I sequere Italiam ventis, pete regna per undas,
Spero equidem mediis, si quid pia. Numina possunt.
[Together again.

Bis. Converse with imps of darkness of your makes your nature starts at justice, and shivers at the touch of virtue.—Now, the devil take his impudence . He o me so, I don't know whether to cry or laugh at III]. Mir. Bravely performed, my dear Lybian I'll write the tragedy of Dido, and you shall act the part; but you do nothing at all, unless you fret yourself into a fit; for here the poor lady is stifled with vapours, drops into the arms of her maids, and the cruel, barbarous, deceitful wanderer is, in the very next line, called pious AEneas.-There's authority for ye. Sorry indeed AEneas stood, To see her in a pout; But Jove himself, who ne'er thought good To stay a second bout, Commands him off, with all his crew, And leaves poor Dy, as 1 leave you. [Runs off.

Bis. Go thy ways, for a dear, mad, deceitful, agreeable fellow ! O' my conscience, I must excuse Oriana.

That lover soon his angry fair disarms,
Whose slighting pleases, and whose faults are charms.
Enter Petit; runs about to every Door, and knocks.
Petit. Mr Mirabel ! Sir, where are you? no where
to be found -
Enter Young Mirabel.

Y. Mir. What's the matter, Petit? r:

Petit. Most critically met !—Ah, sir, that one who has followed the game so long, and brought the poor hare just under his paws, should let a mungrel cur chop in, and run away with the puss : r Y. Mir. If your worship can get out of your allegories, be pleased to tell me, in three words, what you ranean. Petit. Plain, plain, sir! Your mistress and mine is going to be married Y. Mir. I believe you lie, sir. Petit. Your humble servant, sir. [Going. Y. Mir. Come hither, Petit. Married, say you ? Petit. No, sir, 'tis no matter: I only thought to do you a service; but I shall take care how I confer my favours for the future. Y. Mir. Sir, I beg ten thousand pardons. [Bowing low. Petit. 'Tis enough, sir-I come to tell you, sir, that Oriana is this moment to be sacrificed; married past redemption | Y. Mir. I understand her; she’ll take a husband out of spite to me, and then, out of love to me, she will make him a cuckold ! But who is the happy man Petit. A lord, sir. Y. Mir. I'm her ladyship's most humble servant. Now must I be a constant attender at my lord’s levee, to work my way to my lady's couchee A countess, I presume, sir Petit. A Spanish count, sir, that Mr Dugard knew abroad, is come to Paris, saw your mistress yesterday, marries her to-day, and whips her into Spain to-morroW. Y. Mir. Ay, is it so? and must I follow my cuckold over the Pyrenees? Had she married within the precincts of a billet-doux, I would be the man to lead her to church; but, as it happens, I’ll forbid the banus. Where is this mighty don? Petit. Have a care, sir; he's a rough cross-grained

piece, and there’s no tampering with him. Would you apply to Mr Dugard, or the lady herself, something might be done, for it is in despite to you that the business is carried so hastily. Odso, sir, here he comes ' I must be gone. [Exit.

Enter Old MIRAbel, dressed in a Spanish Habit,
leading ORIANA.

Oriana. Good my lord, a nobler choice had better suited your lordship's merit. , My person, rank, and circumstance, expose me as the public theme of raillery, and subject me so to injurious usage, my lord, that I can lay no claim to any part of your regard, except your pity. Old Mir. Breathes he vital air, that dares presume, With rude behaviour, to profane such excellence 2 Show me the man And you shall see how my sudden revenge Shall fall upon the head of such presumption. . Is this thing one * [Strutting up to YoUNG MIRABEL.

Y. Mir. Sir Oriana. Good my lord. Old Mir. If he, or any hel Oriana. Pray, my lord, the gentleman’s a stranger. - Old Mir. O, your pardon, sir, but if you had— remember, sir, the lady now is mine, her injuries are mine; therefore, sir, you understand me— Come, madam. [Leads ORIANA to the Door; she goes off; YouNg MIRABEL runs to his Father, and - pulls him by the Sleeve. w Y. Mir. Ecoute, Monsieur le Count. Old Mir. Your business, sir? Y. Mir. Boh! Old Mir. Boh! what language is that, sir? Y. Mir. Spanish, my lord. old Mir. What d'ye mean?

Y. Mir. This, sir. [Trips up his Heels. Old Mir. A very concise quarrel, truly I’II bully him.—Trinidade 1 Seigneur, give me fair play. [Offering to rise. Y. Mir. By all means, sir. [Takes away his Sword.] Now, seigneur, where’s that bombast look, and fustian face, your countship wore just now [Strikes him. Old Mir. The rogue quarrels well, very well; my own son right!—But hold, sirrah, no more jesting; I'm your father, sir! your father Y. Mir. My father's Then, by this light, I could find in my heart to pay thee. [Aside.]—Is the fellow mad? Why, sure, sir, I han’t frighted you out of your senses 2 Old Mir. But you have, sir! Y. Mir. Then I’ll beat them into you again. [Offers to strike him. Old Mir. Why, rogue !—Bob dear Bob I don't you know me, child Y. Mir. Ha! has has the fellow’s downright distracted | Thou miracle of impudence 1 wouldst thou make me believe, that such a grave gentleman as my father would go a masquerading thus? That a person of threescore and three would run about, in a fool's coat, to disgrace himself and family Why, you impudent villain, do you think I will suffer such an affront to pass upon my honoured father, my worthy father, my dear father 'Sdeath, sir! mention my father but once again, and I’ll send your soul to thy grandfather this minute [Offering to stab him. Old Mir. Well, well, I am not your father. Y. Mir. Why, then, sir, you are the saucy, hectoring Spaniard, and I'll use you accordingly.

Enter DuGARD, ORIANA, MAID, and Petit. IlugARD runs to YouNG MIRAbel, the rest to the Old Gentle77ta??.

Dug. Fie, fie, Mirabel murder your father!

Y. Mir, My father What, is the whole family. mad? Give me way, sir, I won’t be held. o Old Mir. No 2 nor I neither: Let me begone, pray.

[Offering to go. Y. Mir. My father w g to g Old Mir. Ay, you dog's face: I am your father, for I have borne as much for thee, as your mother ever did. Y. Mir. O ho!, then this was a trick, it seems, a design, a contrivance, a stratagem!—Oh, how my bones aches - Old Mir. Your bones, sirrah! why yours? Y. Mir. Why, sir, han’t I been beating my own flesh and blood all this while O, madam, [To ORIANA.] I wish your ladyship joy of your new dignity. Here was a contrivance indeed Oriana. Pray, sir, don’t insult the misfortunes of your own creating. w Dug. My prudence will be counted cowardice, if I stand tamely now.—[Comes up between Young MIRABEL and his Sister.] Well, sir! Y. Mir. Well, sir! Do you take me for one of your tenants, sir, that you put on your landlord’s face at me!. Dug. On what presumption, sir, dare you assume thus : . . - [Draws. Old Mir. What's that to you, sir? [Draws. Petit. Help! help ! the lady faints [ORIANA falls into her Maid's Arms. Y. Mir. Vapours vapours! she'll come to herself: If it be an angry fit, a dram of assa foetida—If jealousy, hartshorn in water—if the mother, burnt feathers—If grief, ratafia—If it be straight stays, or corns, there’s nothing like a dram of plain brandy. [Exit. Oriana. Hold off, give me air O, my brothers would you preserve my life, endanger not your own; would you defend my reputation, leave it to itself; - I. 2

« 前へ次へ »