§8^, 
 
 
 LIBRARY ^H 
 
 ANNEX ^H 
 
 1; 
 it 
 
 j; 
 
 f: 
 h 
 
 i 
 
 \ 
 i 
 
 }' 
 i 
 
 [: 
 
 'f. 
 
CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 A. M. Drummond 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR3379.C3B41893 
 
 Two old comedies:The belle's stratagem [ 
 
 3 1924 013 172 139 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tinis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013172139 
 
TWO 
 OLD COMEDIES 
 
 THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM 
 
 AND 
 
 THE WONDER 
 
 REDUCED AND RE-ARRANGED BY 
 
 AUGUSTIN DALY 
 
 For Production at Daly's Theatre 
 During the Season 1893-94 
 
 PRIVATELY PRINTED 
 FROM THE PROMPT BOOKS OF DALY'S THEATRE 
 
 1893 
 
REPRESENTATIVE OLD COMEDIES. 
 
 The Wonder and The Belle's Stratagem. 
 
 A PREFACE. 
 By WILLIAM WINTER. 
 
 I. 
 
 The note that is always audible in the old English comedies is the 
 note of gallantry. The predominant impulse that animates their people 
 is the impulse of desire. The figures that glisten and sparkle through 
 their flowery and fragrant labyrinths of artifice, equivoque, raillery, frolic, 
 and intrigue are the representative figures of languishing allurement, 
 tantalizing witchery, gleeful mischief, and audacious and exultant animal 
 life. In almost every one of them there is an enchanting maid or a 
 superb widow, to be pursued and captured by a potential rake whom 
 marriage will reform, or there is a wild and reckless cavalier, whom the 
 omnipotent charms of awful and irresistible beauty are finally to invest 
 with the rosy curb of the matrimonial yoke. Ardent man nimbly careers 
 after entiping woman, and lovely and capricious woman exerts all her 
 arts, either to allure or elude her follower, or discomfit her rival, or 
 subdue her captor, or augment her triumphs. The time is always mating 
 time, and the sole question is the question whether courtship will prosper 
 and love prevail. Some of those old plays are grossly carnal and vulgar. 
 Some of them are only coarse. Many of them are artificial and brittle. 
 All of them burn with the fire of pleasure and palpitate with the warmth 
 of physical enjoyment — 
 
 " The glow of young desire and purple light of love." 
 
 It would be easy to go into hysterics of disapprobation of their fre- 
 quent immorality. Macaulay led the way in that. Vile enough some of 
 them are, in the pages of such writers as Etherege and Sedley and 
 Dryden and Aphra Behn. Yet even at their worst they are better than 
 modern French plays relative to amorous intrigue and matrimonial infi- 
 
 3 
 
THE WONDER AND 
 
 delity — for they are only downright vulgar ; they are not sophistical, in- 
 sidious, deceitfully humanitarian, and sentimentally corrupt. They do 
 not instil depravity of principle, nor invent fine names for bad deeds, 
 nor extenuate wrong-doing, nor celebrate incontinence, nor hover volup- 
 tuously about vice, nor revel in the analysis of morbid passion and hide- 
 ous crime. Pleasure and mirth are at once their impulse and their signi- 
 fication. Besides, it is to be considered as a final reflection that the 
 best of them are inoffensive, and that the worst of them do not survive. 
 Our British ancestors liked animal mirth. The, modern audience, if not 
 more refined, is more fastidious. 
 
 One of the best of the representative old comedies — not as literature, 
 but as a play to be acted — is " The Wonder," written by Mrs. Centlivre 
 in the distant days of Queen Anne ; and a signal denotement of the vital 
 practical merit of that piece is the fact that although it was produced one 
 hundred and eighty years ago it is not discarded yet. In " The Wonder '' 
 the scheme is one of entanglement and cross-purposes. Donna Violante 
 is dearly loved by Do7i Felix, and she dearly loves him in return. A 
 serious passion, therefore, is the basis of the structure and the impulse of 
 the movement. Furthermore, that passion is environed from the outset 
 with serious difficulty. Donna Violante has been destined by her father, 
 Don Pedro, for a convent — and Don Pedro is an imperious, irascible, and 
 formidable old gentleman, whose purpose will not easily be defeated. 
 Don Felix, accordingly, can only win his mistress by baffling her vigilant 
 and expeditious sire. That situation is still further complicated from 
 the fact that Don Felix has seriously wounded an antagonist in a duel ; 
 has been obliged to fly from justice, in the city of Lisbon ; and has re- 
 turned to that city in secrecy, but must not show himself for fear of 
 arrest. Donna Violante, meantime, has given shelter to her fugitive 
 friend. Donna Isabella, the sister of Don Felix, whose father, Don Lopez, 
 would force her to a hateful marriage with a rich dotard. Donna Isabella, 
 leaping from her window, has fallen into the arms of Colonel Britton — a 
 most ardent military gentleman from England — and Colonel Britton, con- 
 veying her into the nearest accessible house, has brought her into the 
 dwelling of Donna Violante ; and about that dwelling Colonel Britton 
 proceeds to haunt. The secret to be preserved is the secret of Donna 
 Isabella's identity. That secret is faithfully kept by Donna Violante, 
 even at the peril of her reputation and her happiness, and under the 
 stress of serious trials ; and " the wonder " is that a woman should keep 
 a secret at all 1 The peculiar felicity of the comedy is that of invention. 
 Through scene after scene the jealousy of the fiery Don Felix is piqued 
 by the subterfuges to which Donna Violante is unavoidably compelled, 
 and also by suspicious complications resultant on the amorous enterprise 
 of the restless and roving Colonel Britton. The clandestine mischief of 
 Lissardo, servant to Don Felix, and of Flora, servant to Donna Violante, 
 
 4 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 tends still further to embroil those impetuous lovers, and at once to pro- 
 mote comic confusion and a sparkling vicissitude of merry and ludicrous 
 incident. The concealment of Flora in the apartments of Don Felix is 
 most adroitly contrived to cover him with confusion in the eyes ot his 
 mistress. The great fertility of resource displayed by Donna Violante 
 stimulates continual mirth. Lissardo, loving Flora, and beloved by her, 
 but blandly promoting a wrangle for his favor between Flora and Inis, 
 provides a most amusing episode. The blended craft and simplicity of 
 Gibby, the Scotch servant of Colonel Britton, affords at once a droll sketch 
 of character and a prolific source of comic mischance and bewilderment. 
 The fruitless sapience of the self-complacent fathers — whose irrational 
 intents are agreeably defeated by the dexterity of youth and love — is 
 made an additional element in the general result of humor and happiness. 
 Mrs. Centlivre's style was never brilliant; she was not a good writer; 
 but she possessed the art of dramatic construction, and " The Wonder " 
 is a felicitous example of it. 
 
 Susanna Freeman (Mrs. Centlivre) was born in Ireland, in or about 
 1680. Her parents were English — her father being a native of Lincoln- 
 shire and her mother a native of Norfolk. She appears to have had an 
 unfortunate and unhappy childhood. While yet in her teens she was 
 wedded to a youth named Fox, who died a few months after marriage, 
 and she then became the wife of a gentleman named Carrol, an officer in 
 the British army, who presently was killed in a duel. She then became 
 a writer, under the name of Carrol, and produced a tragedy called " The 
 Perjured Husband, or Adventures of Venice,'' and also she went upon 
 the stage as an actress. In the latter vocation she did not succeed, but 
 while acting at Windsor, in Lee's tragedy of " The Rival Queens," she 
 bewitched the fancy of Mr. Joseph Centlivre, then cook to the Queen, and 
 by him she was wooed and won. In that marriage she was happy, and 
 for many years she enjoyed the society of London wits and busied herself 
 pleasantly in the composition and production of her plays. Steele, Rowe, 
 and Farquhar \yere among her friends. She had a pleasant home in 
 Spring Gardens, near Charing Cross, now the centre of activity in Lon- 
 don, but in Queen Anne's day a rural retreat. In that home she died, 
 on December i, 1723, and she was buried in the vaults beneath the 
 neighboring church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields. Her works were pub- 
 lished, in three volumes, in 1761. She was essentially a writer for the 
 stage and not for the library. Her pieces are to be acted, not read. 
 They are noted for plenteous vicissitude of plot and for incident and 
 character, but they are neither trenchant in wit nor felicitous in lan- 
 guage. The best of them are "The Wonder," "The Busybody," and 
 " A Bold Stroke for a Wife." Those comedies, when represented, move 
 with more expedition than is provided by the comedies of Congreve, 
 with their elaborate and perfect characterization and their beautifully 
 
 5 
 
THE WONDER AND 
 
 polished English ; but Congreve was vastly the superior writer and the 
 greater mind. 
 
 Mrs. Centlivre wrote the following pieces : " The Perjured Husband," 
 tragedy, 1701 ; " Love's Contrivance," comedy, 1703 ; " The Beau's Duel, 
 or A Soldier for the Ladies," comedy, 1703 ; " The Stolen Heiress, or 
 Salamanca Doctor Outwitted," comedy, 1704; "The Gamester," com- 
 edy, 1705 ; "The Basset Table," comedy, 1706 ; " Love at a Venture," 
 comedy, 1706 ; " The Platonic Lady," comedy, 1707 ; " The Busybody,'' 
 comedy, 1708 ; "The Man Bewitched, or The Devil to Do About Her," 
 comedy, 1710; " BickerstafiPs Wedding, or Work for the Upholders" — 
 also recorded as "A Bickerstaff's Burying" — farce, about 1710; " Mar- 
 plot" (second part of the "Busybody"), comedy, 171 1 ; " The Perplexed 
 Lovers," comedy, 1712 ; "The Wonder — a Woman Keeps a Secret," 
 comedy, 1714 ; "The Gotham Election," farce, 1715; "A Wife Well 
 Managed," farce, 1715 ; "The Cruel Gift," tragedy, 1717 ; "A Bold 
 Stroke for a Wife," comedy, 1718 ; " The Artifice," comedy, 1721. 
 
 Mrs. Centlivre may not have been much influenced by her brilliant 
 contemporaries,* Congreve [1672-1729] and Farquhar [1678-1707]. Con- 
 greve's best works, however, were published before she began as an author 
 [1701] ; all Farquhar's plays appeared between 1699 and 1707 ; and the 
 same actors who performed in Farquhar's comedies performed also in 
 hers. She certainly was acquainted with the dramatic writings of Aphra 
 Behn [1642-1689], whose plays had not, in her time, lost their vogue, and 
 to whose sceptre she succeeded, though inferior to that eccentric author, 
 alike in genius and in the wanton abuse of it. 
 
 The comedy of " The Wonder " was based by Mrs. Centlivre upon 
 the comedy of "The Wrangling Lovers, or The Invisible Mistress," 
 written by Edward Ravenscroft, produced at Dorset Garden, London, in 
 1676, and printed in 1677. In "The Wrangling Lovers" the scene is 
 Toledo. Don Diego and Octavia are the lovers, and they continually 
 fluctuate between quarrel and reconciliation. Elvira is the name of the 
 Invisible Mistress. The plot of that piece was derived from a story, on 
 a Spanish subject, called " Deceptio Visus, or Seeing and Believing 
 are Two Things " — a work that seems also to have prompted Corneille's 
 " Engagements du Hazard," and Moliere's " D^pit Amoureux.'' Mrs. 
 Centlivre might have borrowed from the Spanish romance or from either 
 
 *"I differ from you about the refinement which has banished the comedies of 
 Congreve. Are not the comedies of Sheridan acted to the thinnest houses? I know 
 (as ^yi-co'inm.iUed') that ' The School for Scandal ' was the worst stock-piece upon rec- 
 ord. I also know that Congreve gave up writing because Mrs. Centlivre's balderdash 
 drove his comedies off. So it is not decency but stupidity that does all this ; for 
 Sheridan is as decent a writer as Mrs. Centlivre, of whom Wilks, the actor, said, 
 • not only her play (' The Busybody ') would be damned, but she too.' " — Lord Byron. 
 Letter to John Murray. Dated Kavenna, March zg, 1820. Lord Byron, it will be re- 
 membered, was one of a committee that managed Drury Lane Theatre in 1815. 
 
 6 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 of those French plays. The fact that she imitated Ravenscroft appears 
 from similarity of dialogue in the two pieces : 
 
 From " The Wrangling Lovers.^' — ^^17' 
 
 Diego. All you can do for the future 
 shall be indifferent to me. I will abandon 
 your empire with a facility that shall suf- 
 ficiently discover that your chains are not 
 so difificult to be broken as your vanity 
 does make you believe. 
 
 Octavia. I find you very full of temerity 
 in presuming to say you abandon me — 
 you whom I have so often ordained never 
 to see me more ; but have no sooner ban- 
 ished you my presence but I have seen 
 you at my feet imploring my grace. 
 . . . If my chains, as you scornfully 
 say, are so easy to be broken, why have 
 you not done it twenty times before ? 
 Either they are more powerful than your 
 malice will allow, or you are a very weak 
 man, Don Diego. 
 
 From " The Wonder." — 1714. 
 
 Felix. All you do shall be indifferent to 
 me for the future, and you shall find me 
 abandon your empire with so little diffi- 
 culty that I'll convince the world your 
 chains are not so hard to break as your 
 vanity would tempt you to believe. 
 
 Violante. This is not to be borne. In- 
 solent ! You abandon I You ! whom I 
 have so often forbade ever to see me 
 more ! Have you not fallen at my feet ? 
 Implored my favor and forgiveness ? Did 
 you not trembling wait, and wish and sigh 
 and swear yourself into my heart ? Un- 
 grateful man ! If my chains are so easily 
 broken as you pretend, then j^ou are the 
 silliest coxcomb living you did not break 
 'em long ago ; and I must think him capa- 
 ble of brooking anything, on whom such 
 usage could make no impression. 
 
 This resemblance was remarked by the vigilant eye of Genest, and to 
 him also the reader is indebted for the cast of characters (likewise 
 significant of similarity between the plays) with which the comedy of 
 " The Wrangling Lovers " was produced — a cast that includes several 
 noted names : 
 
 Don Diego Smith. 
 
 Don Guzman Harris. 
 
 Sanco, his Servant Cave Underhill. 
 
 Count de Benevent, Father to Octavia Leigh. 
 
 Don Ruis, in love with Octavia Medbourne. 
 
 Ordgano, Servant to Don Diego Percival. 
 
 Octavia Mrs. Hughes. 
 
 Elvira, Sister to Don Ruis Mrs. Barry. 
 
 Beatrice, Woman to Octavia Mrs. Gibbs. 
 
 Jacinta, Woman to Elvira , Mrs. Gillow. 
 
 The record of" The Wonder "on the stage begins with its production, 
 at Drury Lane, April 27, 1714. Success had not been anticipated for it, 
 but its advent was hailed with delight, and the praise of it was soon upon 
 every lip. Rowe's tragedy of " Jane Shore," produced in the same sea- 
 son and by the same company, and heralded with prognostication of am- 
 ple favor, fell far behind it in popularity. Wilks was the first Don Felix, 
 
 7 
 
THE WONDER AND 
 
 and Mrs. Oldfield the first Violante, and Mrs. Centlivre afterward wrote, 
 with reference to their acting in the culminating quarrel scene (Act V.), 
 that " if Nature herself were to paint a love quarrel she could only copy 
 them." Isabella was acted by Mrs. Santlowe — the voluptuous beauty who 
 subsequently married Barton Booth. Flora was played by Mrs. Saun- 
 ders, and Inis by Mrs. Cox. Mills acted Colonel Britton ; Lissardo was 
 represented by Pack, and Gibby by Bullock. Wilks, in his time, had no 
 competitor as Don Felix, and probably it was in that character, and in 
 kindred parts, that he deserved the significant encomium that was passed 
 upon him by Steele : " To beseech gracefully, to approach respectfully, 
 to pity, to mourn, to love, are the places wherein Wilks may be said to 
 shine with the utmost beauty." 
 
 Don Felix must have dash and sparkle, must be a master of raillery 
 and sarcasm, must be impetuous and variable — passing swiftly from 
 mood to mood ; but, above all else, he must be a lover, passionately in 
 earnest, and a prey to all the hopes and fears and doubts and longings 
 and worries and caprices that appertain to a lover's condition. That 
 brilliant comedian Lester Wallack, who took that view of the character 
 of Don Felix, was especially fine in it, because of his commingled pi- 
 quancy and ardor. One of the most delightful of his many strokes of 
 feeling was accomplished with the supplication in the quarrel scene ; and 
 no one who heard him say, " Violante, won't you?" will ever forget it. 
 The rapid change to jealous doubt that followed it was deliciously comi- 
 cal. Wallack was at his best in Don Felix, and this age has not seen so 
 good a representative of the part. 
 
 Various revivals of " The Wonder" — several of them important be- 
 cause of the distinguished players who were involved — occurred in Lon- 
 don before the close of the eighteenth century. On November 14, 1733, 
 at Covent Garden, Don Felix and Violante were acted by Mr. and Mrs. 
 Giffard, and Colonel Britton and Lissardo by Delane and Pinkethman. 
 Mrs. Roberts was Flora. On November i, 1734, at the same theatre, 
 Hallam assumed Don Pedro, with Mrs. Horton as Violante. On January 
 12, 1774, at Drury Lane, Don Felix and Viola?tte were acted by Mr. and 
 Mrs. Giffard, with Mrs. Roberts as Flora, and Delane as Colonel Britton. 
 Yates played Ltssardo. Mr. and Mrs. Giffard seem to have been long 
 identified with the leading parts in " The Wonder," and Giffard may be 
 accounted the successor to Wilks, who died in 1729. The comedy was 
 acted on April 15, 1748, at Covent Garden, with Mr. and Mrs. Giffard in 
 the chief parts, for the benefit of Mrs. Storer. On March 25, 1756, at 
 Covent Garden, Peg Woffington enacted Violante for the first time, and 
 the comic genius of Shuter was expended upon Gibby. In the same year, 
 on November 6, at Drury Lane, Garrick first impersonated Don Felix, 
 and thenceforward till his retirement from the stage, June 10, 1776 — when 
 he chose it for his farewell — he never relinquished the part and he never 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 had an equal in it. Mrs. Macklin was his first Violante, while Flora was 
 played, very brilliantly we may be sure, by Kitty Clive. Lissardo was 
 allotted to Woodward, and Colonel Brition to Palmer. Ross was the next 
 Don Felix, with Miss Macklin as Violante, at Covent Garden, February 
 17, 1761. Shuter played Gibby, Mrs. Pitt was Flora, Mrs. Burden Isabella, 
 and Mrs. Green Inis. At Covent Garden, on November 27, 1767, Powell 
 acted Don Felix. Garrick revived " The Wonder," on April 24, 1769, at 
 Drury Lane, on the night of Kitty Olive's last appearance — playing Don 
 Felix as only he could play it, with the enchanting Mrs. Barry as Vio- 
 lante, and with King as Lissardo. Clive presented Flora, and there is 
 Tate Wilkinson's testimony that Clive made Flora equal to Violante and 
 to Don Felix. The comedy had yet another fine cast when given, at the 
 same house, on January 20, 1775 : Don Felix, Garrick; Violante, Mrs. 
 Yates ; Colonel Britton, Jefferson (great-grandfather of the present Joseph 
 Jefferson) ; Isabella, Mrs. Jefferson ; Lissardo, King ; Flora, Mrs. Pope ; 
 Inis, Mrs. Bradshaw ; Gibby, Johnston ; Do7t Lopez, Baddeley ; Don 
 Pedro, Parsons. Later in 1775, on October 20, "The Wonder" was 
 performed at Covent Garden, and Lewis appeared as Don Felix, with 
 Mrs. Barry as Violante, Quick as D071 Pedro, and Woodward as Lissardo. 
 On December 3, 1784, playing at Covent Garden, Holman assumed Don 
 Felix, with Miss Younge as Violante, and the irrepressible John Edwin 
 as Lissardo. At Drury Lane, on January 3, 1787 (Garrick was now dead, 
 January 20, 1779), Smith assumed Don Felix, and the exquisite Miss 
 Farren played Violante, while Mrs. Pope was cast for Flora, Mrs. Ward 
 for Isabella, Woodward for Lissardo, and Moody (the Irish pioneer of the 
 drama in America) for Gibby. The next notable distribution of the char- 
 acters in that gay fabric of fun and feeling was made at Drury Lane, Jan- 
 uary 10, 1797, when John Philip Kemble played Don Felix (in which it 
 is difficult to imagine him at ease), with Miss Farren as Violante, Miss 
 Pope as Flora, Miss Mellon as Inis, Miss De Camp (whom Charles Kem- 
 ble subsequently married) as Isabella, Wroughton, now remembered as the 
 old prompter, as Colonel Brition, and the- younger Bannister as Lissardo. 
 George Frederick Cooke presented himself as Don Felix, June 7, 1808, 
 at Covent Garden, and most portentous he must have been, with his 
 tragical countenance and his sardonic humor. Miss Smith then played 
 Violante, and Mrs. Mattocks — taking a benefit and making her last ap- 
 pearance — played Flora. Colonel Britton was taken by Brunton, and 
 Lissardo by Fawcett. A performance of "The Wonder," on August 5, 
 1819, at the London Haymarket, presented Mrs. Edwin as Violante, Mrs. 
 Gibbs as Flora, Mr. Warde as Don Felix, Miss E. Blanchard as Isabella, 
 Terry as Gibby, and Liston as Lissardo. Charles Kemble was Don Felix 
 when the comedy was revived at Drury Lane, October 22, 1822, with Miss 
 Chester as Violante, the superb Miss Foote as Isabella, Mrs. Gibbs as 
 Flora, and Fawcett as Lissardo. Hallam, Elliston, Charles Kean, Mac- 
 
 9 
 
THE WONDER AND 
 
 ready, Finn, VandenhofF, Thomas Barry, Hamblin, and Lester Wallack, 
 as Don Fdix, and Dora Jordan, Mrs. Glover, Ellen Tree, Julia Bennett 
 Barrow, and Mrs. Hoey, as Donna Violante, are recorded among the 
 actors of the present century who have illustrated " The Wonder" and 
 gained the public admiration in their fine artistic service. The loveliest 
 Violante of that group seems to have been Dora Jordan. Macready, vi^ho 
 acted with her in 1812, has left an expressive tribute to her excellence : 
 " With a spirit of fun that would have out-laughed Puck himself, there 
 was a discrimination, an identity with her character, an artistic arrange- 
 ment of the scene, that made all appear spontaneous and accidental, 
 though elaborated with the greatest care. Her voice was one of the most 
 melodious I ever heard, which she could vary by certain bass tones that 
 would have disturbed the gravity of a hermit. . . . Her laugh was so 
 rich, so apparently irrepressible, so deliciously self-enjoying, as to be at 
 all times irresistible. ... I have seen many Violantes since, but 
 where was there one who could, like her, excite the bursts of rapture in 
 an audience when she recovered from the deadly agony into which her 
 fears of discovery had thrown her, and prepared herself for her triumph 
 over her jealous lover ? The mode in which she taught the Flora to act 
 her part was a lesson to make an actress." Surely in that picture there is 
 an instructive lesson in the art of acting. 
 
 11. 
 
 Mrs, Centlivre died in 1723. Mrs. Cowley (1743-1809) was born 
 about twenty years later, and Mrs. Cowley's first play was published in 
 1776. The same quick spirit that was in the one reappeared in the other, 
 but Mrs. Cowley was much the more refined spirit and the more polished 
 writer. The taste, furthermore, had changed with the time. The empire 
 of Dryden had been succeeded by the empire of Dr. Johnson, and Wilks 
 and his compeers had given place to Quin and Garrick. The maiden 
 name of Mrs. Cowley was Parkhouse, and she was born at Tiverton, in 
 Devonshire. Her paternal grandmother was a first cousin to the poet 
 Gay. Her father was a scholar. She was well nurtured and well taught, 
 and her talents as a writer were early and prosperously developed. About 
 1772 she became the wife of Captain Cowley, of the East India Com- 
 pany's service, and with him she lived in great happiness. Her life was 
 domestic, and she had the wisdom to prize a happy home, the reality of 
 love, and the development of a pure character, beyond literary reputation 
 and the fuss and fever of publicity. She was not a genius, but her talent 
 was genuine and considerable, and the worst that can be said of her as a 
 writer is that she was the "Anna Matilda" of the "Delia Crusca" 
 poems— Robert Merry, who married Miss Brunton, being the "Delia 
 Crusca." Mrs. Cowley wrote the follov.'ing plays: "The Runaway," 
 
 10 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 comedy, 1776; "Who's the Dupe?" farce, 1779; "Albina," tragedy, 
 1779; "The Belle's Stratagem," comedy, 1780; "The School for Elo- 
 quence," interlude, 1780 ; " The World as It Goes," also called " Second 
 Thoughts are Best," comedy, 1781 ; " Which is the Man ? " comedy, 
 1782; "A Bold Stroke for a Husband," comedy, 1783; " More Ways 
 Than One," comedy, 1784; "The School for Graybeards," comedy,' 
 1786; " The Fate of Sparta," tragedy,* 1788; "A Day in Turkey," com- 
 edy, 1792; and "The Town Before You," comedy, 1795. She died at 
 Tiverton, March 11, 1809. Garrick revised her first piece, "The Runa- 
 way,'' and wrote an epilogue for it ; and it was the last piece that he re- 
 ceived at Drury Lane prior to his withdrawal as actor and manager. 
 There was an epistolary controversy over the tragedy of " Albina," 
 between the author and Miss Hannah More. " The School for Gray- 
 beards " was based on Aphra Behn's "Lucky Chance." Several of her 
 pieces failed^, but, on the other hand, several of them succeeded beyond 
 the expectations of friends. " The Belle's Stratagem " had the good 
 fortune to please Queen Charlotte, and by her order it was performed 
 before the royal family of George HL once every season for several 
 years. 
 
 The stage career of " The Belle's Stratagem " began at Covent Gar- 
 den, on February 22, 1780. The original Doricourt was Lewis — a prince 
 of comedians — and the original Letitia Hardy was Miss Younge. Genest 
 records that Edwin's name was in the bill the first two nights, and that the 
 piece was acted twenty-eight times. Twelve years later, the comedy 
 being revived at the same house— February 6, 1792 — Fawcett played 
 Flutter. On March 22, 1790, at Drury Lane, Dora Jordan taking a bene- 
 fit, " The Belle's Stratagem " was given, with a remarkable cast : Dori- 
 court, J. P. Kemble ; Hardy, Baddeley ; Sir George Touchwood, Wrough- 
 ton ; Flutter, Bannister, Jr. ; Saville, Barrymore ; Villers, Whitfield ; 
 Courtall, R. Palmer ; Letitia Hardy, Dora Jordan ; Mrs. Racket, Miss 
 Pope; Lady Frances Touchwood, Mrs. Kemble. On January 8, 1808, at 
 Covent Garden, Doricourt was played by Lewis ; Hardy by Munden — 
 certainly a comic genius of the first order ; Sir George Totichwood by 
 Murray ; Flutter by Jones ; Saville by Brunton ; Letitia Hardy by Mrs 
 H. Johnston ; and Mrs. Racket by Mrs. Mattocks. On September 12, 
 1817, at Covent Garden, Miss Brunton made her first appearance in Lon- 
 don, acting Letitia Hardy. That was the lady who afterward married 
 Merry, came to America, and after Merry's death became Mrs. Wignell, 
 
 * The following epigram was made upon it, when it was first acted : 
 
 " Ingenious Cowley ! while we view'd 
 Of Sparta's sons the fate severe, 
 We caught the Spartan fortitude, 
 And saw their woes without a tear." 
 
THE WONDER AND 
 
 and finally Mrs. Warren, step-mother to the veteran Boston comedian 
 (deceased), William Warren. Charles Kemble assumed Doricourt. 
 Fawcett played Hardy. Lady Touchwood was enacted by Miss Foote, 
 and Mrs. Racket by Mrs. Gibbs. In a revival of the comedy at Drury 
 Lane on January 20, 1818, Hardy was enacted by Dowton, Flutter by 
 Harley, Letitia by Miss Smithson, of Dublin, and Mrs. Racket by the 
 piquant Mrs. Glover. On the American stage it had its first representa- 
 tion January 6, 1794, at the theatre in John Street, New York, with Hodg- 
 kinson and his wife as Doricourt and Letitia, and Hallam as Flutter. 
 Murdoch played Doricourt at the Old Park, in 1839. On August 30, 
 1852 "The Belle's Stratagem" was performed at Niblo's, with Charles 
 Wheatleigh as Doricourt. It has since been done in many cities of the 
 republic, and with notably good casts. 
 
 With the generation of old play-goers, now receding, " The Belle's 
 Stratagem " was a favorite when Wallack's Theatre was in its prime, and 
 also it will be recalled by them as a prominent feature in the repertory 
 of Jean Davenport (Mrs. Lander), when that sterling actress used to pre- 
 sent Letitia Hardy, with William Wheatley as Doricourt. It is almost 
 the only one of Mrs. Cowley's comedies that has practically survived, and 
 Mr. Daly's new version of it, while omitting the most of two acts, pre- 
 serves its story and its essential elements. It is known that Mrs. Cowley 
 was a charming woman — intellectual, refined, sprightly, and of affection- 
 ate disposition and gentle manners ; but that might have been gathered 
 from her writings, even if it had not been recorded. Ideals of character 
 and conduct inevitably indicate the nature from which they spring. The 
 persons in " The Belle's Stratagem" are representative persons, and they 
 manifest exactly what their author considered to be best and most de- 
 lightful in life. Letitia Hardy is an enchanting beauty, luxuriant in 
 health and spirits, unconventional, capable of the fondest love, but also 
 capable, as she herself declares, of being the soul of whim and the spirit 
 of variety, and of resenting ill-treatment by an impetuous and scornful 
 defiance of the proprieties and the world. Doricourt, though a man 
 of pleasure, is a man of principle — young, handsome, ardent, gay, and 
 he v/ill take the world lightly, doing no harm in it, but making merriment 
 all around him. If a misfortune falls upon him, he declares, it will sink 
 at once to the bottom of his heart, like a pebble in the water, and leave 
 the surface unruffled. Mrs. Racket, the qualified flirt, is the incarnation 
 of good-natured vivacity, and there are few lines in comedy that have a 
 neater point than her remark, to the perplexed cavalier, that if he is 
 really resolved to visit the other world he may as well take one night of 
 pleasure in this. All along the current of the play there are kindred de- 
 notements of the healthful and vivacious spirit beneath it. Flutter—vtho 
 is all that his name implies — fails not to please with that self-same quality 
 of buoyant mirth ; and nowhere so fully as in one sentence, spoken by 
 
 12 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 him, has the writer conveyed the characteristic tone of her mind. " Your 
 wise men,'' exclaims Flutter, " are the greatest fools upon earth — for 
 they reason about their enjoyments and analyze their pleasures.'' It is 
 more than a hundred years since that was said, and the wise men are still 
 reasoning and analyzing, and still the roses bloom. Sprightly and blythe 
 was Mrs. Cowley, and full of joy is her comedy of " The Belle's Strata- 
 gem ; " and the audience of to-day heeds no more than did the audience 
 of her own period that the work is neither original nor probable. Con- 
 greve and Farquhar were not unremembered in Mrs. Cowley's day, and 
 her style was somewhat modelled after those brilliant originals. " The 
 Belle's Stratagem" is reminiscent of Congreve's " Love for Love" and 
 Farquhar's " Inconstant." The same old situation recurs. The boy and 
 the girl have been betrothed, but the young man and the young woman 
 insist upon the romance of their youth, and there can be no marriage 
 unless there is also love. The lady will act the gawk and thus will 
 change her swain's mood from indifference to aversion, and then, as a 
 stranger, masked and disguised, she will attract and fascinate him. The 
 youth will act the lunatic, in order to escape from his dreaded marriage, 
 and at last will go almost distracted with joy to find himself tricked into 
 a union with the woman whom he loves. That was a favorite theme with 
 the writers of English comedy in the last century. The gentleman often 
 goes mad in jest and the lady often stoops to conquer. In " The Belle's 
 Stratagem" the manner is artificial and the expedients are improbable ; 
 but at least that artificiality is consistently sustained, and you understand 
 that you are looking, not at actual life, but at a delicate exaggeration of 
 it — of which, at the same time, the elements are real. Your logic would 
 readily invalidate the rationality of ZrfzVz'a ?i\\A. Doricourt : your senses, 
 all the same, perceive them as delightful and lovable human creatures. 
 
 Ada Rehan obtained a triumphant success as Letitia Hardy. Her por- 
 trayal oiLetitia's assumed awkwardness was easily perfect. Her adroit use 
 of the Milkmaid song cast a glow of delicious humor, commingled with 
 the perplexing spell of a latent refinement, over that image of rosy rus- 
 ticity ; and it was quite possible to sympathize with Doricourt's bewilder- 
 ment when he said that he had seen in her eyes an expression that seemed 
 to mock the folly of her lips. The essential attribute of Letitia Hardy 
 is feminine fascination — and that was imparted by Ada Rehan to every 
 fibre of the embodiment. In the masquerade scene the victorious air 
 was sustained with inflexible refinement and undeviating grace, and those 
 exquisite speeches about the ideal woman — so easily spoiled and so diffi- 
 cult to deliver — came off in rippling tones of the most musical voice and 
 the most melodious English now heard upon our stage. In demeanor, 
 likewise — in the preservation of a certain stateliness and high-bred isola- 
 tion — the actress was at her best, and unimpeachable. No one of her 
 predecessors as Letitia Hardy (looking back, at least, as far as the spring- 
 
 13 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 time of Julia Bennett Barrow) has acted the part with a more intrinsic 
 loftiness of woman-like spirit, with more dignity and grace of bearing, or 
 with a more fortunate assumption of rustic silliness in the hoyden scene ; 
 and no one of them has made it so essentially diffusive of woman-like 
 allurement.* In that particular the characteristic embodiments of Miss 
 Rehan have seldom been equalled. The secret of that allurement is elu- 
 sive. Among its elements are passionate sincerity, the manifest capabil- 
 ity of imparting great happiness, triumphant personal beauty, which yet 
 is touched and softened by a wistful and sympathetic sadness, and that 
 controlling and compelling instinct — essentially feminine — which endows 
 with vital import every experience of love, and creates a perfect illusion 
 in scenes of fancied bliss or woe. The piquant aspect of the character of 
 Letitia Hardy was heightened and made the more delightful in Miss Re- 
 han's impersonation because of the emphasis that she laid upon its grav- 
 ity, making the personality genuine and imparting to Letitia's stratagem a 
 momentous importance. In actual life no woman ever really approves of 
 levity and laughter over affairs of the heart. Those are serious things, 
 and throughout all her performances in artificial comedy, whether old or 
 new, Miss Rehan has been felicitous beyond precedent in her fidelity to 
 that instinct of earnest womanhood. The common practice of the stage 
 has been, in all such characters as Letitia, to aim only at sparkle and 
 dash. The victorious excellence and artistic superiority of Miss Rehan's 
 assumption were obvious in its union of glittering impetuosity and merry 
 witchery with true passion, womanlike tenderness of heart, and the many 
 sweet ways and innocent wiles with which a loving woman involuntarily 
 commends herself to the object of her love. The embodiment was not a 
 frolic, but a round, coherent, truthful, fascinating portrayal of human 
 nature. 
 
 * On the same night Miss Rehan enacted Mockworld, in a fanciful and romantic 
 play, by Miss Clo Graves, called " The Knave," and in the two characters she 
 sounded every note in a wide scale of human and poetic emotion. 
 
THE 
 
 BELLE'S STRATAGEM 
 
 CONDENSED FROM Mrs. COWLEY'S COMEDY 
 
 AND ARRANGED IN THREE ACTS 
 
 BY 
 
 AUGUSTIN DALY 
 
 As First Produced at Daly's Theatre 
 New York, January 3, 1893 
 
 Printed from the Prompt Book of Daly's Theatre 
 
 1893 
 
o « 
 
 "S "S 
 
 < W 
 
 
 
 
 >i. 
 
 
 
 
 ti 
 
 
 rt 
 
 
 tn 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 •fl 
 
 
 i3 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
 
 S 
 
 U 
 
 S 
 
 M 
 
 
 HJ 
 
 13 
 
 i 
 
 ^ 
 
 o 
 
 ° 
 
 ^ >* o 
 
 Pi 
 
 a5 
 
 1 
 
 h-] 
 
 
 cd 
 
 13 
 
 *j 
 
 u. 
 
 ^ 1-1 m 
 
 S >• 
 
 .3 
 
 ID 
 
 O 
 
 a 
 
 c -5 
 '3 o 
 
 o " 
 
 s s 
 
 W 
 H 
 U 
 < 
 
 < 
 X 
 U 
 
 o ° , 
 
 h4 .a 
 
 I 
 
 1-1 ^ 
 
 1-1 C <; M 
 
 S '^ 
 
 (4 
 
 s s s 
 
 •Q 
 
 CS 
 
 u 
 o 
 
 y 
 
 o 
 
 S 
 O 
 o 
 
 o 
 Q 
 o 
 
 H 
 
 2; 
 <; 
 S 
 
 H 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 -!l 
 W 
 
 o 
 
 H 
 H 
 
 z; 
 << 
 > 
 
 m 
 
 a 
 
 < 
 
 H 
 Id 
 1-1 
 
 a >^ 
 
 
 O 
 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 1.17 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 ACT I. 
 Scene i. — ^^f Doricourt's. 
 
 Enter Courtall and Saville, r. — shaking hands as though 
 they had just met. 
 
 Sav. Why, and is it you, my dear Courtall ! I haven't 
 seen you in an age ! You're just going ? 
 
 Court.' Yes. Haven't a moment to waste. Just made a 
 call on our returned traveller here. But, pr'ythee, what brings 
 you to town ? 
 
 Sav. I camg to meet our friend Doricourt also, who I hear 
 is lately arrived from Rome. 
 
 Court. Arrived ! Yes, faith, and has cut us all out ! His 
 carriage, his liveries, himself, are the rage of the day ! His 
 first appearance set the whole town in a ferment, and his valet 
 is besieged by levees of tailors, habit makers, and other min- 
 isters of fashion, to gratify the impatience of their customers 
 for becoming h la mode de Doricourt. 
 
 Sav. Indeed ! Well, those little gallantries will soon be 
 over ; he's on the point of marriage. 
 
 Court. Marriage ! Doricourt on the point of marriage ! 'Tis 
 the happiest tidings you could have given, next to his being 
 hanged. Who is the bride elect ? 
 
 Sav. I never saw her ; but 'tis Miss Hardy, the rich heiress 
 — the match was made by the parents, and the courtship be- 
 gan on their nurses' knees ; master used to crow at miss, and 
 miss used to chuckle at master. 
 
 19 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Court. O ! then by this time they care no more for each 
 other than I do for my country cousins. 
 
 Sav. I don't know that ; they have never met since thus 
 high, and so, probably, have some regard for each other. 
 
 Court. Never met ! Odd ! 
 
 Sav. A whim of Mr. Hardy's ; he thought his daughter's 
 charms would make a more forcible impression, if her lover re- 
 mained in ignorance of them till his return from the continent. 
 
 Enter DORICOURT'S FOOTMAN. 
 
 Footman. M'sieur, my lor' Doricourt will have ze honare to 
 wait upon you immediately. Vill you be seat ? [Exit. 
 
 Court. Then I'm off. But promise to dine v/ith me to-day. 
 I have some honest fellows ! [Going. 
 
 Sav. Can't promise ! Perhaps I may. 
 
 Court. Ta-ta, then ! I'll expect you. [Exit L. 
 
 Sav. I'm glad he couldn't stay. I prefer to meet my old 
 friend alone. 
 
 Enter DoRICOURT, R. 
 
 Doric. My dear Saville, let the warmth of this embrace 
 speak the pleasure of my heart. 
 
 Sav. Well, this is some comfort, after the scurvy reception 
 I met with in your hall. I prepared my mind, as I came up- 
 stairs, for a bonjour, a grimace, and an adieu. 
 
 Doric. Why so ? 
 
 Sav. Judging of the master from the rest of the family. 
 What the deuce is the meaning of that flock of foreigners be- 
 low, with their parchment faces and snuffy whiskers ? What ! 
 can't an Englishman stand behind your carriage, buckle your 
 shoe, or brush your coat? 
 
 Doric. Stale, my dear Saville, stale ! Englishmen make the 
 best soldiers, citizens, and philosophers in the world ; but the 
 very worst footmen. [Crosses L.J I keep French fellows and 
 Germans, as the Romans kept slaves ; because their own coun- 
 trymen had minds too enlarged and haughty to descend with 
 a grace to the duties of such a station. 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Sav. A good excuse for a bad practice. 
 
 Doric. On my honor, experience will convince you of its 
 truth. 
 
 Sav. Never — never. But to start a subject which must 
 please you. When do you expect Miss Hardy in town ? 
 
 Doric. O, the hour of expectation is past. She is arrived, 
 and I this morning had the honor of an interview at the law- 
 yers. The writings were ready ; and, in obedience to the will 
 of Mr. Hardy, we met to sign and seal. 
 
 Sav. Has the event answered ? Did your heart leap or sink 
 when you beheld your mistress ? 
 
 Doric. Faith, neither one nor t'other ; she's a fine girl, as far 
 as mere flesh and blood goes. \_Crosse.'; R.] But 
 
 Sav. But what ? 
 
 Doric. Why, she's only a fine girl ; complexion, shape, and 
 features ; nothing more. 
 
 Sav. Is not that enough ? 
 
 Doric. No! she should have spirit ! fire! fairetijou^! that 
 something, that nothing, which everybody feels, and which 
 nobody can describe, in the resistless charmers of Italy and 
 France. 
 
 Sav. Thanks to the parsimony of my father, that kept me 
 from travel I I would not have lost my relish for true, unaf- 
 fected English beauty, to have been quarrelled for by all ihe 
 belles of Versailles and Florence. 
 
 Doric. Pho ! thou hast no taste. English beauty I 'Tis in- 
 sipidity ; it wants the zest, it wants poignancy, Frank ! Why, 
 I have known a French woman, indebted to nature for no one 
 thing but a pair of decent eyes, reckon in her suite as many 
 counts, marquesses, and petits maitres, as would satisfy three 
 dozen of our first-rate toasts. I have known an Italian mar- 
 chessina make ten conquests in stepping from her carriage, and 
 carry her slaves from one city to another, whose real, intrinsic 
 beauty would have yielded to half the little grisettes that pace 
 Mall on a Sunday. \_Crosses L. 
 
 Sav. And has Miss Hardy nothing of this ? 
 
 Doric. If she has, she was pleased to keep it to herself. I 
 was in the room half an hour before I could catch the color of 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 her eyes ; and every attempt to draw her into conversation oc- 
 casioned so cruel an embarrassment that I was reduced to the 
 necessity of exchanging platitudes about the weather with her 
 father. 
 
 Sav. So Miss Hardy, with only beauty, modesty, and merit, 
 is doomed to the arms of a husband who will despise her. 
 
 Doric. You are unjust. Though she has not inspired me 
 with violent passion, my honor secures her felicity. 
 
 Sav. Come, come, Doricourt ; you know very well that 
 when the honor of a husband is locum tenens for his heart, his 
 wife must be as indifferent as himself, if she is not unhappy. 
 But come, I detain you — you seem dressed at all points, and 
 of course have an engagement. 
 
 Doric. To St. James's. \_Crosses R.J I dine at Hardy's, 
 and accompany them to the masquerade in the evening. But 
 breakfast with me to-morrow, and we'll talk of our old com- 
 panions — for I swear to you, Saville, the air of the continent 
 has not effaced one youthful prejudice or attachment. 
 
 Sav. With an exception to the case of ladies and servants. 
 
 Doric. True ; there I plead guilty. 
 
 {^Exeunt DoRicouRT, R., and Saville,- l. 
 
 Scene 2.— At Hardy's. A spacious apartment. A spinet 
 at the L. A portrait of MiSS Hardy on an easel on the 
 r. Divan C. 
 
 ViLLIERS is discovered at R., reading a book, which he 
 throws aside as FLUTTER enters, at back, ushered in by 
 a footman. 
 
 Flut. Ha, Villiers, have you seen Mrs. Rackett ? Miss 
 Hardy, I find, is out. 
 
 Vil. I have not seen her yet. I have rhade a voyage to 
 Lapland since I came in. {^Flinging away the book.} A lady 
 at her toilet is as difficult to be moved as a Quaker. [ Yawn- 
 ing. Crosses L., and sits.] What events have happened in 
 the world since yesterday ? — have you heard ? 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Flut. O yes ; I stopped at Tattersall's, as I came by, and 
 
 there I found But, now I think on't, you shan't know a 
 
 syllable of the matter ; for I have been informed you never be- 
 lieve above one-half of what I say. 
 
 Vil. My dear fellow, somebody has imposed upon you most 
 egregiously 1 Half ! Why, I never believe one-tenth part of 
 what you say ; that is, according to the plain and literal ex- 
 pression ; but, as I understand you, your intelligence is amus- 
 ing. 
 
 Flut. That's very hard, now, very hard. I never related a 
 falsity in my life unless I stumbled on it by mistake ; and if it 
 were otherwise, your dull matter-of-fact people are infinitely 
 obliged to those warm imaginations which soar into fiction to 
 amuse you ; for, positively, the common events of this little 
 dirty world are not worth talking about, unless you embellish 
 them ! Ha ! here comes Mrs. Rackett. Adieu to weeds, I 
 see ! All life ! 
 
 Enter Mrs. Rackett, r. u. e. Villiers rises. 
 
 Enter, madam, in all your charms ! Villiers has been abusing 
 your toilet, for keeping you so long ; but I think we are much 
 obliged to it, and so are you. 
 
 Mrs. R. How so, pray ? Good-morning t'ye both. Here, 
 here's a hand apiece for you. 
 
 [Crosses to C. They kiss her hands. 
 
 Flut. [r. H.] How so ? Because it has given you so many 
 beauties. [Kisses her hand again. 
 
 Mrs. R. [C.J Delightful compliment ! What do you think 
 of that, Villiers ? 
 
 Vil. [l. h. j That he and his compliments are alike — showy, 
 but won't bear examining. So you brought Miss Hardy to 
 town last night ? 
 
 Mrs. R. Yes ; I should have brought her before, but I had 
 a fall from my horse, that confined me a week. I suppose, in 
 her heart, she wished me hanged a dozen times an hour. 
 
 Flut. Why? 
 
 Mrs. R. Had she not an expecting lover in town all the 
 
 23 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 time? She meets him this morning at the lawyer's. I hope 
 she'll charm him ; she's the sweetest girl in the world. 
 
 [Crosses R. 
 Vil. Vanity, like murder, will out. You have convinced 
 me you think yourself more charming. 
 
 Mrs. R. How can that be ? 
 
 Vil. [Crosses c] No woman ever praises another, unless 
 she thinks herself superior in the very perfections she allows. 
 
 Flui. [L. c] No man ever rails at the sex, unless he is 
 conscious he deserves their hatred. 
 
 Mrs. R. Thank ye. Flutter — I'll owe ye a bouquet for 
 that. 
 
 Flui. Well, don't forget to pay it me when we meet. But 
 good-morning to ye both. I must be off. \_Going up.'\ I'm 
 going to Mrs. Crotchett's to hear the last bit of gossip she 
 knows, and tell her the last tit-bit I've heard. 
 
 Vil. [L.J I'll venture every figure in your tailor's bill you 
 make some blunder there. 
 
 Flut. [Turning back — down^.'l Done! my tailor's bill has 
 not been paid these two years ; and I'll open my mouth with 
 as much care as Mrs. Bridget Button, who wears cork plump- 
 ers in each cheek, and never hazards more than six words, 
 for fear of showing them. \_Exit L. H. i E. 
 
 Mrs. R. {Going up C.J 'Tis a good-natured, insignificant 
 creature, let in everywhere, and cared for nowhere. [Letitia 
 is heard outside.'] There's Miss Hardy, returned from Lin- 
 coln's Inn ! 
 
 Vil. Then I leave you. [Meets Letitia, l. u. e. 
 
 Enter Letitia, c. and l. 
 
 I am rejoiced to see you so well, madam ! but I must tear 
 myself away. ^Exit L. U. E. 
 
 Let. [Throwing herself on a chair, C, and looking in a 
 pocket-glass ; Mrs. Rackett on R. H., staring at her.] Did 
 you ever see such a fright as I am to-day ? 
 
 Mrs. R. [r.J Yes, I have seen you look much worse. 
 
 Let. How can you be so provoking? If I do not look this 
 
 24 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 morning worse than ever I looked in my life I am naturally a 
 fright. You shall have it which way you will. 
 
 Mrs. R. Just as you please ; but pray what is the meaning 
 of ail this ? 
 
 Let. '^Rising.'] Men are all dissemblers, flatterers, deceiv- 
 ers ! Have I not heard, a thousand times, of my air, my eyes, 
 my shape — all made for victory ? and to-day, when I bent my 
 whole heart on one poor conquest, I have proved that all those 
 imputed charms amount to nothing ; for Doricourt saw them 
 unmoved. \_C7'osses R.] A husband of fifteen months could 
 not have examined me with more cutting indifference. 
 
 Mj's. R. Then you return it like a wife of fifteen months, and 
 be as indifferent as he. 
 
 Let. Ay, there's the sting ! The happy boy, that left his 
 image in my young heart, is, at eight-and-twenty, improved 
 in every grace that fixed him there. It is the same face that 
 my memory and my dreams constantly painted to me ; but its 
 graces are finished, and every beauty heightened. How mor- 
 tifying to feel myself at the same moment his slave and an ob- 
 ject of perfect indifference to him ! [^Crosses to L. 
 
 Mrs. R. How are you certain that was the case ? Did you 
 expect him to kneel down before the lawyer, his clerks, and 
 your father, to make oath of your beauty ? 
 
 Let. No ; but he should have looked as if a sudden ray had 
 pierced him ; he should have been breathless ! speechless ! 
 for O ! Caroline, all this was I ! 
 
 Mrs. R. I am sorry you were such a fool. Can you expect 
 a man who has courted and been courted by half the fine 
 women in Europe, to feel like a girl from a boarding-school ? 
 \^Crosses L.J He is the prettiest fellow you have seen, and 
 of course bewilders your imagination ; but he has seen a mil- 
 lion of pretty women, child, before he saw you ; and his first 
 feelings have been over long ago. 
 
 Let. Your raillery distresses me ; but I will touch his heart, 
 or never be his wife. 
 
 Mrs. R. Absurd and romantic ! If you have no reason to 
 believe his heart pre-engaged, be satisfied ; if he is a man of 
 honor, you'll have nothing to complain of. 
 
 25 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Let. Nothing to complain of ? Heavens ! shall I marry the 
 man I adore with such an expectation as that ? 
 
 Mrs. R. And when you have fretted yourself pale, my dear, 
 you'll have mended your expectation greatly. 
 
 Let. \_Pausing.] Yet I have one hope. If there is any power 
 whose peculiar care is faithful love, that power 1 invoke to aid 
 me. \_Crosses L., sits. 
 
 Enter Mr. Hardy, l. u. e. 
 
 Har. {^Crosses to p.] Well, now, wasn't I right? Ay, 
 Letty ! Ay, Cousin Rackett ! wasn't I right ? I knew 'twould 
 be so. He was all agog to see her before he went abroad ; 
 and if he had 'a seen her, he'd have thought no more of her 
 face, may be, than his own. 
 
 Mrs. R. [L. H.] May be not half so much. 
 
 Har. [C.J Ay, may be so ; but I foresee things ; exactly 
 as I foresaw, to-day he fell desperately in love with the wench 
 — he, he, he ! \Sits. 
 
 Let. [L. H.J Indeed, sir ! how did you perceive it? 
 
 Har. That's a pretty question ! How do I perceive every- 
 thing ? How did I foresee the fall of corn, and the rise of 
 taxes ? How did I foretell that a war would sink the funds ? 
 How did I foresee last Sunday, when a boiled leg of pork 
 came upon the table, that a dish of greens would follow ? 
 [Letitia falls into chair ^ How did I— but what the devil 
 makes you so dull, Letitia? I thought to have found you 
 popping about, as brisk as the jacks of your harpsichord. 
 
 Let. Surely, sir, 'tis a very serious occasion. 
 
 Har. \_Risesi\ Pho ! pho ! girls should never be grave be- 
 fore marriage. How did you feel, cousin, beforehand, eh? 
 
 Mrs. R. Feel ! why, exceedingly full of cares. 
 
 Har. Did you, now ? 
 
 Mrs. R. I could not sleep for thinking of my coach, my liv- 
 eries, and my chairmen ; the taste of clothes I should be pre- 
 sented in distracted me for a week ; and whether I should be 
 married in white or lilac gave me the most cruel anxiety. 
 
 Let. \Rises?^ And is it possible that you felt no other care ? 
 
 26 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Har. And pray, of what sort may your cares be, Mrs. Le- 
 titia ? I begin to foresee, now, that you have taken a dishke 
 to Doricourt. 
 
 Let. Indeed, sir, I have not. 
 
 I-Jar. Then what's all this melancholy about ? Ain't you a- 
 going to be married ? — and what's more, to a sensible man ? — 
 and what's more to a young girl, to a handsome man ? And 
 what's all this melancholy for, I say? 
 
 Mrs. R. Why, because he is handsome and sensible, and 
 because she's over head and ears in love with him ; all which, 
 it seems, your foreknowledge had not told you a word of. 
 
 Let. Fie, Caroline ! 
 
 Liar. Well, come, do you tell me what's the matter, then. 
 If you don't like him, hang the signing and sealing — ^he shan't 
 have you ; and yet I can't say that, neither ; for you know 
 that estate, that cost his father and me upward of fourscore 
 thousand pounds, must go all to him if you won't have him : if 
 he won't have you, indeed, 'twill be all yours. All that's clear 
 — engrossed upon parchment, and the poor dear man set his 
 hand to it whilst he was a-dying. "Ah," said I, " I foresee 
 you'll never live to see them come together ; but their first son 
 shall be christened Jeremiah, whether it's a boy or a girl, after 
 you — that I promise you. " But come, I say, what is the mat- 
 ter ? Don't you like him ? 
 
 Let. I fear, sir — if I must speak — I fear I was less agreeable 
 in Mr. Doricourt's eyes than he appeared in mine. 
 
 Har. There you are mistaken ; for I asked him, and he told 
 me he liked you vastly. Don't you think he must have taken 
 a fancy to her ? {_To Mrs. Rackett. 
 
 Mrs. R. Why, really, I think so, as I was not by. 
 
 Let. My dear sir, I am convinced he has not ; but if there is 
 spirit or invention in woman, he shall. 
 
 Har. Right, girl ; go to your toilet 
 
 \_Embraces Letitia, who goes c. 
 
 Let. It is not my toilet that can serve me ; but a plan has 
 struck me, if you will not oppose it, which flatters me with 
 brilliant success. 
 
 Har. Oppose it ! Not I, indeed. What is it ? 
 
 27 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Let. Why, sir, it may seem a little paradoxical ; but as he 
 does not like me enough, I want him to like me still less, and 
 will at our next interview endeavor to heighten his indifference 
 into dislike. 
 
 Har. Who the devil could have foreseen that ? 
 
 Mrs. R. \_Crosses to c] Letitia, are you serious ? 
 
 Let. As serious as the most important business of my life 
 demands. 
 
 Mrs. R. [c] Why endeavor to make him dislike you ? 
 
 Let. Because 'tis much easier to convert a sentiment into its 
 opposite, than to transform indifference into tender passion. 
 
 Mrs. R. That may be good philosophy, but I'm afraid you'll 
 find it a bad maxim. 
 
 Let. I have the strongest confidence in it. I am inspired 
 with unusual spirits, and on this hazard willingly stake my 
 chance for happiness. I am impatient to begin my measures. 
 
 \_Goes tip and down L. 
 
 ILar. [L. H.] Can you foresee the end of this, Cousin 
 Rackett ? 
 
 Mrs. R. [r. H.] No, sir ; nothing less than your penetra- 
 tion can do that, I am sure. 
 
 Har. Well, 'tis an odd thing ; I can't understand it ; but I 
 foresee Letty will have her way, so I shan't give myself the 
 trouble to dispute it. 
 
 Enter SERVANT. 
 
 Ser. Mr. Doricourt, sir, is below, and wishes to see either 
 Miss Hardy or yourself. 
 
 Har. Pll go to him. {^Exit SERVANT, L.] Now — now 
 Letty \^Goes up L.J, think again on what you're doing, or I 
 foresee there will be the devil to paj^. [Exit. 
 
 Mrs. R. Come, prepare, prepare — your lover is coming. 
 
 Z^t. My lover ! If I comprehend him, awkwardness and 
 baslifulness are the last falls he can pardon in a woman ; so 
 expect to see me transformed into the veriest maukin. 
 
 \^Crosses R. 
 
 Mrs. R. [Goes to her.\ You persevere then ? 
 
 Let. Certainly. I know the design is a rash one, and the 
 
 28 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 event important ; it either makes Doricourt mine by all the 
 tenderest ties of passion, or deprives me of him forever ; and 
 never to be his wife will afflict me less than to be his wife and 
 not be beloved. 
 
 Mrs. R. So you won't trust to the good old maxim, " Marry 
 first, and love will follow " ? 
 
 Let. As readily as I would venture my last guinea that good 
 fortune might follow. The woman that has not touched the 
 heart of a man before he leads her to the altar, has scarcely a 
 chance to charm it when possession and security turn their 
 powerful arms against her. 
 
 Doric. [Wii/ioui L. a.] Upstairs, hey ? 
 
 Li^t. But here he comes. [Goes up R.] I'll disappear for 
 a moment. Don't spare me. [Exit R. H. 
 
 Enter DORICOURT, L. H. I E., not seeing MRS. Rackett, 
 
 who sits R. 
 
 Doric. So! [Puts his hat on table. Looking at the picture. \ 
 This is my mistress, I presume. Ma foil the painter has hit 
 her off. The downcast eye — the blushing cheek — timid — 
 apprehensive — bashful. A tear and a prayer-book would have 
 made her La Bella Magdalena 
 
 Give me a woman in whose touching mien 
 
 A mind, a soul, a polished art is seen ; 
 
 Whose motion speaks, whose poignant air can move ; 
 
 Such are the darts to wound with endless love. 
 
 [Backing C. 
 
 Mrs. R. [Rises.\ Bravo ! Bravo ! Is that an impromptu ? 
 
 Doric. [Starting.] Madam ! [Aside.] Finely caught ! 
 Not absolutely — it struck me, during the dessert, as a motto 
 for your picture. 
 
 Mrs. R. Gallantly turned ! I perceive, however. Miss 
 Hardy's charms have made no violent impression on you. 
 And who can wonder ? the poor girl's defects are so obvious. 
 
 Doric. Defects ! 
 
 29 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Mrs. R. Merely those of education. Her father's indul- 
 gence ruined her. Mauvaise hoiite, conceit and ignorance all 
 unite in the lady you are to marry. {^Crosses L. 
 
 Doric. Marry ! I marry such a woman ! Your picture, I 
 hope, is overcharged. I marry mauvaise honte — pertness and 
 ignorance! 
 
 Mrs. R. Thank your stars that ugliness and ill-temper are 
 not added to the list. You must think her handsome ? 
 
 Doric. Half her personal beauty would content me ; but 
 could the Medicean Venus be animated for me, and endowed 
 with a vulgar soul, I should become the statue, and my heart 
 transformed to marble. 
 
 Mrs. R. Bless us ! We are in a hopeful way, then ! 
 
 Doric. There must be some envy in this. [Aside.] I see 
 she is a coquette. Ha, ha, ha ! and you imagine I am per- 
 suaded of the truth of your character ! ha, ha, ha ! Miss 
 Hardy, I have been assured, madam, is elegant and accom- 
 plished — but one must allow for a lady's painting. 
 
 \_Crosses L. Bows. 
 
 Mrs. R. [Aside.] I'll be even with him for that — Ha, ha, 
 ha ! and so you have found me out ? Well, I protest I meant 
 no harm ; 'twas only to increase the ^c/at of her appearance 
 that I threw a veil over her charms. 
 
 [Letitia is heard outside. 
 
 Let. There ! Take that ! How dare you ! \Noise of slap.] 
 You crosspatch ! 
 
 Mrs. R. Here comes the lady ; her elegance and accom- 
 plishments will announce themselves. 
 
 Enter Letitia, running with apple, I E. R. H. 
 
 Let. La, cousin, do you know that our John O dear 
 
 heart ! I didn't see you, sir. 
 
 [Hangiftg down her head, and dropping behind MRS. 
 Rackett. Looks at DORICOURT through Mrs. 
 Rackett's arm. 
 Mrs. R. Fie, Letitia — Mr. Doricourt thinks you a woman of 
 elegant manners. Stand forward and confirm his opinion. 
 
 30 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Let. No, no ; keep before me. He's my sweetheart, and 
 'tis impudent to look one's sweetheart in the face, you know. 
 He, he, he ! \Idiotic giggle. 
 
 Mrs. R. You'll allow in future for a lady's painting, sir^ha, 
 ha, ha ! 
 
 Doric. I am astonished. 
 
 Let. Well, hang it, I will take heart. Why, he is but a man, 
 you know, cousin — and I'll let him see I wasn't born in a wood 
 to be scared by an owl. \_Crosses Q.. Half apart ; advances, 
 and looks at hiin through her fingers.^ He, he, he ! You 
 have been a great traveller, sir, I hear. They told me you've 
 been all over Greece. I wish you'd tell us about the fine 
 sights you saw when you went over sea. I have read in a 
 book that there are some other countries, where the men and 
 women are all horses. Did you see any of them ? He, he, 
 he! 
 
 Mrs. R. [R. H. j Mr. Doricourt is not prepared, my dear, for 
 these inquiries — he is reflecting on the importance of the ques- 
 tion, and will answer you — when he can. 
 
 Let. [C.J When he can ! Why, he's as slow in speech as 
 Aunt Margery when she's reading Thomas Aquinas — and 
 stands gaping like mumchance. \^Gets beside MRS. Rackett, 
 
 Mrs. R. Have a little discretion. {^Coming close to Letitia. 
 
 Let. [snappishly.'] Hold your tongue ! — Sure I may say what 
 I please before I am married, if I can't afterward. D'ye think 
 a body does not know how to talk to a sweetheart ? He is 
 not the first I have had ! 
 
 Doric. [L. H.J Indeed ! [Suddenly. 
 
 Let. O, lud, it speaks ! Why, if you must know, there was 
 the curate at home. When dad was a-hunting, he used to 
 come a-suitoring, and make speeches to me out of books. No- 
 body knows what a mort of fine things he used to say to me — 
 and call me Venis, and Jubah, and Dinah, and Cupid, and 
 another little boy. 
 
 Doric. And pray, fair lady, how did you answer him ? 
 
 Let. Why, I used to say — [ With arms akimbo.] " Look you, 
 Mr. Curate, don't think to come over me with your flimflams, 
 for a better man than ever trod in your shoes is coming over 
 
 31 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 sea to marry me." But 'ifags, I begin to think I was out. 
 Parson Dobbins was the sprightfuler man of the two. 
 
 [To Mrs. Rackett. 
 
 Doric. Surely this cannot be Miss Hardy ? 
 
 Let. Laws, why, don't you know me ? You saw me to-day 
 — but I was daunted before dad and the lawyer, and all them, 
 and did not care to speak out — so maybe you thought I 
 couldn't. But I can talk as fast as anybody when I knows 
 folks a little. {Goes up stage, skipping, and munching an apple. 
 
 Enter Hardy, l., and gets R. c. 
 
 Har. [c] I foresee this won't do. Mr. Doricourt, maybe 
 you take my daughter for a fool, but you are mistaken ; she's 
 as sensible a girl as any in England. 
 
 Doric, [l. H.] I am convinced she has a very uncommon 
 understanding, sir. \_Aside.] I did not think he had been such 
 an ass ! 
 
 Let. [r. C, aside.] My father will undo the whole. [^Aioud, 
 crossing to him.] Laws, papa, how can you think he can take 
 me for a fool, when everybody knows I beat the 'pothecary at 
 conundrums last Christmas-time ! And didn't I make a string 
 of names, all in riddles, for the Lady's Dairy ? {Gets L. C, 
 with her back to DORICOURT.] There was a little river and a 
 great house : that was Newcastle. There was what a lamb says, 
 and three letters : that was ba, and k-e-r, ker, baker. There 
 was \_Ttirns, leering at DORICOURT. 
 
 Har. [ Turns Letitia, r.c] Don't stand ba-a-ing there — 
 you'll make me mad in a moment. I tell you, sir, that for all 
 that, she's devilish sensible. 
 
 Doric. Sir, I give all possible credit to your assertions. 
 
 Let. Laws, papa, do go along. {Crosses to Hardy, R. c] 
 If j^ou stand watching, how can my sweetheart break his mind, 
 and tell me how he admires me ? [Dowji L. 
 
 Doric. That would be difficult, indeed, madam. 
 
 Let. He, he, he ! 
 
 Har. I tell you, Letty, I'll have no more of this. I foresee 
 
 well enough \_Rtms her up stage. 
 
 32 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Let. Laws, don't snub me before my husband — that is to be. 
 You'll teach him to snub me, too — and I believe by his looks 
 he'd like to begin now. So let us go. [HARDY pulls her to 
 R. H.J Cousin, you may tell the gentleman what a genus I 
 have — [Hardy /.2<//5 her again.] — how I can cut watch-papers, 
 and work catguts- [HARDY pulls her again.'\ — make quadrille 
 
 baskets with pins, and take profiles in shade \Pushes HARDY 
 
 off, I E. R. H. ; running after him, then returns.'^ And I can 
 sing, too ! You never heard me sing, did you ? Some people 
 say they never want to hear me again, when I begin. Here, 
 just hold my apple — \^Puts the apple into his hand. He 
 places it on the table.] — and stand there, and just you judge for 
 yourself. If you get skeer'd just cry out, and I'll run off. 
 
 \_Sings. 
 
 Where are you going to, my pretty maid. 
 Where are you going to, my pretty maid ? 
 
 I'm going a milking, sir, she said ; 
 
 I'm going a milking, sir, she said. 
 
 Shall I go with you, my pretty maid, 
 Shall I go with you, my pretty maid ? 
 
 And heartily welcome, sir, she said ; 
 
 And heartily welcome, sir, she said. 
 
 Will you marry me, my pretty maid. 
 Will you marry me, my pretty maid ? 
 Yes, if you please, kind sir, she said. 
 Yes, if you please, kind sir, she said. 
 [HARDY puts his head in. Is motioned off by Mrs. Rackett 
 
 And what is your fortune, my pretty maid. 
 And what is your fortune, my pretty maid ? 
 
 [DORICOURT turns to her. 
 My face is my fortune, sir, she said, 
 My face is my fortune, sir, she said. 
 33 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Then I can't wed you, my pretty maid, 
 Then I'll not wed you, my pretty maid. 
 
 Nobody axed you, sir, she said, 
 
 Nobody axed you, sir, she said. 
 
 \^At end HARDY comes on and drags her off. She struggles 
 to get away, saying .•] Oh, let me sing the rest of it. 
 There are seventeen more v-^erses. \As she goes off, 
 DORICOURT walks up the stage, and down to the table, 
 to pick up Ills hat ; Letitia runs on, picks up her apple, 
 and runs off, saying .'] Ah ! I ain't a-going to let you 
 keep my apple. 
 Mrs. R. What think you of my painting now ? 
 Doric. O, mere water-colors, madam. The lady has carica- 
 tured your picture. 
 
 Mrs. R. And how does she strike you as a whole ? 
 Doric. Like a good design spoiled by the incapacity of the 
 artist. Her faults are evidently the result of her father's weak 
 indulgence. I observed an expression in her eye that seemed 
 to satirize the folly of her lips. 
 
 Mrs. R. But at her age, when education is fixed, and manner 
 
 becomes nature, hopes of improvement 
 
 Doric. Would be absurd. Besides, I can't turn school- 
 master. Doricourt's wife must be incapable of improvement — 
 but it must be because she's got beyond it. \_Crosses R. 
 
 Mrs. R. I am pleased your misfortune sits no heavier. 
 Doric. Your pardon, madam. So mercurial was the hour 
 in which I was born, that misfortunes always go plump to the 
 bottom of my heart, like a pebble in water, and leave the sur- 
 face unrufHed. I shall certainly set off for Bath, or the other 
 world, to-night — but whether I shall use a chaise with four 
 swift coursers, or go off in a tangent from the aperture of a 
 pistol, deserves consideration — so I make my adieus. 
 
 \_Going up L. 
 Mrs. R. O, but I entreat you, postpone your journey till to- 
 morrow. Determine on which you will, you must be this 
 night at the masquerade. 
 Doric. Masquerade ! 
 
 34 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Mrs. R. Why not? If you resolve to visit the other world, 
 you may as well take one night's pleasure first in this, you 
 know. 
 
 Doric. Faith, that's very true ; ladies are the best philos- 
 ophers after all. Expect me at the masquerade. \Exit C. L. 
 
 Enter Hardy, r. h. i e. 
 
 Har. What, 's he gone ? {^Crosses, up L. 
 
 Mrs. R. Yes, and I am glad he is. You would have ruined 
 us ! Now I beg, Mr. Hardy, you won't interfere in this busi- 
 ness ; it is a little out of your way. [^Exit R. H. I E. 
 
 Har. Hang me if I don't though — I foresee very clearly 
 what will be the end of it if I leave you to yourselves ; so I'll 
 e'en follow him to the masquerade, and tell him all about it. 
 Let me see — what shall my dress be ? — a great mogul ? No. 
 A grenadier ? No — no — that, I foresee, would make a laugh. 
 Hang me if I don't send to the theatre, to that dog little Lewis, 
 and borrow his Shylock dress — I know the dog likes a glass of 
 good wine ; so I'll give him a bottle of my forty-eight, and he 
 shall teach me how to play the part. {Exit R. H. i E. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 3S 
 
ACT II. 
 
 A Masquerade. The curtain rises upon a lively rally and the 
 end of a dance, with Folly as the central figure. 
 
 Hardy enters through the crowd dressed as Shylock 
 — meeting ViLLlERS, who is masked. All lift their masks 
 as he talks to them, and replace them as they talk to him. 
 
 Har. Why, isn't it a shame to see so many stout, well-built 
 young fellows masquerading and cutting Courantas here at 
 home, instead of making the French cut capers to the tone of 
 cannon, or sweating the Spaniards with an English fandango ? 
 I foresee the end of all this. 
 
 Vil. \_Masked, advances R. H. j What, my little Shy- — — How 
 the devil came you here ? Where's your old Margaret ? 
 
 Har. O, I have got rid of her. 
 
 Vil. How? 
 
 Har. Why, I persuaded a young Irishman that she was a 
 blooming beauty of eighteen ; so they made an elopement — 
 \Enter FOLLY, who dances round Hardy. J — ha, ha, ha ! and 
 she is now the toast of Tipperary. 
 
 Har. [ To FOLLY.] Hey ! Tomfool ! what business have 
 you here ? 
 
 Folly. What, sir ! affront a prince in his own dominion ? 
 
 {^Music. Folly struts off, 2 e. r. h. 
 
 Har. [Aside, looking off, 2 E. R. H.] Ha ! there's Cousin 
 Rackett and her party ; they shan't know me. 
 
 {Puts on his mask. Music. 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Rackett, in domino, Miss Ogle, in domino, 
 
 Saville, dressed as a conjuror, CouRTALL, as the 
 
 grand mogul, and FLUTTER, R. H. i E. 
 
 Mrs. R. Look at this dumpling Jew ! You have surely prac- 
 tised the flesh-hook a long time, friend, to have raised that 
 goodly preseiice. 
 
 Har. About as long, my brisk widow, as you have been 
 angling for a second husband ; but my hook has been better 
 baited than yours. You have only caught gudgeons, I see. 
 
 {^Pointing to FLUTTER. 
 
 Flut. [Crosses R. C] O, this is one of the Tomfools they 
 hire to entertain the company with their accidental sallies. Let 
 me look at your common-place book, friend ; I want a few 
 good things. [Crosses to Hardy. 
 
 Har. I'd oblige you, with all my heart ; but you'll spoil them 
 in repeating — [FLUTTER goes up and down L.J — or, if you 
 should not, they'll gain you no reputation — for nobody will 
 believe they are your own. [Crosses L. 
 
 Miss 0. He knows ye, Flutter ! The little gentleman fancies 
 himself a wit, I see. [Up and down R. Flutter turns up. 
 
 Har. [Aside.] I can neither see Doricourt nor Letty. I must 
 find them out. [Exit HARDY, L. H. U. E. 
 
 Court. [CrossesC^ Well, Mrs. Rackett, is notallthis charming? 
 
 Mrs. R. [L.] Delightful 1 Enchanting ! 
 
 Court. And yet in a few hours — in a few hours vapidity and 
 languor will take the place of that exquisite sense of enjoy- 
 ment which flutters your ladyship's heart. 
 
 Mrs. R. What an inhuman creature. The Fates have not 
 allowed us these sensations above ten times in our lives — and 
 would you have us shorten them by anticipations of next 
 week's ennui or to-morrow morning's headache ? 
 
 Flut. [Crosses C.J O Lord ! your wise men are the greatest 
 fools upon earth, they reason about their enjoyments, and 
 analyze their pleasures, while the essence escapes. [Crosses 
 L. a?id C] Look ! D'ye see that figure strutting in the dress 
 of an emperor ? His father retails oranges in Petticoat Lane. 
 That gypsy is a maid of honor, and that ragman a physician, 
 
 37 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Miss 0. {^Crosses C] Why, you know everybody ! 
 
 Flut. O, every creature. A mask is nothing at all to me. 
 I can give you the history of half the people here. In the next 
 apartment there is a whole family, who, to my knowledge, 
 have lived on water-cresses this month to make a figure here 
 to-night ; [All laugh.\ but, to make up for that, they'll cram 
 their pockets with cold ducks and chickens, for -a carnival to- 
 morrow. \All laugh. 
 
 Mrs. R. O, I should like to see this provident family. 
 
 Fliit. Honor me with your arm. 
 
 [Exeunt FLUTTER and MRS. Rackett, l. U. E. ; COURT- 
 ALL and Miss Ogle, r. u. e. 
 
 DORICOURT enters with Saville, L. U. E. ; Letitia enters, R. 
 I E., through the maze, as if looking for someotie. 
 
 Doric. [Looking off. To Saville.] There's a fine figure. 
 I'll address her. [Enters Rally No. i.j Charity, fair lady, 
 charity ! — Charity for a poor pilgrim. 
 
 Let. Charity ! If you mean my prayers, Heaven grant thee 
 wit, pilgrim. [Aside.] Does he know me — Heaven forbid ! 
 
 Doric. That blessing would do from a devotee ; from you I 
 ask other charities ; such charities as beauty should bestow — 
 soft looks, sweet words, and kind wishes. 
 
 Let. Alas ! I am bankrupt of these, and forced to turn beg- 
 gar myself [Crosses R. 
 Doric. Will, you grant me no favor? 
 
 Let. Yes, one — ^I'U make you my partner — not for life, but 
 through the soft mazes of a gavotte. Dare you dance ? 
 Sav. Some spirit in that. 
 
 Doric. I dare do anything you command. [Aside to SA- 
 VILLE.] Do you know her ? 
 
 Sav. No. Such a woman as that would formerly have been 
 known in any disguise ; but beauty is now common — Venus 
 seems to have given her cestus to the whole sex. [Crosses R. 
 [Music. A Gavotte, danced by Letitia and DORICOURT, 
 Mrs. Rackett and Flutter, Miss Ogle and Sa- 
 ville, and COURTALL and a lady. At end of dance, 
 Letitia goes off with a mask. 
 38 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Doric. She dances divinely. Who can she be ? Somebody- 
 must know her. \_To Saville, who is going off.~\ Ha ! Sa- 
 ville ! Do you know the lady I danced with just now ? 
 
 Sav. No. But where is Miss Hardy ? \_Crosses L. 
 
 Doric. Cutting watch-papers and making conundrums, I 
 suppose. 
 
 Sav. What do you mean ? 
 
 Doric. Faith, I hardly know. She's not here, however, Mrs. 
 Rackett tells me. I asked no further. 
 
 Sav. Your indifference seems increased. 
 
 Doric, [l. C] Quite the reverse ; 'tis advanced thirty-two 
 degrees toward hatred. 
 
 Sav. You are jesting ! 
 
 Doric. Then it must be with a very ill grace, my dear Sa- 
 ville ; for I never felt so seriously. Do you know the creature's 
 almost an idiot ? 
 
 Sav. What ! 
 
 Doric. An idiot. What the devil shall I do with her ? 
 Egad ! I think I'll feign myself mad — and then Hardy will 
 propose to cancel the engagement. 
 
 Sav. [Crosses L.] An excellent expedient. I must leave 
 you ; you are mysterious, and I can't stay to unravel ye. 
 
 [Business with Letitia ; tJien ex.it Saville, R. H. U. E. 
 
 Doric. [Musing.] Yes, I think that will do. I'll feign my- 
 self mad, fee the doctor to pronounce me incurable, and when 
 
 the parchments are destroyed 
 
 [Stands in a musing posture, L. c. 
 
 Music. Dance at back. Efiter Letitia, r. h. 2 e. 
 
 Let. You have chosen an odd situation for study. Fashion 
 and taste preside in this spot ; — they throw their spells around 
 you ; — ten thousand delights spring up at their command ; — 
 and you, a stoic — a being without senses, are wrapt in reflec- 
 tion. 
 
 Doric. And you, the most charming being in the world, 
 awaken me to admiration. Did you come from the stars ? 
 
 Let. Yes, and I shall reascend in a moment. [Crosses L. 
 
 39 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Doric. Pray show me your face before you go. 
 
 Let. Beware of imprudent curiosity ; it lost Paradise. 
 
 Doric. Eve's curiosity was raised by the devil — 'tis an angel 
 tempts mine. So your illusion is not in point. 
 
 Let. But why would you see my face ? {Crosses R. 
 
 Doric. To fall in love with it. 
 
 Let. And what then ? 
 
 Doric. Why then [Aside.] Ay, curse it 1 there's the rub ! 
 
 Let. Your mistress will be angry ; but perhaps you have 
 no mistress ? 
 
 Doric. Yes, yes, and a sweet one it is ! 
 
 Let. What ! is she old ? 
 
 Doric. No. 
 
 Let. Ugly? 
 
 Doric. No. 
 
 Let. What then? 
 
 Doric. Pho ! don't talk about her ; but show me your face. 
 
 Let. My vanity forbids it — 'twould frighten you. 
 
 Doric. Impossible ! Your shape is graceful, your air be- 
 witching, and your chin would tempt me to kiss it, if I did 
 
 not see a pouting red lip above it, that demands 
 
 \_Going to kiss. 
 
 Let. You grow too free. \_Cr asses to L. H. 
 
 Doric. Show me your face, then — only half a glance. 
 
 Let. Not for worlds ! 
 
 \_A short rally here, Folly leading the way ; or a short 
 Bacchanalian chorus. DORlCOURT««i/LETITIA, lost for 
 a moment in the maze, come together again at the end. 
 
 Doric, [r.] By heaven, I never was charmed till now. 
 English beauty ! French vivacity — wit — elegance ! [ To Le- 
 TITIA.J Your name, my angel — tell me your name, though 
 you persist in concealing your face. 
 
 Let. [L.J My name has a spell in it. 
 
 Doric. I thought so ; it must be charming. 
 
 Let. But if revealed, the charm is broke. 
 
 Doric. I'll answer for its force. 
 
 Let. [Crosses R.] Suppose it Harriet, or Charlotte, or 
 
 Maria, or 
 
 40 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Doric. Hang Harriet, and Charlotte, and Maria! — the 
 name your father gave ye ? 
 
 Let. That can't be worth knowing, 'tis so transient a 
 thing. 
 
 Doric. How transient ? 
 
 Let. Heaven forbid my name should be lasting till I am 
 married. » 
 
 Doric. Married ! the chains of matrimony are too heavy and 
 vulgar for such a spirit as yours. The flowery wreaths of 
 Cupid are the only bands you should wear. 
 
 Let. They are the lightest, I believe ; but 'tis possible to 
 wear those of marriage gracefully. Throw them loosely round, 
 and twist them in a true lover's knot for the bosom. 
 
 \Crosses L. 
 
 Doric. An angel ! But what will you be when a wife ! 
 
 Let. A woman. If my husband should prove a churl, a 
 fool, or a tyrant, I'd break his heart, ruin his fortune, elope 
 with the first pretty fellow that asked me, and return the con- 
 tempt of the world with scorn, while my feelings preyed upon 
 my life. \_Crosses up stage, then down R. 
 
 Doric. [l.J Amazing ! \Aside.'\ What if you loved him, 
 and he were worthy of your love ? 
 
 Let. Why, then I'd be anything and all ! — grave, gay, ca- 
 pricious — the soul of whim, the spirit of variety — live with him 
 in the eye of fashion, or in the shade of retirement — change 
 my country, my sex — feast with him in an Esquimaux hut, or 
 a Persian pavilion — ^join him in the victorious war-dance on 
 the borders of Lake Ontario, or sleep to the soft breathings of 
 the flute in the cinnamon groves of Ceylon — dig with him in 
 the mines of Golconda, or enter the dangerous precincts of the 
 mogul's seraglio — cheat him of his wishes, and overturn his 
 empire, to restore the husband of my heart to the blessings 
 of liberty and love. [C^R. 
 
 Doric. Delightful wildness ! O, to catch thee, and hold 
 thee forever in this little cage ! {Attempting to clasp her. 
 
 Let. Hold, sir. Though Cupid must give the bait that 
 tempts me to the snare, 'tis Hymen must spread the net to 
 catch me. 
 
 41 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Doric. 'Tis in vain to assume airs of coldness ; fate has or- 
 dained you mine. 
 
 Let. How do you know ? 
 
 Doric. I feel it here. I never met with a woman so per- 
 fectly to my taste ; and I won't believe it formed you so, on 
 purpose to tantalize me. 
 
 Let. [Aside.] This moment is worth a whole existence. 
 
 Doric. Come, show^ me your face, and rivet my chains. 
 
 Let. To-morrow you shall be satisfied. 
 
 Doric. To-morrow, and not to-night ? 
 
 Let. No. 
 
 Doric. Where, then, shall I wait on you to-morrow ? — where 
 see you ? 
 
 Let. You shall see me at an hour when you least expect 
 me. 
 
 Doric. Why all this mystery ? 
 
 Let. I like to be mysterious. At present be content to 
 know that I am a woman of family and fortune. 
 
 Doric. Let me see you to your carriage. 
 
 Let. As you value knowing me, stir not a step. {Dodges 
 under his arm, as he makes a dash to clasp her.\ If I am fol- 
 lowed, you never see me more. [Letitia runs off R. i E., 
 followed by DORICOURT. HARDY toddles on after them. 
 Letitia reappears, R. U. E., and escapes among a group of 
 maskers who come on after HARDY. DORICOURT runs on and 
 is whirled about among them, and HARDY runs after, puffing 
 and blowing.] Adieu. Exit R. H. i E. 
 
 \_Second Rally.] 
 
 Doric. Barbarous creature ! she's gone ! What ! Am I in 
 love ? Pho ! it can't be. 
 
 Enter Flutter and Hardy, r. h. 2 e. 
 
 O, Flutter, do you know that charming creature ? 
 Flut. What charming creature ? I passed a thousand. 
 Doric, [r. C] She went out at that door, as you entered. 
 Flut. [c] O, yes ; I know her very well. 
 
 Doric. Do you, my dear fellow ? Who 
 
 42 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Flut. Why, she's the most terrible coquette and enchantress 
 in town. . She's jilted and been jilted by half a hundred men 
 about town. 
 
 Har. \^Up.] Impudent scoundrel! I foresee I'll cut his 
 throat. 
 
 Doric. Jilt and coquette ! 
 
 Flict. Yes ! First she had Lord George Jennett on a string, 
 then Colonel Gorget, next old man Lovell had spasms about 
 her, then I came in for a turn ; and I don't know who else. 
 But Lord George Jennett is at her feet again. 
 
 ■ \_Goes up and talks to other masks, and goes offv. E. R. 
 
 Doric. I'll murder Gorget, poison Lord George, and shoot 
 myself. \_Crosses L. 
 
 Har. Now's the time, I see, to clear up the whole. Mr. 
 Doricourt ! I say, Flutter was mistaken : I know who you are 
 in love with. \_Down R. 
 
 Doric. Do you — who ? \Crosses R. 
 
 Har. My Letty. 
 
 Doric. O, I understand your rebuke ! 'Tis too soon, sir, to 
 assume the father-in-law. '\^Crosses L. H. 
 
 Har. Zounds! What do you mean by that? I tell you 
 that the lady you admire is Letitia Hardy. 
 
 Doric. I am glad you are so well satisfied with the state of 
 my heart — I wish I was ! \_Exit L. H. 
 
 Har. Stop a moment. Stop, I say ! What ! you won't ? 
 Very well — if I don't play you a trick for this, may I never be 
 a grandfather to little Jeremiah ! I'll plot with Letty now, and 
 not against her ; ay, hang me if I don't ! There's something 
 in my head that shall tingle in his heart. He shall have a lect- 
 ure upon impatience that I foresee he'll be the better for as 
 long as he lives. \Rally of dancers, who jostle HARDY. 
 
 [Curtain.] 
 
 43 
 
ACT III. 
 
 Scene i. — i g. Apartment in Hardy's House. 
 Enter Hardy «;2^Villiers, r. h. i e. 
 
 Vil. Whimsical enough ! Dying for her, and hates her ! 
 Believes her a fool, and a woman of brilliant understanding ! 
 
 Har. As true as you are alive — but when I went up to him, 
 last night, at the Pantheon, out of downright good nature, to 
 explain things, my gentleman whips round upon his heel, and 
 snapped me as short as if I had been a beggar woman with six 
 children, and he overseer of the parish. 
 
 Vil. Here comes the wonder worker. 
 
 Enter Letitia, l. h. i E. 
 
 Here comes the enchantress, who can go to masquerades, and 
 sing, and dance, and talk a man out of his wits ! But, pray, 
 have we morning masquerades? 
 
 Let. O no ; but I am so enamoured of this all-conquering 
 habit, that I could not resist putting it on the moment I had 
 breakfasted. I shall wear it on the day I am married, and 
 then lay it by in spices — like the miraculous robes of Saint 
 Bridget. 
 
 Vil. That's as most brides do. The charms that helped to 
 catch the husband are generally laid by, one after another, till 
 the lady grows a downright wife, and then runs crying to her 
 mother, because she has transformed her lover into a down- 
 right husband. 
 
 Har. Listen to me. I hain't slept to-night for thinking of 
 plots to plague Doricourt ; and they drove one another out of 
 my head so quick that I was as giddy as a goose, and could 
 
 44 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 make nothing of them. I wish to goodness you could contrive 
 something. \Crosses L. 
 
 Vil. [Crosses to her.\ Contrive to plague him! Nothing 
 so easy. Don't undeceive him, madam, till he is your hus- 
 band. Marry him while he possesses the sentiments you 
 labored to give him of Miss Hardy — and when you are his 
 
 wife 
 
 Let. O, heavens ! I see the whole — that's the very thing. 
 My dear Mr. Villiers, you are the divinest man ! 
 
 Vil. Don't make love to me, hussy, \Crossesl,. ^/"Letitia. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Rackett, l. h. i e. 
 
 Mrs. R. No, pray don't — for I design to have Villiers myself in 
 about six years. [VlLLIERS^ci^j L.] There's an oddity in him 
 that pleases me. He holds women in contempt ; and I should 
 like to have an opportunity of breaking his heart for that. 
 
 Vil. And when I am heartily tired of life, I know no woman 
 whom I would with more pleasure make my executioner. 
 
 Har. It cannot be. \_Crosses c] I foresee it will be im- 
 possible to bring it about. You know the wedding wasn't to 
 take place this week or more ; and Letty will never be able to 
 play the fool so long. 
 
 Vil. [Crosses between.'] The knot shall be tied to-night. I 
 have it all h.sre— [Pointing to his forehead.^ — -the license is 
 ready. Feign yourself ill ; send for Doricourt, and tell him you 
 can't go out of the world in peace, except you see the cere- 
 mony performed. 
 
 Har. I feign myself ill ! I could as soon feign myself a 
 Roman ambassador. I was never ill in my life but with the 
 toothache — when Letty's mother was a-breeding. 
 
 Vil. O, I have no fears for you. But what says Miss 
 Hardy ? Are you willing to make the irrevocable vow before 
 night ? [Crosses to /ler.] 
 
 Let. O, Heavens ! I 'Tis so exceeding sudden that 
 
 really 
 
 Mrs. R. That really she is frightened out of her wits, lest it 
 
 4S 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 should be impossible to bring matters about. But I have taken 
 the scheme into my protection, and you shall be Mrs. Dori- 
 court before night. Come [ To HARDY.] to bed directly ; your 
 room shall be crammed with vials, and all the apparatus of 
 death; then, heigh, presto ! for Doricourt, 
 Har. Yes — but I'm not to take any physic. 
 Vil. You go and put off your conquering dress, and get all 
 your awkward airs ready. And you practise a few groans — 
 \_Crosies to HARDY.] — and you, if possible, an air of gravity 
 \To Mrs. Rackett]. I'll answer for the plot. 
 
 Let. Married in jest ! 'Tis an odd idea ! Well, I'll venture 
 
 it. {^Exeunt Letitia and Mrs. Rackett, l. s. 
 
 Vil. Ay, I'll be sworn ! \Looks at his watch.'] 'Tis past 
 
 three. The Budget's to be opened this morning. I'll just 
 
 step down to the House, Will you go ? 
 
 Har. What ! — with a mortal sickness ? 
 
 Vil. What a blockhead ! I believe if half of us were to stay 
 away with mortal sicknesses it would be for the health of the 
 nation. Good-morning. I'll call and feel your pulse as I 
 come back. \_Exit L. H. i E. 
 
 Har. You won't find them over brisk, I fancy. I foresee 
 some ill-happening from this making-believe die before one's 
 time. But hang it — ahem ! I am a stout man yet ; only fifty- 
 six. What's that ? In the last yearly bills there were three 
 lived to above a hundred. Fifty-six ! Fiddle-de-dee ! I am 
 not afraid, not I. \_Exit R. H. i E. 
 
 Scene 2.-2 g. Doricourt's Lodgings as in Act I. Sofa, c. 
 Table and chairs on L. H. DORICOURT discovered in his 
 robe de chambre. 
 
 Enter SavillE, L. H. I E. 
 
 Sav. Undressed so late ? 
 
 Doric. I didn't go to bed till late ; 'twas late before I slept 
 — late when I rose. Do you know Lord George Jennett? 
 Sav. Yes. 
 
 46 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Doric. Do you know the lady he loves ! \_Rises. 
 
 Sav. Yes. 
 
 Doric. What sort of a creature is she ? 
 
 Sav. Why, she spends him three thousand a year with the 
 ease of a duchess, and entertains his friends with the grace of 
 a Ninon. [DORICOURT walks about disordered.'] In the name 
 of caprice, what ails you ? 
 
 Doric. [R.J You have hit it. Elle est mon caprice. The 
 sweetheart of Lord George Jennett is my caprice. O, insuffer- 
 able ! 
 
 Sav. What, you saw her at the masquerade ? 
 
 Doric. Saw her — loved her — died for her, without knowing 
 her ; and now, the curse is, I can't hate her. {^Crosses L. 
 
 Sav. Heyday ! This sounds like love. What becomes of 
 poor Miss Hardy ? 
 
 Doric. Her name has given me an ague ! Dear Saville, how 
 shall I contrive to make old Hardy cancel the engagement ? 
 The moiety of the estate, which he will forfeit, shall be his the 
 next moment by deed of gift. 
 
 Sav. Let me see. Can't you get it insinuated that you are a 
 devilish wild fellow; that you are an infidel, and attached to 
 fast living, gaming, and so forth ? 
 
 Doric. Ay, such a character might have done some good 
 two centuries back. But who the deuce can it frighten now ? 
 I believe it must be the mad scheme at last. There, will that 
 do for a grin ? [Affects madness. Crosses R. 
 
 Sav. Enough; I have other news for you. Poor Hardy is 
 confined to his bed ; they say he is going out of the world by 
 the first post, and he wants to give you his blessing. 
 
 Doric. 111! so ill ! I am sorry from my soul. He's a 
 worthy little fellow — if he had not the gift of foreseeing so 
 strongly. 
 
 Sav. Well, you must go and take leave. 
 
 Doric. What ? — to act the lunatic in the dying man's cham- 
 ber ? 
 
 Sav. Exactly the thing ; and will bring your business to a 
 short issue ; for his last commands must be that you are not to 
 marry his daughter. 
 
 47 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Doric. That's true, by Jupiter ! and yet, hang it, impose 
 upon a fellow at so serious a moment ! — I can't do it. 
 
 \^Crosses L. ii. 
 
 Sav. You must, faith. I am answerable for your appear- 
 ance, though it should be in a straight waistcoat. He knows 
 your situation, and seems the more desirous of an interview. 
 
 Doric. I don't like encountering Rackett. She's an arch 
 devil, and will discover the cheat. 
 
 Sav. There's a fellow ! — cheated ninety-nine women, and 
 now afraid of the hundredth. 
 
 Doric. And with reason ; for that hundredth is a widow. 
 
 Sav. Ridiculous ! But how became you certain that the 
 lady you met at the masquerade is Lord George Jennett's en- 
 chantress ? 
 
 Doric. Flutter told me so. 
 
 Sav. Then fifty to one against the intelligence. 
 
 Doric. It must be so. For there was a mystery in her air 
 and manner for which nothing else can account. \A violent 
 rap heard.'] Who can this be ? 
 
 Sav. [Crosses. Looks ouL] The proverb is your answer — 
 'tis Flutter himself. Tip him a scene of the madman, and see 
 how it takes. 
 
 Doric. I will — a good way to send it about town. Shall it 
 be of the melancholy kind, or the raving ? 
 
 Sav. Rant ! — rant ! Here he comes. 
 
 Doric. Talk not to me, who can pull comets by the beard, 
 and overset an island ? 
 
 Enter Flutter, l.; crosses c. 
 
 There ! This is he ! — this is he who hath sent my poor soul, 
 without coat or breeches, to be tossed about in ether, like a 
 duck- feather ! Villain, give me my soul again ! \Seizes him. 
 Flut. Upon my soul, I haven't got your soul. 
 
 [DORICOURT releases him, and crosses to R. H. FLUTTER 
 exceedingly frightened. DORICOURT throws himself on 
 a lounge., kicking his feet up and down. FLUTTER bends 
 forward to look at him. He reverses his position with a 
 
 48 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 sudden jerk, and lays the other way ; then sits up and 
 nurses the sofa pillow as a baby. 
 
 Sav. O, Mr. Flutter, what a melancholy sight ! I little 
 thought to see my poor friend reduced to this. 
 
 Flut. Mercy defend me ! What, is he mad ? 
 
 Sav. You see how it is. A cursed Italian lady — ^jealousy — 
 gave him a drug — [FLUTTER crosses c] — and every full of the 
 moon 
 
 Doric. Moon ! Who dares talk of the moon ? The patron- 
 ess of genius — the rectifier of wits — the — O, here she is ! I 
 feel her — she tugs at my brain — she's got it — she's got it — O ! 
 
 \_Exit R. H. I E. 
 
 Flut. Hang it ! I think he's got it. Well, this is dreadful ! 
 Exceeding dreadful, I protest. 
 
 Sav. The worthy Miss Hardy — what a misfortune ! 
 
 Fltit. Ay, very true. Do they know it ? 
 
 Sav. O, no ; the paroxysm seized him but this morning. 
 
 Flut. Adieu! I can't stay. {Going in great haste, L. H. 
 
 Sav. But you must stay {Holding him.'] and assist me ; per- 
 haps he'll return again in a moment ; and when he is in this 
 way, his strength is prodigious. 
 
 Fhit. Can't, indeed ; can't, upon my soul. {Going L. H. 
 
 Sav. Flutter^ — ^don't make a mistake now ; remember 'tis 
 Doricourt that's mad. 
 
 Flut. Yes — you mad. 
 
 Sav. No, no ; Doricourt. 
 
 Fltit. Egad, I'll say you are both mad, and then I can't mis- 
 take. 
 
 {Exeunt FLUTTER, L. H. I E., Saville r. h. I e. ; Flut- 
 ter returns L. H., and crosses to I E. R. H. 
 
 Flut. I should like to have one more peep at the mad- 
 man. 
 
 Doric. {Without, R. IE.] Bring me a pickled elephant. 
 
 [Flutter runs off, i e. l. h. 
 
 49 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Scene 3. — Apartment at Hardy's. 
 Enter Mrs. Rackett and Miss Ogle, l. h. i e. 
 
 Miss 0. [l. C.j And so Miss Hardy is actually to be mar- 
 ried to-night ? 
 
 Mrs. R. [r. c.j If her fate does not deceive her. You are 
 apprised of the scheme, and we hope it will succeed. 
 
 Miss 0. [Aside.] Deuce take her ! — she's six years younger 
 than I am. [To MRS. Rackett.] Is Mr. Doricourt hand- 
 some ? 
 
 Mrs. R. Handsome, generous, young, and rich. There's a 
 husband for ye ! Isn't he worth pulling caps for ? {^Crosses L. 
 
 Miss 0. [Aside.} V my conscience, the widow speaks as 
 though she'd give cap, ears, and all for him. \_To MRS. 
 Rackett.] I wonder you didn't try to catch this wonderful 
 man, Mrs. Rackett ? 
 
 Mrs. R. Really, Miss Ogle, I had not time. Besides, when 
 I marry, so many stout young fellows will hang themselves, 
 that, out of regard to society, in these sad times, I shall post- 
 pone it for a few years. 
 
 ^w^^r Flutter, l. h. i e., in great perturbation. 
 
 Flut. Here they come ! — here they come ! Their coach 
 stopped as mine drove off. [MiSS OGLE^^/.f R. 
 
 Sav. [Without, L. H.] Come, let me guide you ! This way, 
 my poor friend ! Why are you so furious ? 
 
 Doric. \Without, L. H.J The house of death — [FLUTTER 
 darts up out of the way in great alarm.] — to the house of death ! 
 
 Enter DORICOURT and Saville, l. h. I E. Saville tries to 
 hold Doricourt back by the coat tail. 
 
 Ah ! this is the spot ! [Flutter rushes to R. H. corner. 
 
 Mrs. R. How wild and fiery he looks ! 
 Miss 0. Now, I think he looks terrified ! 
 
 so 
 
TffE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Mrs. R. \Advances toward him with pretended fear.] I 
 never saw a madman before. Let me examine him. Will he 
 bite? 
 
 \_As she gets near him he snorts and snarls. All start back. 
 
 Sav. {^Crosses C.J Pray keep out of his reach, ladies — you 
 don't know your danger. He's like a wildcat, if a sudden 
 thought seizes him. 
 
 Mrs. R. You talk like a keeper of wildcats. How much do 
 you demand for showing the monster ? 
 
 Doric. [Aside.] I don't like this — I must rouse their sensi- 
 bility. \_Crosses to C, dancing and waving his arms in an 
 idiotic manner.] There ! there she darts through the air in 
 liquid flames. Now she's up, up, up ! Now she's down, down, 
 down ! Down again — now I have her — O, she burns ! — she 
 scorches ! \Clapping his hands to his temples.] She swims into 
 my brain ! {Clutching at his breast.] Now she eats, she eats 
 into my very heart ! She's got it ! — she's got it ! 
 
 [Falls into Saville's arms. 
 
 Omnes. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Flut. [Crosses c] Doricourt, give her highness a pinch. 
 
 Doric. I am laughed at ! 
 
 Mrs. R. [c] Laughed at ? — ay, to be sure. Why, I could 
 play the madman better than you. There ! — there she is 1 Now 
 I have her ! Ha, ha, ha ! Mr. Flutter, why don't you catch 
 me ? 
 
 [Falls into the arms of FLUTTER, who bends over and 
 kisses her. She strikes him with her fan, and pursues 
 him tip stage. 
 
 Doric. [Down R. , and up c] I'll leave the house ; I'm cov- 
 ered with confusion. [Going L. H. 
 
 Mrs. R. Stay, sir — you must not go. 'Twas poorly done, 
 Mr. Doricourt, to affect madness rather than fulfil your engage- 
 ments. 
 
 Z'dJr?^. Affect madness ? [CrossesU] Saville, what can I do ? 
 
 Sav. Since you are discovered, confess the whole. 
 
 Doric. Yes ; since my designs have been so unaccountably 
 discovered, I will avow the whole. I cannot love Miss Hardy, 
 
 and will never 
 
 SI 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Sav. Hold, my dear Doricourt ! What will the world say- 
 to such 
 
 Doric. Hang the world ! What will the world give me for 
 the loss of happiness ? Must I sacrifice my peace to please the 
 world ? 
 
 Sav. {Crosses R. c] Yes, everything, rather than be branded 
 with dishonor. 
 
 Mrs. R. [c] Though our arguments should fail, there is a 
 pleader whom you surely cannot withstand. The dying Mr. 
 Hardy supplicates you not to forsake his child. 
 
 Doric. The dying Mr. Hardy ! {Going slowly toward R. 
 
 Mrs. R. The dying Mr. Hardy ! 
 
 Sav. The dying Mr. Hardy ! 
 
 Miss 0. The dying Mr. Hardy ! 
 
 Flut. The dying Mr. Hardy ! 
 
 {All repeat this from R. H. to L. H. 
 
 When Doricourt gets to R., he meets Villiers, who enters 
 
 R. H. D. I E. 
 
 Vil. {Crosses L.] The dying Mr. Hardy [DORICOURT takes 
 stage back to L.] requests you to grant him a moment's con- 
 versation, Mr. Doricourt, though you should persist to send 
 him miserable to the grave. Let me conduct you to his cham- 
 ber. {Back to R. 
 Doric. O, ay, anywhere ; to the antipodes — to the moon — 
 carry me. Do with me what you will. 
 
 {Crosses hastily to R. FLUTTER flies out of the way and 
 gets L. 
 Mrs. R. I'll follow, and let you know what passes. 
 
 {Exeunt DORICOURT, MRS. Rackett, and Miss Ogle, 
 
 R. H., D. I E. 
 Flut. Ladies, ladies, have the charity to take me with you, 
 that I may make no blunder in repeating the story. 
 
 {Exit R. H. D. IE. 
 
 Sav. [c] Now for an answer to the great conundrum of 
 
 the hour : who shall win ? Will Letitia's nerve sustain her ? 
 
 Will old Hardy's counterfeit deceive the practised eye of our 
 
 52 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 traveller ? — or will Flutter's curiosity or Rackett's deviltry dis- 
 cover the whole plot, and turn our Belle's Stratagem to nought 
 after all ? \A hubbub of voices is heard off. 
 
 Re-enter Mrs. Rackett, Miss Ogle, «;zi/ Flutter, r.h.d.i e. 
 all interrupting each other. 
 
 Mrs. R. [l. C.J O, do you know 
 
 Flut. [C] Let me tell the story. As soon as Doricourt 
 
 Mrs. R. I protest you shan't. Said Mr. Hardy ■ 
 
 Flut. No, 'twas Doricourt spoke first— says he — no, 'twas 
 the parson — says he- ■ \_Crosses to Saville. 
 
 Mrs. R. Stop his mouth, Saville ; he'll spoil the tale. 
 
 Sav. Never heed the circumstances — the result — the result. 
 
 Mrs. R. \_Crosses to Saville. J No, no ; you shall have it in 
 form. Mr. Hardy performed the sick man like an angel. He 
 sat up in bed, and talked so pathetically, that the tears stood 
 in Doricourt's eyes. 
 
 Flut. [^Crosses.] Ay, stood — they did not drop, but stood. 
 I shall in future be very exact ; the parson seized the moment ; 
 you know they never miss an opportunity. 
 
 Mrs. R. \_Crosses^ "Make haste," said Doricourt; "if I 
 have time to reflect, poor Hardy will die unhappy." 
 
 Flut. They were got as far as the day of judgment, when 
 we slipped out of the room. 
 
 Mrs. R. Here comes the bridegroom of to-night. 
 
 Re-enter DORICOURT and ViLLlERS, R. H. D. i E. ViLLlERS 
 whispers to Saville, who goes out, l. h. i e. 
 
 Omnes. Joy ! joy ! joy ! 
 
 \Same business of crossing him as in dying scene. DORI- 
 COURT walks about in front . 
 Miss O. If he's a sample of bridegrooms, keep me single ! 
 A younger brother from the funeral of his father could not 
 carry a more fretful countenance. 
 
 Flut. O, now he's melancholy mad, I suppose. 
 Mrs. R. You do not consider the importance of the occasion. 
 
 53 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Vil. [c.J No ; nor how shocking a thing it is for a man to 
 be forced to marry one woman while his heart is devoted to 
 another. {Doivn R. 
 
 Mrs. R. {Crosses to him.'] Well, now it's over, I confess to 
 you, Mr. Doricourt, I think 'twas a most ridiculous piece of 
 Quixotism, to give up the happiness of a whole life to a man 
 who perhaps has but a few moments to be sensible of the sac- 
 rifice. 
 
 Fhct. So it appeared to me. But, thought I, Mr. Doricourt 
 has travelled — he knows best. 
 
 Doric. {On R. H.] Zounds! confusion! — {Crossing angrily 
 to c. Flutter goes ttp and across in alarm.] — did ye not all 
 set upon me I Didn't ye talk to me of honor — compassion — 
 justice ? {Crossing.] Heavens I to felicity I bid adieu, but 
 I will endeavor to be content. Where is my — I choke as I 
 speak the word — where is my — wife ? 
 
 Enter Letitia, l. u. e., masked, led by Saville. 
 
 Sav. Mr. Doricourt, this lady was pressing to be introduced 
 to you. {Down L. 
 
 Doric. {C, starting.] Oh! 
 
 Let. [L. C] I told you last night you should see me at a 
 time when you least expected me, and I have kept my 
 promise. 
 
 Vil. Whoever you are, madam, you could not have arrived 
 at a happier moment. Mr. Doricourt is just married. 
 
 Let. Married ! — impossible ! 'Tis but a few hours since he 
 swore to me eternal love ; I believed him, gave him up my 
 virgin heart — and now ! — Ungrateful sex ! 
 
 Doric. Your virgin heart ! No, lady — [Flutter exhibits 
 great uneasiness.] — my fate, thank Heaven, yet wants that tor- 
 ture. Nothing but the conviction that you were another's 
 could have made me think one moment of marriage, to have 
 saved the lives of half mankind. But this visit, madam, is as 
 barbarous as unexpected. It is now my duty to forget you, 
 which, spite of your situation, I found difficult enough. 
 
 Let. My situation ! What situation ? 
 
 54 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Doric. I must apologize for explaining it in this company — 
 but, madam, I am not ignorant that Lord George Jennett 
 has a better claim than I upon your heart — and this is the only 
 circumstance that can give me peace. 
 
 Let. I ! — Sir George ! — ridiculous pretence ! No, sir ; know, 
 to your confusion, that my heart, my honor, my name, is un- 
 spotted as hers you have married; my birth equal to your 
 own, my fortune large. That, and my person, might have 
 been yours. But, sir, farewell ! \^Going L. H. 
 
 Doric. O, stay a moment. \Flies at FLUTTER, who retreats 
 C.J Rascal ! — is she not 
 
 Flut. No ! 'pon my soul, she's not. Who, she ? O, Lord ! 
 — no. 'Twas quite a different person that I meant. I never 
 saw that lady before. 
 
 Doric. Then, never shalt thou see her again. 
 
 {Shakes Flutter, throws him off ; he staggers over to 
 Mrs. Rackett and MiSS Ogle, who fan him, one on 
 each side. 
 
 Mrs. R. Have m'ercy upon the poor man ! Heavens, he'll 
 murder him. 
 
 Doric. Murder him ! Yes, you, myself, and all mankind. 
 {Crosses in front R. and L.] Saville, Villiers — 'twas you who 
 pushed me on this precipice ; 'tis you who have snatched from 
 me joy, felicity, and life ! 
 
 Mrs. R. There ! now, how well he acts the madman 1 This 
 is something like ! I knew he would do it well enough when 
 the time came. 
 
 Doric. Hard-hearted woman ! enjoy my ruin — riot in my 
 wretchedness. 
 
 Enter Hardy, hastily in his nightcap and gown, and face 
 covered with flour, R. H. i E. 
 
 Har. This is too much. You are now the husband of my 
 daughter ; and how dare you show all this passion about 
 another woman ? 
 
 Doric. Alive again ! 
 
 Har. Alive! ay, and merry. Here ! wipe off the flour from 
 
 55 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 my face. I was never in better health and spirits in all my 
 life. I foresaw 'twould do. Why, my illness was only a fetch, 
 man, to make you marry Letty. {^Crosses to DORICOURT. 
 
 Doric. It was ? Base and ungenerous ! Well, sir, you 
 shall be gratified. The possession of my heart was no object 
 either with you or your daughter. My fortune and name were 
 all you desired, and these — I leave ye. My native country I 
 shall quit, nor never behold you more. But, lady — {^Crosses to 
 her.] — that in my exile I may have one consolation, grant me 
 the favor you denied last night : let me behold all that mask 
 conceals, that your whole image may be impressed on my 
 heart, and cheer my distant solitary hours. 
 
 Let. This is the most awful moment of my life. O, Dori- 
 court, the slight action of taking off my mask, stamps me the 
 most blest, or miserable of women ! 
 
 Doric. What can this mean ? Reveal your face, I conjure 
 3'ou. 
 
 Let. [c] Behold it. {Unmasks. 
 
 Doric, [c] Rapture ! transport ! heaven ! 
 
 Flut. Now he's got it again. Now for a touch of the happy 
 madman. 
 
 Let. This little stratagem arose from my disappointment in 
 not having made the impression on you I wished. The tim- 
 idity of the English character threw a veil over me you could 
 not penetrate. You have forced me to emerge in some meas- 
 ure from my natural reserve, and to throw off the veil that hid 
 me. 
 
 Doric. Speak on, sweet angel ! 
 
 Har. The dog ! how well he makes up for past slights ! 
 Cousin Rackett, I wish you a good husband, with all my heart. 
 Mr. Flutter, I'll believe every word you say this fortnight — 
 though I foresee I'll have to swallow a lot of salt with what 
 you say. Mr. Villiers, you and I have managed this to a T. 
 I never was so merry in my life. 'Gad, I believe I can dance. 
 
 [^Footing. 
 
 Doric. Charming, charming creature ! 
 
 Let. Congratulate me, my dear friends ! Can you conceive 
 my happiness ? 
 
 56 
 
THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Har. No, congratulate me, for mine is the greatest. 
 Flut. {Crosses, and back. ^ No, congratulate me, that I have 
 escaped with life, and give me some sticking-plaster — that 
 wildcat has torn the skin from my throat. 
 
 Har. Come into the next room ; I have ordered out every 
 drop of my forty-eight, and I'll invite the whole parish of St. 
 George's but we'll drink it out^except one dozen, which I shall 
 keep under three double locks, for the christening of little Jere- 
 miah, that I foresee will happen within this twelvemonth. 
 Doric. My charming bride ! 
 
 Let. But this my stratagem proves from youth to age. 
 All wear the mask. Here only on the stage 
 You see us as we are : Here trust your eyes. 
 Our wish to please — we never here disguise. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 57 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 A WOMAN KEEPS A SECRET 
 
 A COMEDY BY MRS. CENTLIVRE 
 
 ARRANGED IN FOUR ACTS 
 
 BY 
 
 AUGUSTIN DALY 
 
 As Produced at Daly's Theatre, New York 
 
 1S93 
 Privately Printed for Mr. Daly 
 
■2^ 
 
 •5 
 u 
 
 « 
 
 ■S 
 
 O 
 
 ^^^ ■!; ■— J-i .G tC H hT W "O -ij -i_t ■ — 
 
 
 n " " a . 
 
 5 B V ^ bo • 
 
 CD ^ .-a •§ -a ■o 
 
 b»- *' • sT ^ 
 
 1=; "] O Q f PM 
 
 W rt 1-^ ui P H 
 
 l^ »H I- l^ >^ h 
 
 s s s s s s 
 
 Si 
 
 I a 
 
 02 
 
 t^ 
 O 
 <1 
 P3 
 
 W 
 O 
 
 O 
 CQ 
 
 l« 
 
 "rt ^ 3 O TJ 
 
 Wd CO -t-i fl 
 
 pC w m o 
 
 W I ffi HJ I 
 
 >-^ FQ U U O 
 
 :^ s !^. :s s 
 
 u 
 
 
 
 "^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 W 
 
 ?? 
 
 H 
 
 N 
 
 ^ 
 
 s 
 
 S 
 
 H 
 
 s s 
 
 P3 
 
 cd o 
 
 b" 
 
 M M 
 
 [2 D 
 
 S 
 
 gsssssssss 
 
 J E 
 
 ■ - u 
 
 s s 
 
 rt O 
 
 1-1 -O 
 
 2 
 O 
 
 •2 3 S S M a -B 
 
 w a M O 
 
 K rk 
 
 S S S IS S 
 
 K w S 
 
 sis 
 
 O O t<! w 
 
 S g s s 
 
 § § g § § § i I 
 
 noepno^^> 
 
 n a [K 
 
THE WONDER 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene i.—A Street, i g. 
 Enter DON Lopez, l. h. i e., meeting Frederic, r. ii. i e. 
 
 Fred. My Lord, Don Lopez. 
 
 Lop. How d'ye, Frederic ? 
 
 Fred. At your lordship's service. I am glad to see you look 
 so well, my lord ; I hope Antonio's out of danger. 
 
 Lop. Quite the contrary; his fever increases, they tell me'; 
 and the surgeons are of opinion his wound is mortal. 
 
 Fred. Your son, Don Felix, is safe, I hope. 
 
 Lop. I hope so, too ; but they offer large rewards to appre- 
 hend him. 
 
 Fred. When heard your lordship from him ? 
 
 Lop. Not since he went. I forbade him writing till the pub- 
 lic news gave him an account of Antonio's health ; for I intend 
 to marry my daughter to Don Guzman, whom I expect from 
 Holland every day, whither he went to take possession of a 
 large estate left him by his uncle. [Crosses R. 
 
 Fred. You will not, surely, sacrifice the lovely Isabella to 
 age, avaricCj and a fool ? Pardon the expression, my lord ; but 
 my concern for your beauteous daughter transports me beyond 
 that good manners which I ought to pay to your lordship's 
 presence. 
 
 Lop. I can't deny the justness of the character, Frederic ; 
 but I resolve she shall marry Don Guzman the moment he 
 
 S 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 arrives. \^Crosses to R. H.J Though I could not govern my 
 son, I will my daughter, I assure you. 
 
 Fred. This match, my lord, is more preposterous than that 
 which you proposed to your son, from whence arose this fatal 
 quarrel. Don Antonio's sister, Elvira, wanted beauty only ; 
 but Guzman everything but 
 
 Lop. Money, and that will purchase everything ; and so 
 adieu. \Exit R. H. 
 
 Fred. Monstrous ! These are the resolutions which destroy 
 the comforts of matrimony 
 
 Enter LiSSARDO, L. H. i E., in a riding hahit. 
 
 Lissardo ! from whence came you ? 
 
 Lis. That letter will inform you, sir. 
 
 Fred. I hope your master's safe. 
 
 Lis. I left him so ; I have another to deliver which requires 
 
 haste. Your most humble servant, sir. 
 
 \Bowing, crosses to R. H. 
 Fred. To Violante, I suppose. 
 
 Lis. The same. {Exit R. H. i E. 
 
 Fred. {Reads .•] ' ' Dear Frederic — the two chief blessings of 
 this life are, a friend and a mistress ; to be debarred the sight 
 of those is not to live. T hear nothing of Antonio's death, and 
 therefore resolve to ventiire to thy house this evening, impatient 
 to see Violante, and embrace my friend. Yours, Felix." 
 Pray heaven he comes undiscovered. — Ha ! Colonel Briton. 
 
 Enter COLONEL Briton, r. h. i e. 
 
 Col. B. Frederic, I rejoice to see thee. 
 
 Fred. What brought you to Lisbon, Colonel ? 
 
 Col. B. "La fortune de la guerre," as the French say. 
 
 Fred. If you are not provided of a lodging, Colonel, pray 
 command my house while you stay. 
 
 Col. B. If I were sure I should not be troublesome I would 
 accept your offer, Frederic. 
 
 Fred. So far from trouble, Colonel, I shall take it as a parti- 
 cular favor. What have we here ? 
 
 6 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Col. B. My footman. This is our country dress, you must 
 know, which, for the honor of Scotland, I make all my ser- 
 vants wear. 
 
 Enter GiBBY, in a Highland dress, R. H. i E. 
 
 Gibhy. What mun I de with the horses, and like yer honor ? 
 \_Crosses C.J They will tak cold gin they stand in the cause- 
 way. | 
 
 Fred. O, I'lltake care of them. What, hoa ! Vasquez ! 
 
 Enter Vasquez, r. h. r E. 
 
 Put the horses, which that honest fellow will show you, into my 
 stable ; do you hear ? and feed them well. 
 
 Vas. Yes, sir. [VASQUEZ crosses to GiBBY, and bows to 
 him.] Sir, by my master's orders, I am, sir, your most obse- 
 quious, humble servant. Be pleased to lead the way. 
 
 Gibby. 'Sbleed, gang yer gate, sir, and I sail follow ye. 
 [Vasquez _^(7^.r l.] I'se tee hungry to feed on compliments. 
 {_Exit L. I E. H., Vasquez bowing him off. 
 Fred. Ha, ha ! a comical fellow. Well, how do you like our 
 country, Colonel ? 
 
 Col. B. Why, faith, Frederic, a man might pass his time 
 agreeably enough ; but to behold such troops of soft, plump, 
 tender, melting girls, through a confounded grating, gives us 
 Britons strong temptations to plunder ! Wilt thou recommend 
 me to a wife — ha, friend ! 
 
 Fred. She must be very handsome, I suppose ? 
 Col. B. The handsomer the better — but be sure she has a 
 nose. 
 
 Fred. Ay, ay, and some gold. 
 
 Col. B. O, very much gold ; I shall never be able to swallow 
 the matrimonial pill if it be not well gilded. {^Crosses R. 
 
 Fred. Pho ; beauty will make it slide down nimbly. 
 Col. B. At first, perhaps, it may. I confess, Frederic, women 
 are the prettiest playthings in nature ; but gold, substantial 
 gold, gives 'em the air, the mien, the shape, the grace, and 
 beauty of a goddess. 
 
 7 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Fred. And has' not gold the same '^divinity in their eyes, 
 Colonel ? 
 
 Col. B. Too often 
 
 None marry now for love ; that's a jest at least 
 The self-same bargain serves for wife and beast. 
 
 {Crosses L. 
 Fred. You are always gay, Colonel. Come, shall we take a 
 refreshing glass at my house, and consider what has been said? 
 Col. B. I have two or three compliments to discharge for 
 some friends, and then I shall wait on you with pleasure. In 
 the close of the evening I will endeavor to kiss your hand. 
 Adieu. 
 
 Fred. I shall expect you with impatience. 
 
 {Exeunt Colonel, l. h. i e., a«!^ Frederic, r. h. i e. 
 
 Scene 2. — A Room in Don Lopez's House. 
 Enter Isabella, followed by Inis, her maid, R. H. 2 E. 
 
 Inis. For goodness' sake, madam, where are you going in 
 this pet ? 
 
 Isa. Anywhere, to avoid matrimony : the thought of a hus- 
 band is terrible to me. 
 
 Inis. Ay, of an old husband ; but if you may choose for 
 yourself, I fancy matrimony would be no such frightful thing 
 to you. 
 
 Isa. You are pretty much in the right, Inis ; but to be forced 
 into the arms of an idiot, who has neither person to please the 
 eye, sense to charm the ear, nor generosity to supply those 
 defects ! I must contrive some way to avoid Don Guzman, 
 and yet stay in my own country. 
 
 Enter DON Lopez, l. h. i e. 
 
 Lop. Must you so, mistress? but I shall take care to pre- 
 vent you. \Aside.'\ Isabella, whither are you going, my child ? 
 Isa. To church, sir. 
 
 8 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Inis. {Aside.\ The old rogue has certainly overheard her. 
 
 Lop. Your devotion must needs be very strong, or your 
 memory very weak, my dear ; why, vespers are over for this 
 night. Come, come, you shall have a better errand to church 
 than to say your prayers there. Don Guzman is arrived in the 
 river, and I expect him ashore to-morrow. 
 
 Isa. Ha ! To-morrow ! 
 
 Lop. He writes me word that his estate in Holland is worth 
 twelve thousand crowns a year, which, together with what he 
 had before, will make thee the happiest wife in Lisbon. 
 
 Isa. And the most unhappy woman in the world. [ Taking 
 his hand.^ O, sir, if I have any power in your heart, if the 
 tenderness of a father be not quite extinct, hear me with 
 patience. 
 
 Lop. No objection against the marriage, and I will hear 
 whatsoever thou hast to say. Remember, 'tis your duty to 
 obey. 
 
 Isa. I never disobeyed before, and wish I had not reason 
 now ; but nature has got the better of my duty, and makes me 
 loathe the harsh commands you lay. 
 
 Lop. Ha, ha ! very fine ! Ha, ha ! 
 
 Isa. Death itself would be welcome ! \_Crosses L. 
 
 Lop. Are you sure of that ? 
 
 Isa. I am your daughter, my lord, and can boast as strong 
 a resolution as yourself; I'll die before I'll marry Guzman ! 
 
 Lop. Say you so ? I'll try that presently. {^Draws.\ Here, 
 let me see with what dexterity you can breathe a vein now. 
 {^Offers her his sword.] The point is pretty sharp ; 'twill do 
 your business, I warrant you. 
 
 Inis. [Going between them.] Bless me, sir, what do you mean, 
 to put a sword into the hands of a desperate woman ? 
 
 Lop. Desperate ! ha, ha, ha ! you see how desperate she is. 
 What ! art thou frighted, little Belle— ha ? 
 
 Isa. I confess I am startled at your morals, sir. 
 
 Lop. Ay, ay, child, thou hadst better take the man. 
 
 Isa. I shall take neither, sir; [Crosses C.J death has many 
 doors ; and when I can live no longer with pleasure, I shall 
 find one to let him in at without your aid. 
 
 9 
 
THE WONDER I 
 
 Lop. Sayest thou so, my dear Belle? Ods, I'm afraid thou 
 art a little lunatic, Belle. I must take care of thee, child. 
 [ Takes hold of her, and pulls a key out of his pocket^ I shall 
 make bold to secure thee, my dear. I'll see if locks and bars 
 can keep thee till Guzman comes. Go, get into your chamber. 
 
 {^Pushes her in, and locks flat. 
 There I'll your boasted resolution try — 
 And see who'll get the better, you or I. 
 \As he locks Isabella in closet, INIS follows close be- 
 hind him. As he advances to speak his couplet, she taps 
 on the door. He hears her, runs after her — catches her by 
 the nape of the neck, aud runs her off.'\ 
 
 Scene 3. — Handsome apartment at Don Pedro's. Large 
 window, c. Doors, R. and L. 
 
 Enter ViOLANTE, reading a letter, and FLORA, following, 
 
 D. R. H. I E. 
 
 Flora. What ! must that letter be read again ? 
 
 Vio. Yes, and again, and again, and again, a thousand 
 times again ; a letter from a faithful lover can never be read 
 too often : it speaks such kind, such soft, such tender things. 
 
 \_Crosses R. Sits. Kisses it. 
 
 Flora. But always the same language. 
 
 Vio. It does not charm the less for that. {Reads r^ "My 
 all that's charming, since life's not life, exiled from thee, this 
 night shall bring me to thy arms. Frederic and thee are all 
 I trust. This six weeks' absence has been, in love's account, six 
 hundred years. When it is dark, expect the wonted signal at 
 thy window ; till when, adieu. Thine, more than his own. 
 
 " Felix." 
 
 Flora. {Aside.] Who would not have said as much to a lady 
 of her beauty, and twenty thousand pounds ? — Were I a man, 
 methinks I could have said a hundred finer things. 
 Vio. What would you have said ? 
 
THE WONDER 1 
 
 Flora. I would have compared your eyes to the stars, your 
 teeth to ivory, your lips to coral, your neck to alabaster, your 
 shape to 
 
 Vio. No more of your bombast ; truth is the best eloquence 
 in a lover. \Rises.\ What proof remains ungiven of his love? 
 When his father threatened to disinherit him for refusing Don 
 Antonio's sister, from whence sprang this unhappy quarrel, 
 did it shake his love for me ? And now, though strict inquiry 
 runs through every place, with large rewards to apprehend 
 him, does he not venture all for me ? {^Crosses L. 
 
 Flora. But you know, madam, your father, Don Pedro, de- 
 signs you for a nun, — to be sure you look very like a nun, — 
 and says your grandfather left you your fortune upon that con- 
 dition. 
 
 Vio. Not without my approbation, girl, when I come to one 
 and twenty, as I am informed. But, however, I shall run the 
 risk of that. Go, call in Lissardo. \Sits R. 
 
 Flora. Yes, madam. \_Aside.\ Now for a thousand verbal 
 questions. 
 
 \^Goes to door, and beckons to LiSSARDO, who enters. 
 
 Vio. [r. H.] Well, and how do you, Lissardo ? 
 
 Lis. [C.J Ah, very weary, madam. {Apart to FLORA.] 
 Faith, thou look'st wondrous pretty. Flora. 
 
 Flora. {Apart to LiSSARDO.] You'd make one beHeve you 
 are wondrous fond now. 
 
 Vio. Where did you leave your master ? 
 
 Lis. {Apart to Flora.] Odd, if I had you alone, I'd show 
 you how fond I could be ! 
 
 Vio. Where did you leave 3''our master? 
 
 Lis. At a little farm house, madam, about five miles off. 
 He'll be at Don Frederic's in the evening. 
 
 {Apart to Flora.] 
 Odd, I will so revenge myself of those Hps of thine. 
 
 Vio. Is he in health ? 
 
 Flora, [l. H., apart to LiSSARDO.] O, you counterfeit 
 wondrous well. 
 
 Lis. {Apart to FLORA.] No ; every body knows I counter- 
 feit very ill. 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Vio, [Rises aftd cotnes forward.^ How say you ? Is Felix 
 ill ? What's his distemper — ha ? 
 
 Lis. [C.J Love, madam, love. In short, madam, I believe 
 he has thought of nothing but your ladyship ever since he left 
 Lisbon. I am sure he could not, if I may judge of his heart 
 by my own. [Looks lovingly upon FLORA. 
 
 Vio. How came you so well acquainted with your master's 
 thoughts, Lissardo ? 
 
 Lis. By an infallible rule, madam, words are the pictures of 
 the mind, you know ; now, to prove he thinks of nothing but 
 you, he talks of nothing but you — for example, madam, com- 
 ing from shooting t'other day, with a brace of partridges, 
 " Lissardo," said he, " go bid the cook roast me this brace of 
 Violantes." [To FLORA.] I flew into the kitchen, full of 
 thoughts of thee, and cried, " Here, cook, roast me this brace 
 of Florellas." 
 
 Flora. [Zi? Lissardo. J Ha, ha 1 Excellent! You mimic 
 your master, then, it seems. 
 
 Lis. Another time, madam, the priest came to make him a 
 visit; he called out hastily: "Lissardo," said he, "bring a 
 Violante for my father to sit down on." Then he often mis- 
 took my name, madam, and called me Violante ; in short, I 
 heard it so often that it became as familiar to me as my 
 prayers. 
 
 Vio. You live very merrily, then, it seems. 
 
 Lis. O, exceeding merry, madam. [Kisses FLORA'S hand. 
 
 Vio. Ha ! exceeding merry ? Had you treats and balls ? 
 
 Lis. O, yes, yes, madam, several. 
 
 Flora. [Apart to LisSARDO.] You are mad, Lissardo ; you 
 don't mind what my lady says to you. 
 
 Vio. [Aside.] Ha ! balls ? Is he so merry in mj'- absence ? 
 And did your master dance, Lissardo? 
 
 Lis. Dance, madam ! Where, madam ? 
 
 Vio. Why, at those balls you speak of. 
 
 Lis. Balls ! What balls, madam ? 
 
 Vio. Why, sure you are in love, Lissardo. Did not you 
 say, but now, you had balls where you have been ? 
 
 Lis. Balls, madam ! What balls, ma'am ? Odslife, I ask your 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 pardon, madam ! I — I — I had mislaid some wash-balls of my 
 master's t'other day ; and because I could not think where I 
 had laid them, just when he asked for them, he very fairly 
 broke my head, madam ; and now it seems I can think of 
 nothing else. Alas ! he dance, madam ? No, no, poor gen- 
 tleman, he is as melancholy as an unbraced drum. 
 
 Vio. Poor Felix ! There, wear that ring for your master's 
 sake, and let him know I shall be ready to receive him. 
 
 \_Exit D. R. H. IE. 
 
 Lis. I shall, madam. \^Piits on the ring?\ Methinks a dia- 
 mond ring is a vast addition to the little finger of a gentleman. 
 
 \Adinires his hand. 
 
 Flora. \_Aside.] That ring must be mine. — Well, Lissardo, 
 what haste you make to pay off arrears now ! Look how the 
 fellow stands ! 
 
 Lis. Egad, methinks I have a very pretty hand [Crosses L.J 
 — and very white — and the shape ! Faith, I never minded it 
 so much before ! In my opinion, it is a very fine-shaped hand, 
 and becomes a diamond ring as well as the first grandee's in 
 Portugal. 
 
 Flora. The man's transported ! Is this your love ? This 
 your impatience ? 
 
 Lis. \_Takes snuff. '\ Now, in my mind, I take snuff" with a 
 very jantee air. [Struts across R. 
 
 Flora. Sweet Mr. Lissardo — \_Courtesies.\ — if I may presume 
 to speak to you without afifronting your little finger 
 
 Lis. Odso, madam, I ask your pardon. Is it to me or 
 to the ring you direct your discourse, madam ? 
 
 [ Up and across L. 
 
 Flora. Madam, good lack ! How much a diamond ring 
 improves one ! 
 
 Lis. Why, though I say it, I can carry myself as well as 
 anybody. [Down^ But what wert you going to say, child ? 
 
 Flora. Why, I was going to say — that I fancy you had best 
 let me keep that ring ; it will be a very pretty wedding-ring, 
 Lissardo; would it not? 
 
 Lis. Humph ! — ah ! — but — but — but — I believe I shan't 
 marry yet awhile. [Crosses v.. 
 
 13 
 
THE WONDER !\ 
 
 Flora. You shan't, you say ? Very well ! I suppose you 
 design that ring for Inis ? 
 
 Lis. No, no ; I never bribe an old acquaintance. Perhaps 
 I might let it sparkle in the eyes of a stranger a little, till 
 we come to a right understanding — but, then, like all other 
 mortal things, it would return from whence it came. 
 
 Flora. Insolent ! Is that your manner of dealing ? 
 
 Lis. With all but thee. — Kiss me, you little rogue you. 
 
 \Hugs her, and turns her R. 
 
 Flora. Little rogue ! Pr'ythee, fellow, don't be so familiar. 
 \_Pushes him away.'] If I mayn't keep your ring, I can keep 
 my kisses. 
 
 Lis. You can, you say ? Spoke with the air of a chamber- 
 maid. 
 
 Flora. Replied with the spirit of a serving man. 
 
 Re-enter ViOLANTE, R. u. E. 
 
 Lis. [l. C] Pr'ythee, Flora, don't let you and I fall out ; 
 I am in a merry humor, and shall certainly fall in some- 
 where. 
 
 Flora. What care I where you fall in ! 
 
 Vio. [r.] Why do you keep Lissardo so long, Flora, when 
 you don't know how soon my father may awake ? His after- 
 noon naps are never long. 
 
 Flora. \_Aside.] Had Don Felix been with her, she would 
 not have thought the time long. These ladies consider no- 
 body's wants but their own. 
 
 Vio. Go, go, let him out. 
 
 [Flora £;oes up to table and gets candle. 
 
 Flora. Yes, madam. 
 
 Lis. I fly, madam. \_Exezmt LiSSARDO and FLORA, L. U. E. 
 
 Vio. The day draws in, and night, the lover's friend, ad- 
 vances — night, more welcome than the sun to me, because 
 it brings my love. 
 
 Flora. [ Within, i E. L. H.] Ah, thieves, thieves ! murder, 
 murder ! 
 
 14 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Vio. [S/irieks.] Ah, what do I hear? Felix is certainly- 
 pursued, and will be taken. 
 
 Re-enter Flora, with a broken candle in candlestick, running, 
 
 L. U. E. 
 
 How now ! Answer me quickly ; what's the matter ? 
 
 Flora. O madam, as I was letting out Lissardo, a gentleman 
 rushed between him and me, struck down my candle, and is 
 bringing a dead person in his arms into our house. 
 
 Vio. A dead person ! Heaven grant it does not prove my 
 Felix. 
 
 Flora. Here they are, madam. 
 
 Vio. I'll retire till you discover the meaning of this accident. 
 {^Exit, R. u. E. Flora places chair, c. 
 
 Enter COLONEL Briton, d. l. h. i e., ivith Isabella ?'« his 
 arms, whom he sits down in a chair, and addresses himself 
 to Flora. 
 
 Col. B. [l.J Madam, the necessity this lady was under of 
 being conveyed into some house with speed and secrecy, will, 
 I hope, excuse any indecency I might be guilty of in pressing 
 so rudely into this — I am an entire stranger to her name and 
 circumstances. I commit her, madam, to your care, and fly to 
 make her retreat secure ; if the street be clear, permit me to 
 return, and learn from her own mouth if I can be further ser- 
 viceable. Pray, madam, what is the lady of this house called ? 
 
 Flora. Violante, seignior. 
 
 Col. B. i^e you she, madam ? 
 
 Flora. Only her woman, seignior. 
 
 Col. B. Your humble servant, mistress. Pray be careful of 
 the lady. 
 
 \In taking out his handkerchief to get at his purse, drops 
 a letter and exits. 
 
 Flora. Two moidores ! Well, he is a generous fellow. This 
 is the only way to make one careful. I see these military rules 
 are just the same in every country. They understand the con- 
 stitution of the chambermaid. \^Gets L. of chair. 
 
 IS 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Re-enter VlOLANTE, D. R. H. i E. 
 
 Vio. [r.] Was you distracted, Flora, to tell my name to a 
 man you never saw ? Unthinking wench ! Who knows what 
 this may turn to ? What, is the lady dead ? Ah, Heaven ! 
 'tis Isabella, sister to my Felix. What has befallen her ? 
 Pray Heaven he's safe. Run and fetch some cold water. 
 Stay, stay, Flora — Isabella, friend, speak to me — ^O, speak to 
 me. 
 
 ha. O, hold, dear father, do not force me. Indeed I can- 
 not love him. 
 
 Vio. How wild she talks ! 
 
 ha. Where am I ? \Rises. 
 
 Vio. With one as sensible of thy pain as thou thyself canst 
 be. 
 
 ha. Violante ! what kind star preserved and lodged me 
 here ? 
 
 Flora. It was a terrestrial star, called a man, madam ; pray 
 Jupiter he proves a lucky one. 
 
 ha. O, I remember now. Forgive me, dear Violante ; my 
 thoughts ran so much upon the danger I escaped, I forgot. 
 
 \All down. 
 
 Vio. May I not know your story ? 
 
 Isa. Thou art no stranger to one part of it. I have often 
 told thee that my father designed to sacrifice me to Don Guz- 
 man, who, it seems, is just returned from Holland. Upon my 
 refusing to obey him, he locked me into my chamber, vowing 
 to keep me there till he arrived, and force me to consent. I 
 know my father to be positive, never to be won from his de- 
 sign ; and having no hope left me to escape the marriage, I 
 leaped from the window into the street. \^Crosses R. 
 
 Vio. You have not hurt yourself, I hope. 
 
 ha. No ; a gentleman passing by, by accident, caught me in 
 his arms : at first, my fright made me apprehend it was my 
 father, till he assured me to the contrary. 
 
 Flora. He is a very fine gentleman, I promise you, madam; 
 and a well-bred man, I warrant him. I think I never saw a 
 grandee put his hand into his pocket with a better air in my 
 
 i6 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 whole lifetime ; then he opened his purse with such a grace, 
 that nothing but his manner of presenting me with the gold 
 could equal. 
 
 Vio. Go, leave us. Flora. \^Exit FLORA, L. u. E.] But 
 how came you hither, Isabella ? 
 
 ha. I know not ; I desired the stranger to convey me to the 
 next monastery ; but er6 I reached the door, I saw, or fancied 
 that I saw, Lissardo, my brother's man ; and the thought that 
 his master might not be far off, flung me into a swoon, which 
 is all that I can remember. {^Crosses c] Ha ! what's here ? 
 {Picks up letter on stage.] " For Colonel Briton. To be left 
 at the post-house in Lisbon." This must be dropped by the 
 stranger who brought me hither. 
 
 Vio. Thou art fallen into the hands of a soldier ; take care 
 he does not lay thee under contribution, girl. {Rises. 
 
 Isa. I find he is a gentleman ; and if he is but unmarried, I 
 could be content to follow him all the world over. But I shall 
 never see him more, I fear. {Sits L. Sighs, and pauses. 
 
 Vio. What makes you sigh, Isabella ? 
 
 Isa. The fear of falling into my father's clutches again. 
 
 Vio. Can I be serviceable to you ? 
 Isa. {Rises.] Yes, if you conceal me two or three days. 
 
 Vio. You command my house and secrecy. 
 
 Isa. I thank you, Violante. I wish you would oblige me 
 with Mrs. Flora awhile. 
 
 Vio. {Taps bell.] I'll send her to you. I must watch if 
 father be still asleep, or here will be no room for Felix. 
 
 {Exit, D. R. H. I E. 
 
 Isa. Well, I don't know what ails me ; methinks I wish I 
 
 could find this stranger out. {Goes R. C. 
 
 Re-enter Flora, l. u. e. 
 
 Flora. Does your ladyship want me, madam ? 
 Isa. Ay, Flora, I resolve to make you my confidant. 
 Flora. I shall endeavor to discharge my duty, madam. 
 Isa. I doubt it not, and desire you to accept this as a token 
 of ray gratitude. 
 
 17 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Flora. O, I should have been your humble servant without 
 a fee. 
 
 Isa. I believe it. But to the purpose — do you think, if you 
 saw the gentleman who brought me hither, you should know 
 him again ? 
 
 Flora. From a thousand, madam : I have an excellent mem- 
 ory where a handsome man is concerned. When he went 
 away, he said he would return again immediately. I wonder 
 he comes not. 
 
 Isa. Here, did you say ? You rejoice me — {Crosses L.J 
 — though I'll not see him if he comes. Could not you contrive 
 to give him a letter ? 
 
 Flora. With the air of a duenna. 
 
 Isa. Not in this house — you must veil and follow him. He 
 must not know it comes from me. 
 
 Flora. What, do you take me for a novice in love affairs ? 
 Though I have not practised the art since I have been in 
 Donna Violante's service, yet I have not lost the theory of a 
 chambermaid. \Crosses up L. of table. ISABELLA sits.^ Do 
 you write the letter, and leave the rest to me — here, here, 
 here's pen, ink, and paper. 
 
 Isa. I'll do it in a minute. \Sits at table., C, atid writes. 
 
 Flora. So ! this is a business after my own heart : Love al- 
 ways takes care to reward his laborers. O, I long to see the 
 other two moidores. Methinks there's a grace peculiar to 
 the military in making a present. 
 
 Isa. \_Rises.\ So, I have done — now if he does but find this 
 house again. 
 
 Flora. If he should not, I warrant, I'll find him, \^Crosses up 
 L.J if he's in Lisbon ; for I have a strong possession that he 
 has two more moidores as good as ever were told. 
 
 \_Puts the letter into her bosom. 
 
 Re-enter ViOLANTE, D. L. H. i E. 
 
 Vio. Flora, watch my papa ; he's fast asleep in his study : if 
 you find him stir, give me notice. [FELIX taps at the win- 
 
 i8 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 dow, L. H. 2 E.J Hark, 1 hear Felix at the window ; admit 
 him instantly, and then to your post. 
 
 [^Exit Flora, d. l. h. i e. 
 
 Isa. [Crosses R.J What say you, Violante ? Is my brother 
 come ? 
 
 Via. It is his signal at the window. 
 
 Isa. \_Kneels.] O, Violante ! I conjure thee by all the love 
 thou bear'st to Felix, by thy own generous nature, nay more, 
 by that unspotted virtue thou art mistress of, do not discover 
 to my brother I am here ! 
 
 Vio. Contrary to your desire, be assured I never shall. But 
 where's the danger? 
 
 Isa. \_Rises.'\ Art thou born in Lisbon, and ask that ques- 
 tion ? He'll think his honor blemished by my disobedience, 
 and would restore me to my father, or kill me : therefore, 
 
 dear, dear girl 
 
 Vio. Depend upon my friendship ; nothing shall draw 
 the secret from these lips ; not even Felix, though at the 
 hazard of his love. I hear him coming ; retire into that 
 closet. 
 
 Isa. Remember, Violante, upon thy promise my very life 
 depends. {Exit R. U. E. 
 
 Vio. When I betray thee, may I share thy fate ! 
 
 Enter FELIX, D. L. u. E. 
 
 My Felix ! [Runs into his arms. 
 
 Pel. [L. C.J My Violante ! [In a rapture. 
 
 Vio. What hazards dost thou run for me? O, how shall I 
 requite thee ? 
 
 Pel. If, during this tedious, painful exile, thy thoughts have 
 never wandered from thy Felix, thou hast made me more than 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Vio. Can there be room within this heart for any but thy- 
 self? No, if the god of love were lost to all the rest of human 
 kind, thy image would secure him in my breast : I am all truth, 
 all love, all faith, and know no jealous fears. 
 
 Pel. My heart's the proper sphere where love resides : could 
 
 19 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 he quit that, he would be nowhere found ; and yet, Violante, 
 I'm in doubt. 
 
 Vio. Did I ever give thee cause to doubt, my Felix ? 
 
 Fel, True love has many fears, and fears as many eyes as 
 fame ; yet, sure, I think they see no fault in thee. [CoLONEL 
 Briton taps at tJi,e window, L. H. 2 E.J What's that ? 
 
 [ Taps again. 
 
 Vio. What? I hear nothing. {Again. 
 
 Fel. Ha ! What means this signal at your window ? 
 
 Vio. Some one, perhaps, in passing by, might have acci- 
 dentally hit it ; it can be nothing else. 
 
 Col. B. [ Without, at window, 2 E. L. H.] Hist, hist ! 
 Donna Violante ! Donna Violante ! 
 
 Fel. They use your name by accident, too, do they, madam ? 
 
 \_Crosses to R. H. 
 
 Re-ettter FLORA, D. L. U. E. 
 
 Flora, [l. h.-, aside to Violante. J There is a gentleman 
 at the window, madam, which I fancy to be the same who 
 brought Isabella hither. Shall I admit him ? 
 
 Vio. [c, aside.] Admit distraction rather ! Thou art the 
 cause of this, unthinking wretch ! 
 
 Fel. [r. H.] What, has Mrs. Scout brought you fresh intel- 
 ligence ? Death, I'll know the bottom of this immediately. 
 
 \_About to go. 
 
 Flora. Scout ! I scorn your words, seignior ! [ The COLO- 
 NEL taps louder. Aside.] It must be the Colonel — now to de- 
 liver my letter to him. Exit D. L. H. i E. 
 
 Vio. Nay, nay, nay, you must not leave me. 
 
 \Ru7is and catches hold of him. 
 
 Fel. O, 'tis not fair not to answer the gentleman, madam. 
 It is none of his fault that his visit proves unseasonable. Pray 
 let me go : my presence is but a restraint upon you. [Strug- 
 gles to get from her as the taps grow louder.] Hark, he grows 
 impatient at your delay. Why do you hold the man whose 
 absence would oblige you ? Pray let me go, madam. Con- 
 sider the gentleman wants you at the window Confusion ! 
 
 {Struggles. 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Vio. It is not me he wants. 
 
 Fel. Death ! not you ? Is there another of your name in 
 the house ? \_Seizes her hand and leads her toward the zvin- 
 dow.] But come on, convince me of the truth of what you 
 say ; open the window. If his business does not lie with you, 
 your conversation may be heard. This, and only this, can take 
 off my suspicion. What, do you pause ? [Down stage, R,] O, 
 guilt ! guilt ! Have I caught you ? Nay, then I'll leap the 
 balcony. If I remember, this way also leads to it. [Goes. 
 
 Vio. Hold, hold, hold, hold ! not for the world you enter 
 there ! [Aside.]^ Which way shall I preserve his sister from 
 his knowledge ? 
 
 Fel. What, have I touched you ? Do you fear your lover's 
 life? 
 
 Vio. I fear for none but you. For goodness' sake, do not 
 speak so loud, my Felix. If my father hears you, I am lost 
 forever. [ With tenderness and reprovingly, one hand on his 
 shoulder?^ Felix ! Felix ! — \As he still looks angrily, her 
 woman' s pride gets the better of her love, and she goes tozvard 
 the window. FELIX still holds her hand and follows her, lis- 
 tening as she throws open the window and speaks. She speaks 
 slowly. As Briton replies, Felix starts a step, the7i turns 
 and looks her in the face.] — Your curiosity shall be satisfied. 
 [Goes to the ivindow, 2 E. L. H., throws tip the sash.] Whoe'er 
 you are, that with such insolence dare use my name, and give 
 the neighborhood pretence to reflect upon my conduct, I charge 
 you instantly to be gone, or expect the treatment you deserve. 
 
 Col. B. [ Without, 2 E. L. H.] I ask pardon, madam, and will 
 obey ; but, when I left this house to-night 
 
 Pel. Good. 
 
 Vio. You are mistaken in the house, I suppose, sir. 
 
 Fel. No, no, he's not mistaken. Pray, madam, let the gen- 
 tleman go on. 
 
 Vio. Pray be gone, sir ; I know of no business you have 
 here. 
 
 Col. B. I wish I did not know it either. But this house con- 
 tains my soul ; then can you blame my body for hovering 
 about it? 
 
THE WONDER 1 
 
 Fel. Beautiful! Beautiful! 
 
 Vio. I tell you again, you are mistaken ; however, for your 
 own satisfaction, call to-morrow. 
 
 Fel. Matchless impudence ! an assignation before my face. 
 
 [Down R., crosses L., aitd up to 'window.'\ No, he shall not 
 
 live to meet your wishes. ■■ 7; 
 
 [ Takes out a pistol, and goes toward window, L. H. 2 E. ; she 
 
 catches hold of him. 
 
 Vio. Ah ! {^Shrieks.\ Hold, I conjure you. 
 
 Col. B. To-morrow's an age, madam ! May I not be ad- 
 mitted to-night? 
 
 Vio. If you be a gentleman, I command your absence. 
 \Aside.~\ Unfortunate, what will my stars do with me ? 
 
 Col. B. I have done. Only this — be careful of my life, for 
 it is in your keeping. \Exit from the window. 
 
 Fel. Pray observe the gentleman's request, madam. 
 
 \_VValks from her. 
 
 Vio. I am all confusion. \pown R. 
 
 Fel. You are all truth, all love, all faith ; O, thou all women ! 
 How have I been deceived ! 'Sdeath, could you not have im- 
 posed upon me for this one night ? Could neither my faithful 
 love, nor the hazard I have run to see you, make me worthy to 
 be cheated on ? O thou 
 
 Vio. Felix ! 
 
 Fel. IRepeats.] "When I left this house to-night." To- 
 night — to-night ! 
 
 Vio. [Aside.] O, Isabella ! what hast thou involved me in ? 
 
 Fel. [^Repeats.] "This house contains my soul." O, sweet 
 soul ! 
 
 Vio. [Aside.] Yet I resolve to keep the secret. 
 Fel. [Repeats.] " Be careful of my life, for 'tis in your 
 keeping." Fiends ! Fiends ! How ugly she appears ! 
 
 [Looks at her. 
 
 Vio. Beheve me, Felix, I have not injured you, nor am I 
 false. 
 
 Fel. Not false ? not injured me ? O, Violante ! Not false ! 
 O, monstrous ! 
 
 Vio. Indeed, I am not. There is a cause, Felix — ah ! which 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 I must not reveal. O, think how far honor can oblige your 
 sex. Then allow a woman may be bound by the same rule to 
 keep a secret. 
 
 Fel. Honor ! What hast thou to do with honor ? A se- 
 cret ! ha, ha, ha ! his affairs are wondrous safe, who trusts his 
 secrets to a woman's keeping ; but you need give yourself no 
 trouble about clearing this point, madam, for you are become 
 so indifferent to me, that your truth and falsehood are the 
 same. 
 
 Re-enter Flora, door l. h. i e. 
 
 Flora. So, I have delivered my letter to the Colonel, and 
 received my fee. — Madam, your father bade me see what noise 
 that was. {^Crosses C.J For goodness' sake, sir, why do you 
 speak so loud ? 
 
 Fel. Oh ! I understand my cue, mistress ; my absence is 
 necessary, I'll oblige you. 
 
 \_Crosses C Going. ViOLANTE takes hold of him. 
 
 Vio. O, let me undeceive you first. 
 
 Fel. Impossible. 
 
 Vio. 'Tis very possible if I durst. 
 
 Fel. Durst ! ha, ha, ha ! durst 1 
 
 Vio. Another time I'll tell thee all. 
 
 Fel. Nay, now or never. 
 
 Vio. Now it cannot be. 
 
 Fel. Then it shall never be. Most ungrateful of thy sex, 
 farewell. [Breaks from her, and exit, D. L. h. i e. 
 
 Vio. Yet not even this shall draw the secret from me. 
 
 That I'll preserve, let fortune frown or smile : 
 And trust to love, my love to reconcile. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 23 
 
ACT II. 
 
 Scene i. — A Handsome Chamber in Frederic's House. 
 
 Enter LiSSARDO and INIS, D. R. H. i E. 
 
 Lis. [c] Your lady run away, and you know not whither, 
 say you ? 
 
 hiis. [R.J She never greatly cared for me after finding you 
 and I together : but you are very grave, methinks, Lissardo. 
 
 Lis. [Looking on the ring.] Not at all. I have some 
 thoughts, indeed, of altering my course of living ; there is a 
 critical minute in every man's life, which, if we can but lay hold 
 of, he may make his fortune. 
 
 Inis. [Aside.} Ah ! what do I see ? a diamond ring ? 
 Where the deuce had he that ring ? — You have got a very 
 pretty ring there, Lissardo. 
 
 Lis. Ay, the trifle is pretty enough ; but the lady which gave 
 it to me is a beauty, I assure you. 
 
 \_Crosses R. Cocks his hat, and struts. 
 
 Lnis. I can't bear this — the lady. [Aside.] What lady, 
 pray ? 
 
 Lis. O fie ! There's a question to ask a gentleman. 
 
 litis, [c] A gentleman 1 Is this your love for me ? Un- 
 grateful man, you'll break my heart, so you will. 
 
 [Bursts into tears. 
 
 Lis. [Aside.] Poor, tender-hearted fool. 
 
 Inis. If I knew who gave you that ring, I'd tear her eyes out, 
 so I would. [Sobs. 
 
 Lis. [Aside.] So, now the jade wants a little coaxing. 
 Why, what dost weep for now, my dear, ha ? 
 
 litis. I suppose Flora gave you that ring ; but I'll 
 
 [Crosses R. 
 
 24 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Lis. No, the devil take me if she did ; you make me swear 
 now — I did but joke ; the ring is none of mine, it is my mas- 
 ter's ; I am to give it to be new set, that's all ; therefore pr'y- 
 thee dry thy eyes, and kiss me, come. 
 
 Enter Flora, unobserved, L. H. i E. 
 
 Inis. And do you really speak truth now ? 
 
 Lis. Why do you doubt it ? 
 
 Flora. \_Aside.] So, so, very well ! I thought there was an 
 intrigue between him and Inis, for all he has foresworn it so 
 often. [Goes up L. C. 
 
 Lnis. Nor ha'n't you seenFlora since you come to town ? 
 
 Flora. \_Aside L.] Ha ! how dares she mention my name? 
 
 Lis. No, by this kiss, I ha'n't. {Kisses her. 
 
 Flora. [Aside.] Here's a dissembling varlet. 
 
 Lnis. Nor don't you love her at all ? 
 
 Lis. Love the devil ! There, now you've made me swear 
 again. Why, did I not always tell thee she was my aversion ? 
 
 Flora. Did you so, villain ? \Gives him a box on the ear. 
 
 Lis. [Aside.] Zounds, she's here ! I have made a fine piece 
 of work on it. [Crosses L. 
 
 Liis. What's that for, ha? [Goes up to her. 
 
 Flora. I shall tell you by and by, Mrs. Frippery, if you don't 
 get about your business. 
 
 Inis. Who do you call Frippery, Mrs. Trollop ? Pray get 
 about your business, if you go to that; I hope you pretend to 
 no right and title here. [Crosses to Lissardo. 
 
 Lis. [Aside.] Do they take me for an acre of land, that they 
 quarrel about right and title to me ? 
 
 Flora. Pray, what right have you, mistress, to ask that 
 question ? 
 
 [Lissardo, up and down. Flora and Inis separate. 
 
 hiis. No matter for that ; I can show a better title to him 
 than you, I believe. 
 
 Lis. Now my dears, don't exert yourselves so much about 
 me : I might, in a modest way, satisfy both your demands upon 
 me. 
 
 25 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Flora. You satisfy ! No, sirrah, I am not to be satisfied so 
 soon as you think, perhaps. 
 
 Inis. No, nor I neither. What, do you make no difference 
 between us? 
 
 Flora. You pitiful fellow, you ! How often have you sworn 
 to me that you hated Inis, and only carried fair for the good 
 cheer she gave 'you ; but that you could never like a woman 
 with crooked legs, you said. 
 
 litis. How, how crooked legs ! \Raises her dress a little. 
 
 Lis. {Drops down on his knee, and holds his hat before 
 his eyes.} Pr'ythee, my dear, moderate thy passion. 
 
 [Coaxiftgly. 
 
 Inis. I'd have you to know, sirrah, my legs were never 
 
 Flora. [Aside.'] I am glad I have done some mischief. 
 
 Lis. [To Inis.] Art thou really so foolish as to mind what 
 an enraged woman says ? Don't you see she does it on pur- 
 pose to part you and I? [Runs to FLORA.] Could not you 
 find the joke without putting yourself in a passion ? you silly 
 girl, you. Why, I saw you follow us plain enough, and said 
 all this that you might not go back with only your labor for 
 your pains. But come, kiss and be friends. 
 
 Flora. Don't think to coax me ; hang your kisses. 
 
 \The two maids go up and down, LiSSARDO between 
 them, and meet in c. , as if to scratch at each other, when 
 Felix's voice stops them. 
 
 Fel. [Without, L. H. i E.J Lissardo ! 
 
 Lis. [Aside.] Odsheart, here's my master ; the devil take 
 both these jades for me ; what shall I do with them ? 
 
 Liis. [Aside.] Ha! 'tis Don Felix's voice ; I would not have 
 him find me here with his footman for the world. 
 
 Fel. [Without, L. H.] Why, Lissardo, Lissardo! 
 
 Lis. Coming, sir. What a plague will you do ? 
 
 Flora. Bless me, which way shall I get out ? 
 
 Lis. [Crosses C.J Nay, nay, you must e'en set your quarrel 
 aside, and be content to be mewed up in this clothes-press 
 together, or stay where you are, and face it out — there is no 
 help for it, 
 
 26 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Flora. Put me anywhere, rather than that : come, come, let 
 me in. 
 
 [LISSARDO opens door ; all three run up and jam in door- 
 way, Inis, and FLORA face to face. Finally, FLORA 
 exit, and INIS comes forward. 
 Inis. I'll see her hanged before I'll go into the place where 
 she is. I'll trust fortune for my deliverance. Here used to be 
 a pair of back stairs ; I'll try to find them out. 
 
 {Exit R. H. 2 E.J 
 
 Enter DON Felix and Frederic, l. h. i e. 
 
 Fel. Was you asleep, sirrah, that you did not hear me call ? 
 
 Lis. I did hear you, and answered you I was coming, sir. 
 
 Fel. Go, get the horses ready ; I'll leave Lisbon to-night, 
 never to see it more. {Crosses. 
 
 Lis. Hey-day ! what's the matter now ? {Exit L. H. i E. 
 
 Fred. Pray tell me, Don Felix, what has ruffled your temper 
 thus? 
 
 Fel. [r.] a woman. O, friend, who can name woman, and 
 forget inconstancy ? 
 
 Fred. Come, this is some groundless jealousy. Love raises 
 many fears. 
 
 Fel. No, no ; my ears conveyed the truth into my heart, 
 and reason justifies my anger. O, my friend ! Violante's false, 
 and I have nothing left but thee in Lisbon, which can make 
 me wish ever to see it more ; except revenge upon my rival, 
 of whom I am ignorant. O that some miracle would reveal 
 him to me, that I might through his heart punish her infidelity ! 
 
 Enter Vasquez, l. h. i e. 
 
 Vas. Sir, I bring you joyful news. 
 Fel. What's the matter ? 
 
 Vas. I am told that Don Antonio is out of danger, and now 
 in the palace. 
 
 Fel. I wish it be true ; then I'm at liberty to watch my rival, 
 and pursue my sister. Pr'ythee, Frederic, inform thyself of 
 the truth of this report. {Paces up and down, 
 
 27 
 
THE WONDER.' 
 
 Fred. [Crosses.] I will this minute. Do you hear? — [To 
 Vasquez.] Let nobody in to Don Felix till my return. 
 
 [Exii L. H. I E. 
 
 Vas. I'll observe, sir. [-Exit L. H. i E. 
 
 Flora. \_Opens door, R. F.] They have almost frightened me 
 out of my wits, I'm sure. Now Felix is alone, I have a good 
 mind to pretend I came with a message from my lady ; but 
 how then shall I say I came into the cupboard ? 
 
 Vas. [Without, L. H. i E.j I tell you, madam, Don Felix is 
 not here. 
 
 Vio. [Without, L. H. I E.] I tell you, sir, he is here, and I 
 will see him. 
 
 Fel. What noise is that ? 
 
 Enter ViOLANTE, L. H. D. 
 
 Flora. My stars ! My lady here ! [Closes door. 
 
 Vio. You are as difficult of access, sir, as a first minister of 
 state. 
 
 [ Unveils, courtesies very ceremoniously , and smiles at his 
 surly looks. 
 Fel. If your visit was destined to Frederic, madam, he is 
 abroad. 
 
 Vio. No, sir, the visit is to you. 
 
 Fel. You are very punctual in your ceremonies, madam. 
 Vio. Though I did not come to return your visit, but to take 
 that which your civility ought to have brought me. 
 
 Fel. If my eyes, my ears, and my understanding lied, then 
 I am in your debt; else not, madam. 
 
 [She is surprised and offended at his saying so gross a 
 zvord. 
 Vio. I will not charge them with a term so gross, to say they 
 lied, but call it a mistake [Crosses C.J ; nay, call it anything 
 to excuse my Felix. Could I, think ye, could I put off my 
 pride so far, poorly to dissemble a passion which I did not feel, 
 or seek a reconciliation with what I did not love ? No law, 
 whilst single, binds us to obey ; but your sex are obliged to 
 pay a deference to all womankind. 
 
 28 
 
THE WONDER I 
 
 Fel. These are fruitless arguments. 'Tis most certain thou 
 wert dearer to these eyes than all that heaven e'er gave to 
 charm the sense of man ; but I would rather tear them out, 
 than suffer them to delude my reason, and enslave my peace. 
 
 Vio. Can you love without esteem ? and where is the esteem 
 for her you still suspect ? O, Felix, there is a delicacy in love, 
 which equals even a religious faith 1 True love never doubts 
 the object it adores, and sceptics there will disbelieve their 
 sight. 
 
 Fel. Your notions are too refined for mine, madam. 
 
 Re-enter Vasquez, l. h. I E. 
 
 How now, sirrah, what do you want ? 
 
 Vas. Only my master's cloak out of this press, sir ; that's 
 all. \^Crosses behind to D. R. F. 
 
 Fel. Make haste then. 
 
 Vas. \_Opens the door, R. F., and sees FLORA.] O, the devil ! 
 the devil ! \_Exit L. H. i E. 
 
 Flora. Discovered ! Nay, then, legs befriend me. 
 
 \Crosses stage and runs out, L. H. i E. 
 
 Vio. A woman concealed ! Very well, Felix ! 
 
 Fel. A woman in the press ! 
 
 Re-enter LiSSARDO, L. H. i E. , 
 Lis. Sir, the horses are 
 
 Fel. How the devil came a woman there, sirrah ? 
 
 \^Seizes LiSSARDO, and throws him round. 
 
 Lis. [Aside.] What shall I say now ? 
 
 Vio. Now, Lissardo, show your wit, to bring your master 
 off. 
 
 Lis. Off, madam ? Nay, nay, nay, there, there needs no 
 great wit to, to, to, bring him off, madam ; for she did, and 
 she did not come, as, as, as a, a, a man may say, directly to, 
 to, to, to speak with my master, madam. 
 
 Vio. I see by your stammering, Lissardo, that your invention 
 is at a very low ebb. 
 
 29 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Fel. 'Sdeath, rascal ! speak without hesitation, and the truth 
 too, or I shall run you through and through. 
 
 Vio. No, no, your master mistakes ; he would not have you 
 speak the truth. 
 
 Fel. Madam, my sincerity wants no excuse. 
 
 Lis. [Aside.] I am so confounded between one and the 
 other, that I can't think of a lie. 
 
 Fel. Sirrah, fetch me this woman back instantly; I'll know 
 what business she had here ! 
 
 Vio. Not a step ; your master shall not be put to the blush. 
 [LisSARDO bows as if to say: "You see, sir, T can't help it," 
 and goes «/.] Come, a truce, Felix ! Do you ask me no more 
 questions about the window, and I'll forgive this. 
 
 Fel. I scorn forgiveness where I own no crime ; but your 
 soul, conscious of its guilt, would fain lay hold of this occasion 
 to blend your treason with my innocence. 
 
 Vio. Insolent ! Nay, if instead of owning your fault, you 
 endeavor to insult my patience, I must tell you, sir, you don't 
 behave yourself like that man of honor you would be taken 
 for ; you ground your quarrel with me upon inconstancy ; 'tis 
 plain you are false yourself, and would make me the aggres- 
 sor. It was not for nothing the fellow opposed my entrance. 
 This last usage has given me back my liberty, [Crosses to 
 L. H.] and now my father's will shall be obeyed without the 
 least reluctance : [ With stern formality, and throwing her 
 veil over her face, as she exits.] and so your servant. 
 
 [Exit L. H. I E. 
 
 Fel. O, [Goes R.J stubborn, stubborn heart, what wilt thou 
 do ? Her father's will shall be obeyed ; ha ! that carries her 
 to a cloister, and cuts off all my hopes at once. By Heaven, 
 she shall not, must not leave me ! No, she is not false ; at 
 least my love now represents her true, because I fear to lose 
 her. Ha ! villain, art thou here ? [ Turns upon LiSSARDO, 
 who is trying to steal off, L. u. E.] Tell me this moment who 
 this woman was, and for what intent she was here concealed — 
 or [Drawing his sword. 
 
 Lis. Ay, good sir, forgive me, and I'll tell you the whole 
 truth. [Falls on his knees. 
 
 30 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Fel. Out with it then. 
 
 {Threatening with his sword quite at LiSSARDO's mouth. 
 
 Lis. It, it, it was 
 
 Fel. Who? Who? 
 
 Lis. Mrs. Flora, sir, Donna Violante's woman. You must 
 know, sir, we have had 
 
 Fel. What? What? 
 
 Lis. A sneaking kindness for one another a great while. 
 She was not willing you should know it ; so, when she heard 
 your voice, she ran into the clothes-press. I would have told 
 you this at first, but I was afraid of her lady's knowing it ; this 
 is the truth, as I hope for a whole skin, sir. 
 
 Fel. If it be not, I'll not leave you a whole bone in it, sirrah. 
 Fly, and observe if Violante goes directly home. 
 
 Lis. Yes, sir, yes. 
 
 Fel. Fly, you dog, fly. {Exit LisSARDO, L. H. i E.J I must 
 convince her of my faith. O, how irresolute is a lover's heart ! 
 How absolute is a woman's power ! 
 
 In vain we strive their tyranny to quit ; 
 In vain we struggle, for we must submit. 
 
 {Exit D. R. H. I E. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 31 
 
ACT III. 
 
 Scene \.— The Street. 
 
 Enter GiBBY, L. 
 
 Gibby. Ay, this is bony wark indeed ! to run three hundred 
 mile to this wicked town, and before I can well fill my weam, 
 to be sent a hunting after this black she-devil ! What gate sal 
 I gang to speer for this wutch now ! Ah, for a ruling elder, 
 or the kirk's treasurer, or his mon, I'd gar my master mak twa 
 o'this. But I am sure there's na sic honest people here, or 
 there wud na be sa mickle sculddudrie. 
 
 Enter ViOLANTE, i E. R. H. 
 
 I vow, madam, but I am glad that ye and I are foregathered. 
 
 Vio. What would the fellow have ? 
 
 Gibby. Nothing away, madam, no worth yer heart, what a 
 muckle deal o' mischief had you like to bring upon poor 
 Gibby. 
 
 Vio. The man's drunk. 
 
 Gibby. In troth am I not. And gin I had no found ye, 
 madam, the Laird knows when I should ; for my master bad 
 me ne'er gang hame without tidings of ye, madam. 
 
 Vio. Sirrah, get about your business, or I'll have your 
 bones drubbed. \Crosses L. H. 
 
 Gibby. Geud faith, my maister has e'en done that t'yer 
 bonds, madam. 
 
 Vio. Who is your master, sir ? 
 
 Gibby. It is no sa lang sen ye parted wi' him. I wish he 
 ken ye hafe as weel as ye ken him. 
 
 32 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Vio. Poh, the creature's mad, or mistakes me for somebody- 
 else ; and I should be as mad as he, to talk to him any longer. 
 \_Exit into DoN Pedro's house, d. f. l. h. 
 
 Enter Lissardo, R. h. i e. Crosses L. 
 
 Lis. So, she's gone home, I see. What did that Scotch fel- 
 low want with her ? I'll try to find it out ; perhaps I may dis- 
 cover something that may make my master friends with me 
 again. 
 
 Gibby. [r.] Are ye gone, madam ? A deel scope in yer 
 company ; for I'm as weese as I was. But I'll bide and see 
 wha's house it is, gin I can meet with ony civil body to speer 
 at. [^Turns and sees Lissardo. Crosses L.J My lad, wot ye 
 wha lives in your hoose ? 
 
 Lis. Don Pedro de Mendoza. 
 
 Gibby. And did you see a lady gang in but now ? 
 
 Lis. Yes, I did. 
 
 Gibby. And d'ye ken her tee ? 
 
 Lis. It was Donna Violante, his daughter. [Aside.] What 
 the devil makes him so inquisitive 1 There is something in it, 
 that's certain. 'Tis a cold morning, brother ; what think you 
 of a dram ? 
 
 Gibby. In troth, very well, sir. 
 
 Lis. You seem an honest fellow ; pr'ythee, let's drink to our 
 better acquaintance. \_Boik going R. 
 
 Gibby. Wi' aw my heart, sir ; gang your gate to the next 
 house, and I'se follow ye. 
 
 Lis. Come along, then. \^Exit R. H. i E. 
 
 Gibby. Don Pedro de Mendoza — Donna Violante, his 
 daughter. That's as right as my leg, now ; I'se need na mare ; 
 I'll tak a drink, and then to my maister. S^Exit R. H. i E. 
 
 33 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Scene 2. — Donna Violante's Apartments. Same as in 
 Second Act. 
 
 Enter Isabella, in a gay temper, L. u. E., and Violante, 
 out of humor, K. U. E. 
 
 Isa. My dear, I have been seeking you this half hour, to tell 
 you the most lucky adventure. 
 
 Via. And you have pitched upon the most unlucky hour for 
 it that you could possibly have found in the whole four and 
 twenty. 
 
 Isa. I have seen the man I like. 
 Vio. And I have seen the man that I could wish to hate. 
 
 {Rises, crosses H. 
 Isa. And you must assist me in discovering whether he can 
 like me or not. 
 
 Vio. You have assisted me in such a discovery already, I 
 thank ye. 
 
 Isa. What say you, my dear ? 
 
 Vio. I say I am very unlucky at discoveries, Isabella ; I 
 have too lately made one pernicious to my ease. Your 
 brother is false. 
 Isa. Impossible ! 
 Vio. Most true. 
 
 Isa. Some villain has traduced him to you. 
 Vio. No, Isabella ; I love too well to trust the eyes of 
 others ; I never credit the ill-judging world, or form suspicions 
 upon vulgar censures. No ; I had ocular proof of his ingrati- 
 tude. But tell me, Isabella, how can I serve you ? 
 
 Isa. Thus, then : the gentleman that brought me hither I 
 have seen and talked with upon the Terriero de Passa this 
 morning, and I find him a man of sense, generosity, and good 
 humor ; in short, he is everything that I could like for a hus- 
 band ; and I have despatched Mrs. Flora to bring him hither ; 
 I hope you'll forgive the liberty I have taken. 
 Vio. Hither ! to what purpose ? 
 Isa. To the great universal purpose — matrimony. 
 
 \^Crosses L. 
 34 
 
THE WONDER I 
 
 Vio. Matrimony ! Why, do you design to ask him ? 
 
 ha. No, Violante ; you must do that for me. 
 
 Vio. I thank you for the favor you design me, but desire to 
 be excused. I manage my own affairs too ill to be trusted 
 with those of other people. I can't, for my life, admire your 
 conduct — to encourage a person altogether unknown to you. 
 'Twas very imprudent to meet him this morning, but much 
 more so to send for him hither, knowing what inconveniency 
 you have already drawn upon me. 
 
 Isa. I am not insensible how far my misfortunes have 
 embarrassed you. Then do not deny me this last request, 
 when a few hours, perhaps, may render my condition able 
 to clear thy fame, and bring my brother to thy feet for 
 pardon. 
 
 Vio. I suppose he knows you are the same woman that he 
 brought in here last night ? 
 
 Isa. Not a syllable of that. I met him veiled ; and to pre- 
 vent his knowing the house, I ordered Mrs. Flora to bring him 
 by the back door into the garden. 
 
 Vio. The very way which Felix comes ; if they should m.eet 
 there would be fine work. Indeed, my dear, I can't approve 
 of your design. 
 
 Enter FLORA, D. L. H. i E. 
 
 f Flora, [c] Madam, the Colonel waits your pleasure. 
 
 Vio. How durst you go upon such a message, mistress, with- 
 out acquainting me. 
 
 Flora. So I am huffed for everything. 
 
 Isa. 'Tis too late to dispute that now, dear Violante ; I ac- 
 knowledge the rashness of the action, but consider the neces- 
 sity of my deliverance. 
 
 Vio. That indeed is a weighty consideration. Well, what 
 am I to do ? 
 
 Isa. In the next room I'll give you instructions. In the 
 mean time, Mrs. Flora, show the Colonel into this. 
 
 {Exeunt Flora, d. l. h. i e., Isabella ««(^ Violante, 
 
 D. R. H. I E. 
 
 i 35 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Flora opens door and beckons to Colonel Briton, who 
 
 enters. 
 
 Flora. The lady will wait on you presently, sir. 
 
 \_Exit D. L. H. I E. 
 
 Col. B. Very well. This is a very fruitful soil ; I have not 
 been here quite four and twenty hours, and I have three affairs 
 upon my hands already. 
 
 Re-enter ViOLANTE, D. R. u. E., veiled. 
 
 [Aside.] Ha ! a fine-sized woman. Pray Heaven she proves 
 handsome. I am come to obey your ladyship's commands. 
 
 Vio. Are you sure of that, Colonel ? 
 
 Col. B. If you be not very unreasonable indeed, madam. A 
 man is but a man. [ Takes her hand and kisses it. 
 
 Vio. Nay, we have no time for compliments. Colonel. 
 {^Crosses!..] Did you never see a woman in all your travels 
 that you could like for a wife ? 
 
 Col. B. \Aside^ A very odd question. Do you really 
 expect that I should speak truth now ? 
 
 Vio. I do, if you expect to be dealt with, Colonel. 
 
 Col. B. Why, then, yes. 
 
 Vio. Is she in your country, or this ? 
 
 Col. B. [Aside."] This is a very pretty kind of a cate- 
 chism. — In this town, I believe, madam. 
 
 Vio. Her name is 
 
 Col. B. Ay, how is she called, madam ? 
 
 Vio. Nay, I ask you that, sir. 
 
 Col. B. 0,0! why, she is called Pray, madam, how 
 
 is it you spell your name ? 
 
 Vio. O, Colonel, I am not the happy woman, nor do I wish 
 it. [Crosses R. 
 
 Col. 5. No ? I am sorry for that. [Aside.] What the devil 
 does she mean by all these questions ? 
 
 Vio. Come, Colonel, for once be sincere ; perhaps you may 
 not repent it. 
 
 36 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Col. B. Faith, madam, I have an inclination to sincerity ; but 
 I'm afraid you'll call my manners in question. 
 
 Vio. Not at all ; I prefer truth before compliment in this 
 affair. 
 
 Col. B. Why, then, to be plain with you, madam, a lady last 
 night wounded my heart by a fall from a window, whose per- 
 son I could be content to take, as my father took my mother, 
 till death do us part ; but. who she is, or how distinguished, 
 whether maid, wife, or widow, I can't inform you. Perhaps 
 you are she. 
 
 Vio. Not to keep you in suspense, I am not she, \Crosses L.] 
 but I can give you an account of her. That lady is a maid of 
 condition, has ten thousand pounds ; and if you are a single 
 man, her person and fortune are at your service. 
 
 Col. B. I accept the offer with the highest transports ; but 
 say, my charming angel, art thou not she ? 
 
 \Offers to embrace her. 
 
 Vio. Once again, Colonel, I tell you I am not she ; but at 
 six this evening you shall find her on the Terriero de Passa, 
 with a white handkerchief in her hand. Get a priest ready, and 
 you know the rest. 
 
 Col. B. I shall infallibly observe your directions, madam. 
 
 Re-enter FLORA, D. L. H. i E., hastily, and whispers ViOLANTE, 
 who starts and seems szirprised. 
 
 Vio. Ha ! Felix crossing the garden, say you ? What shall 
 I do now? 
 
 Col. B. You seem surprised, madam. 
 
 Vio. O Colonel, my father is coming hither ; and if he finds 
 you here I am ruined. 
 
 Col. B. Odslife, madam, thrust me anywhere. Can't I go 
 out this way ? [^Crosses tip L. 
 
 Vio. No, no, no — he comes that way. How shall I prevent 
 their meeting ? {Hesitates — advances a step — again stops in 
 suspense, then resolutely.^ Here, here, step into my bed-cham- 
 ber And be still, as you value her you love. Don't stir 
 
 till you've notice, as ever you hope to have her. 
 
 37 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Col. B. On that condition I'll not breathe. {Exit D. R. H. i E. 
 
 \yf\0\.kwi'& places chair and sits in centre, picks up a book, 
 and pretends to be absorbed in it. FLORA sits and 
 pretends to sleep, her head and arms on table. When 
 Felix addresses ViOLANTE, she rouses Flora with some 
 difficulty. 
 
 Enter Felix, d. l. h. i e. 
 
 Pel. I wonder where this dog of a servant is all this while. 
 But she is at home, I find. \Aside^ How coldly she regards 
 me. — You look, Violante, as if the sight of me were trouble- 
 some to you. 
 
 Vio. Can I do otherwise, when you have the assurance to 
 approach me after what I saw to-day ? 
 
 Fel. Assurance ! rather call it good-nature, after what I heard 
 last night. Pray give me leave to ask your woman one ques- 
 tion ; my man assures me she was the person you saw at my 
 lodgings. 
 
 Flora. [l.J I confess it, madam, and ask your pardon. 
 Vio. Impudent baggage, not to undeceive me sooner ! 
 What business could you have there ? 
 
 Fel. Lissardo and she, it seems, imitate you and me. 
 
 \^She rises. 
 
 Flora. I love to follow the example of my betters, madam. 
 
 Fel. I hope I am justified 
 
 Vio. [Crosses R.J Since we are to part, Felix, there needs 
 no justification. 
 
 Fel. Methinks you talk of parting as a thing indifferent to 
 you. Can you forget how I have loved ? 
 
 Vio. I wish I could forget my own passion ; I should with 
 less concern remember yours. But for Mrs. Flora 
 
 Fel. You must forgive her. Must, did I say? I fear I 
 have no power to impose, though the injury was done to me. 
 
 [Crosses R. 
 
 Vio, 'Tis harder to pardon an injury done to what we love 
 than to ourselves ; but at your request, Felix, I do forgive 
 
 38 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 her. Go watch my father, Flora, lest he should awake and 
 surprise us. 
 
 Flora. Yes, madam. \Exit, D. L. u. E. 
 
 Fel. Dost thou, then, love me, Violapte ? 
 
 Vio. What need of repetition from my tongue, when every 
 look confesses what you ask ? 
 
 Fel. O, let no man judge of love but those who feel it ! 
 What wondrous magic lies in one kind look ! One tender 
 word destroys a lover's rage, and melts his fiercest passion 
 into soft complaint. O, the window, Violante ; wouldst thou 
 but clear that one suspicion ! 
 
 Vio. Pr ythee no more of that, my Felix ; a little time shall 
 bring thee perfect satisfaction. 
 
 Re-enter FLORA, D. L. H. i E., hastily. 
 
 Flora. [L.J O, madam, madam, madam, my lord, your 
 father, has been in the house, and locked the back door, and 
 comes muttering to himself this way. 
 
 Vio. [C.J Then we are caught. Now, Felix, we are undone. 
 
 Fel. [r.] Heaven forbid ! This is most unlucky ! Let me 
 step into your chamber ; there I may conceal myself. 
 
 \Runs to the door, R. H. i E., and puts his hand on the 
 door-knob. ViOLANTE follows him, and draws him 
 away, step by step. He keeps his eyes on the door. Pause. 
 
 Vio. No, no, Felix, that's no safe place ; my father often 
 goes thither, and should you cough or sneeze, we are lost. 
 
 Fel. \Aside.\ Either my eye deceived me, or I saw a man 
 within. I'll watch him close. 
 
 Flora. O, invention, invention ! I have it, madam. Here, 
 here, sir ; off with your sword and hat, and I'll fetch you a dis- 
 guise. {Puts Felix's hat on table. 
 
 Fel. [Aside.] She shall deal with the devil if she conveys 
 him out without my knowledge. 
 
 Vio. Bless me, how I tremble ! 
 
 39 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Re-enter Flora, d. f. r. h., with a disguise dress — a riding- 
 hood and skirt — old woman' s dress. Both assist him to 
 disguise. Felix . tries to get into frojit of gown, like 
 pantaloons. 
 
 Flora, [r.] Here, sir, put on this. 
 
 Flora. {Before this.'] Now give me your hat. [//if does so.] 
 Now your gloves. [He does so.] Now your sword. 
 
 Felix. [His eyes on door.] No — -not my sword. 
 
 Flora. Be sure you don't speak a word. 
 
 Fel. [r.J Not for the Indies. \Puts on dress. 
 
 Fed. [Without, L. H. i E.J Why, how came the garden 
 door open ? 
 
 Enter DON PEDRO, L. H. I E. 
 
 Ha ! how now ? Whom have we here ? 
 
 Flora, [r. C.J 'Tis my mother, and please you, sir. [FELIX 
 aiid Flora courtesy.] 
 
 Fed. [C.J Your mother ! By St. Andrew, she's a strapper ! 
 Why, you are a dwarf to her. How many children have you, 
 good woman ? 
 
 Vio. [l., aside.] O, if he speaks we are lost ! 
 
 Flora. O dear, seignior, she cannot hear you ; she has been 
 deaf these twenty years. 
 
 Fed. Alas, poor woman ! Why, you muffle her up as if she 
 was blind, too ; turn up her hood. 
 
 Vio. [Aside.] Undone forever ! St. Anthony forbid ! — O, 
 sir, she has the dreadfulest unlucky eyes ! Pray don't look 
 upon them ; I made her keep her hood shut on purpose. O, 
 O, O, O ! 
 
 Fed. Eyes ! Why, what's the matter with her eyes ! 
 
 Flora. My poor mother, sir, is much afflicted with the colic. 
 
 Fedro. What ! Has she got colic in her eyes ? 
 
 Flora. About two months ago she had it grievously in her 
 stomach, and was over-persuaded to take a dram of filthy Eng- 
 lish Geneva, which immediately flew up into her head, and 
 caused such a defluction in her eyes that she could never since 
 bear the daylight. 
 
 40 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Fed. Say you so? Poor woman! Well, make her sit 
 down, Violante, and give her a glass of wine. 
 
 Vio. Let her daughter give her a glass below, sir. For my 
 part, she has frightened me so, I sha'n't be myself these two 
 hours. I am sure her eyes are evil eyes. 
 
 Fed. [r.J Well, well, do so. Evil eyes ! there are no evil 
 eyes, child. 
 
 Flora. {^Speaks loiidP\ Come along, mother. 
 
 {^Crossing L. U. E. 
 Fed. Good-by. Take care how you go down, good woman. 
 [Felix stops to courtesy three times, and stumbles over 
 tJie threshold of the door. FLORA re-enters almost im- 
 mediately, and gets Felix's hat and gloves, concealing 
 them behind her coat again ; ViOLANTE engaging her 
 father's attention. 
 
 \_Exeunt Felix and Flora, d. l. h. i e. 
 Vio. [Aside.] I'm glad he's gone. 
 Fed. Hast thou heard the news, Violante ? 
 Vio. What news, sir ? 
 
 Fed. Why, Vasquez tells me that Don Lopez's daughter, 
 Isabella, is run away from her father. Oh, he has very ill for- 
 tune with his children. [Aside.] Well, I'm glad my daughter 
 has no inclination to matrimony, that my house is plagued 
 with no suitors. 
 
 Vio. This is the first word I ever heard of it ; I pity her 
 frailty ! 
 
 Fed. Well said, Violante. Next week I intend thy happi- 
 ness shall begin. 
 
 Vio. [Aside.] I don't intend to stay so long, thank you, 
 papa. 
 
 Fed. My lady abbess writes word she longs to see thee, and 
 has provided everything in order for thy reception. 
 
 Re-enter FLORA, D. L. H. i E. 
 
 Thou wilt lead a happy life, my girl — fifty times before that of 
 matrimony, where an extravagant coxcomb might make a 
 beggar of thee, or an ill-natured, surly dog break thy heart. 
 
 41 
 
THE WONDER 1 
 
 Flora. [L., aside.] Break her heart ! She had as good 
 have her bones broke as to be a nun ; I am sure I had rather, 
 of the two. You are wondrous kind, sir ; but if I had such a 
 father, I know what I would do. 
 
 Fed. Why, what would you do, minx — ha ? 
 
 Flora. \_Crosses to him.\ I would tell him I had as good a 
 right and title. 
 
 Fed. You would, mistress ! Who the devil doubts it? You 
 are enough to spoil your lady, housewife, if she had not abund- 
 ance of devotion. 
 
 Vio. Fie, Flora ; are you not ashamed to talk thus to my 
 father ? You said, yesterday, you would be glad to go with 
 me into the monastery. 
 
 Flora. Did I ? I told a great lie, then. 
 
 Fed. She go with thee ! No, no ; she's enough to corrupt 
 the whole convent. Well, child, remember what I said to 
 thee : next week I am going into the country for two or three 
 days, to settle some affairs with thy uncle ; and when I return, 
 we'll provide for thy happiness, child. Good-by, Violante ; 
 take care of thyself 
 
 {Exeunt DON PEDRO and ViOLANTE, D. L. H. I E. 
 
 Flora. \Watches them off i\ So, now for the Colonel. Hist, 
 hist. Colonel. 
 
 Re-enter Colonel Briton, d. r. h. i e. 
 
 Col. B. Is the coast clear ? 
 
 Flora. Yes, if you can climb ; for you must get over the 
 wash-house, and jump from the garden wall into the street. 
 
 Col. B. Nay, nay, I don't value my neck, if my incognita 
 answers but thy lady's promise. 
 
 {Exeunt Colonel Briton and Flora, d. f. r. h. 
 
 Re-enter Felix, d. l. h. i e. 
 
 Eel. I have lain perdue under the stairs, till I watched the 
 old man out. [Violante opens the door, L. H. i E.] 'Sdeath, 
 I am prevented. {Goes up to observe. 
 
 42 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Re-enter Violante, d. l. h. i e. 
 
 Vio. Now to set my prisoner at liberty. {She takes four 
 steps stealthily, starts, turns and looks L. Felix, watching her, 
 advances to R. Pause. ViOLANTE then goes to door where 
 the Colonel was hid.'] Sir, sir, you may appear. 
 
 Felix, who has been following her up to the door, seises her 
 and turns her over to L, 
 
 Fel. Treacherous woman ! 
 
 Vio. {Aside.] Felix here ! Then all's discovered. 
 
 Fel. {Draws. Turns ViOLANTE to L. H.] Villain, who- 
 ever thou art, come out, I charge thee, and take the reward of 
 thy villainous errand. 
 
 Vio. {Aside.] What shall I say ? Nothing but the secret 
 which I have sworn to keep can reconcile this quarrel. 
 
 Fel. A coward ! Nay, then, I'll fetch you out. Think not 
 to hide thyself ; no, by St. Anthony, an altar should not pro- 
 tect thee. {Exit R. H. D. i E. 
 
 Vio. {Aside.] Defend me, Heaven ! What shall I do ? I 
 must discover Isabella, or here will be murder. 
 
 {Sinks into chair, overpowered. 
 
 Re-enter Flora, quickly, with a gliding step, throwing her 
 hands icp in joy. 
 
 Flora. I have helped the Colonel off clear, madam. 
 
 {Exit with a quick side step. 
 Vio. Say'st thou so, my girl? Then I am armed. 
 {Sits C, with her eyes riveted on FELIX, and laughing at 
 him, as he re-enters R. i E. ViOLANTE bursts into a 
 loud fit of laughter, and points at him in derision, as he 
 rushes on tvith his back to audience. Pause. He turns 
 from her in ama::ement, then ttirtis to her again. 
 Fel. Where has the devil, in compliance to your sex, con- 
 veyed him from my resentment ? 
 
 43 
 
THE WONDER 1 
 
 Vio. Him ! whom do you mean, my dear, inquisitive spark? 
 Ha, ha, ha ! Will you never leave these jealous whims ? 
 
 Fel. Will you never cease to impose upon me ? 
 Vio. You impose upon yourself, my dear. Do you think 
 I did not see you ? Yes, I did, and resolved to put this trick 
 upon you. \Iinitates her tnanner of crossing R. 
 
 Fel. Trick ! Trick ! Trick ! 
 
 Vio. Yes, trick. I knew you'd take the hint, and soon 
 relapse into your wonted error. How easily your jealousy is 
 fired ! I shall have a blessed life with you. 
 
 Fel. Was there nothing in it, then, but only to try me ? 
 
 Vio. Won't you believe your eyes ? 
 
 Fel. My eyes ! no, nor my ears, nor any of my senses, for 
 they have all deceived me. {Crosses to R.J The moment a 
 man lets a woman know her conquest, he resigns his senses, 
 and sees nothing but what she'd have him. 
 
 Via. And as soon as a woman finds her love returned, she 
 becomes as errant a slave as if she had already said yes, at the 
 altar. 
 
 Fel. The priest, Violante, would dissipate those fears which 
 cause these quarrels. When wilt thou make me happy ? 
 
 Vio. To-morrow I will tell thee. {Crosses R., they meet, c] 
 But, leave me now, lest some accident should bring my father. 
 
 Fel. To-morrow, then 
 
 Fly swift, ye hours, and bring to-morrow on — 
 
 {Kisses her hand. 
 
 Vio. To-morrow. We shall meet to part no more. 
 
 Fel. O, rapt'rous sounds ! 
 Do thou, like me, each doubt and fear remove. 
 And all to come be confidence and love. 
 
 {Exeunt Felix, d. l. u. e., Violante, d. r. h. i e. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 44 
 
ACT IV. 
 
 Scene i.^ — Frederic's House, as before. 
 
 Enter Felix and Frederic r. h. i e. 
 
 Fel. This hour has been propitious ! I am reconciled to 
 Violante, and you assure me Antonio is out of danger. 
 Fred. Your satisfaction is doubly mine. 
 
 Enter LiSSARDO, L. 
 
 Fel. What haste you made, sirrah, to bring me word if Vio- 
 lante went home ! 
 
 Lis. I can give you very good reasons for my Stay, sir. — 
 Yes, sir, she went home. 
 
 Fred. O, your master knows that, for he has been there 
 himself, Lissardo. 
 
 Lis. Sir, may I beg the favor of your ear ? 
 
 Fel. What have you to say ? 
 
 [Lissardo whispers, and Felix seems uneasy. 
 
 Fred. Ha ! Felix changes color at Lissardo's news. What 
 can it be ? 
 
 Fel. A Scotch footman, that belongs to Colonel Briton, an 
 
 acquaintance of Frederic's, say you ? The devil ! [Aside.] 
 
 If she be false, by Heaven I'll trace her. [ Whispers LiSSARDO 
 and sends him off, L. H. i E.] Pr'ythee, Frederic, do you 
 know one Colonel Briton, a Scotchman ? 
 
 Fred. Yes. Why do you ask me ? 
 
 Fel. Nay. no great matter ; but my man tells me that he has 
 had some little differences with a servant of his ; that's all. 
 
 Fred. He is a good, harmless, innocent fellow ; I am sorry 
 for it. The Colonel lodges in my house. I knew him formerly 
 
 45 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 in England, and met him here by accident last night, and gave 
 him an invitation home. He is a gentleman of good estate, 
 besides his commission ; of excellent principles and strict 
 honor, I assure you. {Crosses L.] Here he comes. 
 
 Enter Colonel Briton, l. h. i e. 
 
 Colonel, I began to think I had lost you. 
 
 Col. B. And not without some reason, if you knew all. 
 
 Fel. There's no danger of a fine gentleman's being lost in 
 this town, sir. 
 
 Col. B. [Crosses c] That compliment don't belong to me, 
 sir — but I assure you I have been very near being run away 
 with. 
 
 Fred. Who attempted it ? 
 
 Col. B. Faith, I know not — only that she is a charming 
 woman — I mean as much as I saw of her. 
 
 Fel. [Aside.] My heart swells with apprehension. Some 
 accidental rencounter ? 
 
 Fred. Come, unfold. 
 
 [ The Colonel takes an arm of each and draws them close 
 to him, telling his story with great gusto — Felix, in an 
 agony of suppressed irritation. 
 
 Col. B. Why, then, you must know, gentlemen, that I was 
 conveyed to her lodgings, by one of Cupid's emissaries, called 
 a chambermaid, in a chair, through fifty blind alleys, who, by 
 the help of a key, let me into a garden. 
 
 Fel. [Aside.] 'Sdeath, a garden ! This must be Violante's 
 garden. 
 
 Col. B. From thence conducted me into a spacious room, 
 told me her lady would wait on me presently ; so, without 
 unveiling, modestly withdrew. 
 
 Fel. [Aside.] Damn her modesty ! This was Flora! 
 
 Fred. Well, how then. Colonel ? 
 
 Col. B. Then, sir, immediately from another door issued 
 forth a lady, armed at both eyes, from whence such showers of 
 darts fell around me that, had I not been covered with the 
 shield of another beauty, I had infallibly fallen a martyr to her 
 
 46 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 charms ; for, you must know, I just saw her eyes — eyes, did I 
 say ? No, no, hold, I saw but one eye, though I suppose it 
 had a fellow equally as killing. 
 
 Fel. Well, well, sir, what then ? 
 
 [Pretending to laugh, but his face, ttirned aside, showing 
 intense ill-hitmor. 
 
 Col. B. Why, upon her maid's giving notice her father was 
 coming, she thrust me into the bed-chamber. 
 
 Fel. Upon her father's coming ? 
 
 Col. B. Ay, so she said ; but, putting my ear to the keyhole 
 of the door, I found it was another lover. 
 
 Fel. [Aside.] Confound the jilt! 'Twas she, without dispute. 
 
 [ U/> and down the stage. 
 
 Fred. Ah, poor Colonel ! Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Col. B. I discovered they had had a quarrel ; but whether 
 they were reconciled or not, I can't tell ; for the second alarm 
 brought the father in good earnest, and had like to have made 
 the gentleman and me acquainted ; but she found some other 
 stratagem to convey him out. 
 
 Fel. Contagion seize her, and make her body as ugly as her 
 soul! There is nothing left to doubt of now. 'Tis plain 'twas 
 she. [Frederic and Colonel laugh. Aside.] Sure he 
 knows me, and takes this method to insult me. 'Sdeath, I 
 cannot bear it ! 
 
 Col. B. [To Felix — playfully taking his arin and turning 
 him around. Felix turns away. Colonel pulls him around 
 again.] Why, you don't seem to enjoy the joke. 
 
 Fel. Oh, yes, I do. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 [Tries to join in laugh, but ends with a groan. 
 
 Col. B. But, sir, dear sir, do hearken to this. The nymph 
 that introduced me, conveyed me out again over the top of a 
 high wall, where I ran the danger of having my neck broke, 
 for the father, it seems, had locked the door by which I 
 entered. 
 
 Fel. [Aside.] That way I missed him. Damn her invention. 
 
 Pray, Colonel [COLONEL and Felix laugh.] Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 it's very pleasant. Ha, ha ! — was this the same lady you met 
 upon the Terriero de Passa, this morning ? 
 
 47 
 
THE WONDER I 
 
 Col. B. Faith, I can't tell, sir ; I had a design to know who 
 that lady was, but my dog of a footman, whom I had ordered 
 to watch her home, fell fast asleep. I gave him a good beating 
 for his neglect, and I have never seen the rascal since. 
 
 Fred. Here he comes. \¥'EAJIX. pacing the stage to and fro. 
 
 Enter GiBBY, L. H. i E. 
 
 Col. B. Where have you been, sirrah ? 
 
 Gibby. Truth, I'se been seeking ye, andlik yer honor, these 
 twa hoors and mair. I bring thee glad teedings, sir. 
 
 Col. B. What, have you found the lady ? 
 
 Gibby. {^Crosses C?\ Geud faith, ha' I, sir; and she's called 
 Donna Violante, and her parent Don Pedro de Mendosa ; and, 
 gin ye will gang wi' me, and lik yer honor, I'se make ye ken 
 the hoose right weel. 
 
 Fel. [Aside.] O, torture, torture ! \_Up stage. 
 
 Col. B. [Aside.] Ha ! Violante ! That's the lady's name 
 of the house where my incognita is : sure it could not be her ; 
 at least it was not the same house, I am confident. 
 
 Fred. Violante ! 'Tis false ; I would not have you credit 
 him, Colonel. 
 
 Gibby. The deel tak me, sir, gin I lee. 
 
 Fel. Sirrah, I say you do lie, and I'll make you eat it, you 
 dog; [Seizing him and throwing him over — kicks him.] and if 
 your master will justify you 
 
 Col. B. Not I, faith, sir. I answer for nobody's lies but my 
 own. If you please, kick him again. 
 
 Gibby. [Gets R.] But gin he does, I'se na tak it, sir, gin he 
 was a thousand Spaniards. [ Walks about in a passion. 
 
 Col. B. I owed you a beating, sirrah, and I am obliged to 
 this gentleman for taking the trouble off my hands ; therefore 
 say no more ; d'ye hear, sir. [Apart to GlBBY. 
 
 Gibby. Troth de I, sir, and feel tee. 
 
 Fred. This must be a mistake. Colonel ; for I know Violante 
 perfectly well, and I am certain she would not meet you upon 
 the Terriero de Passa. 
 
 48 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Col. B. Don't be too positive, Frederic. Now I have some 
 reasons to believe it was that very lady. 
 
 Fel. You'll very much oblige me, sir, if you'd let me know 
 these reasons. 
 
 Col. B. Sir ! 
 
 Fel. [C] Sir, I say I have a right to inquire into these rea- 
 sons you speak of. 
 
 Col. B. [L. C] Ha, ha ! really, sir, I cannot conceive how 
 you, or any man, can have a right to inquire into my thoughts. 
 
 Fel. Sir, I have a right to everything that relates to Vio- 
 lante. And he that traduces her fame, and refuses to give his 
 reason for't, is a villain. [Draws. 
 
 Col. B. [Aside.'] What the devil have I been doing ? Now, 
 blisters on my tongue by dozens. 
 
 Fred. [Crosses.] Pr'ythee, Felix, don't quarrel till you know 
 for what ; this is all a mistake, I'm positive. [Between them. 
 
 Col. B. Look you, sir ; that I dare draw my sword, I think 
 will admit of no dispute. But though fighting's my trade, I'm 
 not in love with it, and think it more honorable to decline this 
 business than pursue it. This may be a mistake : however, I'll 
 give you my honor never to have any affair, directly or indi- 
 rectly, with Violante, provided she is your Violante ; but if 
 there should happen to be another of that name, I hope you 
 will not engross all the Violantes in the kingdom. 
 
 Fel. [Crosses.] Your vanity has given me sufficient rea- 
 son to believe I'm not mistaken. I'll not be imposed upon, 
 sir. 
 
 Col. B. Nor I be bullied, sir. 
 
 Fel. Bullied ! 'Sdeath, such another word, and I'll nail thee 
 to the wall. 
 
 Col. B. Are you sure of that, Spaniard ? [Draws. 
 
 Gibby. [Draws.] Say na mair, mon. O' my saul, here's 
 
 twa to twa. Ginna fear, sir, Gibby stonds by ye for the honor 
 
 of Scotland. [ Vapors about. 
 
 Fred. [Crosses, comes doivn c] By St. Anthony, you sha'n't 
 
 fight on bare suspicion ; be certain of the injury, and then • 
 
 Fel. That I will this moment ; and then, sir — I hope you are 
 
 to be found 
 
 49 
 
THE WONDER 1 
 
 Col. B. Whenever you please, sir. 
 [Exit Felix qtdckly. Colonel goes up stage, Frederic 
 trying to soothe him. 
 
 Gibby. 'Sdeath, sir, there ne'er was a Scotsman yet that 
 shamed to show his face. \_Struts about. 
 
 Fred. So, quarrels spring up like mushrooms, in a minute. 
 Violante and he were but just reconciled, and you have fur- 
 nished him with fresh matter of falling out again ; and I am 
 certain. Colonel, Gibby is in the wrong. 
 
 Gibby. Gin I be, sir, the mon that tald me leed ; and gin he 
 did, I'll lick him as lang as I can haud a stick in my hond, now 
 see ye. 
 
 Col. B. I am sorry for what I have said, for the lady's sake ; 
 but who could divine that she was his mistress ? Pr'ythee, 
 who is this warm spark ? 
 
 Fred. He is the son of one of our grandees, named Don 
 Lopez de Pimentell, a very honest gentleman, but somewhat 
 passionate in what relates to his love. He is an only son, which 
 may perhaps be one reason for indulging his passion. 
 
 Col. B. When parents have but one child, they either make 
 a madman or a fool of him. 
 
 Fred. Fie is not the only child ; he has a sister ; but I think, 
 through the severity of his father, who would have married her 
 against her inclination, she has made her escape ; and notwith- 
 standing he has offered five hundred pounds, he can get no 
 tidings of her. 
 
 Col. B. Ha ! how long has she been missing? 
 
 Fred. Nay, but since last night, it seems. 
 
 Col. B. [Aside.] Last night? The very time ! — How went 
 she ? 
 
 Fred. Nobody can tell : they conjecture through the window. 
 
 Col. B. This must be the lady I caught. [Crosses c] Dear 
 Frederic, I beg your pardon, but I had forgot I was to meet a 
 gentleman upon business at five ; I'll endeavor to despatch 
 him, and wait on you again as soon as possible. [Crosses R. 
 
 Ft'ed. Your humble servant. Colonel. [Exit L. I E. 
 
 Col. B. Gibby, I have no business with you at present. 
 
 [Exit L. H. I E. 
 so 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Gibby. That's weel. Now will I gang and seek this loon, 
 and gar him gang with me to Don Pedro's hoose. Gin he'll 
 no gang of himself I'se gar him gang by the lug, sir. Gibby 
 hates a lee. \Exit R. H. i E. 
 
 Scene 2. — Violante's Apartment. 
 Enter Violante and Isabella, d. l. u. e. 
 
 Isa. [r.J The hour draws on, Violante, and now my heart 
 begins to fail me; but I resolve to venture, for all that. 
 
 Vio. [c] What, does your courage sink, Isabella ? 
 
 Isa. Only the force of resolution a little retreated; but I'll 
 rally it again, for all that. 
 
 Enter FLORA, D. L. U. E. 
 
 Flora. Don Felix is coming up, madam. 
 Isa. My brother ! which way shall I get out ? Despatch him 
 as soon as you can, dear Violante. 
 
 Vio. I will. {Exit D. R. IL I e. Flora exits L. 
 
 Enter Felix, in a surly humor, D. L. H. I E. ; throws Jdinself 
 sulkily into a chair. 
 
 Felix, what brings you back so soon ? did I not say to-mor- 
 row ? 
 
 Fel. [Aside.] My passion chokes me ; I cannot speak. O, 
 I shall burst ! [Rises in agitation and sits again. 
 
 Vio. Bless me, are you not well, my Felix ? 
 
 Fel. Yes — no — I don't know what I am. 
 
 Vio. Heyday ! what's the matter now ! another jealous 
 whim ! 
 
 Fel. [Aside.] With what an air she carries it ! 
 
 Vio. If I were in your place, Felix, I'd choose to stay at home 
 when these fits of spleen are upon me, and not trouble such 
 persons as are not obliged to bear with them. 
 
 [Here he affects to be careless of her. 
 SI 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Fel. I am very sensible, madam, of what you mean ; I disturb 
 you, no doubt ; but were I in a better humor, I should not 
 incommode you less ; I am but too well convinced you could 
 easily dispense with my visit. 
 
 Vio. When you behave yourself as you ought to do, no com- 
 pany so welcome ; but when you reserve me for your ill-nature, 
 I waive your merit, and consider what's due to myself. And 
 I must be so free to tell you, Felix, that these humors of yours 
 will abate, if not absolutely destroy, the very principles of 
 love. 
 
 Fel. \Rises^^ And I must be so free to tell you, madam, that 
 since you have made such ill returns to the respect that I have 
 paid you, all you do shall be indifferent to me for the future ; 
 and you shall find me abandon your empire with so little diffi- 
 culty, that I'll convince the world that your chains are not so 
 hard to break, as your vanity would tempt you to believe. I 
 cannot brook the provocation you give. 
 
 Vio. This is not to-be borne. Insolent! You abandon! 
 You ! whom I've so often forbade ever to see me more ! 
 Have you not fallen at my feet ? Implored my favor and for- 
 giveness ? Did you not trembling wait, and wish, and sigh, 
 and swear yourself into my heart? Ungrateful man ! — if my 
 chains are so easily broke, as you pretend, then you are the 
 silliest coxcomb living you did not break 'em long ago ; and I 
 must think him capable of brooking anything, on whom such 
 usage could make no impression. 
 
 Fel. I always believed, madam, my weakness was the great- 
 est addition to your power : you would be less imperious, had 
 my inclination been less forward to oblige j'ou. You have, 
 indeed, forbade me your sight, but your vanity even then 
 assured you I would return, and I was fool enough to feed that 
 vanity. Your eyes, with all their boasted charms, have ac- 
 quired the greatest glory in conquering me. And the bright- 
 est passage of your life is, wounding this heart with such arms 
 as pierce but few persons of my rank. 
 
 {Walks about in a great passion. 
 
 Vio. Matchless arrogance ! True, sir, I should have kept 
 
 measures better with you, if the conquest had been worth pre- 
 
 52 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 serving ; but we easily hazard what gives us no pain to lose. 
 As for my eyes, you are mistaken if you think they have van- 
 quished none but you ; there are men above j'-our boasted 
 rank, who have confessed their power, when their misfortune 
 in pleasing you made them obtain such a disgraceful victory. 
 
 SJJp and down to face him. 
 
 Fel. Yes, madam, I am no stranger to your victories. 
 
 SjCrosses R. 
 
 Vio. And what you call the brightest passage of my life, is 
 not the least glorious part of yours. {Down L. 
 
 Fel. Ha, ha! don't put yourself in a passion, madam, for I 
 assure you, after this day, I shall give you no trouble. You 
 may meet your sparks on the Terriero de Passa, at four in the 
 morning, without the least regard to me ; for when I quit your 
 chamber, the world sha'n't bring me back. 
 
 Vio. I am so well pleased with your resolution, I don't care 
 how soon you take your leave. But what you mean by the 
 Terriero de Passa, at four in the morning, I can't guess. 
 
 [ They face each other. 
 
 Fel. No, no, no, not you. You were not upon the Terriero 
 de Passa at four this morning ! 
 
 Vio. \Crosses.\ No, I was not; \Shocked at hei' positive 
 denial, he turns away with gesture of disgust. She continues, 
 and speaks with firm resentment. She paces tip and doivti.^ 
 He follows her.] but if I was, I hope I may walk where I 
 please, and at what hour I please, without asking your leave. 
 
 Fel. O, doubtless, madam ! and you might meet Colonel 
 Briton there, and afterward send your emissary to fetch him 
 to your house — and upon your father's coming in, thrust him 
 into your bed-chamber — without asking my leave. 'Tis no 
 business of mine, if you are exposed among all the footmen in 
 town — nay, if they ballad you, and cry you about at a half- 
 penny a piece — they may without my leave. [Crosses to L. H. 
 Vio. Audacious ! don't provoke me — don't ; my reputation 
 is not to be sported with {^Going up to him.'\ at this rate. No, 
 sir, it is not. [Bursts into tears. Aside.} Inhuman Felix ! 
 O, Isabella, what a train of ills thou hast brought on me ! 
 
 [Sits on sofa, R. 
 S3 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Fel. \_Aside.\ Ha, now she's crying ! I cannot bear to see 
 her weep. A woman's tears are far more fatal than our swords. 
 O, Violante. 'Sdeath ! What a dog am I ! Now have I 
 no power to stir. Dost thou not know such a person as 
 Colonel Briton ? Pr'ythee tell me, didst not thou meet him at 
 four this morning upon the Terriero de Passa ? 
 
 Vio. Were it not to clear my fame, I would not answer thee, 
 thou black ingrate ! yRisesP\^ But I cannot bear to be re- 
 proached with what I even blush to think of, much less to act. 
 By Heaven, I have not seen the Terriero de Passa this day. 
 
 Fel. Did not a Scotch footman attack you in the street 
 neither, Violante ? 
 
 Vio. Yes ; but he mistook me for another, or he was drunk, 
 I know not which. 
 
 Fel. [Crosses L.] And do you not know this Scotch colonel ? 
 
 Vio. Pray ask me no more questions ; this night shall clear 
 my reputation, and leave you without excuse for your base 
 suspicions. More than this I shall not satisfy you ; therefore 
 pray leave me. [Crosses R. 
 
 Fel. Didst thou ever love me, Violante ? 
 
 Vio. I'll answer nothing. You were in haste to be gone just 
 now ; I should be very well pleased to be alone, sir. 
 
 [^Sits down on R. H., and turns aside. 
 
 Fel. I shall not long interrupt your contemplation. [Aside. '\ 
 Stubborn to the last. 
 
 Vio. [Aside.] Did ever woman involve herself as I have 
 done ? 
 
 Fel. [Aside.] Now would I give one of my eyes to be 
 friends with her ; for something whispers to my soul she is not 
 guilty. [Alottd.] I'm going. [Pause.] I'm going. [Fulls 
 a chair, and sits by her at a little distance, looking at her some 
 time without speaking ; then he draws a little nearer to her.] 
 Give me your hand at parting, however, Violante, won't you ? 
 [She draws her chair away, as he torments her with his 
 feather. He follows her up, and finally lays his hand upon 
 her knee.] Won't you — won't you — won't you ? 
 
 Vio. [Half regarding him.] Won't I do what ? 
 
 Fel. You know what I would have, Violante. O my heart! 
 
 54 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Vio. [Seniles.] I thought my chains were easily broke. 
 
 \_Laj/s her hand in his. 
 
 Fel. SJDraws his chair close to her, and kisses her ha7id in a 
 rapture?^ Too well thou knowest thy strength. O, my charm- 
 ing angel, my heart is all thy own ! Forgive my hasty pas- 
 sion ; 'tis the transport of a love sincere ! O, Violante, Vio- 
 lante ! 
 
 Fed. [ Without, L. H.J Bid Sancho get a new wheel to the 
 chariot, presently. 
 
 Vio. \Down C] Bless me, my father returned ! 
 
 Fel. Your father ! The devil ! 
 
 Vio. What shall we do *now, Felix ? We are ruined past 
 redemption. 
 
 Fel. [r.] No, no, no, my love ; I can leap from the closet 
 window. {Runs to the door, R. H. i E., where Isabella is, 
 who closes it ; noise of bolts heard within.'\ Confusion! some- 
 body bolts the door withinside. I'll see whom you have con- 
 cealed here, if I die for't. O, Violante, hast thou again sacri- 
 ficed me to my rival ? \_Draws. 
 
 Vio. By Heaven, thou hast no rival in my heart ! — ^let that 
 suffice. Nay, sure you will not let my father find you here. 
 Distraction ! 
 
 Fel. Indeed but I shall, except you command this door to 
 be opened, and that way conceal me from his sight. 
 
 {He struggles with her to come at the door. 
 
 Vio. Hear me, Felix. Though I were sure the refusing 
 what you ask would separate us forever, by all that's powerful 
 you shall not enter here. Either you do love me, or you do 
 not. Convince me by your obedience. 
 
 Fel. That's not the matter in debate. I will know who is in 
 this closet, let the consequence be what it will. Nay, nay, 
 nay, you strive in vain ; I will go in, 
 
 Vio. You shall not go in. 
 
 Ent£r Don Pedro, d. l. u.. e. 
 
 Fed. Heyday! What's here to do? "I will go in," and 
 " You sha'n't go in," — and " I will go in." Why, who are you, 
 sir ? 
 
 SS 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Fel. lAszde.] 'Sdeath ! What shall I say now ? 
 Ped. Don Felix, pray what's your business in my house ? 
 Ha, sir? 
 
 Vto. O, sir, what miracle returned you home so soon ? 
 Some angel 'twas that brought my father back to succor the 
 distressed. This ruffian — I cannot call him a gentleman — has 
 committed such an uncommon rudeness, as the most profligate 
 wretch would be ashamed to own. As I was at my devotions 
 
 in my closet 
 
 F'el. Devotions ! 
 
 Vio. I heard a loud knocking at my door, mixed with a 
 woman's voice, which seemed to imply she was in danger. I 
 flew to the door with the utmost speed, where a lady, veiled, 
 rushed in upon me, who, falling on her knees, begged my 
 protection from a gentleman, who, she said, pursued her. I 
 took compassion on her tears, and locked her in this closet ; 
 but, in the surprise, having left open the door, this very person 
 whom you see, with his sword drawn, [FELIX sheathes his 
 sword'] ran in, protesting, if I refused to give her up to his 
 revenge, he'd force the door. 
 
 Fel. [Aside.'] What in the name of goodness does she mean 
 to do ? — hang me ! 
 
 Vio. I strove with him till I was out of breath, and had you 
 not come as you did, he must have entered. But he's in 
 drink, I suppose, or he could not have been guilty of such an 
 indecorum. [Crosses L. ; signs to Felix. 
 
 Ped. I'm amazed ! 
 
 Fel. [Aside.] The devil never failed a woman at a pinch. 
 What a tale has she formed in a minute ! In drink, quotha ! 
 a good hint ; I'll lay hold on't to bring myself oflT. 
 
 Ped. Fie, Don Felix ! No sooner rid of one broil but you 
 are commencing another. To assault a lady with a naked 
 sword derogates much from the character of a gentleman, I 
 assure you. 
 
 Fel. [Counterfeits drunkenness.] Who? I assault a lady ! 
 [Crosses C] Upon honor the lady assaulted me, sir, and would 
 have seized this body politic upon the king's highway. Let 
 her come out and deny it if she can. Pray, sir, command the 
 
 S6 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 door to be opened, and let her prove me a liar if she knows 
 how. 
 
 Fed. Ay, ay ! who doubts it, sir ? Open the door, Violante, 
 and let the lady come out. Come, I warrant thee he sha'n't 
 hurt her. 
 
 Fel. No, no, I won't hurt the dear creature. [Aside.] 
 Now, which way will she come off? 
 
 Vio. Come forth, madam ; none shall dare to touch your 
 veil ; I'll convey you out with safety, or lose my life. [Aside.] 
 I hope she understands me. [Noise of bolt heard, R. H. i E. 
 
 Enter ISABELLA, veiled. ViOLANTE leads her to DON PEDRO, 
 ivho leads her off'L., Felix watching closely. 
 
 Fel. [Over VioLANTE's shoulder.] Is it really a woman, 
 though ? 
 
 Vio. [Laughing, but speaking low.] Come and see. Get 
 clear of my father, and return, when all mistakes shall be recti- 
 fied. [Exit, D. l. h. I E. Felix ojfers to follow her. 
 
 Fed. [Draws his sword.] Not a step, sir, till the lady be 
 past your recovery ; I never suffer the laws of hospitality to be 
 violated in my house, sir. Come, sir, you and I will take a 
 pipe and bottle together. 
 
 Fel. Damn your pipe and damn your bottle ! I hate drink- 
 ing and smoking. 
 
 Fed. [R.J First he will have a pipe and a bottle, and then he 
 won't have a pipe and a bottle ; and when I want a pipe and a 
 bottle, he don't want a pipe and a bottle, and when I do want 
 a pipe and a bottle, he doesn't want a pipe and a bottle. — As 
 to smoking or drinking, you have your liberty ; but you shall 
 stay, sir. 
 
 Fel. [Crosses R.J But I won't stay ; for I've been drinking 
 Burgundy, and Champagne, and Imperial Tokay — I've been 
 drinking Cham — [ This very joyous, then in maudlin tones.] — 
 but I love my own country better, and I don't like you. [ Very 
 suddenly.] And I won't stay — for I have the best reason in 
 the world for my not staying. 
 
 Fed. Ay ! What's that ? 
 
 57 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Fel. Why, I am going to be married ; and so good-by. 
 
 Fed. To be married ! — it can't be ! Why, you are drunk, 
 Felix. 
 
 Fel. Drunk ! Ay, to be sure. You don't think I'd go to 
 be married if I was sober. But drunk or sober, I am going to 
 be married for all that ; and if you won't believe me, to con- 
 vince you, I'll show you the contract, old gentleman. 
 
 Fed. Ay, do ; come, let's see this contract, then. 
 
 Fel. Yes, yes, I'll show you the contract, I'll show you the 
 contract. Here, sir, here's the contract. 
 
 \Praws a pistol. Pedro seizes a chair, and 'F'E.ti'K fol- 
 lows him ai^ound. 
 
 Fed. \_Slarts.] Well, well, I'm convinced ; go, go — pray go 
 and be married, sir. 
 
 Fel. Yes, yes, I'll go — I'll go and be married ; \_Going and 
 then returning?^ but sha'n't we take a bottle first ? 
 
 Fed. No, no ; pray, dear sir, go and be married. 
 
 Fel. Very well, very well. \_Goi7tg, then returning.'] But I 
 insist upon your taking one glass, though. 
 
 Fed. No, not now — some other time. Consider, the lady 
 waits. 
 
 Fel. [Aside.] What a cross old fool ! First he will, and 
 then he won't ; and then he will, and then he won't. But 
 you'll take one glass. 
 
 Fed. [Seizes a chair.] Oh, go and get married. 
 
 Fel. All right, I'll go and get married. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Vasquez, d. l. u. e. 
 
 Vasq. Here's Don Lopez 
 
 Fed. [Not seeing who it is, picks up a chair and holds it 
 before him.] Go and get married Ah, it's you ! Well ? 
 
 Vasq. Here's Don Lopez de Pimentell, to wait on you, seig- 
 nior. 
 
 Fed. What the devil does he want ? He is not going to be 
 married, too. Bring him up. [Exit VasQUEZ, D. L. H. i E.J 
 He's in pursuit of his son, I suppose. 
 
 S8 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 Enter Don Lopez, d. l. i e., seen in by Vasquez. 
 
 Lop. I am glad to find you at home, Don Pedro ; I was told 
 that you was seen upon the road to this afternoon. 
 
 Ped. That might be, my lord. I had the misfortune to break 
 the wheel of my chariot, which obliged me to return. What is 
 your pleasure with me, my lord ? 
 
 Lop. I am informed that my daughter is in your house. 
 
 Ped. That's more than I know, my lord ; but here was your 
 son just now, as drunk as an emperor. 
 
 Lop. My son drunk ! I never saw him in drink in my life. 
 Where is he, pray, sir ? 
 
 Ped. Gone to be married. 
 
 Lop. Married ! To whom ? I don't know that he courted 
 anybody. 
 
 Ped. [Crosses R.] Nay, I know nothing of that, but I'm sure 
 he showed me the contract. Within there ! 
 
 Re-enter Vasquez, d. l. i e. 
 
 Bid my daughter come hither ; she'll tell you another story, 
 my lord. 
 
 Vasq. She's gone out in a chair, sir. 
 
 Ped. Out in a chair ! What do you mean, sir ? 
 
 Vasq. As I say, sir ; and Donna Isabella went in another just 
 before her. 
 
 Lop. Isabella ! 
 
 Vasq. And Don Felix followed in another. I overheard 
 them all bid the chairs go to the Terriero de Passa. [ Voices 
 heard outside.] But I see they have all returned, for here is 
 Donna Violante, and company with her. 
 
 Enter Colonel Briton, Felix, Isabella, Violante, Lis- 
 
 SARDO, and FLORA, R. H. 2 E. 
 
 Lop. So, have I found you, daughter ? Then you have not 
 hanged yourself yet, I see. 
 
 59 
 
THE WONDER I 
 
 Col. B. But she is married, my lord. 
 
 Lop. Married ! Zounds ! to whom ? 
 
 Col. B. Even to your humble servant, my lord. If you 
 please to give us your blessing. \Kneels. 
 
 Lop. [ To Isabella.] Why, harkye, mistress, are you really 
 married ? 
 
 Isa. Really so, my lord. 
 
 \ Crosses with COLONEL, and both kneel to LoPEZ. 
 
 Lop. [ To Colonel Briton.] And who are yqu, sir ? 
 
 Col. B. An honest North Briton by birth, and a Colonel by 
 commission, my lord. 
 
 Ped. She has played you a slippery trick, indeed, cousin. 
 [ To ViOLANTE.] Well, my girl, thou hast been to see thy 
 friend married. Next week thou shalt have a better husband, 
 my dear. 
 
 Fel. Next week is a little too soon, sir ; I hope to live longer 
 than that. 
 
 Ped. What do you mean, sir ? You have not made a rib of 
 my daughter, too, have you ? 
 
 Vio. Indeed, but he has, sir, I know not how ; but he took 
 me in an unguarded minute, when my thoughts were not over 
 strong for a nunnery, father. 
 
 Lop. Your daughter has played you a slippery trick, too, 
 seignior. 
 
 Ped. But your son shall never be the better for't, my lord ; 
 her twenty thousand pounds were left on certain conditions, 
 and I'll not part with a shilling. 
 
 Lop. But we have a certain thing called law, shall make you 
 do justice, sir. 
 
 Ped. Well, we'll try that ; my lord, much good may it do 
 you with your daughter-in-law. 
 
 Lop. I wish you much joy of your rib. [ The old men go up. 
 
 Enter Frederic, d. l. u. e. 
 
 Fel. Frederic, welcome ! I sent for thee to be partaker of 
 my happiness ; and pray give me leave to introduce you to the 
 
 60 
 
THE WONDER! 
 
 cause of it. And now, my Violante, I shall proclaim thy 
 virtues to the world. 
 
 Let us no more thy sex's conduct blame, 
 Since thou'rt a proof to their eternal fame, 
 That man has no advantage but the name. 
 
 Vio. A few mistakes our sex may well excuse — 
 And this our plea no woman should refuse. 
 Your approbation, ladies, can't but move 
 The hearts of men which first you taught to love. 
 And they must applaud if you but favor, 
 And to success but give the savor. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 Ct