AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT COVENT GARDEN THEATRE, NOV. 21, 1775. SCENE I.-The Street before DON JEROME'S House. Enter LOPEZ, with a dark lantern. Lop. Past three o'clock!-So! a notable hour for one of my regular disposition, to be strolling like a bravo through the streets of Seville! Well, of all services, to serve a young lover is the hardest.-Not that I am an enemy to love; but my love and my master's differ strangely.-Don Ferdinand is much too gallant to eat, drink, or sleep :-now, my love gives me an appetite-then I am fond of dreaming of my mistress, and I love dearly to toast her.-This cannot be done without good sleep and good liquor: hence my partiality to a featherbed and a bottle. What a pity, now, that I have not further time for reflections! but my master expects thee, honest Lopez, to secure his retreat from Donna Clara's window, as guess.-[Music without.] Hey! sure, I heard music! So, so! who have we here? Oh, Don Antonio, my master's friend, come from the masquerade, to serenade my young mistress, Donna Louisa, I suppose: so! we shall have the old gentleman up presently.-Lest he should miss his son, I had best lose no time in getting to my post. [Exit. 1 Mas. Antonio, your mistress will never wake, while you sing so dolefully; love, like a cradled infant, is lulled by a sad melody. Don Ant. I do not wish to disturb her rest. 1 Mas. The reason is, because you know she does not regard you enough to appear, if you awaked her. Don Ant. Nay, then, I'll convince you. The breath of morn bids hence the night, I feel no day, I own no light. DONNA LOUISA-replies from a window. Waking, the dawn did bless my sight; TRIO. Don. Louisa. Nay, prithee, father, why so rough? An humble lover I. How durst you, daughter, lend an ear Quick, from the window fly! [Sings. Hence, or these slugs are through your brain. SCENE II-A Piazza. Enter DON FERDINAND and LOPEZ. Lop. Truly, sir, I think that a little sleep once in a week or so- Don Ferd. Peace, fool! don't mention sleep to me. Lop. No, no, sir, I don't mention your lowbred, vulgar, sound sleep; but I can't help thinking that a gentle slumber, or half an hour's dozing, if it were only for the novelty of the thing Don Ferd. Peace, booby, I say!-Oh Clara, dear, cruel disturber of my rest! Lop. And of mine too. [Aside. Don Ferd. 'Sdeath, to trifle with me at such a juncture as this!-now to stand on punctilios!-Love me! I don't believe she ever did. Lop. Nor I either. [Aside. Don Ferd. Or is it, that her sex never know their desires for an hour together? Lop. Ah, they know them oftener than they 'll own them. [Aside. Don Ferd. Is there, in the world, so inconstant a creature as Clara? Lop. I could name one. [Aside. Don Ferd. Is she not capricious, teasing, tyrannical, obstinate, perverse, absurd? ay, a wilderness of faults and follies; her looks are scorn, and her very smiles-'Sdeath! I wish I hadn't mentioned her smiles; for she does smile such beaming loveliness, such fascinating brightness-Oh, death and madness! I shall die if I lose her. Lop. Oh, those damned smiles have undone all ! Lop. Here comes Don Antonio, sir. [Aside. Don Ferd. Well, go you home-I shall be there presently. Lop. Ah, those cursed smiles! Enter DON ANTONIO. [Exit. Don Ferd. Antonio, Lopez tells me he left you chanting before our door-was my father waked? Don Ant. Yes, yes; he has a singular affection for music, so I left him roaring at his barred window, like the print of Bajazet in the cage. And what brings you out so early? Don Ferd. I believe I told you, that to-morrow was the day fixed by Don Pedro and Clara's unnatural stepmother, for her to enter a convent, in order that her brat might possess her fortune made desperate by this, I procured a key to the door, and bribed Clara's maid to leave it unbolted; at two this morning, I entered, unperceived, and stole to her chamber-I found her waking and weeping. Don Ant. Happy Ferdinand! Don Ferd. 'Sdeath! hear the conclusion.-I was rated as the most confident ruffian, for daring to approach her room at that hour of night. Don Ant. Ay, ay, this was at first. Don Ferd. No such thing! she would not hear a word from me, but threatened to raise her mother, if I did not instantly leave her. Don Ant. Well, but at last? Don Ferd. At last! why I was forced to leave the house as I came in. Don Ant. And did you do nothing to offend her? Don Ferd. Nothing, as I hope to be saved!-I believe, I might snatch a dozen or two of kisses. Don. Ant. Was that all? well, I think, I never heard of such assurance! Don Ferd. Zounds! I tell you I behaved with the utmost respect. Don Ant. O Lord! I don't mean you, but in her. But, hark ye, Ferdinand, did you leave your key with them? Don Ferd. Yes; the maid, who saw me out, took it from the door. Don. Ant. Then, my life for it, her mistress elopes after you. Don Ferd. Ay, to bless my rival, perhaps. I am in a humour to suspect every body.-You loved her once, and thought her an angel, as I do now. Don Ant. Yes, I loved her, till I found she wouldn't love me, and then I discovered that she hadn't a good feature in her face. AIR. I ne'er could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; But where my own did hope to sip. Is her hand so soft and pure? That heaving bosom sigh for me. Besides, Ferdinand, you have full security in my love for your sister; help me there, and I can never disturb you with Clara. Don Ferd. As far as I can, consistently with the honour of our family, you know I will; but there must be no eloping. Don Ant. And yet, now, you would carry off Clara? Don Ferd. Ay, that's a different case!-we never mean that others should act to our sisters and wives as we do to others'. But, to-morrow, Clara is to be forced into a convent. Don Ant. Well, and am not I so unfortunately circumstanced? To-morrow, your father forces Louisa to marry Isaac, the Portuguese-but come with me, and we'll devise something, I warrant. Don Ferd. I must go home. Don Ant. Well, adieu! Don Ferd. But, Antonio, if you did not love my sister, you have too much honour and friendship to supplant me with Clara ? AIR.-Don Ant. Friendship is the bond of reason; |