THE Rival Sisters: OR, The Violence of LOVE, A TRAGEDY.  
As it is Acted at the THEATRE-ROYAL, BY His Majesty's Servants.  
Written by Mr. GOULD.  
LONDON,  
Printed for Richard Bently in Russel-street, Covent-Garden; Francis Saunders in the New Exchange; and James Knapton at the Crown in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1696.   

To the Right Honourable JAMES, Earl of ABINGDON, etc.  
My LORD,  
THIS Play, which I humbly here present to your Lordship, was, at first, only meant as a private Trial to myself, of what I could do in this kind of Poesy; I had not the least hope of ever seeing it on the Stage. After 'twas finished, it lay by me for some time, as a thing forgot and totally neglected; till an Ingenious Gentleman of my Acquaintance, who took the pains to peruse it, gave me encouragement to look it over a little heedfully, as seeing something in it (he was pleased to say) that, with Improvement, might make it accepted on the Stage. I took his Council: But afterwards found so much interruption and discouragement from some prejudiced Gentlemen, who ought to have used me better, or, at least, had no reason to use me ill, that I repented I had bestowed any time upon it, tho' indeed 'twas but little. But they now, however, see the Folly and Arrogance of being positive before hand; and that 'tis not a private Taste, but the general Acceptance that ought to determine in these Matters. In spite of 'em, my Lord, it was kindly received, and that too, at a time when the Town was never known thinner of Nobility and Gentry; a▪ Fortune, I neither expected or deserved: For I must do my Enemies the Justice to declare, they can't have so mean an Opinion of it as myself. And this Consideration, my Lord, obliges me at once to beg Pardon for making You a Present of such a Trifle, and to reflect on what I am doing; for I have hitherto rather entertained your Lordship with an Advertisement than a Dedication: But, I confess, it was purposely so intended; for your Lordship, I am sensible, had rather hear any thing than your own Praises. Never was so much Modesty joined with a Temper so Heroic and Noble; Never was so engaging a Condescension seen, in One of so great a Fortune and Extraction; Never was there a Zeal for Religion more steadfast and temperate than your Lordship's; or a Charity, even in the Primitive Times of Christianity, more diffusive and impartial; and never, indeed, were our Dedications directed to a more Judicious and Generous Patron, where the Merit of Authors is certainly rewarded, and their Failings as certainly forgiven. I could here, methinks, with a great deal of Ardour, go into your Panegyric: But tho' I myself, in respect to your Lordship, am silent upon that admirable Subject, the many Books laid at your Feet in this Age, will be Testimonies to the succeeding, how much your Lordship is the Delight and Esteem of it: Whatever becomes of this Piece, Posterity will there find You, and in more shining and durable Colours than could be laid by the unskilful Pencil of,  
My Lord, Your Lordship's entirely obliged and most humble Servant,  
Robert Gould.   

PROLOGUE.  Written by Mr. D'Urfey, and Spoke by Mr. Horden 

BUT that 'twould balk us in our Hopes to day,  
I would myself have tried to spoil this Play,  
And damn our Country Scribblers first Essay;  
For letting Comic Characters pass free,  
That swarm, like Bees, there under every Tree,  
And plague his Brains to write a Tragedy.  
I was in hopes t'have had some Merry Joke,  
How Farmer Hodge, a Freehold Heart of Oak,  
And Collen, fell together by the Ears,  
About their choosing of their Knights of Shires,  
If't had not pleased the Commons,— 'twould the Peers:  
Or else how Master Justice, and his Spouse,  
Rated their Eldest Daughter, splay foot Blouse,  
With Mutton Fist, broad Face, and sorrel Hair,  
And chuffy Cheeks, red-streaked like Kath'rine Pear,  
For letting John the Butler late prevail  
O'er Maiden Honour for a Tost and Ale—  
A Scene like that had took, it could not fail.  
Or how the Rednosed Elder used to Cackle, In a Canting Tone.  
With holy Vigour and spiritual Tackle,  
Got Babe of Grace in Porch of Tabernacle.  
This now had brought a Harvest to us Players,  
Certain to please you— that ne'er go to Prayers.  
Or did the Play expose some Rattling Squire,  
That with his Fox-Hounds flounders through the Mire▪  
And, after daily teizing of his Life,  
At Night with stubble Beard halts home and scrubs his Wise,  
Who thus Caressed by her rough bristled Dear,  
Dreams of a Hedgehog, and turns off for fear.  
Nay, had the Fool but searched the Hundred thorough▪  
And found some clumsy Burgess of a Borough,  
Some Hobnailed Dealer of the Booby's Riches,  
Some Representative in Leathern Breeches;  
The Character, I'm sure, Applause had got,  
And strangely took, digested in a Plot:  
But, a plague on't, he Writes a Tragedy,  
A Tale of loving Fools to make ye Cry.  
Therefore for my part, I'll▪ speak nought to day,  
Either t'excuse the Poet or the Play—  
Yet, Faith, 'tis well enough some People say:  
If you are kind, I thus my Thoughts impart,  
And in the old Country Phrase say, without Art,—  
Zooks, 'tis your Goodness more than his Desert.    

EPILOGUE,  Written by Mr. D'Urfey, and Spoke by Mr. Verbruggen, who enters Laughing. 

HA! ha! ha!— The Jest is worth being known,  
Our Country Poet's just come Post to Town,  
To see the growth of his first darling Fruits,  
Stands peeping yonder in his dirty Boots.  
He begged me humbly to implore for Grace;  
But I, resolved t'augment his frightful case,  
Told him, I saw damned fortune in his Face,  
And that to save him now all hope was gone,  
Unless he prayed himself— I'll fetch him on. [Goes out and immediately reenters.  
'Sdeath! would you think it? Fear o'th' damning Pit  
Has thrown the fearful Fool into a Fit!  
You see, Gallants, how dreadfully you fright,  
What dire Campaigns they hazard that dare Write,  
Not Men at Sea, when Mountain Waves swell high,  
Not guilty Thiefs, pursued by Hue and Cry,  
Not wounded Soldiers, doubting of their Cure,  
Nay, not the French, at Storming of Namure,  
Feared half so much th'approaching stroke of Death,  
As a new Scribbler your Bombarding Breath.  
Ah! Sirs— if this be called the Golden Age,  
I fear it will prove fatal to the Stage:  
For now of Wit and Gold we've such strange store,  
That the excess of it does make us Poor:  
Even in the midst of Plenty we shall fall.  
Critics and Clippers have undone us all.  
In former Times, when we were at no Charge,  
When Wit was narrow, and Half-Crown was large,  
When Cit in Cloak came pleased to see our Whims,  
And brought Queen Bess' Shillings broad as his Hat brims;  
Then was a glorious thriving Time for Players;  
When the dull Crowd, unskilled in these Affairs,  
To day would laugh with us, to morrow with the Bears:  
Careless which Pastime did most Witty prove,  
Or who pleased best, Tom Poet, or Tom Dove.  
But now, even from the Court to the Black Guard,  
Through all degrees of Men starts up a Bard,  
The Beau, the Cit., the Lawyer— and the Lord.  
Above twice fifty Plays each Year are made,  
And of twice fifty Plays scarce five are Played.  
Strange Paradox! No Age did e'er let loose  
So many Wits, or so much Gold produce,  
Yet we want both for necessary use.  
However, we are bound to wait your Will;  
And tho' you come prepared to use us ill,  
Change but your Money, and you're welcome still,    

The Persons Represented.  

Vilarezo, a Nobleman of Portugal. Mr. Dizny.  
Sebastian, his Son. Mr. Verbruggen.  
Antonio, Sebastian's Friend, Mr. Powel, Jun.  
Alonzo, Mr. Williams,  
Vilander, Kinsman to Vilarezo. Mr. Horden.  
Gerardo, Mr. Johnson.  
Diego, Antonio's Page. Mr. Tho. Kent.  
Catalina, Eldest Daughter to Vilarezo, Mrs. Knight.  
Berinthia, her Sister, Mrs. Rogers.  
Alphanta, Antonio's Sister, Miss Cross.  
Ansilva, Catalina's Woman, Mrs. Verbruggen.  
Julia, Berinthia's Woman, Mrs. Seagrove.  
Clara, Alphanta's Woman. Mrs. Newman.  
Gentlemen.  
Boy.  
Attendants, etc.   
The Scene Averos, a Village in Portugal.   

THE Rival Sisters: OR, The Violence of LOVE.  

ACT the First.  Scene a Garden. Enter Antonio, Berinthia, Julia, at a distance. Anto. 

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

Much more, the sure continuance of their Joys:  
Our Bliss below each giddy chance destroys,  
As we too soon may find—  
For O!—   Anto. 
For what? by Heaven that Sigh unmans me!  Berin. 

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

Think, Berinthia? I should be all thought,  
Lost in the Whirl pool of Imagination!  
But where's the Wretch so indiscreet or rash,  
That dares but mutter to himself, he'll part us?   Berin. 
Forbear, my Lord,— you know I have a Father.  Anto. 

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

He oft has said,  
That he would marry Catalina first:  
And I much fear—   Anto. 

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

But here, my Lord, here comes the Dart will wound you,  
The Shaft that through your Ear will reach your Soul,  
Unless you call your Reason to your aid  
To blunt the pointed Ruin— It is you  
To whom he has designed her,  
For without you she is no more herself.  
Preposterous Chance! O Heaven, you should have quenched  
Her growing Flame, or not have kindled mine!  
In short, my Lord, she loves you, and last Night  
(So much her Tears and her Entreaties moved him)  
My Father made a Vow she should be yours,  
If half his Wealth—   Anto. 
Not half the World shall win me.  Berin. 

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

Madam, your Father's in the Orange Walk,  
And seems to make this way.   Berin. 
I must avoid him.  [Exeunt Berin. Julia. Anto. 

So will not I, for he's the Oracle  
Where I this moment must inquire my Doom.   Enter Vilarezo, Attendants. Vilar. 

Alone? 'tis to my wish. [aside.  
My Lord, good morrow. [Embraces him.  
Thy Father was my Friend, my better half,  
Yet, while I clasp thee thus,  
Methinks I have not lost him; his great worth  
Is all revived in thee: but were he living,  
Thou wert not dearer to his Arms than mine.   Anto. 
I see which way he drives, and must prevent him.  [aside. Vilar. 

While you are here, then think yourself at home,  
For by my Life I love thee as a Child.   Anto. 
Heaven grant your Mind may always be the same.  Vilar. 
It shall— but why that wish?— thou droop'st, Antonio.  Anto. 

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

Mysterious still— but prithee be more plain.  
Your Words betray the trouble of your Heart,  
Your Eyes don't sparkle with their usual Lustre,  
I thought you had been proof against the Charms  
Of the Fair Sex— yet why should you complain?  
For whom can brave Antonio love in vain?   Anto. 

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

Who e'er he is,  
I'll warrant for him, he denies thee nothing  
That he can give, or thou canst ask with Honour:  
Then boldly on, I'll second thy Petition.   Anto. 
I take you at your Word, and on my Knees—  [Kneels. Vilar. 

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

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

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

Forgive me if this once I disobey you:  
I must not rise till my request is granted.   Vilar. 
Then you must kneel for ever.  Anto. 

Call back! call back that Sentence ere it play [rises.  
The Tyrant in my Heart, and yield me up  
To Madness or Despair?  
Can you forget so soon your noble Promise?  
That you'd deny me nothing you could give,  
Or I could ask with Honour.   Vilar. 

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

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

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

Confusion! Pain and Torture!—— O my Lord!  
Your said but now you loved me as a Child.   Vilar. 

I did indeed, and I will prove a Father,—  
Witness the Powers that know our secret Thoughts,  
That my denial springs not from dislike,  
But from the force of Friendship and of Love.  
Of all the Blessings which Indulgent Heaven  
Has with a bounteous hand showered down upon me,  
There is but one I prize above the rest,  
And that I give to thee.— Yes, my Antonio,  
My Elder hope I'll to thy Arms assure;  
But think, ah! think not of Berinthia more.   Anto. 
Down swelling Heart and keep the Balance even.  [aside. Vilar. 

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

Now either my denial or compliance  
Are dangerous Rocks, and I must steer between. [aside.  
My Lord, this Favour does require an Answer  
That may preserve our Friendship still entire:  
Therefore I'll beg your leave  
A little to consult my Inclination.  
But must, withal, entreat you to consider,  
That where so firm a Knot of Love is tied,  
'Tis Heaven that joins, and Man should not divide.   Vilar. 

I will consider, but it shall be how  
To tear Berinthia's Image from thy Heart.  
That Knot of Loye no matter who did join,  
If I can make her elder Sister thine.   
[aside going off.  
[Exeunt Vilar. Atten.  Enter on the other side Berinthia, Julia. Anto. 
Berinthia— Oh!—  Berin. 

That Sigh confirms our Ruin.  
I knew his temper was not to be moved.  
There's no way left but to despair and die.   Anto. 

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

My Lord, your Sister's just arrived from Sevil,  
And does inquire for you.   Anto. 

Conduct her hither.  
'Tis even beyond my wish! I have not seen her  
Since she was Ten Years old, and yet even then  
she'd something in her that was soft and charming;  
Your Brother found th'effect; at whose request  
I sent her word to meet me at Averos.  
You know the rest, she's here.   Enter Alphanta, Clara, Diego. Berin. 
And is indeed a Wonder!  Alphan. 

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

With such a Joy I take thee in my Arms!  
O Sister! thou art come as sent from Heaven!   Alphan. 
Then blessed be the Powers that brought me hither.  Berin. 

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

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

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

Not love him! were you Queen of the whole World,  
And were your Charms as boundless as your Power,  
Nay, could your Voice call Angels from their Orbs  
To dote upon the Music of your Tongne,  
When I shall tell thee 'tis this Lady's Brother,  
My Gallant Friend Sebastian, you would blush,  
And be the first that gave thyself the Lie—  
There needs no pause; he's Young, an Heir, and Noble.   Alphan. 
Would he had never seen me.  Anto. 

Ha! why that wish? or does my Heart misgive me?  
Hear me, Alphanta, by the Powers above  
If thou hast dared, unknown to me, to marry,  
you'd better have taken cold Aspics to thy Bed,  
That kill even with their Kisses.   Berin. 
Where will this end?  Anto. 
Thou art not married?  Alphan. 
No, indeed I am not.  Anto. 
Nor plighted Faith to any?  Alphan. 
No by Heaven.  Anto. 

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

Pardon me, Brother, if to try your Temper,  
I feigned myself concerned:  
I through your Care of me perceive your Love,  
And had no other aim,  
Assured of that, what e'er Commands you lay,  
You'll find that I shall readily obey.   Berin. 
This is a turn above my Expectation!  Anto. 
And thou canst love my Friend!  Alphan. 

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

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

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

Not yet I have not, but I must forget 'em;  
Love must make way for Interest— don't repine,  
For my advance is yours.   Clara. 
Let me be Wretched, so you be not Criminal.  Alphan. 

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

I've done— but may Heaven never think of me,  
If I not let him know your Perjured Thoughts  
ere yet an hour be passed: He's nearer t'ye  
Than y'imagine.   [Exit. Enter Catalina, Ansilva. Cata. 

This day will make me blessed or wretched ever.  
ere this my Father has proposed the Match,  
And I am on the Rack to know my Fate.  
Ha! who are those?   Ansil. 
Antonio and his Sister.  Cata. 
His Sister! are you sure that 'tis his Sister?  Ansil. 
I am, Madam.  Cata. 

I was afraid too soon:  
I should be loath to have so fair a Rival.  
This way and we shall meet 'em.   [Exeunt Cata. Ansil. Enter Antonio, Alphanta. Anto. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

O! if with such indifference he could hear  
What you proposed, as but to give you hope,  
I know my doom!— if he at all had loved,  
He would have listening stood as Heaven had spoke,  
And with a greedy Ear devoured your words.  
He is not to be moved, and I am lost!   Vilar. 

Forbear this Passion, rash unthinking Girl.  
I tell thee I have used my utmost care  
That with an equal Flame he cherish thine:  
Nor do I doubt, but in a little space  
He will pay all his future Homage here.   Cata. 
O Death to all my Hopes! then he's in Love!  Vilar. 

I've taken Order to prevent its progress.  
Droop not, my Child, I'll mould him to thy wishes.  
In the mean time I'd have you entertain  
No anxious thoughts, but leave th' affair to me;  
And you shall find, ere a day elder grown,  
I'll compass thy Repose, or lose my own.   [Exit. Vilar. Cata. 

Ha! taken Order to prevent its progress—  
By Heaven! if what I still have feared is true,  
Berinthia is my Rival!  
True did I say? Fool that I was to doubt it:  
'Tis all too true for my eternal quiet!—  
Yet I'll not tamely lose him— Christian Practice  
Shows me the way— What has not angry zeal  
Made those that differ from her Interest Feel?  
Does it regard Alliance, does it spare  
Women with Child, or kneeling Saints at Prayer?  
Me a much stronger cause does forward move,  
No Zeal can be so warm as injured Love.   [Exit Cata. As Ansilva is going off, Enter Gerardo and pulls her back by the Sleeve. Ansil. 
Well, what now?— if 'tis to discourse over the old story 'tis but breath thrown away— and you have but little of that to spare— and not much of any thing else.  Gerar. 
How? how?—  Ansil. 
A Lover of threescore!— Fie! 'tis as unnatural as the Ass in the Fable that fawned upon his Master, and thought he might take all the little Liberties of a Lap-Dog.  Gerar. 
Or the great ones of a Monkey— To the Ladies, I hope, you'll grant an Ass is not altogether useless— Better Brutes have e'er now been forced to give place to 'em.  Ansil. 
'Tis a great many years ago, however, since you were useful.  Gerar. 
Dost thou treat als men with this Indifference?  Ansil. 
No; but I would, if they were all as thou art.  Gerar. 
Why, what am I?  Ansil. 
The shadow of a Lover., nothing else, though you talk so much of the substance. You may, I grant, please your own Imagination; but that will scarce reach far enough to satisfy a Mistress— In fine, you can only think Love, not act it, and so will be Damned for the Sin, without enjoying the Pleasure.  Gerar. 
Certainly thou hast held thy Leg over a nettle this Morning— I defy e'er a young, noisy, fashionable Fool of 'em all to do you better Reason than myself.— Look here Child— observe this Caper— D'ye see?— mere strength of back! mere Chine!— I'd undertake, if thou would but love me, to shake of twenty years with as much ease as a Courtier does his Promise, a Fanatic his Allegiance, or a Statesman his Religion; and come to thy Arms all warmth! all Love!—  Ansil. 
And all wrapped up in Sear-Cloath like a Mummy— My Imagination sickens at it— Hear me Gerardo, for now I'm serious— if I thought any Behaviour of mine encouraged yond to this Impudent Application, I'd turn Nun to be revenged on myself: and there is but the Devil and thee I'd sooner avoid.  Gerar. 
Nay, now youare too severe, and in not seeing my Affection, are blind to your Interest.— I could every day have presented thee with some such pieces as these—  [Chinks 'em. Ansil. [Aside.] 
Ha! the right Colour! and I confess they look prevailingly— if he part with his money there is hope he may be drawn on a little further.  Gerar. 
And have made thee outshine any Lady in Portugal for Bravery, Jewels, and all that—  Ansil. [Aside.] 
And now I think on't I'll try him; if he will bite at Matrimony; I don't care if I angle for the Gudgeon.  Gerar. 
But time is, time was, and agad time's—  Ansil. 
Not past, I hope, Noble Sir.  Gerar. 
But take these, however, in Earnest of what I would have done, if you had used me better.  Ansil. 
How? use you better than by a feigned unkindness to be assured your pretences were real? as now, to my great Comfort, I am: If you think I had any other design, here, I'll refund.— I scorn to be obliged to one that doubts me.  Gerar. 
Doubt thee? no, no— A Man need not doubt the Corrupting a Saint when twenty Broad pieces are his Bawd.  [Aside. Ansil. 
Then, upon consideration, I will accept of your love; but it must be upon Conditions.  Gerar. 
Let 'em be what they will I agree to 'em: Tho' you should put me to the same Drudgery my Lady Amble did her Porter, whom she used to call her Limbeck, filled him three times a day with Jelly and Cock-broath, which she still drew off in Spirits.  Ansil. 
Then I enjoin you upon pain of my lasting displeasure to talk, think, and Dream of no other Female but myself.  Gerar. 
Good.— no, hold, hold. How shall I do to bridle carnal Ap petite in sleep?— I'd know that now?  Ansil. 
Nay if you done't like my Propositions—  Gerar. 
I do, I do: proceed.  Ansil. 
Then, lastly, you must not dare to mention that exploded thing called Marriage to me.— Now I shall try him.  [Aside. Gerar. 
Better and better, we were certainly cut out for one another. I never designed it, Child, I never designed it; that was premised when I gave thee my Money, with a Wife I would have had some: and that may serve to show how much I respect thee above one.  Ansil. 
O, goes it so?— then I know how to use you.  [Aside. Gerar. 
And upon the Performance of all this I shall embrace—  Ansil. 
Your own Desires— but nothing else by Heaven, for me.  [Aside. 
But hark, my, Lord Sebastian's  [Horns, as at the Death of a Stag. 
Returned from Hunting. I must be gone.  Gerar. 
A Kiss at parting.  Ansil. 
Nay, then don't force it.  Gerar. 
Gad but I must, 'tis not to be had else I find.  Ansil. [Aside.] 
O Garlic, Goats and Monkeys.  [Exit Spitting. Gerar. 
some married Man, perhaps, may think me a Coxcomb for parting with my Money so easily: but if his Wive's separate Coach, Gaming, Servants, Nurses and Pin-Money▪ were seriously considered at the Years end;  

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

ACT II.  Scene a GROVE. Enter Sebastian, Vilander, Gentlemen, Attendants, as from Hunting. To them Gerardo. Gerar. 
WHAT sport, my Lord?  Sebast. 
The best we've had this Season.  Gent. 

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

O who would leave such manly sports as these  
To waste his youth and strength in fond Embraces?  
To whine, and fawn, and Die to gain a Smile  
Of some fantastic Creature, made to serve him?   Gent. 
Still on this Subject?  Sebast. 

'Tis habitual to him.  
The Mistress he adored proved false, and now  
He rails at all because one broke her Vow.   Vilan. 

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

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

First, he that loves waits on a Woman's will:  
Which, tho' 'tis shifting, tho' 'tis changing still,  
Is yet not half so changeable, as ill.  
The solid Pleasures which the Wise esteem  
He leaves to follow a fantastic Dream,  
The Ignis Fatuus of his wild Desires,  
Which makes a glare, misleads him and Expires.  
His Interest, Honour, nay his future good  
Is not regarded, or not understood,  
When Love has cramped his Brain and fired his blood.  
If he has Rivals (for 'tis never known  
But the fair snare does catch more Fops than one)  
He fights, he kills, and, when from Justice fled,  
The Living Fool's more Wretched than the dead.  
Yet after all these Miseries are run through  
Can he be certain she'll continue true?  
And if her Coyness was with torture born,  
How will he relish falsehood, backed with Scorn?   Sebast. 

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

Young man, let this bold Truth employ your thoughts,  
The very best of Women has her fau't;  
If through those fau't my life uneasy be,  
What signify her Virtues then to me?   Gerar. 
I am of Opinion, Gentlemen, you're both wide— to love 'em too well makes 'em proud, and too little Peevish: a man must walk between you, if he intends to come between any thing else.  

A mistress believes him disabled that rails,  
And a Coxcomb that whines and won't tell what he ails;  
'Tis the Frolic, the free, and the bold that prevails:  
For Woman's a Sphinx that puts forth a Riddle,  
Which nothing resolves like a Treat and a Fiddle.— and so set ye Merry.   [Exit Gerar. Vilan. 

True Lecher still.—  
When once we tread the Harlot's beaten way,  
Not stone, nor Gout have Power to make us stay,  
In Spite of Age we still love fornication,  
And upon Crutches travail to Damnation.  
But see! what have we here?   Enter Gerardo with Alonzo, Boy. Gerar. 
One that says Love has sent him with a Hue and Cry after his Mistress. As you're at present inclined I thought him very fit Company for you.— I never see half a dozen Lovers together but I think it a great chance if six of 'em are not Madmen.  [Exit. Alon. 
Here, here, here.—— This to the East, this  [Gives 'em Papers. 
to the West, this to the North, and this to the South— let 'em be sent from Tything to Tything with all Possible haste. She's described to the life— Of a Moderate height, aged about Sixteen, soft as an Angel, treacherous as a Devil!— away with 'em.— I'll Stay here till you bring news of her. In the mean time, Boy, Sing the Song Amintor made, who used to say his mistress's Vows were like Ropes of sand, only more apt to break in the Twisting.  

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

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

I'm cold! I starve with cold!  
My heart is turned to Ice with her Disdain!  
Oh! it oppresses— but I'll tear it out.  
Alas! here are too many Stains of sin,  
But look it through and through (for 'tis transparent)  
You'll find no Stains of Love.  
Did you e'er see a Woman's Heart?   Sebast. 
No.  Alon. 
I have a Receipt how the first was made, saw the Ingredients mixed that make up the Cursed Composition. Honey, Balm and Cassia; Hemlock, Wormwood and Opium, and ten thousand other such Inconsistent Drugs are confusedly shuffled together: So that your Sweets are dashed with Gall, your Smiles with Frowns, and your Hopes with Despair. Like the Chameleon it varies all Colours, like Proteus all shapes, Like Madness all Humours, and like Interest all Religions.  Vilan. 
His dress is only mad and not his Language.  Alon. 

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

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

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

Nay look yourself and see it.  
This Woman that but now did swear she loved him,  
ere the Breathes cold with which she formed her Vows  
Has to another sworn the same and left him—  
But let her go, for who can trace a Bubble?  
And cast your Eye on the forsaken Wretch  
Who, mad with Grief, blasphemes his Fate, and curses  
Those faithless looks that charmed him to Destruction:  
Till wearied with his Sorrows and his wrongs,  
He falls asleep and wishes 'twere his last.—  
I, too, am heavy— see! the Leaden God,  
Appears and charms me with his Drowsy Rod.   [Lies down, as to sleep. Vilan. 

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

O, Welcome Friend, we miss you in the Field  
But why so heavy?   Anto. 

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

Very well:  
Why at this time that Question?   Anto. 
'Tis so long since I fancy you'd not know her.  Sebast. 

O yes, she left her Image in my Heart,  
And there it still continues to inform me.   Enter Alphanta, Clara. Anto. 
Then this is she, and she is yours for ever.  Sebast. 

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

It was my Brother's absolute command,  
I hope I shall obey him.   Sebast. 
O charming Voice! here let me breathe my Raptures!  [Embraces her. [Alonzo rises hastily and looks upwards. Alon. 

stay!  
I charge you stay and tell her so yourself,  
I have renounced the cursed Inconstant Sex,  
O that I'd done it sooner!  
I had not then ran wandering up and down,  
Reduced to the most abject state of Fortune,  
The Pity of Women and the Scorn of Fools.  
Did any of y' see it?   Sebast. 
What should we see?  Alon. 

A soft sweet smiling Angel 'twas,  
From Heaven I saw him cut the yielding Sky,  
To me he did directly shape his flight,  
And hovering o'er me with extended Wings,  
Greeted me thus.  
Mortal, awake, and the next Nymph you see,  
Tell her this Truth, this Sacred Truth from me:  
Tho' she a while Successfully betray,  
She'll once Severely for that Error pay;  
For if there is no Hell for Perjury  
Heaven is unjust, and that it cannot be.   Clara. 
Can you hear this and—  Alphan. 
Hold, and learn your Duty.  [Aside.] Clara. 
My Duty's—  Alphan. 
To be silent when I bid you.  Alon. to Alph. 

But you are cast in a sublimer mould,  
So chaste and pure, you're of a piece with Heaven—  
Therefore my Message can't be meant to you,  
So much Divinity must needs be true.   Anto. 
What can this mean? he does not know her sure.  [Aside. Alon. 
But an Inconstant Woman— ha! ha! ha!— here, take this Eel in this Hand, and this Woman in this hand— hold hard, gripe close, closer yet— so— now open— ha! ha! ha!— the Eel remains, the slippery Woman's gone.  Vilan. 
Excellent! They are not in their Senses that say thou'rt out of thine.  Sebast. 
You're thoughtful, Love.  Alphan. 
Those thoughts are then of you.  Sebast. 

How will enjoyment all my Powers confound,  
If thus she charm my Senses with her sound!   Alon. 

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

Take care of him, till we can know from whence,  
And what he is.   Vilan. 
That charge, my Lord, be mine.  [Exit Vilan. Sebast. 
Antonio!  Anto. 
Ha!  Sebast. 

Still Melancholy? not a word to spare us?  
Sit down, come, we'll endeavour to divert you.   [They all Sit. [An Antic by Foresters, with other Dancing. After which this Dialogue by a Shepherd and Shepherdess. Shepherdess. 

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

That charming Caelia I admire,  
I must, with Pleasure, own it true;  
But had I ten times more desire,  
How could my Passion injure you?  
Love is the Sacred Tree of Life,  
And up to Heaven its Branches rears;  
Yet Admiration's but the Leaf,  
Enjoyment is the Fruit it bears,  
Then while you raise this vain dispute,  
Your Fondness but itself deceives:  
When you your▪ self have all the Fruit,  
What need you Envy her the Leaves?   Sebast. 

O do not doubt me, but I know thou dost not.  
All that a Son can say to move a Father  
You may be sure I'll urge; nor need you fear [Exeunt. Sebast. Gent.  
But I shall prove successful.   Anto. 

The Eloquence of Angels guide thy Tongue  
To plead this holy cause.  
Like me no Lover e'er was used before,  
I feeding, starve, and Riches make me poor.   Enter Berinthia, Julia. 
Ha! why those Precious Tears?  Berin. 

W''re lost!— we're lost! my Father is enraged,  
My sister raves and has Resolved my Ruin.  
Nay with her Poniard drawn, her Eyes up heaved  
To Heaven, that it might Witness what she said,  
With many a fearful Oath she vowed my Death,  
Unless I did remit my Title to you.  
He's mine (cried she) for I first made my claim!  
I'll serve, adore, and Love him while I've breath,  
And grapple with thee for him in the Pangs of Death!   Anto. 
I ever thought her Violent and Rash.  Alphan. 

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

O no, she casts a mist before his Eyes,  
And with a tear, will melt him as she pleases.  
He always loved her best.  
She's sixt, she's graved, she's rooted in his heart,  
Nor will one Grain of Interest in't resign;  
And 'tis as certain that she'll ruin mine!   Anto. 

Rather forget this Wretch that is the cause,  
Reject, despise, and drive me from your Heart;  
Though to my own Confusion I desire it.  
Heaven has, perhaps, designed thee to another,  
One that is Rich, great, Young, Lovely and Loving:  
Leave me then, Madam, leave me to my Fortune.   Berin. 
Can you forget me then?  Anto. 
O never! never!  Berin. 
Why then d'ye bid me leave you?  Anto. 

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

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

Talk on! talk on! the Music of thy Tongue  
So charms my Soul that I could hear thee ever!  
And think Eternity thus better Spent  
Then Poets e'er could feign, or Priests invent.   Enter Sebastian. 

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

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

Look down, ye Powers and wonder why you made  
The Heart of Man so cruel!   Sebast. 

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

First quit my hope of bliss: when she is gone  
The only end for which I lived is canceled.  
Eternity would be a blank without her,  
An overgrown cipher, a round endless nothing.   Sebast. 

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

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

I heard our doom, and it, has reached my Soul!  
O hold me! O support me, or I faint!  
Here let me sink! here let me die away,  
And make your Arms my Tomb!— you must not go!   [Weep. Enter Vilarezo. Attendants. Vilar. 

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

O Father! Brother! O Antonio!  
Farewell! Farewell!   [Exeunt Vilar. Berin. Jul. Atten. Anto. 

Angels protect and guard thee!  
O Friend! thou cordial to my fainting Soul!  
Did not thy presence in some sort support me,  
I think, by Heaven I think I could not bear it.  
She's gone! for ever gone!— and yet I live,  
I tamely live to say it.   [Drawing. Alphan. 
Hold! O hold!—  Sebast. 

It is indeed too cruel.— but afflict  
Not thus yourself; I'll try him yet again,  
Entreat, Implore, and hang upon his Knees,  
Nor be denied tho' he should spurn me from him:  
He must have Nature in him, and I'll wake  
It, fast as 'tis, or sleep myself in Death   Anto. 

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

ACT III.  Scene the GROVE. Enter Vilarezo, Catalina, Ansilva, Attendants. Vilar. 

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

Name it no more! happy without Antonio?  
O Contradiction never to be solved!  
Alas! I am more Wretched now than ever.  
Had he continued here, with sighs and tears  
I might have softened his obdurate Heart,  
As drops of Rain in time will wear through Marble.  
But you've unkindly forced him hence, and now  
My hopes and Charms are vain.  
What Plague, what Torture is like Love despised?  
O 'tis too much! I will not, cannot bear it—  
I'll bleed, I'll burn! run mad, despair and Die,  
But I will make 'em all as cursed as I!   Vilar. 

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

O on my Knees I beg you to forgive me, [Kneels.  
For letting Love thus get the start of Duty.  
But what's the Comfort you have brought me? speak! [Rising.  
And ease a wretched Heart that else must break.   Vilar. 

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

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

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

Rash Girl, no, here thy happiness begins,  
If you'll but be assisting to yourself.  
'Tis true, he'll think that I intent Berinathia.  
For him, nor must he yet be undeceived:  
Therefore, when next you meet him,  
Behave yourself as freely as you can;  
Let him not see you wear a mournful look,  
Or drop a tear, but bear him still in hand  
As if all moved according to his wish.   Cata. 

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

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

Have him? Heaven knows 'tis sirmly my design:  
But take your Method, and I'll follow mine.  
My sister? yes, that Bar must be removed,  
Or I can never hope to be beloved.   Ansil. 
What mean you, Madam?  Cata. 

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

Away, preach no Consideration to me,  
That were the way to melt me into Pity,  
Which now must be a stranger to my Breast;  
While I had Pity I could have no rest.   Ansil. 
But Conscience, Madam.  Cata. 

Conscience, foolish Girl?  
The Covetous, th' Ambitious and the Jealous  
Know no such thing.   Ansil. 
Think of the Danger then.  Cata. 

There can be none,  
If thou art faithful to me.   Ansil. 
D'ye doubt me Madam?  Cata. 

No, by Heaven I do not,  
For you have promised fair.— here— here's more Gold.  
The fatal War's begun; between us two  
Love, Nature, Pity and Remorse must cease,  
And cursed be she that sirst proposes Peace.   [Exit Cata. Ansil. 

What have I done?  
I am in Love myself, and can I yield  
To Poison one whose frailty is the same?  
Tho' undertook it must not be performed,  
If not performed I'm ruined.— This Fool too?  
He finds me in ill Humour.   Enter Gerardo. Gerar. 
Dear soft Tempter well met.— Ha! What? not a word? Melancholy? if the perpetual Clack of thy Tongue has left moving you're in an ill case I can tell you that now.  Ansil. 
And if you provoke that Clack to move you are in a worse case, I can tell you that too.  Gerar. 
And that I shall do, Child, I shall provoke thee, my Desires stand a tip toe, and—  Ansil. 
I shall humble 'em, by Heaven I shall.  Gerar. 
Yes, yes, they that raise the Devil may lay him again, that's Certain.  Ansil. 

Does this Behaviour suit with your grey hairs?  
O Heaven! how can the Youthful choose but fall,  
When Age does go before and give the call?   Gerar. 
Nay, if thou art turned Preacher 'tis time for the wicked to reform. I ha' done, I ha' done.  Ansil. 

And so you'd best: but, since I'm in my Lecture,  
Prepare to hear the rest, and mark me well.  
If e'er you attempt my Chastity again,  
I'll use thee as thou art, the worst of Men.  
In all Bruits else,  
When Age comes on, decrease of Lust we find,  
But it does last till Death in—   Gerar. 
Womankind.  Ansil. 
Swine! Monkey! Toad!  [Exit Ansil. Gerar. 
She is in earnest I find— and with very little pains has made an Ass of me: done like a Woman— trioked me of my money— like a Woman still— brok●●er Promise— more of the Woman. Balked a good opportunity— ga 〈…〉 that was not like a Woman at all. Well, this is my Comfort, I have made 〈◊〉 once in vain, and many a Coxcomb does it all his Life time.— Ha! who comes yonder? the very young Dog that makes me Enter Diego. fish 〈◊〉 〈…〉 ubled Water: This Page's flesh is swallowed more glibly than my Gold— Draw, Sir, d'ye apprehend me? Draw.  Diego. 
What mean you, good Gerardo?  Gerar. 
'Tis no matter what I mean— neither, indeed, has fighting any great store of meaning in't.— Draw, Sir.  Diego. 
You'll let me first know why.  Gerar. 
That were to break a Custom, 'tis never done now adays— A Man is now whipped through the Lungs before he knows any thing of a Quarrel. Come, come, draw, or I shall give you your Dispatch, Sir.  Diego. 
The Dotard makes me angry— Well, what now, Sir?  [Draws. Gerar. 
Nay that's all— now you may put up again if you please: (the Rogue has mettle I find). But I shall take the Liberty to tell you you're saucy for attempting, her Love that has mine, Sir.  Diego. 
O sits the Wind there?  Gerar. 
One that deserves—  Diego. 
More than you can give her however.  Gerar. 
How now Saucebox? how d'ye know that? did I ever make love to you that thus you pretend to be a Judge of Abilities?— In short she's meat for your Masters.  Diego. 
Well, granting that, I hope 'twill be no dishonour to you to have a Taster.  [Exit Diego. Gerar. 
Smart and home Faith— and if to have Tasters in that sense could make us of the Blood-Royal, gad I believe most men would be Princes.  Enter Alonzo, Vilander, Boy. Alon. 
Hear me, Pluto.  Gerar. 
What, does he take me for the Devil?  Vilan. 
Ay, and for the Master Devil too.  Gerar. 
Hum— there's some civility even in that, tho'.  Alon. 

Hear me insernal Monarch, by the Powers  
That chained thee down in this abyss for ever,  
To dwell in glimmering Flames of Liquid sulphor,  
I'll pluck thee from thy ever-burning Throne,  
And lash thee worse than Furies do the damned,  
Unless you give me Justice.   Gerar. 
You shall have it.  Alon. 
Why, who art thou?  Vilan. 
The same you take him for— or, at least, a very good Servant of his.  Alon. 

How can I have Justice then from thee?  
I've Faith, and that has armed me. Thou hast heard  
How Hercules, the Monster-killer, took  
The Tripple-headed Porter from thy Gate,  
And dragged him up to Light:  
What hinders me to do the same to Thee?  
Nothing— then Tyrant come along with me.   [Shoulders him. Gerar. 
Hold, hold.— if I am the Devil the Devil take me.  Vilan. 
Ha! ha! ha!— there's some civility even in this too.  Gerar. 
As much as in your laughing— Death! he did not consider that, like an old watch, I have been twenty times new set together.  Vilan. 
Ay, always mending and still growing worse and worse— but come, we'll see him again when he's in better Temper.— I begin to suspect— but I'll watch him narrowly.  [Exeunt Vilan. Gerar. Enter Alphanta, Clara, Boy. Alphan. 
It was an Error, but'tis now beyond my Power to redress,— Where hast thou brought me?  Alon. 
The Song, Boy.  [Aside to the Boy. Boy Sings. 

I.  
FAir, and soft, and gay, and young,  
All Charm! she played, she danced, she sung!  
There was no way to scape the Dart,  
No care could guard the Lover's Heart.  
Ah! why cried I, and dropped a Tear,  
(Adoring, yet despairing e'er  
To have her to myself alone,)  
Was so much sweetness made for One?   

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

III.  
But long she had not been in view,  
Before her Eyes their Beams withdrew:  
E'er I had reckoned half her Charms,  
She sunk into fewer Arms.  
But she that once could faithless be,  
Will favour him no more than me:  
He too, will find he is undone,  
And that she was not made for One.   Alon. 
Will Inconstancy make her live e'er the longer? or 〈◊〉 sweeter relish to her Pleasures? Can it keep her freer from the 〈◊〉 future punishment? or lull her Conscience into a softer security than Peace? Ha! Boy.  Clara. 

I need not tell you that Alonzo loves you  
Even to madness, would it not grieve your Soul  
To see him thus? and yet, alas! who knows  
To what your scorn and his despair may drive him?   Alphan. 
Prithee, no more, thou and a guilty Conscience will distract me— come, away.  Alon. 

O leave me not, thou life-reviving Beauty!  
Your Presence has reduced my Mind to Reason.  
Gazing on you,  
I've lost the sense of all my Woes and Cares,  
As Vapours vanish when the Sun appears.   Clara. 
What was it first occasioned your misfortune?  Alon. 

Love! Love! the Tyrant Love! that God that Devil!  
That sometimes does assume a Charming shape,  
Shows us a painted Scene of smiling Joy,  
And says 'tis all our own; when straight we see  
Our Hopes were vain, our Pleasures but a shadow,  
As I will instance in a mournful Story.   Alphan. 
I tremble! O what Wretch would e'er be wicked?  [Aside. Alon. 

There were two Lovers, none more blessed than they,  
The Man was faithful, and the Woman fair;  
Kind were the hours, and, winged with pleasures, flew  
So fast away, that Months appeared but Days.  
What others do but dream of future Bliss,  
And soft Elysian Joys, they tasted here:  
And these in such a plenteous measure given,  
No Mortal State before so near resembled Heaven.  
— But, Oh!—   Clara. 
Go on.  Alon. 

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

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

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

At the same time he heard the killing News,  
His Eves erect towards Heaven, he challenged all  
The nicest Niceties and Rules of Love  
To say, 〈◊〉 done the slightest thing that might  
Provoke her scorn: then, pensive and alone,  
In solitary Muse past his hours,  
Thoughts met with Thoughts, and overpow'red his Reason;  
And now he ranges through the Fields and Forests,  
The Wildest Creature there;  
His Body exposed to all the wrath of Heaven.  
Instead of Beds of Down,  
A Clod of damp unwholesome Earth's his Pillow.  
Instead of Cloth that comes from neighbouring Spain,  
He's wrapped in coursest Rags.  
Instead of Food that Luxury invents,  
And sprightly Wines, he eats and drinks with Bruits.   Clara. 
Ingrateful Woman— pray what is her Name?  Alon. 

A blank— I have bequeathed it to oblivion:  
Tho' she is cruel, I'll not be malicious,  
And make her failings public: but the Man,  
The hapless man that was so much abused,  
Is called— Alonzo.   [Plucks off his Disguise. Alphan. 

Alonzo! O my eyes, are now unsealed!  
I see and know! Alonzo! Oh Alonzo!   [Swoons. Alon. 

Help! Clara! help! chafe, chafe her Temples gently.  
To thy Contrivance I owe this, and if  
I live I will reward thee— Ha! she comes,  
Her blood begins to rise, her Cheeks to glow.   Enter Vilander behind 'em. Vilan. 
What's here to do?— ha! frenzy and folly in conjunction— O sweet Women! worth and honour make their application in vain: but Fools and Madmen may plead their merit to your favour.  [Aside. Alphan. 
Where am I now?  Alon. 
In your Alonzo's arms.  Alphan. 

There let me lie for ever— O my Love!  
O how shall I atone this breach of virtue?   Alon. 
This recompense you make has canceled all.  Vilan. 
One might safely swear, if there were distinction of Sexes in the Stars, there are not two Females in the whole Firmament.  [Aside. Alphan. 

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

O my Alphanta! dare I call you mine?  
I must, I will— there is no Heaven without thee.  
O be no more consenting to my ruin.   Alphan. 

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

And I too am all Rapture!  
Come close, close to my Breast, my Soul not dearer,  
My Joy! my Life! my all!   [Embrace. Clara. 
Ay, now 'tis as it should be.  Vilan. 
No, not just as you would have it neither; tho', in truth, 'tis something near it.— I'll be gone, for fear of the worst.  [Exit Vilan. Clara. 

O Heaven! your Brother, Madam, comes this way!  
Nay haste, you're ruined by a moment's stay.   [Exeunt. Enter Antonio. Anto. 

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

But see! she comes! why Dearest this disguise?  
Unveil, unveil, and feed my famished eyes.  
Ha!   [Starts. Cata. 

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

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

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

Blessed be thy Charming Voice! thy generous Prayer  
Must needs prevail, the God of Love will hear,  
Heaven ne'er denies Petitioners so Fair.   Cata. 

And next, Antonio, to show that He  
I've once esteemed, shall ne'er unhappy be,  
If aught that may prevent it lies in me.  
I have (concerned to see Berinthia mourn)  
Desired my Father that you might return,  
That he would join your Hands, and make you one:  
Which he has freely granted shall be done.   Anto. 

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

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

But (may I ask you) does your Sister know  
What to your matchless goodness she does owe?  
And that her Father's mind is altered?   Cata. 
No.  Anto. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

False wretch! I know you would not be alone,  
But must, for he that you expect is gone.   Berin. 
That I expect?  Cata. 

Yes, yes, I have released  
Him, and his useless Rosy coloured Priest.   Berin. 

W''re ruined, how should she the secret learn?  
Cursed Chance! but I must stifle my concern.   [Aside. Cata. 

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

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

No more concerned! she cuts me to the heart!  
O curse on curse! but she shall have her part, [Aside.  
I'll reach her yet, in spite of all her Art.  
Well, if I woo, I've done it with success,  
Even you that have been wooed, will find you've leave.  
Had the hard Fate been mine,  
Thus to be tricked of him I loved so dear,  
I would have drained my Eyes of every Tear,  
You bear it tamely, like a mourning Heir;  
So tamely, had I no way else to prove  
The Truth, I'd swear you never were in Love:  
And who would think Berinthia could appear  
So easy, and this outward smoothness wear,  
When she's within struck through the Soul with grief?  
And, I thank Heaven, can never hope relief.   Berin. 

She grates so deep, that I can bear no more!  
And yet to stoop beneath her rage were poor:  
Thou youngest, I will not be overborne,  
But meet her rage with rage, and scorn with scorn. [Aside.  
Should all the ills you wish upon me seize,  
Amidst 'em all, this thought should give me ease:  
My loss is not your gain; if false he be,  
He's not so blind, to make the Change for thee.  
But he is true, and not one thought will give  
From me, tho' sure an Empress would receive:  
Then All the spiteful Darts you throw at me  
Rebound, with a redoubled strength, on thee:  
So Envy, in her rage, and her dismay,  
Feeds on herself, when she's deprived of Prey.  
But above all,  
To vex thy Soul, and to increase thy pain,  
I'm pleased, and laugh to see thee Love in vain;  
Tho' who would think your Charms could meet disdain?   Cata. 

O Heaven! I know not what to do, or say!  
Too strong to bend, too haughty to obey, [Aside.  
I've raised a Devil, that I cannot lay!  
My Charms, vain Wretch! here, [Offering a Pocket-Glass.  
Be yourself the Judge.  
What is there in that Face,  
That is not with advantage writ in mine?  
Does the Rose there wear a Diviner Blush?  
Or can the Lily show a softer Tincture?   Berin. 

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

Rave on, rave on,  
No more I'll tremble at a Sister's frown—   Cata. 
You will not.  Berin. 

No, by Heaven,  
But rather make that Sister shake at mine.   Cata. 
Bravely resolved.  Berin. 
And I'll as bravely do it.  Cata. 
You will?  Berin. 
I will.  Cata. 

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

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

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

I tell thee, once again, I do not fear thee:  
So far from it, that if you rail much more,  
You'll find I'm not so tame as you imagine.   Cata. 
Shall find it?  Berin. 
Ay, is not that Language plain?  Cata. 
'Tis wondrous well, ye Gods, 'tis wondrous well!  Berin. 

No, 'tis not well to see you walk in State,  
Admire your haughty Mien, and twirl those Curls  
That do so ill become you.   Cata. 
Ill become me?  Berin. 

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

I can endure no more!  
Look back, thou wretch, look back on me and tremble! [Shows a Dagger.  
Fly from my sight, this very moment leave me,  
Dare not to speak, or make the least reply,  
Be still as if the sleep of Death had seized thee!  
I'll bury else this Dagger in thy Heart,  
And let the hot blood out, that thus does brave me.   Berin. 
Dare not to speak?  Cata. 
No, dare not for thy Soul!  Berin. 
Ha! ha! ha! ha!  Cata. 
D'ye laugh, Minx?  Berin. 

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

Nay, than it is vain to trifle longer,  
You've drawn my vengeance to the highest bent,  
And thus I let it lose.   [Moves toward her. Berin. 

And thus I meet it. [Shows her Dagger.  
D'ye start?— I'm now provided for you.  
Yes, here I throw the tame observance off  
That's due to Elder blood:  
Thy haughty Carriage shall no longer awe me:  
For so, proud Wretch, may I be blessed, or cursed,  
As here I stand and dare, fearless your worst.   Cata. 

Where got she all this Spirit? or is mine  
Transfused into her breast? her rage does flow,  
And mine begins to ebb— let me consider— [Aside.  
Taking her Life may now endanger mine:  
No, my Revenge must work a closer way.  
But why do I thus vex and chafe myself?  
The Fatal Draught already is prepared: [Aside.  
Her next sleep is her last.   Berin. 
What, Madam, are you cool again?  Cata. 
I am.  Berin. 

Then I have got a Cordial that will warm you.  
Tho' I am banished from Antonio's sight,  
I'll banish him from thine.  
Or, say it be thy chance to see him more,  
Thou shalt be met with scorn, but I with Love,  
With all the Love that longing Maids can wish for.  
Nay, in your sight I'll pant upon his Breást,  
Die in his Arms, melt into Charms away,  
And think of nothing but of Love and Pleasure!  
While you, despised, unpitied, and forlorn,  
Hang down your head, and curse our happy State,  
But curse in vain, for all the Powers above  
Shall brand you with his Hate, and Crown me with his Love.   Cata. 
Have you said all?  Berin. 
What if I have, or have not?  Cata. 
I would have begged your leave t'o've made my Answer.  Berin. 
You'll take it, I suppose.  Cata. 

I will, by Heaven!  
And every word I speak shall make thee pale:  
The shrieks of Owls, the groans of dying Men,  
Compared with what I tell thee, shall be Music:  
That dear loved man, that Idol of your Heart,  
That Spring from whence you drink whole draughts of Love,  
And, never satisfied, still thirst for more,  
Shall never lie with Rapture in your Arms,  
Ne'er taste the Sweets of his beloved Berinthia;  
Ne'er languish with delight, or faint with pleasure:  
To sum up all in one Prophetic word,  
(A word which, like an angry Thunderbolt,  
Shall all thy Faculties of Sense destroy)  
The Man you Love, you never shall enjoy.   [Exit Cata. Berin. 

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

ACT IU.  SCENE A Chamber of State. Enter Ansilva. Ansil. 
LET me think a little— If I succeed in this Business my Life may answer it; if I miscarry I'm discarded:  

Diego, too, makes no advance towards Marriage,  
I must set up my rest then in Gerardo,  
Tho' put on scurvy terms.  
Help me, dissimulation,  
To fill this Sponge, with hopes that I'll comply,  
And if he Marrys me, I'll squeeze him dry.   Enter Gerardo. Gerar. 
Gad! here she is, and the Devil has got such an ascendant over me, that I must attempt her again: Lewdness, like an old Beggar, takes no denial, but gets more by importunity, than Modesty can by merit.— In contemplation? I'll observe her.  Ansil. 

'Tis true he's Old, but of a generous temper:  
Did he solicit me the lawful way,  
His Suit would soon be granted.   Gerar. 
Hum— my Amour goes on very luckily.  Ansil. 

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

But were this so (as I believe it is not)  
His lively disposition makes amends.  
A Cheerful Husband's a continual comfort:  
He has a thousand ways to please a Wife,  
Beside that one destroyed in the enjoyment;  
That fulsome bliss that makes the vulgar join,  
Who aim but at the sensual part of pleasure,  
When 'tis a mutual temper makes us happy.   Gerar. 
Nay then, agad, 'tis all serious, and I'll show myself.  Ansil. 
Ah—  [Seems surprised. Gerar. 
You have confessed, my dear, and you shall have an easi Absolution.  Ansil. 
Betrayed! undone! I'll blush myself to death!  Gerar. 
The Wind's chopped about of a sudden, and sits fair for a Voyage to the Island of Love—  
But, Child, to be in earnest, you must needs think Diego the more agreeable Person; were I a Virgin I should let him—  Ansil. 
Hang himself.  Gerar. 
Ha! ha! ha!  
I love thee the better for hating that Prig. To day I took thee in the purging of thy Gall; now thou art all luscious, and seasoned to the palate of an Epicure— There only wants the dishing up, and then—  Ansil. 
You'd fall on without saying Grace, I warrant.  Gerar. 
Ay, what else? I should be a Madman in such a case, to make use of a Chaplain:— But, come, now thou'rt in a good humour, I'll give thee my Favourite Song.  

TAke not a Woman's anger ill;  
But let this be your Comfort still,  
That if one won't, another will:  
Tho she that's Foolish does deny,  
She ' that is Wiser will comply;  
And if 'tis but Woman, what care I?  
Then who'd be damned to swear untrue?  
And sigh and weep, and whine and woo,  
As all our supple Coxcombs do?  
All Women love it, and tho' this  
Does sullenly forbid the Bliss,  
Try but the next, and you cannot miss.   Ansil. 
Oh! Oh!—  Gerar. 
Ha! what's the matter?  Ansil. 

Sick! sick in my Head! my Stomach!  
You used to have good Cordials in your Closet, Gerardo.   Gerar. 
Ah Rogue!— the best Surfeit-Water in the Kingdom: a drara has brought several to life, I'll assure you— you'll find in a short time how powerfully 'twill quicken.  Ansil. 
Away, I'll follow: 'tis not fit we should be seen together.  Gerar. 
Don't go the Gallery way, but come through my Chamber.  Ansil. 
For what?  Gerar. 
For what? O Lord! O Lord! what should we do at my Chamber, but— come you shall guests what now, you shall guests, Child.  Ansil. 
Nay, if I trouble you, I can have some of my Lady.  Gerar. 
She's in need enough herself; you see she's running mad for't— Well, I'll go open the Gallery door, for what? ha! ha!  [Exit Gerar. Ansil. 
I have raised his expectation, but on purpose indeed to deceive it; if I keep him keen, perhaps he may cut through his discretion to Marriage. Heaven! what Monsters are we forced to embrace for convenience? His Closet's a perfect Apothecary's Shop, furnished with all sorts of Drugs, and his Conduct indeed has made it but necessary— He, perhaps, gives the Disease to his Housekeeper; she stoops as low as to the Horses heels, and transmits' it to the Groom; he conveys it from the Stable to the Laundry, and from thence it goes back with the clean Linen to their Master. So that the Pox in his Family, like the blood in his Veins, is in a perpetual Circnlation.  [As she is going off, Enter Sebastian. Sebast. 

Pray tell Alphanta I am here,  
And should esteem her Company a favour.   Ansil. 
I will, my Lord.  [Exit Ansil. Sebast. 

She's but a Woman, and she may be false,  
We have enough Examples of their frailty—  
I am to blame— Vilander—   [Goes to the Door Enter Alphanta, Clara, and speak Entering. Clara. 
To Night?  Alphan. 

At Twelve,  
And meets me in the Grove.  
Let every thing that I shall want be ready.   [Exit Clara. Enter Vilander. Sebas. 

But here she is, and all you've said is canceled:  
I cannot see her and believe a Sin,  
(So Fair she is without) can Lodge within.   Vilan. 
Is't that you called me back for?  [Is going. Sebas. 
Stay a little.  Alphan. 
What means all this? pray Heaven I'm not discovered!  [Aside. Sebas. 

While thus I gaze upon thy Lovely face,  
Where Innocence does seem to sit Enthroned,  
With all the lesser Graces waiting on,  
Methinks thou shouldst be Faithful.   Alphan. 

Ha! my Lord!  
What means th' ambiguous Phrase? I should be Faithful?  
What Hellbred Villain can affirm the contrary?   Vilan. 
So— I'm well enough served.— If e'er I endeavour again to keep Fool and Strumpet from Coupling, may I marry a Punk, live a Pimp, and die of the Pox; a Lineal succession, Madam.  [Aside. Sebas. 

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

I told you he's some Nobleman disguised,  
And sensible as I am.   Sebas. 

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

My Lord, I now perceive what wrought your Change,  
And thank you that your thoughts are like yourself,  
Noble and Brave in spite of black Aspersion.  
I grant indeed, at Claras earnest suit  
I went to see this Lunatic he speaks of,  
To know of him the Story of his Love,  
For that we judged had brought him to distraction:  
And while he eagerly pursued his Tale,  
Sometimes to Clara, once or twice to me,  
He cried thus, thus she Swore, thus she Embraced me,  
And clasped his Arms about us.   Sebas. 
D'ye hear Vilander?  Vilan. 

Yes, [Thunder and Lightning.  
Heaven hears her too, and redd'ns at the Sound;  
But she has got a Secret against blushing.   Alphan. 

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

Not sit to live that could wrong one so fair.  
And but his Blood some show of ours contains,  
It had not now been running in his Veins,   [Exeunt Sebast. Alphan. Vilan. 

Credulous Wretch!— Here comes another too,  
Doubly beloved, yet can't be singly happy.   Enter Antonio, Vilarezo. 

O Woman! Woman! Woman! only given  
To plague Mankind— Hell in the shape of Heaven.   [Exit Vilan. Anto. 

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

'Twas by my Order to prepare for Bed,  
For till to morrow I'd not have it known.  
This is the door. [Thunder.  
The Storm grows louder still.  
My Lord good Night; I wish you much more bliss  
Than can be had in such a Night as this.   [Thunder. Anto. 

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

He's gone! how far is Innocence from Fear?  
And yet methinks, 'tis strange  
The Fumes of Wine should dissipate so soon:  
He was even deeper fi●ster'd than I wished,  
And scarce conned speak the Matrimonial Words  
After the Priest,  
Now he's as fresh as if he had just awoke  
Love that makes many warmer than their Wine,  
Has called his Reason back and broke the Charm.  
I doubt the Issue, but it must be known.  
Were it to do, it never should be done.   [Exit. Vilar. [Thunder. Enter Antonio, Catalina in her Night-Goan, following. Anto. 

Fool! wretched Fool! so to mistake the Door!  
Perdition, Death and Horror! She's got up  
And follows me!   Cata. 
My Lord, where are you going!  Anto. 

Madam, be not surprised, 'twas a mistake;  
The Terror of the Night misled my steps:  
Heaven knows it was no wilful fault—   Cata. 

A Fault? where should you be but there?  
I hope you did not doubt a kind Reception.   Anto. 

Her words make a stagnation in my blood,  
And numb my Soul with horror! my Knees knock  
Against each other, and I know not why!— [Aside.  
Madam, good night; the peace of Saints attend you.   Cata. 
O Heaven and Earth, my Lord, you are not going!  Anto. 
Going! why?  Cata. 
Will you not come to Bed?  Anto. 

To Bed! what can she mean?  
Either she's crazed, or she has dreamt of Love,  
And I have took her in the easy moment. [Aside.  
What have you seen in me to make you think  
I'd ever come between Incestuous Sheets?   Cata. 
Incest, my Lord! you dream.  Anto. 
I wish I did.  Cata. 

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

My Wife!— tho' in my mind I'd sworn to go,  
And not to answer thee one other word,  
Tho' even the Tongues of Angels had enjoined me,  
That sound has called me back!— but speak again  
(If 'tis as I suspect, I'm lost for ever!) [Aside.  
Speak! did you say my Wife?   Cata. 

I did, my Lord:  
I am your loving, true, obedient Wife.  
This night the Holy Priest did join our hands,  
And—   Anto. 
Cursed us both eternally!  Cata. 
My Lord!  Anto. 

Call him not holy; villain, Atheist, Epicure,  
Are terms too full of Sanctity to give him,  
For he that joined our hands is damned for ever!   Cata. 

I'm sorry, then, that I should name him to you  
But you, my Lord, must know—   Anto. 

Not I, by Heaven! 'tis all a dream to me,  
Or less, I have no certain Image of it.  
My Comfort is, my will was not consenting.   Cata. 
If what I tell you's false—  Anto. 

Thou art an Angel!  
If otherwise, a Fiend that took my hand  
To lead me to Damnation!   Cata. 
The Heavenly Powers forbid.  Anto. 

No, they Command it:  
The just Reward of Violated Faith,  
And foul Intemperance. O Beast! O Sot!  
Dare we assume the awful Name of Men,  
And drench ourselves beyond all Moderation?  
Never considering, as the liquour flows  
Our Reason ebbs, and we are turned to Bruits.   Cata. 

Alas! my Lord, what would not you have done  
t'o've made the Woman you adored your own?  
Blame not a Fault occasioned by my Love,  
Which Fate too, by permitting, seems t' approve.   [Thunder Anto. 

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

Vex not yourself, my Lord, the Sin be mine. [Thunder.  
Why do you tremble? See, it moves not me.  
To Bed, to Bed! I'll take thee in my Arms,  
Drive thy pale Fears away, and let you see  
You but resist your own Felicity.   Anto. 

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

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

What canst thou say to win regard? or do  
To make me Reparation?   Cata. 

Expose me not to the reproachful World,  
Let me not be the Grin of Vulgar Women:  
For you I scorned Mankind, and broke through all  
Impediments, all Ties, to reach your Bosom.  
The Fruit is blushing ripe, and waits your pull;  
Ah! throw it not before you've tasted from you.   Anto. 
I've sworn! I've sworn!— Away audacious Woman!  Cata. 

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

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

Nay, drag me, dash my Body on the Floor,  
I'll hold the faster— Since we're joined for Life,  
'Tis only Death shall part us!   Anto. 

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

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

Save yourself  
By a well-timed Repentance, but from me  
Expect no Pity, but my mortal Curses.  
Let go Witch! Woman! Fury! or, by Heaven,  
I'll cut away thy Hold.   Cata. 

O all ye Powers!— I am your Wife, my Lord!  
It is your Wife that kneels! your Wife! your Wife!  
Will nothing, nothing charm him!   Anto. 

That the least  
Of all that thou canst say— A Wife? Damnation!   [She rises. Cata. 

O I can bear no more—  
If you're a Man, and hope for Heaven, support me.   [Sinking down. [Catching her. Anto. 

Ha!  
In charity I'll save thee from the Fall.   Enter Diego hastily. 
Could not thy Diligence prevent this ruin?  Dieg. 
O! no, my Lord; I heard of it too late—  Anto. 

Here, Diego,  
Hold her, and when the Fit is over, follow.  
I'll take this opportunity to go.  
Yet something bids me stay— It must not be,  
Why should I pity her that tortures me?  
To love in vain, we think a wretched state;  
But what is Wedlock with a Wife we hate?  
All human Woes in one compendious Ill;  
Happy is he that can exchange for Hell.   [Exit. Anto. Cata. 

Oh!—  
Unhand me Traitor! Caytiff! Villain! Devil!   [Exit. Diego. Cata. 

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

What's the matter? ha! why shak'st thou?  
And why thy Cheeks so pale? Not answer me?  
By Heaven then all's not well! Yet speak it out,  
And ease my tortured Soul.   Ansil. 
Then take the worst at once, your Sister's gone.  Cata. 

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

O you mistake my meaning! She is fled,  
This Minute gone, and our Design discovered:  
For on her Table lay her Parrot dead,  
His Beak all stained with that Abortive Potion,  
Which we designed should reach a nobler Fate.   Cata. 

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

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

O frontless Strumpet! [Lays hold on her.  
Nothing's more sure than that thou hast betrayed me,  
How could it else be known? Tell how, and when,  
Or else, by Heaven, I'll nail thee to the Ground.   [Shows a Dagger. Ansil. 
O, Madam! I confess, Diego—  Cata. 

Hold—  
I've better thought, I'll give you not that trouble.   [Stabs her. Ansil. 
Murder— Oh!—  [Dies. Cata. 

Enough's confessed already.  
So— now disclose the Secret.— Murder! Murder!  
Sure they are as fast as she, or else this Storm,  
Without my Cries, would wake 'em:— Murder! Murder!   Enter several Servants. 

Go ring th' Alarum Bell, call up my Father  
From his soft Rest, to see this horrid sight,  
That would make Tigers melt into Compassion!  
Away!—   [Exeunt Servants. Enter Sebastian, Vilander. 

O, Brother! but y' are come too late, see there  
Where poor Ansilva lies, stabbed by Antonio.   Sebast. 
Have a care what you say.  Cata. 

Nay, it is true,  
As I shall hope for Mercy. O, Ansilva!  
More than a Servant, for thou wast my Friend:  
Thou'rt gone! thou'rt gone! and I shall mourn thy Memory.   Sebast. 
Strange Accident!— Haste, call Alphanta hither.  [Exit Seru. Vilan. 

Ha! my Lord, say that she can't be found:  
The Lunatic is gone, none knows which way,  
And I believe she would not stay behind him.   Enter Vilarezo. Thunder. Vilar. 

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

There's the cause:  
See poor Ansilva weltering in her Blood,  
Killed by that cursed Villain, false Autonio.  
Was ever any Woman forced before,  
I' accuse her Husband of a deed so horrid,  
Upon her Bridal Night?   Sebast. 
Her Husband, says she?  Vilar. 

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

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

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

As soon as e'er he came into my Chamber,  
He put aside the Curtain with his Hand;  
And, seeing me, broke out into such Terms,  
Courage itself would have turned pale to hear;  
When from behind I heard Berinthia's Voice  
Cry, End her, or expect no Joy from me.  
With that he wound one hand into my Hair,  
And in the other held his Poniard drawn;  
And just as he advanced his cursed Arm,  
Ansilva rushed betwixt,  
Thinking to break the Blow, and in her Breast  
Received the Stroke he did intend to me.  
Mean while I left the Room and called for help.  
When I came back I found Antonio gone.  
And poor Ansilva (who I know not how  
Had sttaggered hither) breathing out her last.   Vilar. 

O worse than Devils damned! Search, find 'em out,  
(Is this the Sister you extol for Virtue?) [Too Sebast.  
By Heaven they shall be used with utmost Rigour.   Cata. 

Alas! You'll search in vain, they've took their flight,  
He has in triumph born his Prize away.   Vilar. 
What Prize d'ye mean?  Cata. 
My Sister.  Vilar. 
He could not be so base!  Cata. 

You'll find he was, and worse than I have spoke him.  
See at your Feet your wretched Daughter kneel: [Kneels.  
Let not my Sister glory in her Crimes,  
And triumph o'er my Virtue: Nor let him,  
That could so basely use me, go unpunished.  
My Injuries surmount all human Pardon.  
What Salve is there for violated Honour?  
To you I, kneeling, make the same Request, [To Sebast.  
I am your Sister, is Berinthia more?  
O pity me, by too much Love betrayed:  
Revenge a slighted, and a murdered Maid.   [Rises and Exit. Vilar. 

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

I'm thinking, if 'tis possible my Friend  
Could be so great a Villain.   Vilar. 
'Tis too sure.  Enter a Servant hastily and whispers Sebastian. Sebast. 
How? not at her Apartment?  Seru. 

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

O Woman! Woman! damned inconstant Sex!  
Designed to please us, but resolved to vex.  
The Plagues you heap on Man, the Strises and Cares,  
Are far more numerous than his Sins, or Hairs.  
Perjury's your Sport; your Vows you from you blow,  
As little wanton Boys their Bubbles do:  
We please ourselves, like them, with looking on,  
But wink, the gaudy, brittle Thing is gone.   Vilar. 
What is he mad?  Vilan. 
No, my Lord, he's just come to his Senses.  Sebast. 

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

Be not so Violent. As for Alphanta,  
If she is false, you may be glad you've missed her.  
But follow him with all the speed you can,  
Demand thy Sister— but, upon my Blessing,  
Observe me, let no Violence be shown:  
If he refuse to send her back, I'll use  
No Sword but Law. Partly I'm in the Faued,  
And partly I must suffer.— Heaven protect thee.   Sebast. 
I'll take such Measures as shall not displease you.  [Ex. Sebast. Vilar. 

The Night's delivered of her monstrous Birth; [Thunder.  
Nature does groan as if she would expire,  
The Bolts fly thick, the Clouds drop liquid Fire!  
O Conscience! We are Cowards made by Sin;  
I should not fear if all were well within.   [Ex. Vilar. Enter Gerardo. Thunder. Gerar. 
Where? where are these Thiefs? these Murderer's?— 'Gad I believe a man may be as safe in their Company as any where else.— D'ye hear what a Rattle there is above Stairs?  Vilan. 

Presumptuous Wretch! See where your Mistress lies,  
Snatched from the World, by an untimely Fate,  
In all her gaudy Bloom.   Gerar. 
How? dead! Murder!— hum— 'tis no ill sort of Disappointment tho'— every thing considered, I know not well whether 'tis most proper to be merry, or sad.  Vilan. 
What? is the death of a Mistress no more?— I find he that has no Religion, has but little Humanity.  Gerar. 
Why saith, Vilander, most unmercifully this Night she intended to have hampered me for Life— How she might have proved is uncertain. Now there's no Faued to be found.  Vilan. 
How? intended to have married you?  Gerar. 
Ay, the Priest, the Leech monger is waiting in my Chamber: I left him crossing himself as if his Conscience had been troubled with the rising of the Lights, or thrown up his Sins of Plurality, Simony, Hypocrisy and Pride, for want of taking a Dram of Atheism for Digestion.  Vilan. 
What wouldst thou think of that Man that had the Itch thirty Years ago, and should now desire to be scratched for it? Thy thoughts of a Wife at this time of Day is equally ridiculous.  Gerar. 
Very sine Doctrine,— is Marriage unlawful then?  Vilan. 
Ay, no doubt, when the end of it is perverted: What canst thou propagate but Diseases? I wonder what Argument prevailed on thee to think of entering into Wedlock.  Gerar. 
Why he that has his Hell here may the better hope to be excused hereafter.  Vilan. 
How will it fare with you, then, who are pleased; you're without that Excuse?  Gerar. 
Agad let what will come, I'm glad 'tis as 'tis.— What Marriage is we have woeful Experience: What t'other Hell is we have none: And why should another Man's Fears of an imaginary Limbo make me run into one that is real?  Vilan. 
Cautiously considered truly. And whither d'ye think Fornication will carry you?  Gerar. 
Hum— Fornication— take up the Body. I'm resolved I'll be at the Charge of a Monument for her, and have an Epitaph engraved on't that shall preserve her Memory to Posterity, and stand Candidate for the Eight Wonder of the World.  Vilan. 
And pray what must that be?  Gerar. 

Under this Marble there is laid,  
One of Fifteen that died a Maid.   
That's the wonder, Sir, her living a Maid so long.— But come, bring her away, bring her away.  [Ex. Gerar. Seru. with the Body. Vilan. 

How hard it is ill Habits to remove?  
In vain does Man, in vain does Heaven reprove:  
To swift Destruction wilfully we're bent,  
For no Man's damned without his own Consent.   [Ex. Vilan. Thunder.  

ACT V.  SCENE, A private part of the Grove. Enter Diego, Julia. Diego. 

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

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

As soon as e'er we got clear of the House,  
We heard, and by the lightning might perceive  
Some Company behind us: They believed  
They were beset, and we, we were pursued:  
Thus, resolute, and jealous of each other,  
Both they and we betook us to our Swords.  
But while we were engaged and threatening high,  
We heard a Voice cry, Hold Alonzo! hold!  
It is my Brother! You have spoken too late,  
Said he, if 'tis thy Brother, dark as 'tis,  
I fear h' has reached my Heart: Then sinking down,  
He sighed and cried, Alphanta! O farewell!  
With that she fainted too, and both together fell.   Julia. 

Surprising Chance! both pitiful and dismal!  
But what was this Alonzo?   Diego. 

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

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

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

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

Urge it no more! you should have told me sooner.  
Through Blood and Horror you have brought me here,  
But could my Fate have been severer there?  
Deprived of you, 'tis Death must be my Doom,  
But with less Guilt I could have died at home.   Anton. 

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

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

The Law! Why wo'll appeal to higher Powers:  
Tho' Law's o' their side, Conscience is of ours.  
The holy tie of Wedlock was not meant  
To make us fast without our own Consent:  
Where first the Union of the Mind's not made,  
Alas! we are not married, but betrayed.   Berin. 

Could this be done— But O! I do not dare  
To hope so far.   Anton. 
Nor ought you to despair.  Berin. 

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

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

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

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

I did not know him.  
'Twas your own Fault that pulled his Ruin on:  
You ought, at first, to 've owned your Passion for him.   Alphan, 

I did! I did! as far as I durst own it:  
You knew what 'twas to Love, knew that I loved,  
And ought not to have forced my Inclination:  
For 'twas your Anger wrought me to Compliance,  
And that has been my Ruin  
Have I not Reason now to be distracted?  
To tear my Hair and curse the Partial Fate?  
Hear me, thou cruel Brother! You shall hear me!  
What Satisfaction, Tyrant, can you make me?  
Unless you could command the dead to rise?  
And that you shall do! now! about it quickly!  
Raise him all Lovely, as when first he charmed me,  
With every Grace and blooming Wonder on!  
If he but lose one precious drop of Blood,  
Heaven, Earth and Hell revenge it!  
Revenge my murdured Love! my dear Alonzo!   [Exit Alphan. [Exit Diego, Julia. Anton. 

Take care of her.  
'Tis true, I had Advice from Sevil of her Love,  
And by her Carriage did her Passion guests,  
But never thought she loved to this excess.   Enter Diego. Diego. 

Sebastian, my Lord, is at the Cottage,  
He knows you're hereabouts, and says that he will speak with you.   Anton. 
He shall show him the way.  [Exit Diego. Enter Sebastian. 

O, Sebastian! Since I saw thee last  
Strange Things have happened— but I'm glad you're come,  
I else had sent to tell you that, last Night,  
My Sister—   Sebast. 

Proved herself  
As treacherous as you.  
I know it, and a long adieu to Love!  
Thou art what ever yet was false in Man;  
She, all that's damned in Women!   Anton. 

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

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

What does Heaven mean! and whither's Friendship fled!  
Thou canst not be so base to justify  
Thy Father's shameless Fraud.   Sebast. 

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

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

Nay, use a milder Word:  
Murder, to kill the Man that would kill me?   Sebast. 

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

O Brother! have but Patience, and I'll prove  
Myself as free from Guilt  
As the severest Virtue can desire.   Sebast. 
Then you're resolved to stay?  Berin. 

I must not, dare not, nay, nor aught to leave him:  
Who, when h' had found his fatal Error, that,  
Instead of me, he had married Catalina,  
Despised her, loathed her, left her unenjoyed!  
Bless him ye Powers! He left her unenjoyed!  
Illustrious proof of Love! That could prefer  
Misery with me before the Bridal Bed with her.   Sebast. 
And you'll protect her?  Anton. 

With my Life and Fortune,  
Till, by due course of Law, I win, or lose her.   Sebast. [Aside to Anton.] 
This place is private, and will be convenient. Get rid of her, I'll instantly return.  [Ex. Sebast. Berin. 

You seem disturbed, my Lord!  
O tell me! tell! What did my Brother say?  
Why was his fatal Meaning hid from me?   Anton. 

Thy Brother has been long my only Friend;  
Even thou thyself, all lovely as thou art,  
I hardly hold more dear.  
From budding Childhood up to Man's Estate,  
We loved with such a Love as far surpassed  
The celebrated Pair so famed of old.  
Our Natures are the same: And canst thou think  
We e'er shall do, or mean each other harm?   Berin. 

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

That Union's firm, my Love, so wondrous firm,  
Were all the Works of Nature now to end,  
That would dissolve the last; or, rather not  
Dissolve at all: A Flame so pure as ours,  
Has no Corporeal part.— Therefore I may  
The safer go.—   Berin. 

heavens'! whither would you go?  
Can you be better pleased with him than me?   Anton. 
No; but—  Berin. 

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

Mark what I say, for by yond Heaven I'm fixed,  
Fixed as the Poles, or thy dear self to Love—   Berin. 
To ruin her that loves you.  Anton. 
O no! 'tis to protect and guard you from it.  Berin. 
And how can you protect me when you're gone?  Anton. 
What, for an Hour?  Berin. 
A Minute is too long.  Anton. 
Hear me—  Berin. 

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

Nay, then— I must be cruel that you may  
Be safe.   [Breaks from her and Exit. Berin. 

Yet stay! O stay and see me die!  
See my sad Soul breathe out her last Complaint!  
See!— but he's gone! and left me to my Sorrows!  
O cruel Man! but O more cruel Brother,  
That tears him from my Arms! perhaps for ever!  
O killing Thought!— Some pitying Power look down,  
And bid their Guardian Angels mind their Charge.   [Ex. Berint. Enter Alonzo, Clara. Alon. 
But are you sure she's there?  Clar. 

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

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

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

Did but my Wounds permit, I now would try  
Who best deserves Alphanta, he, or I.  
If ever Fate the Combat should afford,  
Let her be his that has the sharpest Sword.   [As they go off. Enter Sebastian. Sebast. 

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

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

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

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

'twas my full intent  
Not to be moved; but give me Patience Heaven!  
Another Sound like that will lift my Rage  
Above my Resolution.   Sebast. 
Then hear that Sound repeated— Whored her Sister.  Anton. 
'Tis thy amasing Insolence protects thee.  Sebast. 
But you think Cowardice a safer Refuge.  Anton. 
Why dost thou strive to pull thy Murder on me?  Sebast. 

Indeed you're clogged enough with that already,  
Witness the Maid you butchered, unprovoked.   Anton. 
You speak in Clouds, I do not understand you▪  Sebast. 

You understand too well— but I'll refresh  
Your▪ Memory— Ansilva.   Anton. 
What of her?  Sebast. 

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

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

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

I am, by Heaven!  
And I would only have thee live to know it;  
To know how much you've wronged the chaste Berinthia,  
To know how much you've wronged your dearest Friend:  
But you should live no longer, by the Powers  
That gave me Breath, that Hour should be thy last:  
Then thou shouldst kneel, and crouching beg for Merey,  
And should be heard— as you have heard your Sister.   Sebast. 

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

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

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

Hold! Let not that hateful Word  
Come from thy Lips, for Mercy's sake and mine.   Sebast. 
You told a Lye.  Anton. 

Nay, you shall go no further. [Draws.  
Yet stay! it must not be!— 'Tis now unlikely  
That I should e'er possess the fair Berinthia, Aside.  
And if I fight 'twill be impossible,  
For only he can aid me.— O, Sebastian!  
If thou hast any love for thy own Peace,  
Any regard to Virtue, Truth, and Honour,  
Comfort below, or Happiness hereafter,  
Do not blow up this Controversy higher:  
I hitherto excuse you,— but no more;  
Should you again so brutally affront me,  
I'd tear thy Tongue up by the Roots.   Sebast. 
You durst not.  Anton. 

Still worse and worse! and still I bear it tamely!  
Love, that makes other's Brave, makes me a Coward.  
For poor Alphanta's sake I'll yet have Patience:  
I'm sensible sh'as wronged you—   Sebast. 
Damn her, Strumpet.  Anton. 

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

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

'Tis done! you've now found out the way to move me.  
Should I not vindicate my Mother's Fame,  
Her Ghost would rise up from the Grave and blast me!  
Traitor to Friendship, Villain, Slave have at thee, [They fight.  
Have at thy Heart— I've missed it.   Sebast. 

True, thou hast.  
There— I took better aim.   [Anton. falls. Enter Diego hastily. Diego. 

O Heaven! more Ruin yet!  
Where will our Sufferings end?— Your wretched Sister,  
Whose Reason fled with her Alonzo's Life,  
Seeing a Poniard on the Table drawn,  
With one quick spring exerting all her Force,  
Broke from her womens' Arms, and ere we could  
Prevent her, plunged it deep into her Breast:  
But see! O see  
She's here, and raving in the Pangs of Death!   Enter Alphanta mad, stabbed in many places, held by Attendants. Anton. 
My Sister! sure some bloody Planet rules!  Alphan. 

Nay, stop me not, why will you keep me from him?  
Do you not see him hovering in the Clouds?  
He stays in the Midway till I can reach him.  
Come down and ease me of this Load of Flesh,  
The Clog that hinders my Aetherial flight,  
That the light airy Soul may mount at will,  
And find out the Eternal Habitation:  
Make haste, then, my Alonzo, to assist me.  
Ha! sayst thou? canst thou not? 'tis true, thou canst not,  
Th' inevitable Doom is passed upon thee,  
There's no return from the dark Vaults of Death.  
But I may come to thee— ha! may I so?  
Then this must be the way. [Tears her Wounds.  
Now I have caught thee, now we mount together,  
Through the vast Sea of Air we glide like thought,  
Th' astonished Clouds break off and make us way,  
Elizyum is oped to receive us;  
See! on the Beach the smiling Cherubs stand,  
And Streams of Joy overflow the peaceful Land.   Anton. 
D'ye hear, Sebastian?  Alphan. 

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

He's here! he's here! now take me in thy Arms,  
I'm purged from earthly Dross, fit for my Passage,  
I am all Spirit like thyself; away,  
And as we go pray give me an Account  
Of all the Wonders that you saw above,  
In the bright Courts of everlasting Day:  
And how at first you there were entertained  
With Nectar, and Ambrosia, Food for Gods!  
— Where are you now?— ha! I again have lost you!  
A Mist is come between my Eyes and thee: [She sinks down, he kneels by her.  
I'll hold the faster, since I cannot see.   [Dies. Alon. 

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

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

Where is this Wretch that runs to meet his Ruin?  
O, I am come too late!   [Swoons. Anton. 
If thou hast any Bowels call for help!  [Sebast. catches her. Sebast. 

She comes— her Colour has resumed its seat.  
I fear I've been too rash.   [Aside. Berin. 

Is this your Justice, Heaven? This your Reward  
For Virtue and inviolable Love?   Anton. 

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

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

O, I must! I find the Icy chill of Fate upon me:  
But, if there's any Equity in Heaven,  
As certainly there is, we once shall meet  
And never part again:— till then farewell!   Berin. 
I will not long be from you!  Anton. 

Nay, now thou dost disturb me even in Death:  
When the grim Tyrant just had seized my Heart,  
I made him break his hold, and gained a Moment.  
Live! live till Heaven sees fit to call thee hence,  
And crown thy Virtue with immortal Glory!  
But lay no violent Hands upon thyself.  
This is my last Request, and pray observe it.  
And, O my Friend! (for thou wilt love my Memory  
When I'm gone) for my sake, who ne'er wronged you,  
Be kind to this unfortunate Maid, thy Sister,  
For she deserves thy Care.— I can no more!  
A Stranger here, I now am summoned home,  
My Spirits faint, and the long Sleep is come.   [Dies. Berin. 

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

O Heaven! what do I see?  
Thy fatal Rashness has undone us all!   [To Sebasti Sebast. 
Ha!— what Turn is this?  [Aside. Vilar. 

Prepare, Sebastian,  
And thou, my mourning Daughter, both prepare,  
To hear a Story of transcendent Horror!  
This Morning,  
Just as the wakeful Cock, with his shrill Notes,  
Had given the warning of approaching Day,  
Your Sister, the unhappy Catalina,  
Was with a stroke of Thunder quite deprived  
Of all the Faculties of Sense and Motion;  
Only by some faint Breathe 'twas perceived  
Her tortured Soul had yet not left its Cage.  
Straight I was called; and was no sooner come  
But she revived, and, in a hollow Voice,  
Oft interrupted with Sighs and Groans,  
Such as proclaim the Pangs of Death are near,  
Poured forth these dreadful Words.— O Father! Father!  
Berinthia's innocent, and I'm to blame!  
Inspired by Jealousy and black Revenge,  
These trembling Hands prepared a fatal Draught,  
To end her Life that did obstruct my Love:  
But e'er I could accomplish my Design,  
My Maid discovered it; for which I stabbed her,  
Then laid her Murder to Antonio's charge,  
To be revenged of him for setting free  
Berinthia, and for slighting of my bed.  
Haste therefore, and, if possible, prevent  
The mischiefs that mistaken rage may work.  
Then, penitent and conscious of her crimes,  
At once desiring Pardon and our Prayers,  
She with her Death confirmed the horrid Truth!  
I came— but Oh! too late.   Sebast. 

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

You have it, and may Heaven forgive you too,  
Since it appears Berinthia's Innocent,  
And worthy of the blood of Vilarezo.  
But here, alas! here all my Joy lies canceled!  
With him Affliction would have had more charms  
Than Life can have without him.— Life? what's Life?  
A glim ring spark which thus I quench for ever.   [takes out a Viol and Drinks. Vilar. 
What has she done?  Berin. 

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

Ha! go so soon? I ought indeed to blame thee,  
But Nature is too powerful.— Oh Berinthia!  
Oh! my unhappy Daughter!   [Mourns over her. Sebast. 

None beside?  
None, none to Murder but a Friend and Sister?  
The world will point, and cry, that! that's the Monster! Aside.  
But Oh!— the Thought is more than I can bear,  
And this shall set me free.   [Wounds himself. Vilar. 
Hold! hold his hand!  Sebast. 

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

I orbear, rash Boy, to add to my afflictions,  
When I already bend beneath their weight,  
And be a comfort to me in my Age.  
For what is passed 'tis fruitless to bemoan,  
Since nothing but Repentance can atone.  
And O! hereafter may all Parents see  
This Story, and Example take by me;  
That to each Child they may alike be kind;  
Nor rashly part what Heaven and Love has▪ joined.   [Exeunt Omnes.  
FINIS.