from Fear? And yet methinks, 'tis strange The Fumes of Wine shou'd dissipate so soon: He was ev'n deeper fi••ster'd than I wish'd, And scarce con'd speak the Matrimonial Words After the Priest, Now he's as fresh as if he had just awoke Love that makes many warmer than their Wine, Has call'd his Reason back and broke the Charm. I doubt the Issue, but it must be known. Were it to do, it never shou'd be done.

[Exit. Vilar.

[Thunder.

Enter Antonio, Catalina in her Night-Goan, following.

Anto.

Fool! wretched Fool! so to mistake the Door! Perdition, Death and Horror! She's got up And follows me!

Cata.

My Lord, where are you going!

Anto.

Madam, be not surpriz'd, 'twas a mistake; The Terrour of the Night misled my steps: Heav'n knows it was no willful fault—

Cata.

A Fault? where shou'd you be but there? I hope you did not doubt a kind Reception.

Anto.

Her words make a stagnation in my blood, And num my Soul with horror! my Knees knock Against each other, and I know not why!—

[Aside.

Madam, good night; the peace of Saints attend you.

Cata.

O Heav'n and Earth, my Lord, you are not going!

Anto.

Going! why?

Cata.

Will you not come to Bed?

Anto.

To Bed! what can she mean? Either she's craz'd, or she has dreamt of Love, And I have took her in the easie moment.

[Aside.

What have you seen in me to make you think I'd ever come between Incestuous Sheets?

Cata.

Incest, my Lord! you dream.

Anto.

I wish I did.

Cata.

Then Wedlock is a frightful state indeed: What? Incest with your Wife?

Anto.

My Wife!—tho' in my mind I'd sworn to go, And not to answer thee one other word, Tho' ev'n the Tongues of Angels had enjoyn'd me, That sound has call'd me back!—but speak again (If 'tis as I suspect, I'm lost for ever!)

[Aside.

Speak! did you say my Wife?

Cata.

I did, my Lord: I am your loving, true, obedient Wife. This night the Holy Priest did joyn our hands, And—

Anto.

Curst us both eternally!

Cata.

My Lord!

Anto.

Call him not holy; Vilain, Atheist, Epicure, Are terms too full of Sanctity to give him, For he that joyn'd our hands is damn'd for ever!

Cata.

I'm sorry, then, that I shou'd name him to you But you, my Lord, must know—

Anto.

Not I, by Heav'n! 'tis all a dream to me, Or less, I have no certain Image of it. My Comfort is, my will was not consenting.

Cata.

If what I tell you's false—

Anto.

Thou art an Angel! If otherwise, a Fiend that took my hand To lead me to Damnation!

Cata.

The Heav'nly Powers forbid.

Anto.

No, they Command it:

The just Reward of Violated Faith, And foul Intemperance. O Beast! O Sot! Dare we assume the awful Name of Men, And drench our selves beyond all Moderation? Never considering, as the Liquor flows Our Reason ebbs, and we are turn'd to Bruits.

Cata.

Alas! my Lord, what wou'd not you have done To've made the Woman you ador'd your own? Blame not a Fault occasion'd by my Love, Which Fate too, by permitting, seems t' approve.

[Thunder

Anto.

Approve it? Yes, your Eyes and Ears are Witness. Can you with all this Light not see your Crime? Nor hear Heav'ns Vengeance bursting o'er our Heads In these prodigious Peals? Did my Flesh prompt me to th' unholy Deed, This Night wou'd lop away all loose Desires, And make me cold, as if I'd fed on Camphire. The Ravisher himself wou'd now turn pale, And rather than attempt to act new Sins, Fall on his Knees for Mercy for the old.

Cata.

Vex not your self, my Lord, the Sin be mine.

[Thunder.

Why do you tremble? See, it moves not me. To Bed, to Bed! I'll take thee in my Arms, Drive thy pale Fears away, and let you see You but resist your own Felicity.

Anto.

Tho' there is Impudence in every Sin, Lust is the most audacious of 'em all. No, wretched Creature, no—how close so e're Others are brought by Marriage, between us It puts a distance wider than the Poles. I'll ne're think on thee but with Detestation, Ne're speak of thee but as a mortal Foe; Ne're see thee, but I'll shun thee as the Plague, Nor know thee as as a Wife.—So help me Heav'n. And so farewel for ever.

[Is going.

Cata.

Hold! O hold!

[Kneels.

As you'd be thought to be of human Race, As you'd have her that you adore be happy; As you wou'd save my Soul from Desperation, And at your latest Gasp rely on Mercy: O hear me! hear me! hear me!

Anto.

What can'st thou say to win regard? or do To make me Reparation?

Cata.

Expose me not to the reproachful World, Let me not be the Grin of Vulgar Women: For you I scorn'd Mankind, and broke thro' all Impediments, all Ties, to reach your Bosom.

The Fruit is blushing ripe, and waits your pull; Ah! throw it not before you've tasted from you.

Anto.

I've sworn! I've sworn!—Away audacious Woman!

Cata.

No, you're my own, and 'tis a Sin to leave you: I'll follow like your Shadow, round the World, Till you encline to Mercy!

Anto.

Never! never! If to unswear my Oath be to have Mercy, I shall be more than cruel.

Cata.

Nay, drag me, dash my Body on the Floor, I'll hold the faster—Since w're join'd for Life, 'Tis only Death shall part us!

Anto.

Let him come, His mortal Frown wou'd now Charm my Soul more than all the Smiles of Mercy. Away!—

Cata.

O cruel! monstrous! and unchristian! Was ever any Bride before us'd thus Upon the Marriage Night? when all her Hopes Were full, and every Wish was ripe for Joy— O yet relent and save me!

Anto.

Save your self By a well-tim'd Repentance, but from me Expect no Pity, but my mortal Curses. Let go Witch! Woman! Fury! or, by Heav'n, I'll cut away thy Hold.

Cata.

O all ye Pow'rs!—I am your Wife, my Lord! It is your Wife that kneels! your Wife! your Wife! Will nothing, nothing charm him!

Anto.

That the least Of all that thou canst say—A Wife? Damnation!

[She rises.

Cata.

O I can bear no more— If you're a Man, and hope for Heav'n, support me.

[Sinking down. [Catching her.

Anto.

Ha! In charity I'll save thee from the Fall.

Enter Diego hastily.

Could not thy Diligence prevent this ruine?

Dieg.

O! no, my Lord; I heard of it too late—

Anto.

Here, Diego, Hold her, and when the Fit is over, follow. I'll take this opportunity to go. Yet something bids me stay—It must not be, Why should I pity her that tortures me? To love in vain, we think a wretched state; But what is Wedlock with a Wife we hate?

All human Woes in one compendious Ill; Happy is he that can exchange for Hell.

[Exit. Anto.

Cata.

Oh!— Unhand me Traytor! Caytiff! Villain! Devil!

[Exit. Diego.

Cata.

Horror! Disgrace! Confusion! Death and Hell! What gone? Destruction trace him step by step, And endless Torment be his slightest Pain! Why, this is yet more barbarous than the rest, To leave me in the strug'lings of my Soul, Undress'd, and in th' Embraces of his Slave. Brutal, unmannerly, unsinew'd Villain! Vain Love, adieu! unworthy of the Rule, Revenge, a better Master, holds the Reign, And with relentless Fury Steels my Soul. Ansilva—O be quick—Had not my Plot Been deeply laid, how much had I been fool'd?

Enter Ansilva trembling. Thunder.

Ansil.

O, Madam!—

Cata.

What's the matter? ha! why shak'st thou? And why thy Cheeks so pale? Not answer me? By Heaven then all's not well! Yet speak it out, And ease my tortur'd Soul.

Ansil.

Then take the worst at once, your Sister's gone.

Cata.

The worst? The best—You shou'd have told me sooner. I meant to see, and triumph o'er her Death: But as it is, it true Revenge will be, For now he neither shall have her, nor me.

Ansil.

O you mistake my meaning! She is fled, This Minute gone, and our Design discover'd: For on her Table lay her Parrot dead, His Beak all stain'd with that Abortive Potion, Which we design'd shou'd reach a nobler Fate.

Cata.

Gone? Impossible! It must not be: Swallow thy Lye, or Hell will swallow thee!

Ansil.

'Tis true! 'tis true! And, which is worst of all, Antonio's the Companion of her flight, I saw him hurrying her away; e'er this They are beyond our reach.

Cata.

O frontless Strumpet!

[Lays hold on her.

Nothing's more sure than that thou hast betray'd me, How cou'd it else be known? Tell how, and when, Or else, by Heav'n, I'll nail thee to the Ground.

[Shews a Dagger.

Ansil.

O, Madam! I confess, Diego—

Cata.

Hold— I've better thought, I'll give you not that trouble.

[Stabs her.

Ansil.

Murder—Oh!—

[Dies.

Cata.

Enough's confest already. So—now disclose the Secret.—Murder! Murder!

Sure they are as fast as she, or else this Storm, Without my Cries, wou'd wake 'em:—Murder! Murder!

Enter several Servants.

Go ring th' Alarum Bell, call up my Father From his soft Rest, to see this horrid sight, That wou'd make Tygers melt into Compassion! Away!—

[Exeunt Servants.

Enter Sebastian, Vilander.

O, Brother! but y' are come too late, see there Where poor Ansilva lies, stabb'd by Antonio.

Sebast.

Have a care what you say.

Cata.

Nay, it is true, As I shall hope for Mercy. O, Ansilva! More than a Servant, for thou wast my Friend: Thou'rt gone! thou'rt gone! and I shall mourn thy Memory.

Sebast.

Strange Accident!—Haste, call Alphanta hither.

[Exit Serv.

Vilan.

Ha! my Lord, say that she can't be found: The Lunatick is gone, none knows which way, And I believe she wou'd not stay behind him.

Enter Vilarezo. Thunder.

Vilar.

What Cries are these, that to a Night so dismal Can yet add further Horror?

Cata.

There's the cause: See poor Ansilva weltring in her Blood, Kill'd by that cursed Villain, false Autonio. Was ever any Woman forc'd before, I' accuse her Husband of a deed so horrid, Upon her Bridal Night?

Sebast.

Her Husband, says she?

Vilar.

Yes, and tells you true. This Night I drank Antonio to a pitch, And in his Mirth he marry'd Catalina, Not in the least perceiving the Deceit.

Sebast.

O stain to Hospitality and Honour! What have you done?

Vilar.

Done that that pleas'd me best, Th' Exchange is for his good; And tho' I have depriv'd Berinthia of him, Thou hast him fast; he is thy Brother still. But at Ansilva's Murder I'm amaz'd, And more to hear Antonio was the Actor.

Cata.

As soon as e'er he came into my Chamber, He put aside the Curtain with his Hand; And, seeing me, broke out into such Terms, Courage it self wou'd have turn'd pale to hear; When from behind I heard Berinthia's Voice Cry, End her, or expect no Joy from me. With that he wound one hand into my Hair,

And in the other held his Ponyard drawn; And just as he advanc'd his cursed Arm, Ansilva rush'd betwixt, Thinking to break the Blow, and in her Breast Receiv'd the Stroke he did intend to me. Mean while I left the Room and call'd for help. When I came back I found Antonio gone. And poor Ansilva (who I know not how Had sttagger'd hither) breathing out her last.

Vilar.

O worse than Devils damn'd! Search, find 'em out, (Is this the Sister you extol for Vertue?)

[To Sebast.

By Heav'n they shall be us'd with utmost Rigor.

Cata.

Alas! You'll search in vain, they've took their flight, He has in triumph born his Prize away.

Vilar.

What Prize d'ye mean?

Cata.

My Sister.

Vilar.

He cou'd not be so base!

Cata.

You'll find he was, and worse than I have spoke him. See at your Feet your wretched Daughter kneel:

[Kneels.

Let not my Sister glory in her Crimes, And tryumph o'er my Vertue: Nor let him, That cou'd so basely use me, go unpunish'd. My Injuries surmount all human Pardon. What Salve is there for violated Honour? To you I, kneeling, make the same Request,

[To Sebast.

I am your Sister, is Berinthia more? O pity me, by too much Love betray'd: Revenge a slighted, and a murder'd Maid.

[Rises and Exit.

Vilar.

Revenge d'ye say? Nay, we will have Revenge. My Son, what in a Dream?

Sebast.

I'm thinking, if 'tis possible my Friend Cou'd be so great a Villain.

Vilar.

'Tis too sure.

Enter a Servant hastily and whispers Sebastian.

Sebast.

How? not at her Apartment?

Serv.

No, my Lord, Nor in the House I'm certain; for sh'as lest Her things in such disorder, as does shew She went in haste, and meant not to return.

Sebast.

O Woman! Woman! damn'd inconstant Sex! Design'd to please us, but resolv'd to vex. The Plagues you heap on Man, the Strises and Cares, Are far more num'rous than his Sins, or Hairs. Perjury's your Sport; your Vows you from you blow, As little wanton Boys their Bubbles do: We please our selves, like them, with looking on, But wink, the gawdy, brittle Thing is gone.

Vilar.

What is he mad?

Vilan.

No, my Lord, he's just come to his Senses.

Sebast.

Alphanta, Sir, in whom I centr'd all My Hope of worldly Joy, Is with a loose Impostor fled away, That feign'd himself a mad Man: Her Brother too, that outside of a Friend, Was privy to their Flight, it must be so; There's not a Circumstance but does confirm That, by agreement, they're all gone together. Say quickly, Sir, what wou'd you have me do? For I am all Revenge.

Vilar.

Be not so Violent. As for Alphanta, If she is false, you may be glad y'ave mist her. But follow him with all the speed you can, Demand thy Sister—but, upon my Blessing, Observe me, let no Violence be shown: If he refuse to send her back, I'll use No Sword but Law. Partly I'm in the Fau't, And partly I must suffer.—Heav'n protect thee.

Sebast.

I'll take such Measures as shall not displease you.

[Ex. Sebast.

Vilar.

The Night's deliver'd of her monstrous Birth;

[Thunder.

Nature does groan as if she wou'd expire, The Bolts fly thick, the Clouds drop liquid Fire! O Conscience! We are Cowards made by Sin; I shou'd not fear if all were well within.

[Ex. Vilar.

Enter Gerardo. Thunder.

Gerar.

Where? where are these Thieves? these Murderers?—'Gad I believe a man may be as safe in their Company as any where else.—D'ye hear what a Rattle there is above Stairs?

Vilan.

Presumptuous Wretch! See where your Mistress lies, Snatch'd from the World, by an untimely Fate, In all her gawdy Bloom.

Gerar.

How? dead! Murder!—hum—'tis no ill sort of Disap∣pointment tho'—every thing consider'd, I know not well whether 'tis most proper to be merry, or sad.

Vilan.

What? is the death of a Mistress no more?—I find he that has no Religion, has but little Humanity.

Gerar.

Why saith, Vilander, most unmercifully this Night she intended to have hamper'd me for Life—How she might have prov'd is uncertain. Now there's no Fau't to be found.

Vilan.

How? intended to have marry'd you?

Gerar.

Ay, the Priest, the Leech monger is waiting in my Chamber: I left him crossing himself as if his Conscience had been troubl'd with the rising of the Lights, or thrown up his Sins of Plurality, Simony, Hipocrisie and Pride, for want of taking a Dram of Atheism for Digestion.

Vilan.

What wou'dst thou think of that Man that had the Itch thirty Years ago, and shou'd now desire to be scratch't for it? Thy thoughts of a Wife at this time of Day is equally ridiculous.

Gerar.

Very sine Doctrine,—is Marriage unlawful then?

Vilan.

Ay, no doubt, when the end of it is perverted: What canst thou propagate but Diseases? I wonder what Argument prevail'd on thee to think of ent'ring into Wedlock.

Gerar.

Why he that has his Hell here may the better hope to be excus'd hereafter.

Vilan.

How will it fare with you, then, who are pleas'd; y'are without that Excuse?

Gerar.

Agad let what will come, I'm glad 'tis as 'tis.—What Mar∣riage is we have wofull Experience: What t'other Hell is we have none: And why shou'd another Man's Fears of an imaginary Limbo make me run into one that is real?

Vilan.

Cautiously consider'd truly. And whither d'ye think Fornication will carry you?

Gerar.

Hum—Fornication—take up the Body. I'm resolv'd I'll be at the Charge of a Monument for her, and have an Epitaph engrav'd on't that shall preserve her Memory to Posterity, and stand Candidate for the Eight Wonder of the World.

Vilan.

And pray what must that be?

Gerar.

Under this Marble there is laid, One of Fifteen that dy'd a Maid.

That's the wonder, Sir, her living a Maid so long.—But come, bring her away, bring her away.

[Ex. Gerar. Serv. with the Body.

Vilan.

How hard it is ill Habits to remove? In vain does Man, in vain does Heav'n reprove: To swift Destruction wilfully w'are bent, For no Man's damn'd without his own Consent.

[Ex. Vilan. Thunder.

ACT V.

SCENE, A private part of the Grove.

Enter Diego, Julia.

Diego.

'TIS Day, and never yet was Day so welcome! Some milder Planet now does rule the Skies, And once more we may hope the Sun will rise.

Julia.

Indeed 'twas lately what we might despair of. But y'ave not told me yet (for I, you know, Was sent before) by what sad Accident You brought Alphanta with you.

Diego.

As soon as e'er we got clear of the House, We heard, and by the Light'ning might perceive Some Company behind us: They believ'd They were beset, and we, we were pursu'd: Thus, resolute, and jealous of each other, Both they and we betook us to our Swords. But while we were engag'd and threatning high,

We heard a Voice cry, Hold Alonzo! hold! It is my Brother! You have spoken too late, Said he, if 'tis thy Brother, dark as 'tis, I fear h' has reach'd my Heart: Then sinking down, He sigh'd and cry'd, Alphanta! O farewell! With that she fainted too, and both together fell.

Julia.

Surprizing Chance! both pityful and dismal! But what was this Alonzo?

Diego.

One, it seems, To whom Alphanta had been long contracted. He understanding 'twas her Brother's Mind To match her to Sebastian, follow'd her From Sevil in disguise, to prove her Faith, And to prevent her Marriage: In that successful, (for this Night he meant To bear her off) but in the rest most wretched: We left him there for dead, and in a swoon Brought poor Alphanta hither.

Julia.

Wretched Pair! But can my Lord hope here to be secure?

Diego.

We had, indeed, been in a safer Place, But for our fatal meeting with Alonzo. The only Hope we have, is, That they won't Conceive w'ave stop'd so nigh 'em: Yet, for fear The Cottage shou'd be search'd, my Lord will stay Here in the Grove till he can see Sebastian, And privately with him consult his Safety. But pray how did your Lady take the News Of the unhappy Marriage?

Julia.

With all the Pangs of disappointed Love! With Grieving, Raving, Swoonings and Despair! They come—and see, the Storm is yet not o'er.

Enter Antonio, Berinthia.

Berin.

Urge it no more! you shou'd have told me sooner. Through Blood and Horror you have brought me here, But cou'd my Fate have been severer there? Depriv'd of you, 'tis Death must be my Doom, But with less Guilt I cou'd have dy'd at home.

Anton.

Why dost thou, thus, the Reins to Sorrow give? We may have many happy Days to live.

Berin.

O no! we never can be happy here; Look forward and the Prospect's all Despair! The Law has fixt a Gulf betwixt us two, You cannot come to me, nor I to you. The Maze of Love we tread with weary Feet, But backward tread, and we must never meet.

Anton.

The Law! Why wo'll appeal to higher Pow'rs: Tho' Law's o' their side, Conscience is of ours.

The holy Tye of Wedlock was not meant To make us fast without our own Consent: Where first the Union of the Mind's not made, Alas! we are not marry'd, but betray'd.

Berin.

Cou'd this be done—But O! I do not dare To hope so far.

Anton.

Nor ought you to despair.

Berin.

But, if all Means should fail, what must we do? Suppose the worst.

Anton.

Only continue true. To what e'er rigid Fate I am design'd, I must be Fortunate if you are Kind: Your Love, like Oil, will on the Surface flow, And cover all the Grief that lies below.

Berin.

Then since in Love's bright Track so far w'are gone, Tho' Destiny oppose, I'll now keep on. Clasp'd in thy Arms, I'll banish all my Fears, All that my Father threats, or Sister dares; Nor from thee part but with expiring Breath, And scarcely then, but hold thee fast in Death.

[Embrace.

Enter Alphanta.

Alphan.

O Brother! Nay, don't turn in Anger from me, I'll Trouble you no more: I'm come to make my last Complaint, and die. Y'ave laid a Load of Misery upon me, Enough to bow down Atlas; Cropt off my Pleasures in the Bloom of Youth So close, they'll spring no more! O you shall know how wretched you have made me, And what a Treasure you have robb'd me off: The brave, the kind Alonzo! His Soul was Love, and all his Life was Honour! Three Years he groan'd beneath my Pride and Scorn, Which nothing but a Love like his cou'd Pardon: And in return of this, what cou'd I less Than plight him my eternal Faith? I did, Yet, perjur'd Creature that I was, forsook him, He found that I was Faithless, yet forgave, Took me all spotted with the Breach of Love, Receiv'd me, bless me, warm'd me in his Bosom. And when we thought our selves secure and happy, You met him, murder'd him.—

Anton.

I did not know him. 'Twas your own Fault that pull'd his Ruine on: You ought, at first, to 've own'd your Passion for him.

Alphan,

I did! I did! as far as I durst own it: You knew what 'twas to Love, knew that I lov'd, And ought not to have forc'd my Inclination:

For 'twas your Anger wrought me to Compliance, And that has been my Ruine Have I not Reason now to be distracted? To tear my Hair and curse the Partial Fate? Hear me, thou cruel Brother! You shall hear me! What Satisfaction, Tyrant, can you make me? Unless you cou'd command the dead to rise? And that you shall do! now! about it quickly! Raise him all Lovely, as when first he charm'd me, With every Grace and blooming Wonder on! If he but lose one precious drop of Blood, Heav'n, Earth and Hell revenge it! Revenge my murdur'd Love! my dear Alonzo!

[Exit Alphan. [Exit Diego, Julia.

Anton.

Take care of her. 'Tis true, I had Advice from Sevil of her Love, And by her Carriage did her Passion guess, But never thought she lov'd to this excess.

Enter Diego.

Diego.

Sebastian, my Lord, is at the Cottage, He knows y'are hereabouts, and says that he will speak with you.

Anton.

He shall shew him the way.

[Exit Diego.

Enter Sebastian.

O, Sebastian! Since I saw thee last Strange Things have happen'd—but I'm glad y'are come, I else had sent to tell you that, last Night, My Sister—

Sebast.

Prov'd her self As treacherous as you. I know it, and a long adieu to Love! Thou art what ever yet was false in Man; She, all that's damn'd in Women!

Anton.

How? prithee go no further. She's fau'ty, but, good Friend, do not abuse her.

Sebast.

Call not me Friend, for I disdain the name. Forsake one Sister and defame the other, What canst thou hope from fawning on their Brother?

Anton.

What does Heav'n mean! and whither's Friendship fled! Thou can'st not be so base to justifie Thy Father's shameless Fraud.

Sebast.

'Twas kindly meant, how e'er unkindly taken, And did not merit such a base return. Suppose I had two Jewels, and bestow'd On thee that which I lov'd and valu'd most; Must you, because you think the other best, Turn Thief and force it from me? Inhospitable, frontless, black Design! But know, my Lord, your Prize you shall resign.

Anton.

I shall resign?

Sebast.

I say it once again, You shall resign.—Was't not Ingratitude Enough? But you must add a Murder to't, That shames the name of Man.

Anton.

Nay, use a milder Word: Murder, to kill the Man that wou'd kill me?

Sebast.

The Man? ha! ha! y'are merry.—Well, Justice will shortly bring you t' an Account; Therefore of that no more.—As for my Sister, Her I require, and in the name of Friendship (If yet y'ave any left) I here adjure you To send her back, while yet her Shame's a secret, To her afflicted Father.

Berin.

O Brother! have but Patience, and I'll prove My self as free from Guilt As the severest Vertue can desire.

Sebast.

Then y'are resolv'd to stay?

Berin.

I must not, dare not, nay, nor ought to leave him: Who, when h' had found his fatal Error, that, Instead of me, he had marry'd Catalina, Despis'd her, loath'd her, left her unenjoy'd! Bless him ye Pow'rs! He left her unenjoy'd! Illustrious proof of Love! That cou'd preferr Misery with me before the Bridal Bed with her.

Sebast.

And you'll protect her?

Anton.

With my Life and Fortune, Till, by due course of Law, I win, or lose her.

Sebast.

[Aside to Anton.]

This place is private, and will be convenient. Get rid of her, I'll instantly return.

[Ex. Sebast.

Berin.

You seem disturb'd, my Lord! O tell me! tell! What did my Brother say? Why was his fatal Meaning hid from me?

Anton.

Thy Brother has been long my only Friend; Ev'n thou thy self, all lovely as thou art, I hardly hold more dear. From budding Childhood up to Man's Estate, We lov'd with such a Love as far surpast The celebrated Pair so fam'd of old. Our Natures are the same: And can'st thou think We e'er shall do, or mean each other harm?

Berin.

O strive not with smooth Words to varnish o'er What my sad Soul too certainly divines! When once the Sacred Union does unclose, The greatest Friends are the most mortal Foes.

Anton.

That Union's firm, my Love, so wond'rous firm, Were all the Works of Nature now to end, That wou'd dissolve the last; or, rather not Dissolve at all: A Flame so pure as ours,

Has no Corporeal part.—Therefore I may The safer go.—

Berin.

Heav'ns! whither wou'd you go? Can you be better pleas'd with him than me?

Anton.

No; but—

Berin.

You shall not go! you oft have said I shall Command you; now I'll use my Pow'r.

Anton.

Mark what I say, for by yon Heav'n I'm fixt, Fixt as the Poles, or thy dear self to Love—

Berin.

To ruine her that loves you.

Anton.

O no! 'tis to protect and guard you from it.

Berin.

And how can you protect me when y'are gone?

Anton.

What, for an Hour?

Berin.

A Minute is too long.

Anton.

Hear me—

Berin.

Hear me, my Lord, Upon my Knees I beg that you wou'd hear me; For O, perhaps, you ne'er may hear me more! By all the Love you bear me, all the Vows That you have sigh'd away upon my Breast, And all the Pow'rs that you invok'd to hear 'em, I do adjure you, stay! Nay, here I'll hold, And you shall drag me with you if you go.

Anton.

Nay, then—I must be cruel that you may Be safe.

[Breaks from her and Exit.

Berin.

Yet stay! O stay and see me die! See my sad Soul breathe out her last Complaint! See!—but he's gone! and left me to my Sorrows! O cruel Man! but O more cruel Brother, That tears him from my Arms! perhaps for ever! O killing Thought!—Some pitying Pow'r look down, And bid their Guardian Angels mind their Charge.

[Ex. Berint.

Enter Alonzo, Clara.

Alon.

But are you sure she's there?

Clar.

I am, my Lord. But why wou'd you thus venture forth? you know The Air is death to one in your Condition.

Alon.

If I had the least hope of Life I'd stay: But, ah! I feel my vital Strength decay, Each Moment bears a part of me away; And in the Grave I shall not quiet lie, Unless I see Alphanta e'er I die.

Clar.

Here comes Sebastian! This way, my Lord, If you intend t' avoid him.

Alon.

Did but my Wounds permit, I now wou'd try Who best deserves Alphanta, he, or I. If ever Fate the Combat shou'd afford, Let her be his that has the sharpest Sword.

[As they go off.

Enter Sebastian.

Sebast.

Not come yet? But he's Brave and will not fail me: I never knew him slack to right himself In what concern'd his Honour; Nor shall I now—he's here.—

Enter Antonio.

His Guilt has made him pale—come, rouse Antonio, Thou know'st the fatal Business of the Hour, Therefore prepare.

[Draws.

Anton.

Why dost thou, rash young Man, Proceed to such Extremities as these? Is there no other way to Reconcilement?

Sebast.

None, none. Why dost thou ask so tame a Question? Hast thou not violated our past Friendship? Abus'd my Father? Basely left thy Wife, And whor'd her Sister?

Anton.

'twas my full intent Not to be mov'd; but give me Patience Heav'n! Another Sound like that will lift my Rage Above my Resolution.

Sebast.

Then hear that Sound repeated—Whor'd her Sister.

Anton.

'Tis thy amasing Insolence protects thee.

Sebast.

But you think Cowardice a safer Refuge.

Anton.

Why dost thou strive to pull thy Murder on me?

Sebast.

Indeed y'are clog'd enough with that already, Witness the Maid you butcher'd, unprovok'd.

Anton.

You speak in Clouds, I do not understand you▪

Sebast.

You understand too well—but I'll refresh Your▪ Memory—Ansilva.

Anton.

What of her?

Sebast.

Why nothing, nothing.—he that does base things, We may conclude, has baseness to deny 'em. Come, prating's not our Business.

Anton.

That thou hast wrong'd me, all that's good can witness▪ How far I am from doing ought that's base You know your self, for no Man knows me better. You know I'd rather die than do an Action Contrary to Justice.

Sebast.

I thought so once, but now I find my Error— But, come, we trifle precious Time away, If thou art in the right—

Anton.

I am, by Heav'n! And I wou'd only have thee live to know it; To know how much y'ave wrong'd the chaste Berinthia, To know how much y'ave wrong'd your dearest Friend: But you shou'd live no longer, by the Pow'rs That gave me Breath, that Hour shou'd be thy last: Then thou shou'dst kneel, and crouching beg for Merey,

And shou'd be heard—as you have heard your Sister.

Sebast.

I'm satisfy'd my Cause is just, what e'er You say to make it seem the contrary, And now the third time dare you to the Trial.

Anton.

You know, my Friend (for yet I'll use the name) You know, I say, Antonio is no Coward: Y'ave seen him try'd, when we employ'd our Arms Against the common Foe, while Death and Ruine In confus'd shapes have rang'd about the Field, And said, This Day, my Friend, y'ave acted Wonders: Yet not to boast; I call it to remembrance, To let thee know 'tis not poor, slavish Fear Withholds me from revenging of my Wrongs: Only I'd have you live to see your Error, And then—

Sebast.

Do now what then you boast y'ou'd do. As for your Friendship once more I disclaim it. And, when you told me that your Cause was just, You told a—

Anton.

H••ld! Let not that hateful Word Come from thy Lips, for Mercy's sake and mine.

Sebast.

You told a Lye.

Anton.

Nay, you shall go no further.

[Draws.

Yet stay! it must not be!—'Tis now unlikely That I shou'd e'er possess the fair Berinthia,

Aside.

And if I fight 'twill be impossible, For only he can aid me.—O, Sebastian! If thou hast any love for thy own Peace, Any regard to Vertue, Truth, and Honour, Comfort below, or Happiness hereafter, Do not blow up this Controversie higher: I hitherto excuse you,—but no more; Shou'd you again so brutally affront me, I'd tear thy Tongue up by the Roots.

Sebast.

You durst not.

Anton.

Still worse and worse! and still I bear it tamely! Love, that makes others Brave, makes me a Coward. For poor Alphanta's sake I'll yet have Patience: I'm sensible sh'as wrong'd you—

Sebast.

Damn her, Strumpet.

Anton.

Strumpet? have a care! Y'are now upon a Rock that splits us both! Why 'tis to call her Mother's Name in question.

Sebast.

I meant it so; No pure Spring cou'd yield a Stream so muddy: Wicked so young shews 'twas i'th Blood before, And proves her a Hereditary Whore.

Anton.

'Tis done! y'ave now found out the way to move me.

Shou'd I not vindicate my Mother's Fame, Her Ghost wou'd rise up from the Grave and blast me! Traytor to Friendship, Villain, Slave have at thee,

[They fight.

Have at thy Heart—I've mist it.

Sebast.

True, thou hast. There—I took better aim.

[Anton. falls.

Enter Diego hastily.

Diego.

O Heav'n! more Ruine yet! Where will our Sufferings end?—Your wretched Sister, Whose Reason fled with her Alonzo's Life, Seeing a Poniard on the Table drawn, With one quick spring exerting all her Force, Broke from her Womens Arms, and ere we cou'd Prevent her, plung'd it deep into her Breast: But see! O see She's here, and raving in the Pangs of Death!

Enter Alphanta mad, stab'd in many places, held by Attendants.

Anton.

My Sister! sure some bloody Planet rules!

Alphan.

Nay, stop me not, why will you keep me from him? Do you not see him hov'ring in the Clouds? He stays in the Mid-way till I can reach him. Come down and ease me of this Load of Flesh, The Clog that hinders my Aetherial flight, That the light airy Soul may mount at will, And find out the Eternal Habitation: Make haste, then, my Alonzo, to assist me. Ha! say'st thou? can'st thou not? 'tis true, thou can'st not, Th' inevitable Doom is past upon thee, There's no return from the dark Vaults of Death. But I may come to thee—ha! may I so? Then this must be the way.

[Tears her Wounds.

Now I have caught thee, now we mount together, Thro' the vast Sea of Air we glide like thought, Th' astonish'd Clouds break off and make us way, Elizyum is op'n'd to receive us; See! on the Beach the smiling Cherubs stand, And Streams of Joy o'er-flow the peaceful Land.

Anton.

D'ye hear, Sebastian?

Alphan.

Is that Fury here? What, will you persecute me after Death? Cannot my Soul have rest?—my Brother too? My most inhuman Brother!—ha! he bleeds! Blood for Blood, why now 'tis as it shou'd be; I see there is some Justice stirring yet: Haste, my Alonzo, free me from these Tirants, Descend, and in a Whirlwind bear me from 'em.

Enter Alonzo, Clara.

He's here! he's here! now take me in thy Arms,

I'm purg'd from earthly Dross, fit for my Passage, I am all Spirit like thy self; away, And as we go pray give me an Account Of all the Wonders that you saw above, In the bright Courts of everlasting Day: And how at first you there were entertain'd With Nectar, and Ambrosia, Food for Gods! —Where are you now?—ha! I again have lost you! A Mist is come between my Eyes and thee:

[She sinks down, he kneels by her.

I'll hold the faster, since I cannot see.

[Dies.

Alon.

If ever any Man had cause to curse The Stars that have an Influence o'er our Fate, Sure I may have free leave, I who am more unfortunate than any! Antonio, I forgive thee; 'Twas fatal Ignorance set us at odds, And neither are to blame. Now thou dear, bleeding, purest Piece of Earth, Thus I embrace and take my last, last leave! And 'tis my Comfort, tho' I'm here unhappy, I shall be blessed when I come above, If Heav'n rewards those few that die for Love.

[Dies.

Anton.

Ah! wretched Pair! Had I but known before How well y'ad lov'd, I'd not for Worlds have parted you. But you have your Revenge: My Soul is on The wing, and I shall quickly reach you.

Enter Berinthia.

Berin.

Where is this Wretch that runs to meet his Ruine? O, I am come too late!

[Swoons.

Anton.

If thou hast any Bowels call for help!

[Sebast. catches her.

Sebast.

She comes—her Colour has resum'd its seat. I fear I've been too rash.

[Aside.

Berin.

Is this your Justice, Heav'n? This your Reward For Vertue and inviolable Love?

Anton.

Tax not the Pow'rs Divine: Their Ends are just, Tho' hid from us, and Mortals must submit. O, my Love! forgive my late unkindness And I shall die in Peace.

Berin.

Talk not of dying! Shou'd the World blaze, and the last Trumpet sound, 'Twou'd not be half so dreadful! If you love me Do not talk of dying.

Anton.

O, I must! I find the Icy chill of Fate upon me: But, if there's any Equity in Heav'n, As certainly there is, we once shall meet And never part again:—till then farewell!

Berin.

I will not long be from you!

Anton.

Nay, now thou dost disturb me ev'n in Death:

When the grim Tirant just had seiz'd my Heart, I made him break his hold, and gain'd a Moment. Live! live till Heav'n sees fit to call thee hence, And crown thy Vertue with immortal Glory! But lay no violent Hands upon thy self. This is my last Request, and pray observe it. And, O my Friend! (for thou wilt love my Mem'ry When I'm gone) for my sake, who ne'r wrong'd you, Be kind to this unfortunate Maid, thy Sister, For she deserves thy Care.—I can no more! A Stranger here, I now am summon'd home, My Spirits faint, and the long Sleep is come.

[Dies.

Berin.

He's gone! he's gone! the noble Soul is fled, And nothing now below is worth my Care! Why shou'd not I die too?—Look, there Barbarian! See what thy Hand has done, and cry for Mercy, For Vengeance will pursue this horrid Deed. What shall I do? O, I shall lose my Senses! See! here I fix to be remov'd no more: This wretched Leave you cannot but afford, To breathe my last upon my murder'd Lord!

Enter Vilarezo, Attendants.

Vilar.

O Heav'n! what do I see? Thy fatal Rashness has undone us all!

[To Sebasti

Sebast.

Ha!—what Turn is this?

[Aside.

Vilar.

Prepare, Sebastian, And thou, my mourning Daughter, both prepare, To hear a Story of transcendent Horror! This Morning, Just as the wakeful Cock, with his shrill Notes, Had given the warning of approaching Day, Your Sister, the unhappy Catalina, Was with a stroke of Thunder quite depriv'd Of all the Faculties of Sense and Motion; Only by some faint Breathings 'twas perceiv'd Her tortur'd Soul had yet not left its Cage. Strait I was call'd; and was no sooner come But she reviv'd, and, in a hollow Voice, Oft interrupted with Sighs and Groans, Such as proclaim the Pangs of Death are near, Pour'd forth these dreadful Words.—O Father! Father! Berinthia's innocent, and I'm to blame! Inspir'd by Jealousie and black Revenge, These trembling Hands prepar'd a fatal Draught, To end her Life that did obstruct my Love: But e'er I cou'd accomplish my Design, My Maid discover'd it; for which I stabb'd her, Then laid her Murder to Antonio's charge,

To be reveng'd of him for setting free Berinthia, and for slighting of my bed. Haste therefore, and, if possible, prevent The mischiefs that mistaken rage may work. Then, penitent and conscious of her crimes, At once desiring Pardon and our Prayers, She with her Death confirm'd the horrid Truth! I came—but Oh! too late.

Sebast.

Too late indeed! What will my Stars do with me? O Berinthia? Can you be so extravagantly good As to forgive me? thus grov'ling on the Earth, And speech decaying, here I groan for pardon.

Berin.

You have it, and may Heav'n forgive you too, Since it appears Berinthia's Innocent, And worthy of the blood of Vilarezo. But here, alas! here all my Joy lies cancell'd! With him Affliction wou'd have had more charms Than Life can have without him.—Life? what's Life? A glim ring spark which thus I quench for ever.

[takes out a Viol and Drinks.

Vilar.

What has she done?

Berin.

Drank a health to my Love. This is the Poison that my Sister sent me; I kept it to convince you of her hatred, And you shall find 'twas mortal.—ha! 'tis here! I find 'twas needless to have took ▪it all, A drop had done my business.—O Antonio! Look down and witness I forgive my Sister, Alas! w'are both oblig'd to her.—'Tis she That sets my Soul from hateful Bondage free; And mounts it up at once to Heav'n and thee.

[Dies.

Vilar.

Ha! gone so soon? I ought indeed to blame thee, But Nature is too pow'rful.—Oh Berinthia! Oh! my unhappy Daughter!

[Mourns over her.

Sebast.

None beside? None, none to Murder but a Friend and Sister? The world will point, and cry, that! that's the Monster!

Aside.

But Oh!—the Thought is more than I can bear, And this shall set me free.

[Wounds himself.

Vilar.

Hold! hold his hand!

Sebast.

Yes, you may hold me. But tho m'accurs▪d Sword has miss'd my aim, I yet shall find a way!

Vilar.

I orbear, rash Boy, to add to my afflictions, When I already bend beneath their weight, And be a comfort to me in my Age. For what is past 'tis frui••••ess to bemoan, Since nothing but Repentance can attone. And O! hereafter may all Parents see This Story, and Example take by me; That to each Child they may alike be kind; Nor rashly part what Heav'n and Love has▪ joyn'd.

[Exeunt Omnes.

FINIS.