THE
Castle of Andalusia,
A COMIC OPERA.
IN THREE ACTS.
AS IT IS PERFORMED At the THEATRES in LONDON And DUBLIN.
By JOHN O'KEEFE, Esqr.
SOLD BY THE BOOKSELLERS.
M, DCC, LXXXIII.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
MEN.
Don Scipio,
Mr. WILDER.
Don Juan,
Mr. MITCHELL.
Don Ferdinando,
Mr. PALMER.
Don Alphonzo,
Mrs. MELMOTH.
Phillipo,
Mr. JOHNSTON.
Ramirez, Banditti,
Mr. BUTLER.
Sanguino, Banditti,
Mr. FOTTERALL.
Spado, Banditti,
Mr. O'RIELLY.
Calvette, Banditti,
Mr. KANE.
Rapino, Banditti,
Mr. LYNCH.
Pedrillo,
Mr. RYDER.
Vasques,
Mr. WITHINGTON
WOMEN.
Donna Isabella,
Mrs. HEAPHY.
Lorenza,
Miss. JARRETT.
Victoria,
Mrs. JOHNSON.
Catilina,
Mrs. HITCHCOCK
Banditti, Attendants, &c.
The Castle of Andalusia.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Discovers a banditti sitting at a table drinking in a large cave.
Ramirez,
(their captain) at their head. At the further end of the cave a large lamp, suspended by a chain; a winding stair-case, supposed leading to the trap door:
Rapino
near it withinside;
Calvetti
without, as centinel; the table cover'd with Tygers skin; a parcel of carabines and firearms hung up.—(All laughing.)
AIR AND CHORUS.
Ramirez and Banditti.
CHORUS.
HERE we sons of freedom dwell,
In our friendly rock-hewn cell,
Pleasure's dictates we obey,
Nature points us our the way:
Ever great, and ever free,
Valour guards our liberty.
AIR.
Of severe and partial laws,
Venal judges, Alguazils,
Dreary dungeon's iron jaws,
Oar or gibbet, whips or wheels;
How can we think,
Whi
e we drink
Sweet Muscadine?
O, life divine!
CHORUS.
Here we sons of freedom, &c.
Come cavaliers, our confines are low, yet our hearts are high:—Charge your glasses—Bacchus gives the word; 'tis wine makes us mortals noble as the Gods.—Fire!
they drink.
Oh! this is noble firing indeed! I like a volley of grape shot; but pray will you let us have any sky lights in this cave?
Oh! No, no, no!
Come, put about the toast:—a good booty to us to night.
A good booty to us to night.
Oh! I love to rob a fat priest!—stand! says I—priest! and then I knocks him down!
My nose bleeds; I wonder what colour the blood of a coward is?
Why? don't you see?
Hah! do you call me a coward? I'll stab him; but the scar on my forehead contradicts that.
The scar on your forehead; when you run away you know, you always look behind you.
I'll stab him!
(Offers to draw.)
Don't hurt little Spado; I meant no harm.
Armies have confess'd my valour; the time has been—but no matter.
Come, come away, with reflections; hand us that red wine.
AIR.—
Ramirez.
Flow thou regal purple stream,
Tinted by the solar beam,
In my goblet, sparkling rise,
Chear my heart, and glad my eyes;
My brain, ascend on fancy's wing,
'Noint me, wine, a jovial king.
While I live, I'll lave my clay,
When I'm dead, and gone away
Let my thirsty subjects say—
A month he reign'd, but that was May.
(A loud clap of thunder.
Hark! Hark!
How soon we hear the thunder thro' this vast body of earth and rock;—Rapino—is all safe above?
Yes.
Spado? it's your turn to relieve the centinel.
Relieve him! what's the matter with him?
Come, sir! it's your watch.
My watch! let the wolves watch—I only wish to watch the bottle.
Come, come, no jesting; to your duty.
(Another loud clap of thunder)
—
What the devil! do you take me for a salamander?
Don't you hear.
I've taken up with the first swine's hovel I could find, upon such a night as this.
Oh! there will be no sport I fear to night, cavaliers! therefore lock down the trap-doors.
This being a night of peace; we'll have a dish of olives.
No, no! peace: we'll cut and scour the forest; there is a rich old fellow, call'd Don Scipio, lives at the skirts of it: what say you to plundering him to night?
Not to night! I have my reasons; but where is our prisoner?
There he lies; with his face so innocent, and yet he took some devilish hard knocks.
(From above with a lantern in his hand.)
A booty! a booty!
What is it?
One man; and alone.
One man, and alone! that's odd: will he fight?
He seems to be drawing near: his hat bespeaks him noble.
Get my arms; our carabines, quick; and remove the table.
(They all rise and remove the table.)
We will not all go to the attack of one man: leave Spado and me alone, the rest prepare for a general excursion.
(They separate and go different ways.)
(Looking over the rail of the staircase.)
Our prisoner seems a good natur'd looking man; if my brother rooks will but fly off, I shall have the pigeon all to myself.
Enter
Ramirez.
Spado! Spado!
O Captain! you'd better not let me
first, because I'm always so rash.
Come on sirrah: leave buffoonery, and to your duty. Hallo! Spado: come along you rascal.
Exit.
Well, I'm coming;
(goes partly up stairs and stops.)
Enter
Alphonzo.
I find myself very unhappy; to have fallen into the hands of these ruffians: while my rival Don Ferdinand, (I fear,) if he once reaches Don Scipio's castle, wins my charming Victoria, and I loose her for ever! but if I could procure an interview, love should plead my cause.
AIR.—
Alphonzo.
The hardy sailor braves the ocean.
Fearless of the roaring wind,
Yet his heart with soft emotion,
Throbs to leave his love behind.
To dread of foreign foes a stranger
Tho' the youth can dauntless roam,
Alarming fears paint every danger,
In a rival left at home.
(Comes down stairs)
What is it I see? Our prisoner!
(aside.)
Thou art a poor bird that sings in this cage! (I'll have a little talk with him now they are out of hearing:) Ha, ha, ha! I know more of his affairs than he thinks of; I overheard a servant at an inn speak of him.
How shall I escape these rascals?
(Aside.)
O here's one of the gentlemen I see! Pray sir, may I take the liberty?
No, truly, you'll not take any liberty here, but upon certain conditions: come, suppose you become one of us; I think you'll make a devilish good thief: nay, I don't flatter you; and by good luck, we have just got a vacancy; having lately lost one of our troop, a fine bold youth, he now hangs upon a gibbet, and you shall take his post.
What! upon the gibbet?
No: soft and fair, that is a very high post indeed; though I don't doubt your merit. Your ingenuity, in time, may exalt you: give me your hand.
(Aside.)
Infamous scoundrel.
Sir! I've a mind to do you a favour, therefore will ask you in the pious spirit of a holy inquisitor.
That is a very pious abjuration.
In the devil's name, who are you?
Sir, my name is Alphonzo: I am son of an eminent banker at Madrid.
Oh, ho! I thought he sung like a goldfinch, I'll convince him, I know all his affairs, and then—I'll hold his purse.
(Aside.)
If I trust him, perhaps I may escape by his means, —you wont betray me.
Oh, no, there is honour amongst thieves.
I was going—
To Don Scipio's castle, upon the confines of this forest.
Then you know my business.
Yes, to Donna Victoria, who is contracted.
Then you know she is contracted.
Yes, to Don Ferdinand; to the destruction of your hopes: she now waits for nothing but his arrival.
While I am penn'd up in this curs'd cavern: —How got you my story?
Oh, that is nothing at all; I could let you out of this cavern.
But will you?
Oh, that is another thing; our trap-door requires a golden key.
Your comrades have not left me one piastre.
Give me an order on your father's bank for 50 pieces, and I will secure your escape.
I will.
Enter
Ramirez.
(Seeing him, turns to
Alphonzo.
)—
Oh! you impudent dog, I'll secure your escape; what the devil! do you offer me a bribe? would you corrupt my honesty? do you think I will betray my trust; what, corrupt my honesty, that I inherit from my chaste mother. Oh! captain, I did not see you, I did not know you was here.
What's the matter?
Oh! I can hardly speak! he is a little mistaken in your man.—Let you escape.
(Aside.)
Here is a rascal—
This rascal has been calling me names this half hour, only because I wont let him out without your knowledge: Oh, what offers I have refused! I may safely swear my integrity is secure against galleons, or the mines of Peru or Mexico. What, offer to bribe me: I will cut your head off you dog; never let me catch you out.
Get you gone, and leave us.—
(Exit Spado.)
You have no occasion to tamper with my men, you shall owe your liberty to none but me. Your story, told me by Spado, has engaged me to your interest, I will convey you to the cottage of the vines, which belongs to one Phillipo, a peasant not far from Don Scipio's castle.—There you may pursue your whole desires, and do whatever love may inspire to obtain your wishes.
A thousand thanks to you, kind fir; time moves on leaden pinions, till I again behold my charming Victoria.
AIR.—
Alphonzo.
Come ye hours with bliss replete,
Bear me to Victoria's feet,
Cheerless winter must I prove
Absent from the maid I love;
But the joys our meetings bring
Shew the glad return of spring.
Exeunt
Alphonzo and Ramirez.
SCENE II.—
A forest: all dark, hail and rain.
Enter
Don Ferdinando.
What a dreadful horrid place is this— Pedrillo? I've lost my servant, I believe, since I lest Cales; by the pace I have rode, I think Don Scipio's castle can't be far off: this was to have been my wedding night, Pedrillo.
Enter
Pedrillo.
Here, Sir.
Where are you?
Here Sir.
Which way?
Any body's way; for I have lost my own;—do you see me, sir?
No.
(A violent flash of lightning.
Do you see me now, Sir?
No, Sir.
(Thunders.)
How it thunders!
All this will frighten the poor mules, they will break their bridles, I have tied them to a tree; how shall we escape the banditti.
Oh, we shall find them in the morning,
(A gun fir'd.)
Hark! I hear a gun; somebody is in trouble.
No, Sir, their trouble's over by this time.
Who can deny assistance, to a fellow creature in distress?
Draws, and Exit.
What fine creatures these gentlemen are, but for me, I am a poor rascally servant; so I'll e'en take my chance with the mules.
AIR.—
Pedrillo.
I.
A master I have, and I am his man,
Galloping dreary dun,
And he'll get a wife as fast as he can,
With a haily
Gaily
Gambo raily,
Gigg'ling,
Nigg'ling
Galloping galloway, draggle tail, dreary dun.
II.
I saddled his steed so fine and so gay,
Galloping, dreary dun,
I mounted my mule, and we rode away,
With our haily, &c.
III.
We canter'd along, until it grew dark,
Galloping dreary dun;
The nightingale sung instead of the lark,
With her haily, &c.
IV.
We met with a friar, and ask'd him our way,
Galloping dreary dun,
By the Lord, says the friar, you're both gone astray,
With your, &c.
V.
Our journey, I sear, will do us no good,
Galloping, dreary dun,
We wander alone, like the babes in the wood,
With our haily, &c.
VI.
My master is fighting, and I'll take a peep,
Galloping dreary dun,
But now I think better, I'd better go sleep,
With my haily,
Gaily,
Gambo raily,
Gigg'ling
Nigg'ling,
Galloping galloway, draggle tail, dreary dun.
Enter
Don Scipio,
fighting with banditti,
Spado follows, and gets up a tree.
Down with him, down with him.
Oh! Don't fire!
One of them fires.
Enter
Ferdinando,
and drives off Banditti.
Exit. Leaving.
Don Scipio.
I have not fought so much these twenty years.
I think I cou'd see but one man come to the assistance of the old gentleman.
(Comes down,)
Where are you?
Here, approach my brave deliverer.
I shall—
[Aside.]
Here is a victory, and nobody to claim it: I'll go and pick up the laurels.
Who is this stranger that is come to my assistance?
[Aside.]
I may pass for this angel in the dark: they may be asham'd to attack a man in the king's highway: I made the dogs scamper.
Who is this I hear?
Are you the honest old gentleman I rescu'd from the Banditti?
I am so much beholden to you.—
Say nothing about it, I've sav'd your life: a good action rewards itself.
Are you the gallant fellow? I faith, as well as I cou'd distinguish in the dark, you look'd much higher just now.
O that was whilst I was fighting, I always appear six foot high, when I'm in a passion, besides my hat and feather added to my height.
Why the rascals have run off without my purse.
Have I sav'd your purse? I think, of a poor fellow, I am the luckiest dog in all Spain.
Poor fellow! Pray valiant stranger accept this purse, as a small token of my gratitute.
No, no, no! Sir.
You shall take it, you shall have it.
Lord! Sir, I am so aukward at taking a purse.
Receives purse.
If I cou'd but find my cane now.—
[Aside.]
Here is somebody else coming, perhaps this is the real conqueror.
Exit.
Enter
Ferdinando.
It was the darkness of the night that favour'd their escape.
Aye, you made them fly like pigeons; my little game-cock.
Perhaps you was the old gentleman that was attack'd?
(Looking at Audience.)
Pray seel if you don't find a ring; it was a relique of my deceas'd lady.
What ring, Sir?
A ring that you'll find in the purse.
This old gentleman has been robb'd, and perhaps wishes me to reimburse him.
Come, come along with me, my little hero: Why Zounds! Signior, you are not in a passion now sure; for me thinks you look six foot high agian;—come along with me to the castle, and our daughter Victoria shall welcome you.
Your daughter Victoria! then perhaps, you are my intended father-in-law?
Is it possible! you can be my expected son-in-law, Don Ferdinando de Zelves!
The same, Sir, and just now come from Cales; and upon my journey to the castle, was benighted upon this forest; and upon hearing some persons were attack'd by the Banditti, went to their rescue.
(Aside.)
It was damn'd mean tho' to take my purse.
Enter
Spado.
Listening.
O then he is Don Alphonzo's rival, and they have never met before.
What! you was resolv'd to touch some of your wife's fortune beforehand; you have got the money, aye, and the ring too—it is not gone out of the family: come, come along, my brave valiant—
(Aside.)
Damn'd paltry of him to take my purse.
Exeunt.
This purse has put a fine thing into my head—how to delay Ferdinando's wedding—assist my new master Alphonzo, and procure a handsome reward;—I shall have a good reception at the castle, by means of this ring.—I will raise a fine confusion in Don Scipio's family; the clearing up of which, I will be well paid for.—I have lost part of my time aheady; I must get away by a cross road to the castle: there I will provide a whimsical reception for the son-in-law,
(Whistling beard.)
Hark! they are calling up to supper, —I thank you kindly, gentlemen, I am very much oblig'd to you—but I happended to be engag'd.
Exit.
SCENE III.
An Apartment in
Scipio's
Castle.
Enter
Victoria
and
Catilina.
Nay, dear madam, never submit to go into
n nunnery.
Yes, I must; the trouble I feel from my parents slights, invite me to forsake the transitory joys of a bad world.
Bad world! I'm sure it's good enough for me: what, in the name of wonder, wou'd your religious folks have? it is well enough for me. Here are fine flower gardens, sun beams and refreshing gales to walk in, and there are good natur'd men, and kind men. What a thing it is for a fair and lovely woman, to think of living among the nuns, who turn their backs to each other, and go stalking to their separate cells, and never marry: La ma'am! to marry, is the whole intent of the creation.
You know nothing of what I feel.
Lord! ma'am, I wish I cou'd see you once in love.
You talk of love, Catalina: I wonder what fort of a man this Ferdinando is, that is expected at the castle!
He is a fine man, I can assure you, he rejoices at the very name of Victoria: then here is your father, tho' you are the daughter and sole heiress of all this castle, obliges you to resign it to Signora Lorenza, because he has taken it into his head to marry her mother; and this Italian coquette is so be-dizen'd out in fine clothes and jewels, and you to be sent to a convent! I wish I may die, if I was to be serv'd so—if I cou'd not put my best foot first, and go to Madrid, and tell the king of it.
Depriv'd by death of a tender mother, and the affections of my father alienated from me, has depriv'd me of every joy and hope:—I shall therefore quit the world without regret.
AIR.—
Victoria.
Ah, solitude, take my distress,
For my griess I'll unbosom to thee;
Each sigh thou canst gently repiess,
And thy silence is music to me.
Yet peace from my sonnet may spring,
For sweet peace, let me fly the gay throng,
To soften my sorrows I sing,
Yet sorrow's the theme of my song.
Exit.
My poor dear young lady! Oh; deuce take Dame Isabel and her upstart minx of a daughter— she be my mistress? no, that she shan't: I'll quit the castle the moment Donna Victoria goes into a nunnery; shall I go with her? Oh, no;— I was never design'd for a nun; I will go back to our village where my dear Phillipo is; I dare say, he is as fond as ever:—I'll warrant he has the hearts of all the girls:—then he can flute and fiddle, and oboe, and all the rest of the things.
AIR.—
Catalina.
Like my dear swain, no youth you'd see
So blithe, so gay, so full of glee,
In all our village, —who but he,
To
oot it up so featly?
His lute to hear,
From sar and near,
Each female came,
Both girl and dame,
And all his boon,
For every tune,
To kiss 'em round so sweetly.
While round him in the jocund ring,
We nimbly danc'd, he'd play or sing;
Of May the youth was chosen King,
He caught our ears so neatly.
Such music rare
In his guittar,
But touch his lute,
The crowd was mute;
His only boon
For ev'ry tune,
To kiss 'em round so sweetly,
Exit.
Enter
Spado
and
Vasquez.
Inform your Lady, that I am here.
Are you Don Ferdinand?
Tell her I'm here.
I will inform her of your arrival.
Then you will oblige me very much— She is supreme directress of this castle.—
(Exit Vasquez.)
And as I'm inform'd, rules the roast: she is my mark—but the story is up, if I tell her one word of truth:
(Sees her coming.)
This is the same widow Lady that ran away with an old master of mine to Italy: I can remember some anecdotes of her, that do more credit to my memory than her reputation, which I will take care to remind her of in due time—she don't recollect my face, I hope.
Enter
Isabella
and
Vasquez.
Don Scipio not return'd yet, where can he stay? where is this strange, ugly fellow, who wanted to speak with me?
I did not say he was ugly.
Go along, young man!
(Exit Vasq.
Well, Sir, who are you?
I've the honour to be confidential secretary to Don Ferdinando.
Is he arriv'd? Here, Vasquez, Lopez, Diego.
Hold! Ma'am, my young master is not arriv'd: (most sagacious of all women)
(Aside.)
My young master is coming incog.
Incog!
Yes, incog. You shall hear, Ma'am. (Now for a good lie.) The morning before his departure, he calls me into the closet, and locking the door— Spado, says he, —you must know Ma'am, my name is Spado.
Well, Sir.
Spado, says he, you know this obstinate father of mine has engag'd me to marry a lady I have never seen. To-morrow I set off for her castle, but (striking his breast with one hand so—twisting his mustaches, and turning up his eyes!) if when I see her, she don't please my fancy, I will not marry her by—I don't care to mention his oath before you, Madam.
O no! pray don't.
Says he, I mean to dress up Pedrillo—he shall personate me in Don Scipio's Castle:—If I like the lady I throw off the livery, and Pedrillo waits upon her.—If I do not like her, the deceit continues, and Pedrillo has the lady.—I will learn them to clap up marriages without consulting me.
So it was to have been my poor daughter, that was to have fallen into this snare.
Says he, I mean to employ you as my spy, to cover the secret; let it be done by imposing some damn'd lie or other, (which your genius may suggest) upon a very ignorant ordinary woman, that you'll see there—nam'd Donna Isabella.
Impose upon the stupid woman, that you'll find there—but he shall not find me so stupid.
Does he think you'd not find me out if I was to tell you a lie?
Aye! that I shou'd.
Enter
Vasquez.
My master is arriv'd, and one Don Ferdinando with him.
You must know, ma'am, Pedrillo's mother was a Gipsey woman, his father a merry-andrew to a mountebank, and himself five years a trumpeter to a company of strolling players.
So I was only to have a trumpeter for my son-in-law!—Good Sir! how much I'm beholden to you for this timely notice.
I have only done the duty of an honest man;—I have liv'd a good while in the family, and cou'd not bear my young master should be running about making such a fool of himself, especially under such circumstances.
Pray, Sir, be at home; want for nothing the house affords.
Want for nothing—
By no means.
(Aside.)
Then I will want for nothing I can lay my fingers on.
[Exit.
Heaven's! what an honest fellow this is! what a lucky discovery.—Oh! here comes my darling Lorenza.
Enter
Lorenza.
Oh mother, don't you think I look charmingly to-day?
Yes, child; the toilette has done it.
Oh! signora—the delicious hopes of an expected lover.—
AIR.—
Lorenza.
New graces
The thoughts of a lover
Invited, expected, and sigh'd for occasion,
Sweet faces
Fresh sweetness discover;
Our eyes then are diamonds; our cheeks are carnation,
Those eyes glances stealing,
Fond blushes revealing,
Sage prudence concealing
The wish of cur hearts.
But when once we gain him.
In love's link we chain him,
Now pleasing,
Now teazing,
In giddy flirtation.
New graces, &c.
I am very glad to see you in such spirits.
Oh spirits! I am as sprightly and chearful as a lapwing, when I expect a lover;—but when does Don Ferdinando come?
You forget you are to pass for Donna Victoria, Don Scipio's daughter, it was for that purpose I had you brought here.
I don't think about a husband—but a new lover.
It is fit you shou'd, of Don Ferdinando, who is coming.
Enter
Vasquez.
Madam—here is my master, and Don Ferdinando.
Has he a servant with him?
No, madam.
Exit.
Enter
Don Scipio
and
Ferdinando.
Oh! my dainty dame, and delicate daughter! you may bless your stars that you see me alive again! behold my son-in-law and the preserver of my life, Don Ferdinando! that is your spouse, and this is Donna Isabella;—a lady of vast merit, of which my heart is sensible.
What an impudent fellow—
Don Ferdinando—you are welcome to this Castle—as flattery to a lady:—There she is, embrace and caress her.
What a charming husband I shall have!
Come, enjoy yourself and be happy, while I take possession of this noble tenement—Hark' you dame!—don't you think Don Ferdinando a fine noble fellow?
Yes—he is well enough for a trumpeter.
A trumpeter!—what the devil do you mean by that?—Oh! that is because I sound his praise.—But, madam, he is a cavalier of noble birth, title, fortune and valour.
A word with you.
They retire.
Our castle here is but a horrid place: when compar'd with the beautiful villas on the banks of the Arno.
Arno! Don Scipio in his letter said, his daughter was bred at Florence.
I am afraid you had an indifferent journey, Signior.
I am amply repaid by what I now enjoy.
He is a polite cavalier.
They sit down.
Don Scipio
and
Isabel,
come forward.
A villain! Oh! a rascal! look at that impudent son of a gipsey, he sits down already.
Don Ferdinando is under a livery.
A livery! This accounts for his behaviour in the forest. Don Ferdinando wou'd never have accepted of my purse.
(Pulls him by the arm.)
Aye, you have got it.
Will you please to sit down, Sir,
(Aside.)
What a strange old fellow—
He looks like a trumpeter.
Enter
Vasquez.
Sir, your servant Pedrillo is arrived.
What, has he found his way at last?
What a charming fellow.—
What an impudent rascal.—
Enter
Pedrillo,
with his master's portmanteau.
Is my master this way?
This is Don Ferdinando.
Will you please to sit, Sir?
Ferdinando goes to the other end of the stage.
(To Pedrillo.)
Be pleas'd to sit down, Sir.
Placing him near Lorenza.
I've got among the gentlefolks.
How admirable he looks now in the servant!
I perceive the grandee under the livery.
(Curtsies to him.)
Will you please to sit down, Sir?
Bows to Pedrillo: he bows with portmanteau on his shoulder; and hits Scipio on the head.
Then puts it down.
Will you sit down, Sir?
Pedrillo sits down by Lorenza.
These must be the upper servants of the family: her ladyship—there is the house-keeper— and I suppose this young tawdry tit, is the lady's maid:—her mistress throws off good clothes, and the old gentleman there, is Don Scipio's butler.
Ferdinando comes forward.
What means all this disrefpect?
Sir, Old Whiskers, the butler, asked me to sit down by Furbelow, the waiting woman.
Retire!
How rarely they act their parts? tho' I will let them know, I understand the plot of their Comedy.
QUINTETTO.
Don Scipio, Ferdinando, Pedrillo, Isabel and Lorenza.
Signor!
Signor!
Your wit must be keener
Our prudence to elude,
Your fine plot,
Though so pat,
Will do you little good.
My fine plot!
I am a sot,
If I know what
These gentlefolks are at.
Past the perils of the night,
Tempests, darkness, rude alarms,
Phoebus rises clear and bright,
In the lustre of your charms.
Oh, charming, I declare,
So polite a cavalier!
He understands the duty,
And homage due to beauty.
Bravo! O, Bravissimo!
Caro! O, Carissimo!
How sweet his honey words,
How noble is his mien!
Fine feathers make fine birds,
The footman's to be seen.
But both deserve a basting!
Since morning I've been fasting
Yet, I could laugh for anger,
Oh, I could cry,
I could laugh,
I could cry,
I could quaff,
So could I.
Ha! ha! ha! I'm in a fit,
Oh, I could pick a little bit.
together.
Ha! ha! ha!
Oh, oh, oh,
A very pleasant party,
A whimsical reception!
A whimsical deception!
But master and man accept a welcome hearty.
Accept our thanks sincere for such a welcome hearty.
End of the First Act.
ACT II.
SCENE.
A room in
Don Sciplo
's house, with a clost door in it.
Enter
Ramirez
and
Sanguino, from door.
THUS far we have got into the castle— you seem well acquainted with it.
Yes, I was master of the horse to Don Scipio, and I know all the turnings and windings,
obbies, and every secret lock, and if I meet him conveniently, I shall use this stiletto.
No, no; plunder is the word: hush!— is not that Spado I hear?
He is beard without.
Yes.
Impossible!
They retire one of each side.
Enter
Scipio
and
Spado.
I have heard of such places. You tell me you have seen the cave where this curs'd banditti lay.
Very true, Sir, after robbing me of 500 ducatoons, and blinding my eyes, they throw'd me over a mule's back, and carried me to their dungeon on, where they live in all manner of debaucheries, from whence they rush out upon passengers; but I slipt the bandage from my eyes as I went along, and mark'd the path they took.
But my mock son-in-law Don Ferdinando and I, made them run like hares, and I gave him my purse for his trouble.
Did he take it?
He did.
Oh! what a mean fellow! I never go un arm'd, I always take a blunderbuss when I travel. O what a glorious thing it would be to deliver up this banditti into the hands of justice! I wou'd hang them like mad dogs:—If you will get us a strong guard and go with me, I will lead them to the very trap door of their cave.
Then you will have the thanks of the whole country.
I have no motive but the good of my country, tho' I expect they will order me a thousand pistoles for my trouble.
(From one side.)
You have not long to live!
Pray, Sir, have an eye to their captain— as they call him; he is one of the most infernal, malignant, infamous villains that ever—
(Sees Ramirez.)
—The Captain did I say? no!—I found him a very honest good-natur'd kind of fellow: No, no! I meant the scoundrel that thinks he ought to be captain:—Sanguino they call him, whom I found a most wicked infernal rascal.—
(Sees Sanguino.)
Tho' I found him a very honest good-natur'd fellow.
A bloody, malignant, infernal, good natur'd kind of fellow! What the devil is all this?
Why, Sir, I thought I saw those two gentlemen, and I thought they look'd so terrible,
at with the fright—I awoke.
Awoke! What the devil was all this a dream you've been telling me?
Yes, Sir, and a most terrible dream as ever I had in my life; I'm frighten'd out of my wits now!
Why you do look frighten'd indeed!
That made me talk about this cave, but don't mention it again I beg of you.
Enter
Vasquez.
Sir, the ladies wou'd be glad to speak with you.
I'll wait upon them directly.
(Exeunt Scip. and Vas. Spado in going to follow, it sciz'd by Ram. and Sanguino.)
Lord master! only think of your finding me out here!
Yes, yes, you are found out here.
Oh my good Sirs! such discoveries as I nave made in this house!
Aye, and you wou'd have made discoveries in our cave!
Did not I hum the old fellow rarely?
As a reward for your treachery—this to your heart—
Offers to stab him.
Hold! hold!
Lord! what's the matter; I can't pass a jest upon a silly old man, but I must be run thro' with a stiletto, when about the business.
Come, come, Spado, what is this business, tell us?
I intended to let every soul of you into the castle while the family were in bed—plunder is the word—Do, Sanguino, only just peep into this closet with me.
(Takes him into closet and returns.)
There is six chests of massy gold. I have a master key will open every one of them—shall I go—fetch it.
Aye, go.
My two good masters, two good-natur'd souls.
(Aside.)
Two damn'd rascals.
Exit.
Plunder, indeed!
There is something heavy in that chest.
We'll get them off this night.
I wish no more delay.
They retire.
Enter
Scipio.
Well Spado, now do you take—where is my little dreamer? now why do they leave this closet door open; it contains many valuables? why will they leave it open?
Exit after shutting door.
Enter
Spado,
with
Pedrillo's
portmanteau.
O Lord! I can't find the key; but however I've stole Don Ferdinando's portmanteau, only just as a peace-offering for these two rascals. Lord! what a pity the coming in of these rogues! Lord! I should have had the castle all to myself: what a fine spot of work this would have been for a man of my industry! There are the chests, gentlemen; there you may convey them out to-night. As for cutting Don Scipio's throat—
Enter
Scipio.
Aye, cut my throat! what, are you in your dreams again?
O yes, Sir.
Well for a little fellow, you have the damn dst dreams I ever heard of.
Terrible they are indeed.
Come, let me have no more of your curs'd dreams.
(Aside.)
I've got off, thanks to his coming.
Whose pormanteau is this?
(Aside.)
Oh, I'm on again.
What! is it Ferdinando's?
It is my master's.
Who cou'd have brought it here?
My fellow servant, Pedrillo, is too grand to mind his business; and my master, tho' he has taken the habit, scorns to do the office of a servant —I will take care of it.
Do—I now see what a comical fellow this master of yours is, with his plots and contrivances— and to think of imposing upon me too, I think I am far from a fool.
Yes, Sir; but that's more than I am.
That is true, indeed; but your dreams hurt your brain. So your master sent you here to see what you cou'd pick up.
That is very true, indeed Sir, just to see what I cou'd pick up.
What an honest servant this is—he has an eye to every thing.
Exit.
Egad, I'm almost tir'd of being a rogue, and I will turn honest—But, before I do that, I must get what I can in this house to keep me so.
AIR.—
Spado.
In the forest here hard by
A bold robber late was I,
Sword and blunderbuss in hand
When I bid a trav'ller stand,
Zounds, deliver up your cash,
Or straight I'll pop and slash,
All amongst the leaves so green-o.
Damme, Sir,
If you stir,
Sluice your veins,
Blow your brains,
Hey down,
Ho down,
Derry, derry down,
All amongst the leaves so green-o.
Soon I'll quit the roving trade,
When a gentleman I'm made;
Then so spruce and debonnaire,
Gad I'll court a lady fair;
How I'll prattle, tattle, chat,
How I'll kiss her and all that,
All amongst the leaves so green-o.
How d'ye do?
How are you?
Why so coy?
Let us toy,
Hey down,
Ho down,
Derry, derry down,
All amongst the leaves so green-o.
But ere old, and grey my pate,
I'll scrape up a snug estate,
With my nimbleness of thumbs
I'll soon butter all my crumbs;
When I'm justice of the peace,
Then I'll master many a lease,
All mongst the leaves so green-o
Wig profound,
Belly round,
Sit at ease,
Snatch the sees.
Hey down,
Ho down,
Derry, derry down,
All amongst the leaves so greence,
Enter
Ferdinando.
How came my father to think of an alliance in this mad family; Don Scipio's brain is certainly turn'd; my father's ideas don't suit mine. That lovely novice, of foolish dame Isabel's, has caught my heart.—What, if I ask her about it? But she and Don Scipio carry themselves very strangely to me.—I cannot think what is become of my fellow Pedrillo, all this while.
Enter
Pedrillo,
dress'd in a white satin, embroider'd, morning gown and a cap, with gold tassel.
Ha, ha, ha! a strange reception I've met with in this family; they talk of my marrying the daughter; I shou'd like her very well—but before I take off this dress, I will attack one of the maids; I will hide my livery, and be quite the gallant.
Here is a gentleman I've never seen before. Ha, Pedrillo! where have you been? what's the matter with you?
The matter, Sir! I cannot tell what is the matter; but some how or other, I happen'd to sit down to supper of twelve covers, crack'd two bottles, laid in an embroider'd bed, and sunk so low, that I slept till this morning like a diamond in cotton: so indeed, Sir, I don't know what is the matter.
What can all this mean?
Don Scipio has found out my merit, that's all—and let me tell you—he is not the only one, for when I liv'd in my last place, I once made free with a suit of my master's best clothes—went to the Prado, and strutted about like a grandee; where an elderly lady of family and fortune fell in love with me; I wrote a song upon the subject, and if you'll give me leave, Sir, I'll sing it to you.
AIR.—
Pedrillo.
The Prado I resorted,
That brilliant place,
That brilliant place,
This comely person sported,
All drest in lace,
All drest in lace
'Twas all about reported,
And no disgrace,
And no disgrace,
The ancient maid I courted,
Like this pretty face,
This pretty sace.
When first my person blest her,
Sir, what d' ye want,
Sir, what d' ye want,
And when I'd have carest her,
Indeed you sha'n't,
Indeed you sha'n't.
So cunning I addrest her,
With sight and pant,
With sigh and pant,
That soon I kiss'd and prest her,
I'm so gallant,
I'm so gallant.
My fair in wit so arch is,
I'm her dawdle,
I'm her dawdle,
My very foul she searches,
Shakes her noddle,
Shakes her noddle.
My heart with love she parches,
My blood does coddle,
My blood does coddle,
And like a duck she marches,
Widdle Waddle,
Widdle Waddle.
Then be so obliging in your gown and slippers, to take off my boots.
(Stoops to take off boots.
Enter
Vasquez.
Sir, the ladies wait breakfast for you.
My respects to the ladies, and I will attend them.
Sir, I mean his honour there—
(Points to Pedrillo.
Yes, you mean my honour?
I cou'd drink a dish of chocolate as well as his honour there.
Chocolate! Ha, ha, ha!
Ha, ha, ha!
(Draws his sword, and beats Pedrillo.)
I'll teach you to laught at me.
Teach me to laugh! you may be a good master, but you have a damn'd bad method.
(Aside.)
Hey for chocolate and the ladies!
(Exeunt Ped. and Vas.
Don Scipio shall account to me for this; to hear his contempt and be liable to the insults of his servants, as I don't like his daughter, I have a fair pretence for quitting the castle; but then to leave the mistress of my soul! suppose I make her a tender of my heart—that will not do—she knows my hand is promis'd to another. O my Lorenza!
AIR.—
Ferdinando.
Dame Nature in forming a creature so fair
Each beauty selected, then cull'd the most rare;
Two bright constellations she caught for her eyes,
A station so blest, can they wish for their skies?
The gale lends its sweets, as from Paphos it blows,
The snow-drop its whiteness, its blushes the rose,
Bright Venus, her hair, as from ocean she sprung,
Sage Pallas, the accents that fell from her tongue;
Tho' Nature, in forming this creature so fair,
Each beauty selected, and cull'd the most rare;
Yet Fortune, her step-dame, severe and unkind,
Is unjust to her worth, to her beauty is blind.
Enter
Catilina,
crossing the stage.
I see a young girl—there can be no harm in speaking to her—how do you do my pretty creature?
Lord! master, how do you do? I don't know your name.
You know who I am tho', and what my business is.
Lord! man! you go about to sift a body— yes, yes, we all know in the house who you are; why Don Ferdinando's footman.
So the ladies think I'm only Don Ferd nando's footman, all the while.
We all know that: Ha, ha, ha! notwithstanding your fine clothes.
And pray, madam, where is my master?
Why, parading in the gallery yonder, in his sham livery and morning gown.
(Aside.)
This accounts for the embroider'd hed—I'll carry it on.
Tho' if all the impostors in the castle were "well known, we should have no wedding to-morrow night.
You seem to be in the secret.
Aye, there is a piece of deceit much worse
an you are carrying on.
I know that.
What do you know—that this Italian lady is not Don Scipio's daughter, but Dame Isabel's.
Yes.
(Aside.)
Here is a discovery!
You know that.
Yes, yes; and you know the lady I was speaking to just now, is really Donna Victoria.
Yes, yes.
Here is a piece of villainy: ny dear let me kiss you.
(Kisser ber.
Oh Lord! I never saw such a man. (He's a delightful man tho'.) Lord! what a discovery—if you did not know it before? marry hang your assurance —I must go, I cannot play the lady as you do the gentleman: I have something else to do than to stand—kissing with you here all day.
AIR.—
Catilina.
I have a lover of my own,
So kind and true is he;
As true, I love but him alone,
And he loves none but me.
I boast not of his velvet down,
Or cheeks of rosy hue,
His spicy breath, his ringlets brown,
I priae the heart that's true.
So to all else I must say nay;
They only fret and teaze;
Dear youth, 'tis you alone—that may
Come, court me, when you please.
I play'd my love a thousand tricks,
In seeming coy and shy;—
'Twas only, ere my heart I'd fix,
I thought his love to try.
So to all else I must say ney;
They only fret and teaze:
Dear youth, 'tis you alone, that may
Come, court me, when you please
Why, what a villain is this Don Scipio? ungrateful—but I scorn to think of the services I render'd him last night in the forest: the faithless friend of my father!—the unnatural parent of his own amiable daughter! But here my charmer comes.
(Exit.
Enter
Victoria.
Catilina must be mistaken; it is impossible he can be the servant with such a deportment; his native elegance of manners can never be assum'd. —Yonder he walks—and my flattering heart tells me, this is really the amiable Don Ferdinando, whom I must resign to Isabella's daughter
Enter
Don Ferdinando—
as she is going.
Stay, and let me look upon that lovely excellence I can never obtain, Donna Victoria!
Did you call me then? or did you mean to speak with Victoria?
I cou'd gaze for ever and wonder at your charms—thus transsix'd with astonishment and delight! Beheve me, it is not the knowledge of your quality that attracts my admiration—I know you to be Don Seipio's daughter, the innocent victim of injustice and oppression, and therefore acknowledge to you, and you alone, (whatever you may have heard to the contrary) that I am really Ferdinando De Zelves.
How you came acquainted with my story I know not—but I've perceiv'd something, which told me, by your behaviour, you was Don Ferdinando.
Permit me to relate the sentiments of my heart.—I came here to ratify the contract with Don Scipio's daughter;—you are the beautiful Victoria destin'd to me!—Here take my hand—my heart is yours already! And thus upon my knee, let me make another tender of my heart!
Pray rise, Sign'or, my father cannot justisy his conduct towards me—but, if I do any thing without his consent, it will be a breach of filial duty.
AIR.—
Victoria.
By woes thus surrounded, how vain the gay sinile
Of the little blind Archer, these woes to beguile!
Tho' skilful, he misses, his aim it is crost,
His quiver exhausted, his arrows are lost
Your love, tho sincere, on the object you lose,
(Aside)
How sweet is the passion! Ah! must I resuse?
If filial affection, that passion should sway,
Then Love's gentle dictates I cannot obey.
Can you wish me to espouse dame Isabel's daughter?—Say, you do not.—Do but satisfy me, my foul.
Before I say that, are you Don Ferdinando? if you are, you are already contracted to Don Scipio's daughter!
Yes, I am,
(Aside)
[I don't much regret I've lost the title in the family] a thousand thanks to you.—Yes, my dear Victoria, I am Don Ferdinando, and if fortune favours my designs, you again shall triumph over the malice of your enemies.
If we are seen together by Donna Itabella, she will be interested in whatever you may propose to my advantage.
My life! my love!
DUET.—
Ferdinando and Victoria.
Idalian Queen, to thee we pray,
Record each tender vow;
As night gives place to chearful day,
Let hopes of future bl
ss allay
The pangs we suffer now.
(Exit Vict.
So the whole family, except Victoria, have an idea I am the servant. Since they will have impostors, they shalt have me for one. Let them bestow their mock Ferdinand on Lorenza. I share a just revenge for their pentidy, and shall have the reward and sum of all my wishes, in the possession of the true Victoria.—Oh, here comes Don Scipio!—Now let me begin—Oh, I'm tir'd of playing the gentleman—I long to get into my livery—my master will never wear these again— I'am sure Don Scipio suspects who I am.
Enter
Don Scipio.
I know you are!
My dear friend, Don Scipio.
Friend! why you impudent dog I'll break your head; you are blown here without the use of your trumpet.
Lord, your honour, how came you to know I am Pedrillo?
Why, your fellow servant—
(Aside.)
[Zounds, no! I must not betray my little dreamer neither.] No matter who told me—but here comes your master.
(Aside.)
Oh! he'll spoil all—I wish I had given him his cue; as sure as you stand here, he will still persist in denying he is Ferdinando.
Enter
Pedrillo.
Master, shall I shave you this morning?
Shave you this morning! come, come, it is time to have done with your tricks and fancies.
Pedrillo.
Yes, Sir.
You are found out.
Yes.
You may as well consess.
What the devil shall I confess?
I tell you what, young gentleman, I will write an account of your pranks to your father, and he shall trim your jacket for you.
Nay, for the matter of that, my father cou'd trim your jacket for you.
Trim my jacket!
Why my father's the best taylor in all Cordova.
Your father the best taylor in all Cordova!
Sir, will you give me leave to speak to him?
Aye.
(Aside.)
Tell Don Scipio you are my master.
I will.—Don Scipio, you are my master.
O the stupid dog! Say that you are Ferdinando, and I am Pedrillo.
I will Sir, I will—Sir, you are Ferdinando, and I am Pedrillo.
I told you he wou'd persist in it.
I see it—I see it—I see it—But I tell you what, Don Ferdinando, now do be clever—hold up your head.
(Puts his band under Pedrillo's chin.
(Aside.)
Can you expect to make such an alteration?
Lorenza
is heard singing without.
Here comes my daughter—I think the mock Ferdinando's acting is better than the real one.
Enter
Lorenza.
Oh, that I was but in livery! this is well enough—but my master gives new liveries upon his marriage:—then every body is new cloath'd?
He is right—see, there he stands! like a young taylor of Cordova.—Here, this is Don Ferdinando.
(Introducing Pedrillo.
Pedrillo, at your service, madam.
Here, Pedrillo, take this purse, —and tell Don Scipio you are Ferdinando.
Aye, —now I understand you—true Sir,
(To Don Scipio.)
I am whatever he says.
Give me your hand—that is right and sensible—like yourself, just as it should be.—Now I'll go and see about our business; we'll have all our love affairs finish'd to night.
(Exeunt Ferd. and Scis.
So then you are to be my husband! will you love me then?
Will I love you?
If not—I can be as cold as you are indifferent.
AIR.—
Lorenza.
Love! gay illusion,
Pleasing delusion,
With sweet intrusion
Possesses the mind;
Heart, with heart meeting,
Passion is fleeting,
Vows in repeating
We trust to the wind.
Faith, to faith plighted,
Love may be blighted,
Hearts often slighted
Will cease to be kind.
Exeunt.
SCENE.
A view of a Castle. A Moon Light Night.
Enter
Alphonzo.
If I had but the liberty to walk with the object of my heart! my Victoria! her marriage with Ferdinando is determin'd: but if possible, I will prevent it yet—the youth of the cottage here shall bear him a challenge.
Enter
Phillipo.
Are you at leisure, Phillipo, to take this billet to the castle to Don Ferdinando?
Is your business with Don Ferdinando very pressing?
Very pressing! expremely so.—
(Aside.)
He must not know it's a challenge. It's a letter to invite Don Ferdinando and a few select friends to an entertainment:—Pray do you know who Captain Ramirez is?
No, I do not.
I find he is not acquainted with his real character—I will not betray him.
(Aside.)
I wish Donna Victoria once married; while she remains single—Catilina will never be mine.
AIR.—
Phillipo.
Oh charming maid! ah, why so coy
Unto the youth who loves so well?
Thy gracious smile gives every joy,
Thy frown a pang no tongue can tell.
To thee the Matin-song I raise,
Ere gay blooming Flora
Has welcom'd Aurora,
At noon from Sol's refulgent blaze;
In close-braided bowers,
On beds of sweet flowers,
Reclining,
Adoring,
Yet pining,
Imploring;
Soft Ditty
Repeating,
Thy pity
Intreating,
Till the nightingale's lays
In Vespers seraphic bid nature repose:
Her strain on a lover no slumber bestows,
Nor ease to his mind, nor relies to his woes.
I find Phillipo and I, have been complaining lovers together. Phillipo, may I depend upon your delivery of this?
You may depend upon it—was but my Catilina—kind!
Was my Victoria true!
DUET.—
Alphonzo
and
Phillipo.
So faithful to my fair I'll prove,
So kind and constant to my love,
I'd never range,
I'd never change,
Nor time, nor chance, my faith should move.
No ruby clusters grace the vine,
Ye sparkling stars forget to shine,
Sweet flowers to spring,
Gay birds to sing,
Those hearts then part that love shall join.
Exeunt.
End of the Second Act.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
An Apartment in
Don Scipio's
Casile.
Enter
Don Scipio
and
Lopez.
HERE, Lopez, run to Father Benedict's, bid him wipe his chin, put on his spectacles, pull out his breviary, find out matrimony—and stay till I come; we'll have a brace of weddings to-night.
Exit Lopez.
AIR.—
Scipio.
Hey for a lass and a bottle to cheer,
And a thumping bantling every year;
With skin as white as snow,
And hair as brown as a berry
With eyes as a sloe,
And lips as red as a cherry.
Sing ro
y, tory,
Dancing, prancing,
Laugh and lay down is the play.
We'll fondle together,
To keep out the weather,
And kiss the cold winter away.
Laugh while you live,
For as life is a jest,
Who laughs the most,
Is sure to live best.
When I was not so old,
I frolic'd among the misses;
And when they thought me too bold,
I stop'd their mouth with kisses.
Sing rory, tory, &c.
I wonder if Don Ferdinando is ready? Oh, here comes the servant in his proper habiliments!
(Enter
Ferdinando
in Livery.)
Aye, now my lad, you look something like—
I was quite sick of that dress.
Where is your master—I long to see him in his proper clothes?
(Aside.)
Passing so well in this disguise gives me a very humble opinion of myself—you must know we are behind hand in our finery, in regard to a portmanteau of clothes.
O that is safe enough—Spado your fellow servant the little spy has got it.
Enter
Spado.
What! is this really so?
He has got into his livery again.
(Aside.)
Is this the real master or no? Surely I've not been telling truth, and did not know it—I must brazen it out.—What my old friend— I'm glad to see you, you look like yourself again.
Thank you, my new old friend—here is an old friend I never saw in my life before.
Tell him where his portmanteau is, whilst I go and lead Don Ferdinando in triumph to his bride.
(Exit.
Well, my good new old friend, where has your care bestow'd my portmanteau?
Gone
Gone!
Quite gone.
The man is not in his senses—where is the portmanteau?
Poor old man it's all over with him; he talk'd of spies and dreamers, and now he talks of portmanteaus; it's all over with him indeed.
It must be so!
All grief! all grief! it runs in the family.
He talk'd to me last night in a strange incoherent manner; it seems as if this whimsical change between Pedrillo and me was the creation of his own brain—How come it to run in the family? it is the first time I ever heard Don Scipio was disorder'd in his senses.
We all endeavour to keep it from your master, lest he shou'd break off the match; I don't suppose he wou'd be willing to marry into a mad family.
Pray what may you be?
I am Don Scipio's own gentleman these ten years,
He accosted me as your fellow-servant.
Lord, how you stare! I shou'd not have contradicted him if he had call'd me the Pope's Nuncio. I don't wonder at Isabella's taking advantage of his weakness; now he has got something in his head about a ring, that every body he meets has got a ring of his deceas'd lady's.
Aye, he ask'd me about a ring.
Enter
Don Scipio.
Hark, you Pedrillo! now your disguises are over, return me the ring, will you?
There—I told you he wou'd.
Come, come, give me the ring, and I will give you a better thing; that ring belong'd to my deceas'd lady; give me the ring—here are five pistoles, and the ring is not worth a dollar.
Egad that is more than I knew.
(Aside.)
Here give him this ring, he'll not know any better.
There, Sir.
(Gives Scipio ring and receives money.)
O you mercenary rascal! did not I tell you the ring was in the purse I gave you last night?
Here, give me the cash, for I must be accountable for all his pocket money.
(Exeunt Ferd. and Spado.
Enter
Pedrillo,
ricbly dressed.
Pedrillo.
(Enter Ferdinando.
Here, Sir.
Why how now, firrah? why do you sit loitering here and leave me to dress myself?
Sir, I was—
What was you? why you rascal you fancy yourself still in your finery—you idle vagabond!
Bless me! Don Ferdinando is a very passionate man; aye, he takes after his father.
Well, Don Scipio, am not I a man for the ladies? I have studied Ovid's Art of Love!
Aye, and Ovid's Metamorphoses too.
(Aside.)
[What a sneering figure my poor master cuts.] Egad! I'll pay him off for all his domineering over me, Pedrillo.
Sir.
Here fill my box with Macataw.
Yes, Sir.
Here Sir, perfume my handkerchief.
Pulls out a common check handkerchief and thrusts it into his pocket again—Looks confounded.
Pedrillo, get me a tooth-pick.
Yes, Sir.
Here Pedrillo.
Sir.
Nothing—abscond!
If this is my picture▪ I blush for the original!
(Aside.)
Master, to be like you, do let me give you one kick—it won't hurt you upon my honour.
I will bear no more.
Why, what are you at you scoundrel!— be gone!—
Exit Ferdinando.
(Aside.)
It was curs'd ill-natur'd not to let me give him one kick!
I like you vastly.
So you ought, Sir.
I like you very well—I do indeed.
Tol de rol. [Why, who wou'd suspect me to be the son of a taylor? half an hour ago, perhaps, they might!] Tol de rol, &c.
Very well, you are a great beau; and really now to speak the truth, you have got a very princely person.
Why Sir, all the young girls, whenever I get up behind them, withinside the coach—all the ladies of distinction when they were making their beds—dusting—dressing themselves at their toilette, run directly to the windows—peep thro' their fingers, (their fans I mean) and lisp out—oh! upon my life, their is not such another gentleman in the world as this same Don Pedrillo!
Ferdinando you mean, he cannot forget Pedrillo:—come, it's time to forget it:—its time to have done with Pedrillo, and be my son-in-law!
I will be your son-in-law—you are sure of that honour, Don Scipio—But pray, what fortune am I to have with your daughter? you are a grey-headed old fellow, and by the course of nature, you cannot live long.
I beg your pardon, I don't know any such thing.
And when we put a stone upon your head —
A stone upon my head!
Yes, a stone—that is when you are laid low, I shall have your daughter to maintain—but I don't think much of that, I am so generous.
Yes, generous as a Dutch usurer!
(Aside.)
If Don Ferdinando turns out such a coxcomb, I'm not sorry my own daughter has escap'd him—a convent is better than a marriage with a monkey— then as to her fortune—poor girl—but Dame Isabel would have me on no other terms.
Let's have a plentiful good supper.
A good supper.
Yes.
Was there ever such a genteel—
(Aside.)
Ignorant, conceit'd dog.
Exit.
I am a capital fellow—so my poor master sets his wits to work after a poor girl that I am told is going into a nunnery, and dresses me up to address Donna Victoria—To be sure I am not a capital fellow—but I was made for a gentleman: gentleman! did I say? I am the neat pattern of a lord—I have a little honour about me—a great deal of love and a scrap of courage perhaps.—I wish I had a rival to try.—I think I could fight at any weapon from a needle to a hatchet.— I wou'd not give a pin for a sweetheart without! a rival.
Enter
Phillipo.
Sir, are you Don Ferdinando de Zelva.
Yes, Sir.
Sir, I have a letter from Don Alphonzo
I don't know of any Don Alphonzo, boy! what is the letter about?
I think, Sir, it is to invite you to a feast
Oh! I recollect this old acquaintance.
Are you sure you are Don Ferdinando?
What do you talk in that stile for? do you think I don't know myself, boy?—come give me the letter!
(Reads.)
'Signor, Signor! tho' you seem ready to fall to on a love feast, I hope a small repast in the field may not spoil your stomach.'
(Aside.)
Spoil my stomach! that's only a snack before supper. —
'I shall be at six o'clock in the evening'.
— why you dog it's past six now
'in a meadow near the cottage of the vines.'
O Lord! I shall be too late.
'As you aspire to Donna Victoria your sword must be long enough to reach my heart!'
My sword long enough! Oh, the devil of a feast! why this is a downright challenge!
I beg your pardon, Signor; if I had not met my sweet-heart, Catilina, you would have had that letter two hours ago.
Oh you have given it time enough my brave boy.
You'll come?
Yes, I'll give it him, my boy.
Give it him!
O yes, I dare say he'll come.
Did not you say you was Ferdinando?
Never fear child, Don Ferdmando shall have it.
Why Sir, are you not Don Ferdinando?
Me! no not I, child; I am not Don Ferdinando, my boy; I wou'd have gone to the
but you delay'd the letter so long I've quite lost my stomach; you have made a curs'd blunder—here my boy, Don Ferdinando shall attend you.
Aside.
He is still a master for the gentlemen—I am a man for the ladies.
Exit Phillipo
AIR.—
Pedrillo.
A soldier I am for a lady,
What beau was ere arm'd compleater!
When face to face,
Her chamber the place,
I
m able and willing to meet her.
Gad's curse my dear lasses, I'm ready
To give you all satisfaction;
I am the man
For the crack of your fan
Tho' I die at your feet in the action
Your bobbins may beat up a row-dow-dow,
Your lap-dog may out with his bow-wow-wow,
The challenge in love,
I take up the glove,
Tho' I die at your feet in the action.
Enter
Phillipo.
As I live, here is Don Alphonzo! I wish Don Ferdinado
d got the letter sooner—I lost my time with Catilina—she was so cruel indeed, I dread to approach her, tho' it is my delight to see her.
AIR—
Phillippo.
My fair one, like the blushing rose,
Can sweets to every sense disclose,
Those swee's l'd gather, but her scorn
Then wounds me like the sharpest thorn.
With sighs, each grace and charm I see,
Thus doom'd to wither on the tree;
Till age shall chide the thoughtless maid,
When all those blooming beauties fade.
Exit
Enter
Ferdinando
and
Victoria.
By order of Don Scipio, Father Benedict waits in the chapel: do let him join our hands, and then let Fortune do her worst.
Why would you force me to so imprudent a step—not withstanding my consent you must have my father's—
Our union is authoriz'd by the consent of both our fathers; and Dame Isabella is fully convinc'd I am Pedrillo, otherwise she would not give her aid. But to get you out of the way of her daughter, she gives me her assistance, my Victoria
The balm of consolation is the sweet result of conscious uprightness.
AIR—
Victoria
The musk-rose blooms in thorns and te
,
Vet queen of all the garden reigns;
While Phoebe in a cloud appears
Her virgin lustre she retains.
es, or cruel friends unkind,
A thought consoles each deep distr
ss,
That conscious rectitude of mind,
In fortune's frown has power to bless.
For sweets, the tulip proud and gay
Unto the humble violet yields,
And Philomel's sequester'd lay
Transcends the chorus of the fields.
If foes, &c,
Exeunt.
Enter
Pedrillo.
Yes, my master is in for it: there they go, and certainly to be married. The enraged Alphonzo is certainly come here to demand satisfaction: my master and he were once friends; but jealousy and a long sword have cut their friendship in two. He little knows I am the rival.
Enter
Lorenza.
Oh! here is my husband: he looks well enough, now he is drest; but not so well as my discarded lover, Alphonzo.
(Aside.)
I will accost her with elegancy —How do you do, Signora?
Very well at your service.
(Aside.)
He looks like Prince Radacasti.
Signora, you are a clever little body. Will you sit down, Signora.
Sits down himself.
So polite too!
O, I admire politeness.
Full of good manners.
O, I forgot.
Draws the other chair.
Sit down upon this chair. I assure you, I don't grudge the trouble, for the sake of good manners.
This be no good manners at Florence:
Yes, I sit upon my chair genteely, I had. I understand a little Italian now to court her: what shall I say?
(Aside.)
I wish my master had gone through the whole of the business, to the very drawing of the curtains.—Signora.
Signor, I love to be courted—begin, begin.
Oh Signora; (I believe I ought to kneel.) Oh you most beautiful goddess! you angelic angel!
For you my Fair, I'd be a rose,
To blow beneath that comely nose;
No more I'll say, you stop my breath,
My only life! you'll be my death.
There is something in Don Ferdinando's manner extremely strange, tho' rather extravagant —now for some sweet air.
If you will sing me a song, I will stay and hear you.
With pleasure, Sir.
AIR—
Lorenza.
Heart beating,
Repeating
Vows in palpitation,
Sweetly answer each fond hope;
Prithee leave me,
You'll deceive me,
After other beauties running,
Smiles so roguish, eyes so cunning.
Shew where points the inclination
Heart beating,
Repeating
Vows in palpitation,
Sweetly answer each fond hope.
Exit.
SCENE.
A View of a Cathedral.
Enter
Alphonzo.
Two lovers and both in distress!
AIR—
Alphonzo.
Love! sweet passion, torment pleasing,
Pure delight in pain you give.
Thrilling anguish, flattering, teasing,
Ne'er from grief or rapture ceasing,
Yet I'll love, or cease to live.
Enter
Don Ferdinando
and
Victoria.
Give me joy, Alphonzo, Father Benedict! Benedict, has this moment made me the happiest of mankind, in giving me Victoria!
Then it is certain all you told me of my Victoria is true.
It is.
No matter, her very name is still dear to Alphonzo.
You shall be no loser by this; we will endeavour to bring about your marriage with Lorenza.
I shou'd be happy indeed, to be blest with my Lorenza!
GLEE—
Ferdinando, Alphonzo,
and
Victoria
Auspicious powers approving,
Reward true love in me,
No greater bliss than loving
When thus belov'd by thee.
No, no.
No while thus belov'd by thee.
SCENE.
A View of the Castle.
Enter
Spado.
I am in love with this castle, I've got my comrades out of it at last. Ramirez and Sanguino are gone back to the cave, in high hopes that I will let them in to-morrow night: well—I'll keep my word with them, they shall be welcom'd with a strong guard. Old Don Juan is arriv'd I hear —can any thing be made of him I wonder—I've got a portmanteau, some cash and some plate.— I don't know how it is, but there is not half the bustle in the castle I expected.—I promis'd myself there would be a fine confusion—then is the time I pick up the loose things. I'm inform'd this Don Juan is very passionate—Egad if I could contrive to set him and Don Scipio together by the ears— O I have it—I'll try however—here is the old gentleman coming.
Exit.
Enter
Don Juan,
with attendants.
I suppose I shall surprize my son Don Ferdinando and Don Scipio too—tell them I am here—I hope I'm time enough for the wedding.
Enter
Spado.
A mighty grave looking old gentleman!
Whose dog are you?
How do you do, Sir?
Why are you a physician?
No, Sir, I am poor Spado.
Then what is it to you how I do; where is your master? what the devil is this his hospitality when he hears I'm here.
Hears! O poor gentleman—his misfortune!
Is he married?
Married! no, Sir.
Is he in his senses?
He has nearly lost one.
I wou'd speak to him?
You must speak very loud then.
Is he deaf?
Aye, poor old gentleman, he can scarce hear one word.
Poor old fellow!
Now if I can but set the two old ones together —I shall have a quarrel between them.
Enter
Don Scipio.
I hope he has not heard of his son's pranks.
(Aside.)
No, his hearing is so bad, I have been bellowing to him this half hour, he can scarce hear one word; you may try what you can do, but you must bellow like a speaking trumpet.
Bellow! ha! Don Juan, you are very welcome to my house.
(Aside.)
It is very strange that deaf men always speak so loud! I'm very glad to see you, Don Scipio.
When they are deaf themselves, they fancy every body else is so too. How long have you been in this way?
Just arriv'd.
I mean at your hearing?
Yes, I find it's very bad with you; Zounds! I shall roar myself as hoarse as a raven.
You are welcome to my house.—
(Aside.)
But I wish you had staid at home; I find I must speak to him by signs, my lungs won't hold out.
Makes signs.
What the devil! have you lost your tongue too?
Enter
Servant.
You may speak out, nobody can hear you but me.
What, is this curs'd old fellow your master going to be married?
Sir, Don Ferdinando wants to speak with you.
I wish he would come and speak to his blockhead of a father.—Don Juan, you'll soon see your son as great an ass as yourself.
Zounds! you are not deaf; you old rascal you'll find me a very tyger—you old—
Enter
Ferdinando
and
Victoria.
What, my father!
What do you do with this fellow?
He is my husband.
What! that rascal?
What means all this? do you call my son a rascal?
Nobody is speaking of your son.
He has honour'd your family, you crackbrain'd old fellow.
A footman honour my family!
What do you mean by that, you superannuated old fool?
Enter
Isabella.
What is all this about? is this really Don Ferdinando?
Do you think I don't know my own son?
Do you say so, Don Juan.
To be sure I do.
You have done a fine thing then!
Madam, yours was the contrivance, which Love has counteracted, in justice to this injur'd lady.
O, that villain, Spado.
That was the villain who told me you was deaf.
The very same who told me you had lost your hearing.
And he told me you had lost your senses, Don Scipio.
And led me into this unlucky error.
Zounds! what a lying scoundrel!
Enter
Spado.
(Aside.)
I wonder how my work goes on.
(To Don Juan.)
I give you joy, Sir.
Yes, and I'll give you sorrow, you damn'd rascal.
I'll have you hang'd, you dog you.
O, that will be the death of me, Sir.
Enter
Pedrillo
leading
Lorenza.
Come along, my cara sposa.
(Aside.)
Aye, my old master! I must brazen it out.
You rascal you, a pistol for you! I'll thrash you.
I'm going to be married to an heiress; so I must not be beat to a mummy.
Going up to Ferdinande.
Stay where you are; I don't want you.
Enter.
Alphonzo.
(To Lorenza.)
I understand, Don Alphonzo has been honoured with your partiality: I suppose you will have no objection to give him your hand.
I blush to see him.
My dearest Lorenza!
Egad, my business goes on prettily between you.
You see, Don Juan, how this business is.
Aye, and very shameful it is.
Well, I give my blessing to them.
But what will make amends for your innded breach of contract with me?
Did not I tell you I was in love?
Nothing can atone for your intention to introduce your Italian frippery into my family.
How shall I get out of this? I will revenge all upon this rascal, Spado. Here, a brace of alguazils and handcuffs for him.
For me! I'm the best friend you ever had in the world.
How? prove it.
Was not you going to marry that lady?
Yes.
You had better not. She and I happen to be old acquaintance.
What, more lies! and do you believe him?
Don't you know I liv'd with a certain captain that stole off with the lady to Italy?
Oh Don Scipio, I will find the means to silence that wretch, and you will feel the effects of it.
Exit.
I think Sir, I've prov'd a friend to you.
Aye, but that shan't save your neck.
I think I have saved your honour and your throat too.
Aye, how did you do that?
There were two of the banditti in the castle this morning, and I got them out.
How?
Why I told them they might come and cut your throat to-morrow.
That was very kind of you. I am very much obliged to you.
And you have time to get a guard ready, and give them a warm reception.
And pray, my little busy friend, what induced you to all this roguery on my account?
Truly, I would have prevented your marriage with Donna Victoria, in hopes of obtaining a reward from Don Alphonzo.
You have done no great mischief, after all your artifices; though I believe you are a sad dog: but, as you have been the means of bringing things about in the present agreeable manner, I forgive you.
No, let me tell you, Sir, I will have—
Half draws.
And you shall have—a bottle of the best wine in all Andalusia. Here we will have flutes, and hautboys, and every thing else to make us happy, and our friends welcome: and we hope our good-natured friends will forget and forgive our defects.
GLEE—
FINALE.
Social pow'rs, at pleasure's call.
Welcome here to Hymen's hall;
Bacchus, Ceres, bless the feast,
Momus lend the sprightly jest;
Songs of joy elate the soul,
Hebe fill the flowing bowl.
Ev'ry pure and chaste delight
Crown with love this happy night.
FINIS,