Pray Colonel, was this the same Lady you met upon the Terriero de passa this Morning?

Col. Faith I can't tell, Sir, I had a Design to know who that Lady was, but my Dog of a Footman, whom I had order'd to watch her home, fell fast asleep—I gave him a good beating for his Neglect, and I have never seen the Rascal since.

Fred. Here he comes.

Enter Gibby.

Col. Where have you been, Sirrah?

Gib. Troth Ise been seeking yee an like yer Honour these twa Hoors an meer, I bring yee glad Teedings, Sir.

Col. What have you found the Lady?

Gib. Geud Faite ha I, Sir—an shee's called Donna Violante, and her Parent Don Pedro de Mendosa, an gin yee wull gang wa mi, an't like ye'r Honour, Ise mak you ken the Huse right weel.

Fel. O Torture! Torture! (Aside.)

Col. Ha! Violante! That's the Lady's Name of the House where my Incognita is, sure it could not be her, at least it was not the same House I'm confident. (Aside.)

Fred. Violante! 'Tis false, I wou'd not have you credit him, Colonel.

Gib. The Deel burst my Blader, Sir, gin I lee.

Fel. Sirrah, I say you do lye, and I'll make you eat it, you Dog. (kicks him) And if your Master will justify you—

Col. Not I, faith Sir,—I answer for no body's Lyes but my own, if you please, kick him again.

Gib. But gin he dus, Ise ne take it, Sir, gin he was a thousand Spaniards.

[walks about in a Passion.

Col. I ow'd you a beating, Sirrah, and I'm oblig'd to this Gentleman for taking the Trouble off my Hands; therefore say no more, d'ye hear, Sir? (Aside to Gibby.)

Gib. Troth de I Sir, and feel tee.

Fred. This must be a Mistake, Colonel, for I know Violante perfectly well, and I'm certain she would not meet you upon the Terriero de passa.

Col. Don't be too positive, Frederick, now I have some Reasons to believe it was that very Lady.

Fel. You'd very much oblige me, Sir, if you'd let me know these Reasons.

Col. Sir.

Fel. Sir, I say I have a Right to enquire into those Reasons you speak of.

Col. Ha, ha, really Sir I cannot conceive how you, or any Man, can have a Right to enquire into my Thoughts.

Fel. Sir, I have a Right to every Thing that relates to Violante—And he that traduces her Fame, and refuses to give his Reasons for't, is a Villain. (Draws.)

Col. What the Devil have I been doing; now Blisters on my Tongue, by Dozens. (Aside.)

Fred. Prithee Felix don't quarrel, till you know for what; this is all a Mistake I'm positive.

Col. Look ye, Sir, that I dare draw my Sword I think will admit of no Dispute—But tho' fighting's my Trade, I'm not in Love with it, and think it more honourable to decline this Business, than pursue it. This may be a Mistake; however, I'll give you my Honour never to have any Affair directly or indirectly with Violante, provided she is your Violante; but if there shou'd happen to be another of her Name, I hope you wou'd not engross all the Violantes in the Kingdom.

Fel. Your Vanity has given me sufficient Reasons to believe I'm not mistaken; I'm not to be impos'd upon, Sir.

Col. Nor I bully'd, Sir.

Fel. Bully'd! S'Death, such another Word, and I'll nail thee to the Wall.

Col. Are you sure of that, Spaniard. (Draws.)

Gib. (Draws) Say ne meer Mon, aw my Sol here's Twa to Twa, donna fear Sir, Gibby stonds by ye for the Honor a Scotland. (Vapours about.)

Fred. By St. Anthony you shan't fight (interposes) on bare Suspicion, be certain of the Injury, and then.—

Fel. That I will this Moment, and then, Sir—I hope you are to be found.—

Col. Whenever you please, Sir.

[Exit Felix.

Gib. S'Bleed, Sir, there neer was Scotsman yet that sham'd to shew his Face. (strutting about.)

Fred. So, Quarrels spring up like Mushrooms, in a Minute: Violante, and he, was but just reconcil'd, and you have furnish'd him with fresh Matter for falling out again, and I am certain, Colonel, Gibby is in the Wrong.

Gib. Gin I be Sir, the Mon that tald me leed, and gin he dud, the Deel be my Landlard, Hell my Winter Quarters, and a Rope my Winding Sheet, Gin I dee no lik him as lang as I can hold a Stick in my Hond, now see yee.

Col. I am sorry for what I have said, for the Lady's Sake, but who could divine, that she was his Mistress; prithee who is this warm Spark?

Fred. He is the Son of one of our Grandees, nam'd Don Lopez de Pementell, a very honest Gentleman, but something passionate in what relates to his Love—He is an only Son, which perhaps may be one Reason for indulging his Passion.

Col. When Parents have but one Child, they either make a Madman, or a Fool of him.

Fred. He is not the only Child, he has a Sister; but I think, thro' the Severity of his Father, who would have married her against her Inclination, she has made her Escape, and notwithstanding he has offer'd five hundred Pounds, he can get no Tydings of her.

Col. Ha! How long has she been missing?

Fred. Nay, but since last Night, it seems.

Col. Last Night! The very Time! How went she?

Fred. No body can tell, they conjecture thro' the Window.

Col. I'm transported! This must be the Lady I caught; what sort of a Woman is she?

Fred. Middle siz'd, a lovely brown, a fine, pouting Lip, Eyes that roul and languish, and seem to speak the exquisite Pleasure that her Arms could give!

Col. Oh! I'm fir'd with his Description—'Tis the very she—What's her Name?

Fred. Isabella—You are transported, Colonel.

Col. I have a natural Tendency in me to the Flesh, thou know'st, and who can hear of Charms so exquisite, and yet remain unmov'd? Oh, how I long for the appointed Hour! I'll to the Terriero de passa, and wait my Happiness; if she fails to meet me, I'll once more attempt to find her at Violante's in spite of her Brother's Jealousy. (Aside) Dear Frederick, I beg your Pardon, but I had forgot, I was to meet a Gentleman upon Business at Five, I'll endeavour to dispatch him, and wait on you again as soon as possible.—

Fred. Your humble Servant, Colonel.

[Exit.

Col. Gibby, I have no Business with you at present.

[Exit Colonel.

Gib. That's weel—naw will I gang and seek this Loon, and gar him gang with me to Don Pedro's Huse—Gin he'll no gang of himsel, Ise gar him gang by the Lug, Sir; Godswarbit Gibby hates a Lear.

[Exit.

Scene changes to Violante's Lodgings.

Enter Violante and Isabella.

Isab. The Hour draws on, Violante, and now my Heart begins to fail me, but I resolve to venture for all that.

Vio. What, does your Courage sink, Isabella.

Isab. Only the Force of Resolution a little retreated, but I'll rally it again for all that.

Enter Flora.

Flo. Don Felix is coming up, Madam.

Isab. My Brother! Which Way shall I get out—Dispatch him as soon as you can, dear Violante.

[Exit into the Closet.

Vio. I will. (Enter Felix in a surly Posture.) Felix, what brings you back so soon, did not I say to-morrow?

Fel. My Passion choaks me, I cannot speak, oh, I shall burst! (Aside.)

[Throws himself into a Chair.

Vio. Bless me! are you not well, my Felix?

Fel. Yes,—No,—I don't know what I am.

Vio. Hey Day! What's the Matter now? Another jealous Whim!

Fel. With what an Air she carries it.—I sweat at her Impudence. (Aside.)

Vio. If I were in your Place, Felix, I'd chuse to stay at home, when these Fits of Spleen were upon me, and not trouble such Persons as are not oblig'd to bear with them.

[Here he affects to be careless of her.

Fel. I am very sensible, Madam, of what you mean: I disturb you no doubt, but were I in a better Humour, I shou'd not incommode you less. I am but too well convinc'd, that you could easily dispense with my Visit.

Vio. When you behave yourself as you ought to do, no Company so welcome—But when you reserve me for your ill Nature, I wave your Merit, and consider what's due to myself—And I must be so free to tell you, Felix, that these Humours of yours will abate, if not absolutely destroy, the very Principles of Love.

Fel. (Rising) And I must be so free to tell you, Madam, that since you have made such ill Returns to the Respect that I have paid you, all you do shall be indifferent to me for the Future, and you shall find me abandon your Empire with so little Difficulty, that I'll convince the World your Chains are not so hard to break as your Vanity would tempt you to believe—I cannot brook the Provocation you give.

Vio. This is not to be born—Insolent! You abandon! You! Whom I have so often forbad ever to see me more! Have you not fall'n at my Feet? Implor'd my Favour and Forgiveness—Did you not trembling wait, and wish, and sigh, and swear yourself into my Heart? Ingrateful Man! If my Chains are so easily broke as you pretend, then you are the silliest Coxcomb living, you did not break 'em long ago; and I must think him capable of brooking any thing on whom such Usage could make no Impression.

Isab. (Peeping) A Duce take your Quarrels, she'll never think on me.

Fel. I always believed, Madam, my Weakness was the greatest Addition to your Power, you would be less imperious, had my Inclination been less forward to oblige you—You have indeed forbad me your Sight, but your Vanity even then assured you I would return, and I was Fool enough to feed your Pride.—Your Eyes, with all their boasted Charms, have acquired the greatest Glory in conquering me.—And the brightest Passage of your Life is, wounding this Heart with such Arms as pierce but few Persons of my Rank.

[Walks about in a great Pet.

Vio. Matchless Arrogance! True Sir, I should have kept Measures better with you, if the Conquest had been worth preserving, but we easily hazard what gives us no Pain to lose—As for my Eyes, you are mistaken if you think they have vanquished none but you; there are Men above your boasted Rank who have confess'd their Power, when their Misfortune in pleasing you made them obtain such a disgraceful Victory.

Fel. Yes, Madam, I am no Stranger to your Victories.

Vio. And what you call the brightest Passage of my Life, is not the least glorious Part of yours.

Fel. Ha, ha, do'nt put yourself into a Passion, Madam, for I assure you, after this Day, I shall give you no Trouble—You may meet your Sparks on the Terriero de Passa at Four in the Morning, without the least Regard of mine—For when I quit your Chamber, the World shan't bring me back.

Vio. I am so well pleas'd with your Resolution, I don't care how soon you take your Leave.—But what you mean by the Terriero de Passa at Four in the Morning, I can't guess.

Fel. No, no, no, not you—You was not upon the Terriero de Passa at Four this Morning.

Vio. No, I was not; but if I was, I hope I may walk where I please, and at what Hour I please, without asking your Leave.

Fel. Oh, doubtless, Madam! And you might meet Colonel Britton there, and afterwards send your Emissary to fetch him to your House—And upon your Father's coming in, thrust him into your Bed-Chamber—without asking my Leave. 'Tis no Business of mine if you are exposed among all the Footmen in Town—Nay, if they Ballad you, and cry you about at a Halfpenny a-piece—They may, without my Leave.

Vio. Audacious! Don't provoke me—don't; my Reputation is not to be sported with (Going up to him) at this Rate—No, Sir, it is not. (bursts into Tears) Inhuman Felix! Oh, Isabella, what a Train of Ills hast thou brought on me? (Aside.)

Fel. Ha! I cannot bear to see her weep—A Woman's Tears are far more fatal than our Swords. (Aside.) Oh, Violante—S'Death! what a Dog am I? Now have I no Power to stir;—Dost not thou know such a Person as Colonel Britton? Prithee tell me, didst not thou meet him at Four this Morning upon the Terriero de Passa?

Vio. Were it not to clear my Fame, I would not answer thee, thou black Ingrate!—But I cannot bear to be reproach'd with what I even blush to think of, much less to act; by Heaven, I have not seen the Terriero de Passa this Day.

Fel. Did not a Scots Footman attack you in the Street neither, Violante?

Vio. Yes, but he mistook me for another, or he was drunk, I know not which.

Fel. And do not you know this Scots Colonel?

Vio. Pray ask me no more Questions, this Night shall clear my Reputation, and leave you without Excuse for your base Suspicions; more than this I shall not satisfy you, therefore pray leave me.

Fel. Didst thou ever love me, Violante?

Vio. I'll answer nothing.—You was in Haste to be gone just now, I should be very well pleas'd to be alone, Sir.

[She sits down, and turns aside.

Fel. I shall not long interrupt your Contemplation.—Stubborn to the last. (Aside.)

Vio. Did ever Woman involve herself as I have done?

Fel. Now would I give one of my Eyes to be Friends with her; for something whispers to my Soul she is not guilty.—(He pauses, then pulls a Chair, and sits by her at a little Distance, looking at her some time without speaking. Then draws a little nearer to her.) Give me your Hand at Parting, however Violante, won't you, (Here he lays his open upon her Knee several times.) won't you—won't you—won't you!

Vio. (Half regarding him) Won't I do what?

Fel. You know what I would have, Violante. Oh, my Heart!

Vio. (Smiling.) I thought my Chains were easily broke. (Lays her Hand into his.)

Fel. (Draws his Chair close to her, and kisses her Hand in a Rapture.) Too well thou knowest thy Strength.—Oh my charming Angel, my Heart is all thy own. Forgive my hasty Passion; 'tis the Transport of a Love sincere!

Don Pedro within.

Pedro. Bid Sancho get a new Wheel to my Chariot presently.

Vio. Bless me! My Father return'd! What shall we do now, Felix? We are ruin'd, past Redemption.

Fel. No, no, no, my Love; I can leap from thy Closet Window.

[Runs to the Door where Isabella is, who claps too the Door, and bolts it within side.

Isab. (Peeping.) Say you so: But I shall prevent you.

Fel. Confusion! Some Body bolts the Door within-side; I'll see who you have conceal'd here, if I die for't: Oh Violante! hast thou again sacrific'd me to my Rival? (Draws.)

Vio. By Heaven thou hast no Rival in my Heart, let that suffice—Nay, sure you will not let my Father find you here—Distraction!

Fel. Indeed but I shall—except you command this Door to be open'd, and that Way conceal me from his Sight.

[He struggles with her to come to the Door.

Vio. Hear me, Felix—Though I were sure the refusing what you ask would separate us for ever, by all that's powerful you shall not enter here. Either you do love me, or you do not; convince me by your Obedience.

Fel. That's not the Matter in debate—I will know who is in this Closet, let the Consequence be what it will. Nay, nay, nay, you strive in vain; I will go in.

Vio. You shall not go in—

Enter Don Pedro.

Ped. Hey day! What's here to do? I will go in, and you shan't go in—and, I will go in—Why, who are you, Sir?

Fel. 'Sdeath! What shall I say now!

Ped. Don Felix, pray, what's your Business in my House? Ha, Sir?

Vio. Oh Sir, what Miracle return'd you home so soon? Some Angel 'twas that brought my Father back to succour the distress'd—This Ruffian he, I cannot call him Gentleman—has committed such an uncommon Rudeness, as the most profligate Wretch would be asham'd to own—

Fel. Ha, what the Devil does she mean! (Aside.)

Vio. As I was at my Devotion in my Closet, I heard a loud knocking at our Door, mix'd with a Woman's Voice, which seem'd to imply she was in Danger.—

Fel. I am confounded! (Aside.)

Vio. I flew to the Door with utmost Speed, where a Lady vail'd rush'd in upon me; who, falling on her Knees, begged my Protection, from a Gentleman, who, she said, pursued her: I took Compassion on her Tears, and locked her into this Closet; but in the Surprize having left open the Door, this very Person whom you see, with his Sword drawn, ran in, protesting, if I refus'd to give her up to his Revenge, he'd force the Door.

Fel. What in the Name of Goodness does she mean to do! Hang me! (Aside.)

Vio. I strove with him till I was out of Breath, and had you not come as you did, he must have enter'd—But he's in Drink, I suppose, or he could not have been guilty of such an Indecorum.

[Leering at Felix.

Ped. I'm amazed!

Fel. The Devil never fail'd a Woman at a Pinch: What a Tale has she form'd in a minute—In Drink, quotha; a good hint: I'll lay hold on't to bring myself off.