The Spanish rogue as it was acted by His Majesties servants / written by Tho. Duffett.

Scene 1.

Enter Don Manuel and Teresa in the street.

Man.

A Meer mischievous Plot, without all doubt; Would any come to force a Woman out? He could not do it but by her consent, No! no! I'll ne'r believe her innocent.

Ter.

Are you sure 'twas Don Fenise? Think agen —

Man.

Poh! think; I know him from a Thousand men.

Ter.

You may mistake.

Man.

Mistake! — pray is it day if the Sun shine? That Question's less impertinent than thine.

Enter Mingo.

Mingo.

I've rack'd my Brains, and yet no way can find To act a close Revenge, Mischief be kind! And help me at a pinch —

Aside.

Oh this dull Head, this barren Scull of mine! Will nothing come? no Project? no Design? Ha! what are these? —

Man.

Yes you are; foolish and impertinent—

Ter.

Ingrateful Rascal! I was not impertinent, When I help'd thee to my Masters wealth, And to two pretty little Girls, without one stroke of thy Own labour; Heaven knows, and I have found To my sorrow, it will be long enough before thou Wilt see one little, little Child, of thy own getting.

Man.

No, nor thou wert not impertinent, when thou Didst most inhumanely murther honest Sanchez.

Ter.

Out thou Villain! was it not for thy sake? Thy hands too were as deep in as mine, Heaven knows I meant no harm. Ingrateful! dost upbraid me with my good will? I'll be reveng'd though I dye for't — Thy Cheats are Villanies I will confess, Thy punishment, will make my pain seem less.

Man.

Poh! you take Jesting so unkindly— You know Honey that I love you, And if my life onely Were to be lost, it should go rather than I Would see thee troubl'd thus: But — It grieves my heart to think of losing thee.

Ter.

Ay, ay, these are your old wheedling Tricks —

Man.

One can't praise you for your Contrivance, Or your Courage, but y'are so angry — Pry'thee my Dearest! forgive me — I love The very ground you tread on, And had rather see

Thee than my own heart-blood —Come you shall be kind

Ter.

My poor dear Rogue! I will forgive thee! I will be kind, don't trouble thy self.

She weeps, and kisses him.

What shall we do about Don Fenise Dear!

Man.

That bus'ness must not be disputed here; Let's hasten home, least some observing Eye Should ruine us, Nay pry'thee no Reply — I'll serve thee Honey with my dearest blood.

Ter.

My dear, dear Don! I'll dye to do thee good.

Exit Teresa.

Man.

I mean no less; in ev'ry foolish strife, She threatens me to take away my life; When she's dispatch'd aside, I shall be free And then, my coy Alcinda! I'm for thee — With more then common madness — he's possest, That layes up secrets in a female Brest.

Exit Manuel.

Mingo.

Thanks! Satan thanks! — These bloody Murthers, Cheats, and Villanies, And something more that undiscover'd lies, Are Riddles very dark, and intricate; Teach me the rest, and I'll adore thee Fate! What I've already heard, commands a share For secresie, as great as their parts are: But I am injur'd, since he's wicked grown, For I resolv'd to be a Rogue alone. Some way their bus'ness shall my own advance, I'll follow them, and leave the rest to chance. At least their Crimes will teach me to invent, A Rogue in mischief is in's Element.

Exit Mingo.