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- The Duenna - 1/15 -





DON FERDINAND _Mr. Mattocks_. DON JEROME _Mr. Wilson_. DON ANTONIO _Mr. Dubellamy_. DON CARLOS _Mr. Leoni_. ISAAC MENDOZA _Mr. Quick_. FATHER PAUL _Mr. Mahon_. FATHER FRANCIS _Mr. Fox_. FATHER AUGUSTINE _Mr. Baker_. LOPEZ _Mr. Wewitzer_. DONNA LOUISA _Mrs. Mattocks_. DONNA CLARA _Mrs. Cargill_. THE DUENNA _Mrs. Green_.

Masqueraders, Friars, Porter, Maid, _and_ Servants.



SCENE I.--_The Street before_ DON JEROME'S _House_.

_Enter_ LOPEZ, _with a dark lantern_.

_Lop_. Past three o'clock!--Soh! a notable hour for one of my regular disposition, to be strolling like a bravo through the streets of Seville! Well, of all services, to serve a young lover is the hardest.--Not that I am an enemy to love; but my love and my master's differ strangely.--Don Ferdinand is much too gallant to eat, drink, or sleep:--now my love gives me an appetite--then I am fond of dreaming of my mistress, and I love dearly to toast her.--This cannot be done without good sleep and good liquor: hence my partiality to a feather- bed and a bottle. What a pity, now, that I have not further time, for reflections! but my master expects thee, honest Lopez, to secure his retreat from Donna Clara's window, as I guess.--[_Music without_.] Hey! sure, I heard music! So, so! Who have we here? Oh, Don Antonio, my master's friend, come from the masquerade, to serenade my young mistress, Donna Louisa, I suppose: so! we shall have the old gentleman up presently.--Lest he should miss his son, I had best lose no time in getting to my post. [_Exit_.]

_Enter_ DON ANTONIO, _with_ MASQUERADERS _and music_.

SONG.--_Don Ant_.

Tell me, my lute, can thy soft strain So gently speak thy master's pain? So softly sing, so humbly sigh, That, though my sleeping love shall know Who sings--who sighs below, Her rosy slumbers shall not fly? Thus, may some vision whisper more Than ever I dare speak before.

_I. Mas_. Antonio, your mistress will never wake, while you sing so dolefully; love, like a cradled infant, is lulled by a sad melody.

_Don Ant_. I do not wish to disturb her rest.

_I. Mas_. The reason is, because you know she does not regard you enough to appear, if you awaked her.

_Don Ant_. Nay, then, I'll convince you. [_Sings_.]

The breath of morn bids hence the night, Unveil those beauteous eyes, my fair; For till the dawn of love is there, I feel no day, I own no light.

DONNA LOUISA--_replies from a window_.

Waking, I heard thy numbers chide, Waking, the dawn did bless my sight; 'Tis Phoebus sure that woos, I cried, Who speaks in song, who moves in light.

DON JEROME--_from a window_.

What vagabonds are these I hear, Fiddling, fluting, rhyming, ranting, Piping, scraping, whining, canting? Fly, scurvy minstrels, fly!


_Don. Louisa_. Nay, prithee, father, why so rough?

_Don Ant_. An humble lover I.

_Don Jer_. How durst you, daughter, lend an ear To such deceitful stuff? Quick, from the window fly!

_Don. Louisa_ Adieu, Antonio!

_Don Ant_ Must you go?

_Don. Louisa_. & _Don Ant_. We soon, perhaps, may meet again. For though hard fortune is our foe, The God of love will fight for us.

_Don Jer_. Reach me the blunderbuss.

_Don Ant_. & _Don. Louisa_. The god of love, who knows our pain--

_Don Jer_. Hence, or these slugs are through your brain.

[_Exeunt severally_.]

SCENE II--_A Piazza_.


_Lop_. Truly, sir, I think that a little sleep once in a week or so---

_Don Ferd_. Peace, fool! don't mention sleep to me.

_Lop_. No, no, sir, I don't mention your lowbred, vulgar, sound sleep; but I can't help thinking that a gentle slumber, or half an hour's dozing, if it were only for the novelty of the thing----

_Don Ferd_. Peace, booby, I say!--Oh, Clara dear, cruel disturber of my rest!

_Lop_. [_Aside_.] And of mine too.

_Don Ferd_. 'Sdeath, to trifle with me at such a juncture as this!-- now to stand on punctilios!--Love me! I don't believe she ever did.

_Lop_. [_Aside_.] Nor I either.

_Don Ferd_. Or is it, that her sex never know their desires for an hour together?

_Lop_. [_Aside_.] Ah, they know them oftener than they'll own them.

_Don Ferd_. Is there, in the world, so inconsistent a creature as Clara?

_Lop_. [_Aside_.] I could name one.

_Don Ferd_. Yes; the tame fool who submits to her caprice.

_Lop_. [_Aside_.]I thought he couldn't miss it.

_Don Ferd_. Is she not capricious, teasing, tyrannical, obstinate, perverse, absurd? ay, a wilderness of faults and follies; her looks are scorn, and her very smiles--'Sdeath! I wish I hadn't mentioned her smiles; for she does smile such beaming loveliness, such fascinating brightness--Oh, death and madness! I shall die if I lose her.

_Lop_. [_Aside_.] Oh, those damned smiles have undone all!

AIR--_Don Ferd_.

Could I her faults remember, Forgetting every charm, Soon would impartial reason The tyrant love disarm: But when enraged I number Each failing of her mind, Love still suggests each beauty, And sees--while reason's blind.

_Lop_. Here comes Don Antonio, sir.

_Don Ferd_. Well, go you home--I shall be there presently.

_Lop_. Ah, those cursed smiles! [_Exit_.]


The Duenna - 1/15

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