(Lies down.)

Isab. If I take a Lease it must be for Life, Colonel.

Col. Thou shalt have me as long, or as little Time as thou wilt; my Dear, come, let's to my Lodging, and we'll Sign and Seal this Minute.

Isab. Oh, not so fast, Colonel, there are many Things to be adjusted before the Lawyer and the Parson comes.

Col. The Lawyer, and Parson! No, no, ye little Rogue, we can finish our Affairs without the Help of the Law—or the Gospel.

Isab. Indeed, but we can't, Colonel.

Col. Indeed! Why hast thou then trappan'd me out of my warm Bed this Morning for nothing! Why, this is showing a Man half famish'd a well furnish'd Larder, then clapping a Padlock on the Door, till you starve him quite.

Isab. If you can find in your Heart to say Grace, Colonel, you shall keep the Key.

Col. I love to see my Meat before I give Thanks, Madam, therefore uncover thy Face, Child, and I'll tell thee more of my Mind.—If I like you—

Isab. I dare not risk my Reputation upon your Ifs, Colonel,—and so Adieu. (Going.)

Col. Nay, nay, nay, we must not part.

Isab. As you ever hope to see me more, suspend your Curiosity now; one Step farther loses me for ever.—Show yourself a Man of Honour, and you shall find me a Woman of Honour.

[Exit.

Col. Well, for once, I'll trust to a blind Bargain, Madam.—(Kisses her Hand and parts.) But I shall be too cunning for your Ladyship, if Gibby observes my Orders: Methinks these Intrigues, which relate to the Mind, are very insipid.—The Conversation of Bodies is much more diverting.—Ha! What do I see, my Rascal asleep? Sirrah, did I not charge you to watch the Lady? And is it thus you observe my Orders, ye Dog.

[Kicks him all this while, and he shrugs, and rubs his Eyes, and yawns.

Gib. That's true, and lik your Honour; but I thought that when ence ye had her in yer awn Honds, yee mite a orderd her yer fal weel eneugh without me, en ye keen, and lik her Honour.

Col. Sirrah, hold your impertinent Tongue, and make haste after her; if you don't bring me some Account of her, never dare to see my Face again.

[Exit.

Gib. Ay! This is bony Wark indeed, to run three hundred Mile to this wicked Town, an before I can weel fill my Wem, to be sent a Whore-hunting after this black shee Devil.—What sal I gang to speer for this Wutch now? Ah, for a ruling Elder—or the Kirk's Treaserer—or his Mon—Id gar, my Master make twa oh this;—But I'm seer ther's na sike honest People here, or there wou'd na be so muckle Sculdudrie 1.

Enter an English Soldier passing along.

Gib. Geud Mon, did ye see a Woman, a Lady, ony gate her away enow?

Eng. Man. Yes, a great many. What kind of a Woman is it you enquire after.

Gib. Geud troth, she's ne Kenspekle, she's aw in a Clowd.—

Eng. Man. What! it's some High-land Monster which you brought over with you, I suppose, I see no such, not I, kenspekle quotha!

Gib. Huly, huly, Mon, the Deel pike out yer Eyn, and then you'll see the bater, ye English bag Pudin Tike.

Eng. Man. What says the Fellow? (Turning to Gibby.)

Gib. Say! I say I am a better Fellow than e'er stude upon yer Shanks—an gin I heer meer a yer din, deal a my Sol, Sir, but Ise crak your Crown.

Eng. Man. Get you gone, you Scotch Rascal, and thank your Heathen Dialect, which I don't understand, that you han't your Bones broke.

Gib. Ay! an ye do no understond a Scots Man's Tongue —Ise se gin ye can understand a Scots Man's Gripe: Wha's the batter Man now, Sir?

[Lays hold of him, strikes up his Heels, and gets astride over him.

Here Violante crosses the Stage, Gibby jumps up from the Man, and brushes up to Violante.

Gib. I vow, Madam, but I am glad that yee and I are foregather'd.

Vio. What wou'd the Fellow have?

Gib. Nothing, away Madam, wo worth yer Heart, what a muckle deel a Mischief had yee like to bring upon poor Gibby.

Vio. The Man's drunk.—

Gib. In troth am I not.—An gin I had not fond ye, Madam, the Laird knows when I shou'd; for my Master bad me nere gang Heam, without Tydings of yee, Madam.

Vio. Sirrah, get about your Business, or I'll have your Bones drubb'd.

Gib. Geud Faith, my Master has e'en dun that te yer Honds, Madam.

Vio. Who is your Master, Friend?

Gib. Mony e'en Spiers the gat, they ken right weel—It is no so long sen yee parted wi' him, I wish he ken yee haafe as weel as yee ken him.

Vio. Pugh, the Creature's mad or mistakes me for some Body else; and I shou'd be as mad as he, to talk to him any longer.

[Exit.

Enter Lissardo at the upper end of the Stage.

Liss. So, she's gone Home, I see. What did that Scotch Fellow want with her? I'll try to find it out, perhaps I may discover something that may make my Master friends with me again.

Gib. Are ye gaune Madam, a deel scope in your Company, for I'm as weese as I was; but I'll bide and see whase House it is, gin I can meet wi ony Civil Body to spier at.—Weel of aw Men in the Warld, I think our Scots men the greatest Feuls, to leave their weel favour'd honest Women at Heam, to rin walloping after a Pack of Gyrcarlings here, that shame to show their Faces, and peer Men, like me, are forc'd to be their Pimps; a Pimp! Godswarbit, Gibby's ne'er be a Pimp—And yet in troth it is a Threving Trade; I remember a Countryman aw mi ean, that by ganging a sike like Errants as I am now, come to gat Preferment: My Lad, wot yee wha lives here?

[Turns and sees Lissardo.

Liss. Don Pedro de Mendosa.

Gib. An did ye see a Lady gang in but now?

Liss. Yes I did.

Gib. An dee ken her te?

Liss. It was Donna Violante his Daughter; what the Devil makes him so inquisitive? Here is something in it, that's certain. 'Tis a cold Morning, Brother, what think you of a Dram?

Gib. In troth, very weel, Sir.

Liss. You seem an honest Fellow, prithee let's drink to our better Acquaintance.

Gib. Wi aw my Heart, Sir; gang yer gat to the next House, and Ise follow ye.—

Liss. Come along then.

[Exit.

Gib. Don Pedro de Mendosa—Donna Violante his Daughter; that's as right as my Leg now—Ise need na meer, I'll tak a Drink, an then to my Master.—

Ise bring him News will mak his Heart full Blee;
Gin he rewards it not, Deel pimp for me.

[Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE, Violante's Lodgings.

Enter Isabella in a gay Temper, and Violante out of Humour.

Isab. My Dear, I have been seeking you, this half Hour, to tell you the most lucky Adventure.

Vio. And you have pitched upon the most unlucky Hour for it, that you cou'd possibly have found in the whole four and Twenty.

Isab. Hang unlucky Hours, I won't think of them; I hope all my Misfortunes are past.

Vio. And mine all to come.

Isab. I have seen the Man I like.

Vio. And I have seen the Man I cou'd wish to hate.

Isab. And you must assist me in discovering whether he can like me, or not.

Vio. You have assisted me in such a Discovery already, I thank ye.

Isab. What say you, my Dear?

Vio. I say I am very unlucky at Discoveries, Isabella; I have too lately made one pernicious to my Ease; your Brother is false.

Isab. Impossible!

Vio. Most true.

Isab. Some Villain has traduc'd him to you.

Vio. No, Isabella, I love too well to trust the Eyes of others; I never credit the ill-judging World, or form Suspicions upon vulgar Censures; no, I had ocular Proof of his Ingratitude.

Isab. Then I am most unhappy; my Brother was the only Pledge of Faith betwixt us; if he has forfeited your Favour, I have no Title to your Friendship.

Vio. You wrong my Friendship, Isabella; your own Merit intitles you to every Thing within my Power.

Isab. Generous Maid—But may I not know what Grounds you have to think my Brother false.

Vio. Another time—But tell me, Isabella, how can I serve you?

Isab. Thus then—The Gentleman that brought me hither, I have seen and talk'd with upon the Terreiro de passa this Morning, and find him a Man of Sense, Generosity, and good Humour; in short, he is every Thing that I cou'd like for a Husband, and I have dispatch'd Mrs. Flora to bring him hither; I hope you'll forgive the Liberty I have taken.

Vio. Hither, to what Purpose?

Isab. To the great universal Purpose, Matrimony.

Vio. Matrimony! Why, do you design to ask him?

Isab. No, Violante, you must do that for me.

Vio. I thank you for the Favour you design me, but desire to be excus'd: I manage my own Affairs too ill, to be trusted with those of other People; besides; if my Father shou'd find a Stranger here, it might make him hurry me into a Monastery immediately; I can't for my Life admire your Conduct, to encourage a Person altogether unknown to you.—'Twas very imprudent to meet him this Morning, but much more so, to send for him hither, knowing what Inconveniency you have already drawn upon me.

Isab. I am not insensible how far my Misfortunes have embarrast you; and, if you please, sacrifice my Quiet to your own.

Vio. Unkindly urg'd—Have I not preferr'd your Happiness to every Thing that's dear to me?

Isab. I know thou hast—Then do not deny me this last Request, when a few Hours perhaps, may render my Condition, able to clear thy Fame, and bring my Brother to thy Feet for Pardon.

Vio. I wish you don't repent of this Intrigue. I suppose he knows you are the same Woman that he brought in here last Night.

Isab. Not a Syllable of that; I met him veil'd, and to prevent his knowing the House, I ordered Mrs. Flora to bring him by the back Door into the Garden.

Vio. The very Way which Felix comes; if they should meet, there would be fine Work—Indeed, my Dear, I can't approve of your Design.

Enter Flora.

Flor. Madam, the Colonel waits your Pleasure.

Vio. How durst you go upon such a Message, Mistress, without acquainting me?

Isab. 'Tis too late to dispute that now, dear Violante, I acknowledge the Rashness of the Action—But consider the Necessity of my Deliverance.

Vio. That is indeed a weighty Consideration; well, what am I to do?

Isab. In the next Room I'll give you Instructions; in the mean time, Mrs. Flora, show the Colonel into this.

[Exit Flora one Way,
and Isab. and Vio. another.

Re-enter Flora with the Colonel.

Flo. The Lady will wait on you presently, Sir. (Exit. Flo.)

Col. Very well—This is a very fruitful Soil. I have not been here quite four and twenty Hours, and I have three Intrigues upon my Hands already, but I hate the Chase, without partaking the Game. (Enter Violante veil'd) Ha, a fine sized Woman—Pray Heaven she proves handsome—I am come to obey your Ladyship's Commands.

Vio. Are you sure of that, Colonel?

Col. If you be not very unreasonable indeed, Madam; a Man is but a Man.

[Takes her Hand and kisses it.

Vio. Nay, nay, we have no Time for Compliments, Colonel.

Col. I understand you, Madam—Montre moy votre Chambre.

[Takes her in his Arms.

Vio. Nay, nay, hold Colonel, my Bed-chamber is not to be enter'd without a certain Purchase.

Col. Purchase! Humph: This is some kept Mistress, I suppose, who industriously lets out her leisure Hours. (Aside) Look ye, Madam, you must consider we Soldiers are not over-stocked with Money.—But we make ample Satisfaction in Love; we have a World of Courage upon our Hands now, you know:—Then prithee use a Conscience, and I'll try if my Pocket can come up to your Price.

[Puts his Hand into his Pocket.

Vio. Nay, don't give yourself the Trouble of drawing your Purse, Colonel, my design is level'd at your Person, if that be at your own Disposal.

Col. Ay, that it is Faith, Madam, and I'll settle it as firmly upon thee—

Vio. As Law can do it.

Col. Hang Law in Love affairs; thou shalt have Right and Title to it out of pure Inclination—A matrimonial Hint again! Gad, I fancy the Women have a Project on Foot to transplant the Union into Portugal.

Vio. Then you have an Aversion to Matrimony, Colonel; did you ever see a Woman, in all your Travels, that you cou'd like for a Wife?

Col. A very odd Question—Do you really expect that I shou'd speak Truth now?

Vio. I do, if you expect to be so dealt with, Colonel.

Col. Why then—Yes.

Vio. Is she in your own Country, or this?

Col. This is a very pretty kind of a Catechism; but I don't conceive which Way it turns to Edification: In this Town I believe, Madam.

Vio. Her Name is—

Col. Ay, how is she call'd, Madam?

Vio. Nay, I ask you that, Sir.

Col. Oh, oh, why she is call'd—Pray, Madam, how is it you spell your Name?

Vio. Oh, Colonel, I am not the happy Woman, nor do I wish it.

Col. No, I am sorry for that.—What the Devil does she mean by all these Questions? (Aside.)

Vio. Come, Colonel, for once be sincere.—Perhaps you may not repent it.

Col. Faith, Madam, I have an Inclination to Sincerity, but I'm afraid you'll call my Manners in Question: This is like to be but a silly Adventure, here's so much Sincerity required. (Aside.)

Vio. Not at all: I prefer Truth before Compliment in this Affair.

Col. Why then, to be plain with you, Madam, a Lady last Night wounded my Heart by a Fall from a Window, whose Person I cou'd be contented to take, as my Father took my Mother, till Death us doth part.—But who she is, or how distinguish'd, whether Maid, Wife, or Widow, I can't inform you; perhaps you are she.

Vio. Not to keep you in Suspence, I am not she, but I can give you an Account of her: That Lady is a Maid of Condition, has ten thousand Pounds; and if you are a single Man, her Person and Fortune are at your Service.

Col. I accept the Offer with the highest Transports; but say, my charming Angel, art thou not she? (offers to embrace her) This is a lucky Adventure. (Aside.)

Vio. Once again, Colonel, I tell you I am not she—But at Six this Evening you shall find her on the Terreira de passa, with a white Handkerchief in her Hand; get a Priest ready, and you know the rest.

Col. I shall infallibly observe your Directions, Madam.

Enter Flora hastily, and whispers Violante, who starts and seems surprised.

Vio. Ha, Felix crossing the Garden, say you, what shall I do now?

Col. You seem surpriz'd, Madam.

Vio. Oh, Colonel, my Father is coming hither, and if he finds you here, I am ruin'd!

Col. Od'slife, Madam, thrust me any where; can't I go out this Way?

Vio. No, no, no, he comes that Way; how shall I prevent their Meeting? Here, here, step into my Bed-chamber and be still, as you value her you love; don't stir till you've Notice, as ever you hope to have her in your Arms.

Col. On that Condition I'll not breathe.

[Exit.

Enter Felix.

Fel. I wonder where my Dog of a Servant is all this while—But she is at home I find—How coldly she regards me—You look, Violante, as if the Sight of me were troublesome.

Vio. Can I do otherwise, when you have the Assurance to approach me, after what I saw to Day.

Fel. Assurance, rather call it good Nature, after what I heard last Night; but such regard to Honour have I in my Love to you, I cannot bear to be suspected, nor suffer you to entertain false Notions of my Truth, without endeavouring to convince you of my Innocence, so much good Nature have I more than you Violante.—Pray give me Leave to ask your Woman one Question; my Man assures me she was the Person you saw at my Lodgings.

Flo. I confess it, Madam, and ask your Pardon.

Vio. Impudent Baggage, not to undeceive me sooner? what Business cou'd you have there?

Fel. Lissardo and she, it seems, imitate you and me.

Flo. I love to follow the Example of my Betters, Madam.

Fel. I hope I am justify'd—

Vio. Since we are to part, Felix, there needed no justification.

Fel. Methinks you talk of parting as a Thing indifferent to you; can you forget how you have lov'd?

Vio. I wish I could forget my own Passion; I shou'd with less Concern remember yours—But for Mrs. Flora—

Fel. You must forgive her;—Must, did I say? I fear I have no Power to impose, tho' the Injury was done to me.

Vio. 'Tis harder to pardon an Injury done to what we love than to ourselves; but at your Request, Felix, I do forgive her; go watch my Father, Flora, lest he shou'd awake and surprize us.

Flo. Yes, Madam.

[Exit Flora.

Fel. Dost thou then love me, Violante?

Vio. What need of Repetition from my Tongue, when every Look confesses what you ask?

Fel. Oh! let no Man judge of Love but those who feel it; what wondrous Magic lies in one kind Look.—One tender Word destroys a Lover's Rage, and melts his fiercest Passion into soft Complaint. Oh the Window, Violante, would'st thou but clear that one Suspicion!

Vio. Prithee, no more of that, my Felix, a little Time shall bring thee perfect Satisfaction.

Fel. Well, Violante, on that Condition you think no more of a Monastery.—I'll wait with Patience for this mighty Secret.

Vio. Ah, Felix, Love generally gets the better of Religion in us Women: Resolutions made in Heat of Passion, ever dissolve upon Reconciliation.

Enter Flora hastily.

Flo. Oh, Madam, Madam, Madam! my Lord your Father has been in the Garden, and lock'd the back Door, and comes muttering to himself this Way.

Vio. Then we are caught: Now, Felix, we are undone.

Fel. Heavens forbid, this is most unlucky! let me step into your Bed-chamber, he won't look under the Bed; there I may conceal myself.

[runs to the Door, and pushes it open a little.

Vio. My Stars! If he goes in there he'll find the Colonel.—No, no, Felix, that's no safe Place, my Father often goes thither; and shou'd you cough, or sneeze, we are lost.

Fel. Either my Eyes deceiv'd me, or I saw a Man within; I'll watch him close—She shall deal with the Devil, if she conveys him out without my Knowledge. (Aside) What shall I do then?

Vio. Bless me, how I tremble!

Flo. Oh, Invention! Invention!—I have it, Madam; here, here, here, Sir, off with your Sword, and I'll fetch you a Disguise.

[Runs in and fetches out a Riding-Hood.

Fel. Ay, ay, any thing to avoid Don Pedro.

Vio. Oh! Quick, quick, quick, I shall die with Apprehension.

[Flora puts the Riding-Hood on Felix.

Flo. Be sure you don't speak a Word!

Fel. Not for the Indies.—But I shall observe you closer than yon imagine. (Aside.)

Pedro (Within.) Violante, where are you Child? (Enter Don Pedro.) Why, how came the Garden Door open? Ha! How now; who have we here?

Vio. Humph, he'll certainly discover him. (Aside.)

Flo. 'Tis my Mother, and please you, Sir. (She and Felix both curtesy.)

Pedro. Your Mother! By St. Anthony she's a Strapper; why, you are a Dwarf to her.—How many Children have you, good Woman?

Vio. Oh! if he speaks we are lost. (Aside.)

Flo. Oh! Dear Senior, she can't hear you; she has been deaf these twenty Years.

Pedro. Alas, poor Woman.—Why you muffle her up as if she were blind too.

Fel. Wou'd I were fairly off. (Aside.)

Pedro. Turn up her Hood.

Vio. Undone for ever.—St. Anthony forbid: Oh, Sir, she has the dreadfullest unlucky Eyes.—Pray don't look upon them; I made her keep her Hood shut on purpose.—Oh, oh, oh!

Pedro. Eyes! Why what's the Matter with her Eyes?

Flo. My poor Mother, Sir, is much afflicted with the Cholick; and about two Months ago she had it grievously in her Stomach, and was over-persuaded to take a Dram of filthy English Geneva.—Which immediately flew up into her Head, and caus'd such a Defluxion in her Eyes, that she cou'd never since bear the Day-light.

Pedro. Say you so—Poor Woman!—Well, make her sit down, Violante, and give her a Glass of Wine.

Vio. Let her Daughter give her a Glass below, Sir; for my part she has frighted me so, I shan't be myself these two Hours.