Auderet, wolwenda Dies, en! attulit ultri, Vuyg. 


DOUBLE FALSHOOD; 


ws. 5 
The DISTREST LOVERS. 
A | 


L * : © Y, 


As it is Attd at the 


TH EATRE- ROYAL 


IN 


Winn i Onan: ly by 2 SHAKESPEARE, | 
And now Reviſed and Adapted to the Stage. 


* Mr. Tn EOBALD, the Author of or 
e Reſtor' d. 


uod ner Div m promittere nemo 


DUBLIN: 


Printed by CH ARLES INGHAM, Pookſgler 
in Skinner- Row, MDCCLXIZ. 


& — 
— 
— — 

* 

— 
—_ 
—- 
+. 
3 
- 
8 
6 
2 


< 


at 


To the Right HonoURABLE 2 
| George ns hd = 


$1R, I 


Ve can more ſtrongly 1 i" 


cond the Pleature I feel, from the il 
Univerſal Applauſe which crowns. +| 
this Orphan Play, than this Other which Itake | 
ia preſuming to ſhelter it under Your Name. " 
| T bear fo dear an Affection to the Writings 1 
and Memory of SHAKESPEARE, that, as i 
it is my good Fortune to retrieve this Rem- | 
nant of his Pen from Obſcurity, ſo it is my  _ {| | 
greateſt Ambition that this Piece ſhould de If 
received into the Protection of ſuch a Patron: 
And I hope, Future Times, when they mean 8 
to pay Shakeſpeare the beſt Compliment, will! 
I remember to ſay, Mr. DopD1NGToON was that 1 
Friend to his Remains, which his own Sou TH- ' | 
AMP TON was to bis liding Merit. 
It is from the fire Diſcrrument of our Pa- : 
trons, that we can generally beſt promiſe 
Ourſclves the good Opinion of the Publick. 
Lou are not only a diſtinguiſh'd Friend of the 
Muſes, but moſt intimately allied to them: 
And from hence it is I flatter Myſelf, that 
if You ſhall think fit to pronounce this Piece 
genuine, it will ſilence the Cenſures of thoſe 
 CUnbelievers, who think it impoſſible a Manu- 
ſcript of Shakeſpeare could fo long have lain 
dormant; and who are blindly paying Me a 
greater Compliment than either They deſign, ii] 
A3 8 or 


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— — — — — — : 5 7˙ — —— 
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* 
a — 
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 DZDICA4TION 

or I can merit, while they cannot but confeſs 
Themſelves pleaſed, yet would fain inſinuate 
that they are impoſed upon. I ſhould eſteem 
it ſome Sort of Virtue, were I able to commit 
ſo agreeable a Cheat. 5 
But pardon Me, Sir for a Digreſſion that 
perverts the very Rule of Dedications. I own, 


have my Reaſons for it. As, Six, your 


known Integrity, and Honour engages the 
warmeſt Wiſhes of all good Men for your 
| Proſperity, ſo your known Diſtinction in polite 
Letters, and your generous Encouragement of 
Thoſe who pretend to them, obliges us to conſi- 
der your Advancement, as our own perſonal In- 
tereſt, and as a good Omen, at leaſt, if not as 
the ſureſt Means of the future flouriſhing Con- 
dition of thoſe Humane Arts amongſt us, which 
We profeſs, and which You adorn. But nei- 


ther your Modeſty, nor my Inability will ſuf- 


fer me to enter upon that Subject. Permit 


me therefore, SIR, to convert Panegyrick into 
a moſt ardent Wiſh, that You would look 


with a Tender eye on this dear Relick, and 


that you would believe me, with the moſt | 


2 Zeal and Reſpect, | 


& I R, 
| Tour moſt Devoted | 
and Obedient Humble Servant, 


T_ Great Ruſſell: ſtreet, 


21% December, 
1727. 


Lew. THEoOBALD. 


OF THE 


E£D1TOK. 


Fs \ HE Succeſs, which this Play has met with | 8 
from the Town in the Repreſentation, (to ſax 
11 nothing of the Reception it found from thoſe 


Great Judges, to whom I have had the Honour of com- 
municating it in Manuſcript ;) has almoſt made the Pur- 
| pole of a Preface unneceſſary : And therefore what I 
have to ſay, is deſign'd rather to wipe out a flying Ob- 
jection or two, than to labour at proving it the Produc- 


tion of Shakeſpeare. It has been alledg'd as incredible, 
that ſuch a Curioſity ſhould be- ſtifled and loſt to the 
World for above a Century. To This my Anſwer is 


| ſhort ; that tho' it never till now made its Appearance 


on the Stage, yet one of the Manuſcript Copies, which 


1 have, is of above Sixty Years Standing, in the Hand- 
writing of Mr. Downes, the famous Old - Prompter ; 


and, as I am credibly inform'd, was early in the Poſſeſſi - 


on of the celebrated Mr. Better/on; and by Him deſign d 


to have been uſher'd into the World. What Accident 


prevented This Purpoſe of his, L do not pretend to 
know: Or thro' what hands it had ſucceſſively paſs'd 
before that Period of Time. There is a Tradition 


(which I have from the Noble Perſon, who ſupply'd me 
with One of my Copies) that it was given by our Au- 
thor, as a Prefent of Value, to a Natural Daughter of 


2 2 — — r : * — — — 
_ — = _ _ 
2— — : po - ——  — — — — — 2 — ee — 
= ——— — WW > ———— Sow Ro >> en — 


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— — — — - ——— —— ̃ — . — + _— 
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—— - 


— 
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P R E FE ACE. 


his, for whoſe Sake he wrote it, in the Time of his Re- 


tirement from the Stage. Two other Copies | have, 


(one of which I was glad to purchaſe at a very good 
Rate,) which may _ —— be quite ſo Old as the 
hem is much more perfect, and 


Former; but One of ; 
has fewer Flaws and Interruptions in the Senſe. 


Another Objection has been ſtarted, (which would 
carry much more ng with it, were it Fact;) that 


the Tale of this Play, being built upon a Novel in Don 
AQuixot, Chronology is againit Us, and Shakeſpeare could 
not be the Author. But it happens, that Don Quiæxot 
was publiſh'd in the Year 1611, and Shakeſpeare did not 


dye till April 1616, a ſufficient Interval of Time for All 


that We want granted. 


Others again, to depreci 


ſome Reſemblances of Shakeſpeare, yet the Colouring, 


Diction, and Characters, come nearer to the Style and 


Manner of FETCRER. This, I think, is far from 


deſerving any Auſwer ; I ſubmit it to the Determination 


of better Judgments; tho' my Partiality for Shake- 
ſpeare makes me wiſh, that Every Thing which is good, 
8 

As to the Performance of the reſpective Adbors con- 


cern'd in this Play, my applauding It here would be 

| altogether ſuperfluous. The Publick has diſtinguith'd 
and given them a Praiſe, much 7 Any that can 

ome particular Ac- _ 
| knowledgments to make to the Managers of this Com- 
pany, for which I am glad to embrace fo fair an Op- 


flow from my Pen. But 1 have 


portunity. 


I came to Them at this JunQure as an Editor, not an 


Author, and have met with ſo much Candour, and 
| handſome Treatment from Them, that I am willing to 
believe, the Complaint, which has fo commonly obtain'd, 


of their Difregard and ill Behaviour to Writer:, has 


been more ſeverely urg'd, than it is juſtly grounded. 


They mutt certainly be too * Judges of their o.] C 
heatie cannot always ſub- 


Intereft, not to know that a 


A4 ſiſt 


ate the Affair, as they thought, 
have been pleated to urge that tho the Play may have 


r,, ꝝ? ki! wo, i oa ww. oo a. 


or pleaſing, in our Tongue, had been owing to his 


PRRF ACK 
ſiſt on old Stock, but that the Town requires 1 
at their Hands. On the other Hand, they muſt be ſo 


far Judges of their own Art and Profeſſion, as to know 


that all the Compoſitions, which are offer'd them, would 
never go down with Audiences of ſo nice and delicate a 
Taſte, as in this Age frequent the Theatres. It would 
be very hard upon ſuck-x Community, where ſo _ 
Intereſts are concern'd, and ſo much Merit in their Buſi- 
neſs allow'd, if they had not a Priviledge of refuſing ſome 
crude Pieces, too imperfe& for the Entertainment of the 
Publick. I would not be thought to inferr, that they 
have never diſcourag'd what They might, perhaps, after- 
wards wiſh they had receiv'd. They do not, ] believe, 
ſet up for ſuch a Conſtant Infallibility. But if We do 


but fairly confider out of above Four Thouſand Plays 
extant, how ſmall a Number will now ſtand the Teſt: if 


We do but confider too, how often a raw Performance 
has been extoll'd by the Partiality of private Friendſhip ; 


and what a Clamour of Injury has been rais'd from that 
Quarter, upon ſuch Performance meeting a Repulſe; we 
may pretty eaſily account for the Grounds upon which 
they proceeded in diſcountenancing ſome Plays, and the 
harſh Things that are thrown out upon their giving a 


| Repulle to others. = 
But I ſhould beg Pardon for interfering in this Queſ- 


tion, in which I am properly neither Party, nor Judge. 


am only throwing oui a private Opinion, without In- 


| tereſt or Prejudice, and if I am right in the Notion, Va- 


leat quantum valere poteſt. 


Ro- 


a 
IDS: oo — WW o= 


- — — — — 
T — = : — — 
— —— CE Cn 


Diſplay 


PROLOGUE. 


| Written by PHILIP FROWDE, Eſq; 


And Spoken by Mr. WII K b. 


8. in ſame Region, where indulgent Skies 
Enrich the Soil, a thouſand Plants ariſe 

Frequent and bold ; a thouſand Landſkips meet 

Our raviſht View, irregularly ſweet : 

We gaze, divided, now on Theſe, now. Thiſe; ; 
While All one beautecus Wilderneſs compoſe. 


Such SHAKESPEARE's Genius WAS :; — Let 


Britons boaſt 
The glerious Birth, and, ea eager, firive who moſt 
Shall celebrate bis V we” 3 for while wwe raiſe 
Trophies o Fame to bim, ourſelves we pr * 
Talents of a Britiſh Mind, 
Where All is great, free, open, uncenfin'd. 
Be it our Prite, to reach his daring Flight ; 
Anil reliſh Beauties, he alone could write. 
Moſi modern Authors, fearful to aſpire, 
With Imitation cramp their genial Fire; 


| Davell on Proportions, trifling Decencies ; 
While noble Nature all neglecteil lies. 

Nature, that claims * ency of Place, 
Perfection's Baſis, and eſſential Grace! 

Nature ſo intimately SHAKESPEARE knew, 
From her firſt Springs his Sentiments he drew ; 


The well-ſchemed Plan keep ſtrict before their Eye: h 


Maſt greatly wild they Jew | and, when moſt wild, 7 


yet true, 

IWhile Theſe, ſecure in 6 the Criticks teach, 
Of ſervile Laws ftill dread the dangerous Breach ; 
His waſt, unbounded, Soul diſdain'd their Rule, 
Above the I recept, of the Pedant Schaal! 

Oh! could the Bard, reviſiting our Light, 
Receive theſe Honours dane his Shae 70 nigh ty = 
7 75 


* - r 8 


PROLOGUE. 
How would he bleſs the Scene this Age diſplays, 


 Tranſcending his Eliza's golden D 


When great Au s us 1 u 1 fills t 2 b Britiſh Throne, : 


And his lob d Conſort makes the Muſe her own. 


How would he Jo, to ſee fair Merit's Claim 


| Thus anſwer'd in his «wn reviving Fame ! 


How cry with Pride “ Oblivion I forgive; 
„This my laſt Child to lateſt Times ſhall live: 
«« Loſt to the World, well for the Birth it ſtay'd ; 
«.To this auſpicious Ara well delay'd. 


EPI: 


EPILOGU E. 


Written by a Friend. 


Spoken by Mrs. OLDFIELD. 


NIIVEILI. Heaven defend us from theſe ancient Plays, 
W Theſe Moral Bards of good Queen Bels's Days ! 
They write from Virtue's Laws but think no further; 
Put draw a Rape as dreadful as a Murther, N 
Dou modern Wits, more deeply wers'd in Nature, 


Can tip the wink, to tell us, you know better; \ 
A. wha fhou'd ſay—** Tis no ſuch killing Matter 
ie de heardold Stories told, and yet ne er wonder'd, 
Of many a Frude, that has endur d a Hundred. 
And Violante gricves, or we're miſtaken, _ 
Wet, becauſe raviſht ; but becauſe --- forſaken. --- 
Had this been written tothe modern Stage, 
| Her Manners had been cofy'd from the Age. 
Then, tho" ſbe had been once a little wrong, _ 
She ftil! had had the Grace tobe held her Tongue; 
And after all, with devuncaſt Looks, been hs 
| Like any Virgin to the Bridal Read. 
=! There, if the goad Man queſtion'd her Miſ doing, 
"4 he'd fiop him ſhort — © Pray, who made you ſo knowing? 
* bat, doubt my Virtue !--IV hats your baſe Intention? 
| Sir, that's a Faint above your Comprehenr fron. - 7 
| Well, Head'n be prai;'d, the Virtue of our Time; 
Secures us from dur Gothick Grandj/ires Crimes. 
Rapes, Magick, new Opinions, æchich before 
Hate fill d our Chronicles, are now no more. 
And this reforming Age may ja/ily boaſt, 
That dreadful Sin Po:ygawy is loft. 
Co far from multiplying Fives, lis Lnawn 
Dur Fluſhands find, they've Work engugh with ang. . e- 
Then, as for Rapes, thaſe dangerous days are {aſt ; 
Dur Dapper Sparks are ſeldom in ſuch haſte. 


1. 


710000 
In SHAKESPEARE's age the Engliſh Youth inſpir'd, 
Low'd as they fought, by him and Beauty fir'd. 
'Tis yours to crown the Bard, whoſe —_— Strain 


Cou'd charm the Heroes of that glorious Reign, 
hieb humbled to the Duſt the Pride of Spain. 


W ts. <. G5 Yee He - —— . — 
_ = IS * * * * * — 2 


Duke Angelo. 


MEN. 


Roderick, his Elder Son. „ 
_ Henriquez, his Younger Son. | 
Don Bernard, Father to Leonora. 
Camillo, Father to Julio. 
Julio, in Love with Leonora. 8 


Citizen. 


M aſter of the Flacks. 


Firſt Shepherd. 


Second Shepherd. 


; Leonera. 
Violante. 


WOMEN. 


Dramatis Perſonæ. 


Mr. Corey. 


Mr. Mills. 
Mr. Wilks. 
Mr. Harper. 
Mr. Griffin. 
Mr. Booth, 
Mr. Oates. 


Mr Bridgwater 
Mr. Morris. 


Mrs. Porter 


Mrs. B cath, : 


SCE N E, the Province of Andaluſia in Spain. 


DOUBLE 


5 ed ants acc cc 


DOUBLE FALSHOOD; 
. 


The DISsTREST LOVERS. 


ACT I. SCENE I 


1 0 * N E, 4 Royal Palace. 


' Dule Angelo, Roderick, and Courtiers. 


Reben r. 


19 Y gracious Father, this unwonted Strain 
M Vihes my Heart with Sadneſs, 
. Duke. Why, my Son? 
Making my Death familiar to my Tongue 
Digs not my Grave one ot before the Date. 
Pve worn the Garland of my Honours long, 
And would not leave it wither'd to thy Brow, 
But flourithing and green; worthy the Man, 
Who, with my Dukedoms, heirs my better Glories, 
Roder. This Praiſe, which is my Pride, . me 
with Bluſhes. 


Dube. Think not. that 1 can | flatter thee, my Rode- 


rich; 


Or let the Scale of Lore 2 o'et- -Paize my Judgment. 

Like a fair Glass o! Rewaf pection, Thou 

| ReAect't the Virtues of my early You; 
Waking iny old B'osd mend! its Pace with Tran! port: 


Vy agile 


'2 DovsLte FaLlsHnoop, cx, 
While fond Henriquez, thy irregular Brother, 
Sets the large Credit of his Name at Stake, 

A Truant to my Wiſhes, and his Birth. 


His Taints of Wildneſs hurt our nicer Honour, 
And call for ſwift Reclaim. 


Roder. —— c — I truſt, my Brother 
Will, by the 2 of his cooler Wiſdom, 
Eer-while redeem the hot Eſcapes of Youth, 
And court Opinion with a golden Conduct. 
Duke. Be Thou a Prophet in that kind Su geſtion! 
But I, by Fears weighing his unweigh'd Courts : 
Interpret for the Future from the Paſt. 
_ ſtrange Miſgivings, why he hath of late | 
Importunity, and itrain'd Petition, | 
- — our Leave of Abſence from the Court, 
Awake Suſpicion. Thou art inward with him; 


And, haply, from the boſom'd Truſt can'ſt ſhape 


| Some formal Cauſe to qualify my Doubts. | 

Roder. Why he bath Preſs 'd this . Sr, 1 
know not; 

But have his Letters of a modern Date, 

Wherein by Julio, = Camillo's Son, 

(Who, as he ſays, ſhall follow hard upon ; 

And whom I with the Growing Hour expect 9 


Ne doth ſollicit the Return of Gold 


To purchaſe certain Horſe, that like him well. 

This Julio he encounter'd firſt in France, 

And lovingly commends him to my Favour; 

Wiſhing wy Su detain him ſome few Days, 

To 4 the Value of his well- placed Truſt. 
| Duke. O, do it, Roderick; and aſſay to mould him 

An honeſt Spy upon thy Brother's Riots. 

Make us acquainted when the Youth arrives; J 


We'll ſee this Julio, and he ſhall from Us 


Receive the ſecret Loan his Friend requires. | | 
| Bring him to Court. | — [Exeunt. 


SCENE 


The DisTREST LOVERS. 3 


SCENE II. Proſpe of a Village at a Diſtance. 


E ata a with a Letter. 


Cam. How comes the Duke to ak ſuch Notice of 
my Son, that he muſt needs have him in Court, and I 
muſt ſend him upon the View of his Letter?) 
Horſemanſhip! What Horlemanſhip has Julio? I think, 
he can no more but gallop a Hackney, unleſs he practiſed 


Riding in France. It may be, he did ſo; for he was 


there a good Continuance. But I have not heard him 


| ſpeak much of his Horſemanſhip. That's no Mat- 
ter: if he be not a good Horſeman, all's one in ſuch 


a Cale he muſt bear. Princes are abſolute ; they may 


do what they will in any Thing, fave what they can- 


not do. 


Enters Julio. 85 


oO, come on, Sir; read this Paper: no more Ado, but 
read it: It muſt not be anſwer'd by my Hand, nor 


yours, but, in Grots, by your Perſon; your ſole Per- 
fon. Read aloud. . 5 
Jul. Pleaſe you, to let me firſt o erlook it, Sir. 


Can. I was this other day in a Spleen agMnſt your 
new Suits. I do now think, tome Fate was the Taylour 


that hath fitted them: for, this Hour, they are for 
2 Palace of the Duke. — Your Father's Houte is too 
dolly... - dE. | 


Jul. Hem! — to Court? Which is the better, to 
ſerve a Miſtreſs, or a Duke? I am ſued to be his Slave, 


and II ſue to be Leonord's. | [Afide. 


Cam. You ſhall find your Horſemanſhip much praiſed 


| there; Are you fo good a Horſeman? 
Jul. ] have been. ; 3 
Der now, commended for my Seat, or mockd. 


Cam. Take one Commendation with another, every 


Third's a Mock. — affect not therefore to be praiſed. 
Here's a deal of Conunand and Latreaty mixt; there's 
1 | | no 


— —— ww—_ >, 7 - 


4 Dovus IE Falsnoop, vr, 
no denying; you muſt go, peremptorily be inforces - 
t. 

Jul. What Fortune ſoevet my Going thall encounter, 
cannot be gocd Fortune; What! Py withal unſeaſons 
any other Goodneſs. [ Afide. 

Cam. You mult needs go; he rather conjures, than 
importunes. 

Jul. No moving of my Love Suit to him now ? — 

2 

. Grea: Fortunes have: ron out t of les Grounds, 

Jul. What may her Father think of me, who ex- 
pects to be ſalliciiec this verv Ni! at? | [ {fede. 
Cam. Thoſe ſcattei'd Feces of Virtue, which are 
in him, the Court will {older e varniſh, and 

rectify. 

Jul. He will ſurely think I deal ton Nichrly, or un- 
mannerly, or foclith'y, iniced; Nay, ene to 

bear him in hand with my Father's Content, who yer 
hath not Leen touch'd with fo much as a Requeſt to 

it. ET [Afide. 
Cam 1. Well, Sit, have you read it over? 
Jul. Yes, Sir. 5 | 

Cam. And conſider'd *? „ 

Jul As I can | 
Cam If you are courted by g20d "REY you mutt 
af Jul. 90 it pleaſe Yuu, 15 . 
Cam By any Means, and to morrow: Is i it not there 
the Limit of his Requeſt? | 
Ful. It is, Sir. T9 

Cam. I muſt bethink me of * Neceſſaties, with- 
' out which you might be unturcith'd: And my Sup- 
_ plies ſhall at all Convenience follow You. Come to my 
Cloſet by and by; I would there ſpeak with You. 
A N 


Manet: julio folus. 


Jul. I do not fee that Fervour in the Maid, ; 
Which Youth and Leve fiuld kindle. She contents, 
As 'twere to feed with; an Appetite; 

Tells me, She is content; and plays the Coy one, 


OO 


Like Thoſe that ſubtly make their Words their Ward, | | 
| 
| 


Burns wit.) one conſtant Hear. I'll trait go to her; 1 
Tray, her to regard my Honour : but She greets me, = | 


The DisTREsT Lovers. 5 


Keeping Addreſs at Diſtance. This Affection 
Is ſuch a feign'd One, as will break untouch'd; 1 
Dye froſty, e'er it can be thaw'd ; while mine, 

Like to a Cline beneath Hyperion s Eye, | 


Enter Leonora, and Maid. : * | | 


See, how her Beauty doth intich the place! 1 
O, add the Muſick of thy charming Tongue, 
Sweet as the Lark that wakens up the Morn, 
And make me think it Paradiſe indeed. 
| was about to ſeek thee, Leonora, 
And chide thy Coldneſs, Love. 
Leon. What ſays your Father? 
Ful. | have not mov d him yer. --: 
Lean Then do not, Falis. | 
Jul. Not move ww? Was it not your own Com- 
mand, That his Conſent ſhould ratify our Loves? 
Linn. Perhaps, it was: but now. Pye chang d my 
MIind. Ro 


You purchaſe at too dear a Rate, that puts You 


{eo wooe ine and y ur Father too: Beſides, 


As He, perchance, may iay, you ſhall not have me; 
Youu, Who are to obedlent, muſt diſcharge me | 


Out of your Fancy: Then, you kaow, twill Drove 
VI Shame and Sor. ow, weeting ach Repulſe, 
To wear the Willow in my Prime of Youth, 


Jul. Oh! Co not lack me with thete ill. placed 
| Doubts ; 


Nor think, tao; Age has in my Pat! s Breaſt 

Py' out Love's Flame, * ther elo has not Eyes, 
Or is in Judgment bling You von your Esauties, 
Fenius il Hos it vou. diiprize her Gifts, 


Tat have £, ace Wouls a r A F Hermit 
Leap tromw hi Cecil, and burn hir 322d. to kits ! it; 
Les, that are noth! ag but con“ . iu Births | 


Cre Denies in Ti „e that view tnelt Beams, 
Tou c. no have a Caule to doubt. 


B 3 | Lean. 


6 DouBLE FaLSHOOD; or, 


Leon. | | — Why Julie? 
When you that dare not chuſe without your Father, 
And, where you love, you dare not vouch it; muſt not. 
Though you have Eyes, ſee with em; — can |, think 
you, 


Somewhat, perhaps, infected with your Suit, 


Sit down content to ſay, You would, but dare not? 


Jul. Urge not Suſpicions of what cannot be; 

Yeu deal unkindly ; mis becomingly, 
I'm loth to ſay: For all that waits on you, 
Is graced, and graces — No Impediment 

Shall bar my Wiſhes, but ſuch grave Delays 
As Reaſon preſſus Patience with; which blunt not, 
But rather whet our Loves. Be patient, Sweet. 
Leon. Patient! What elſe? My Flames are in the F lint. 
Haply, to loſe a Huſband I may weep ; 
Never, to get One: When! cry for Bondage, 

Let Freedom quit me. 


Ful. — — From what a Spirit comes This 2 


I now perceive too plain, you care not for me. 
Duke, I obey thy Summons, be its Tenour 
Whate'er it will: If Was, I come thy Sou'Gier : 
Or if to waſte my flken Hours at Court, | 
The Slave of Faſhion, I with wi ling Soul 
Embrace the lazy Baniſhment for Life; 
Since Leonora has pronounc'd my Doom. 
Lern. What do you mean ? Why talk you of tie 
a Duke? 
Wherefore of War, or Court, or Baniſhment? 
Ful. How this new Noce is giown of me, [ know 
not ; 
But the Duke writes for Me. Coming to move. 
My Father in our Bus'neſs, I did find him 
| Reading this Letter; whoſe Contents require 
My inſtnt Se vice, and Repair ro Count. 
Leon. Now | perceive the Bi-th of theſe Delays; 
Why Leonora wa: not wort: yout Suit 
| Repair to Court? Av, chere you ſhall, perhaps, 
(Rather, pait Doubt; behoſd ſo:ne choicer Beauty, 
Rich in her Charms, train'd to the Arts of Soot uin, 
Duall prompt you to a Spitit of Hardineſs, 


m 
4 


The DisTREST LOVERS. 7 

To ſay, So pleaſe you, Father, I have choſen 

This Miſtreſs for my own. 
Ful. —— Still you miſtake me : 

Ever vour Servant I profeſs myſelf; 

And will not blot me with a Change, for all 

That Sea and Land inherit. 

Leon. But when go you? 

Ful. To morrow, Love; fo runs the Duke's Com- 

mand; 

Stinting our Fare well-kiſſes, cutting off 

The Forms of Parting, and the Interchange | 
Of thouſand precious Vows, with Haſte too rude. 

Lovers have Things of Moment to debate, 

More than a Prince, or dreaming Stateſman, know: 

Such Ceremonies wait on Cupid's Throne. 

Why heav'd that Si h? 

Leon. O Julio, let me whiſper | 

What, but for Parting, I ſhould bluſh to tell thee : 

My Heart beats thick with Fears, left the gay Scene, 

The Svlendors of a Court, ſhould from thy Breaſt 

Baniſh my Image, kill my Int'reſt in thee, _ 

And I te left the Scoff of Maids, to drop 

A Widow's Tear for thy departed Faith. 

Jul. O let Aſſurance, ſtrong as Words can bind, 
Tell thy pleas'd Soul I will be wond'rous faithful; 
True, as the Sun is to his Race of Light, 

As Shade to Darkneſs, as Deſire to Beauty: 

And when I ſwerve, let Wretchedneſs o'ertake me, 
Great az e'er Falſhood met, or Change can merit. 
Leon. Enough; I'm ſatisfied: and will remain 

Yours, with a firm and untir'd Conſtancy. 

Make not y ur Abſence long: Old Men are way Ting 3 

And ſway'd by Int'reſt more than Promiſe giv'n. 

Should tome treſh Offer ſtart, when you're away, 

1 ma. be prelt to Something, which muſt put 
iv Faith, or my Obedience to the Rack. | 
Jul Fear not, but | with ſu i teſt Wing of Time 

Will labour wy Return. And in my Abſence, 
My noble Friend, and now our honour'd Guest, 

The Loca Henrigquez, will in my behalf 


3 ay at your Father's Ear, and with kind Hints. 
| Pour d 


8 Doveret FalsnooD; or, 
Pour'd from a ſtiendly Tongue, fecure my Claim; 
And play the Lover for thy Abſent Julio. 


Leon |- there no inſtance of a Friend turn'd falſe ? 
Take Heed of That: No Love by Proxy, Julis. 


My Father. - 


Enters Don Bernard, 


D. Bern What, ulis, in publick? This Woei ing is 
too urgent. Is your Pather yet moved in the Suit, who 
muſt be the prime Unfol:!er of this Buſineſs? 

Jul. ] have not yet, indeed, at full poſſeſsd 
My Father, whom it is my Service follows; 

But only that [ have a Wife in Chaſe. 

D. Bern. Chaſe! Let Chaſe alone: No Mat- 
ter for That. — You maj halt after her, whom 
vou profeſs to parte; and catch ker too; Mairv, not 
_ unleſs your Father let you flip.- Briefly, [ deſire 
you, (tor ſhe tells me, my InftruQions ſhall be both 
Eyes and Feet to her ;) no farther to infilt in your Re- 
quiring, till, as I have formerly faid, Camilla make 
known to Me, that his good Liking goes along with 
U; which but once breath'd, all is done; *till when, 
the Buſineſs has no Life, and cannot find a Beginning, 

Jul vir, I will know his Mind, eer I taſte Sleep: 

Ar Morn, you ſhall be learn d in his Defire. 

1 take my Leave. O virtuous Leanora, 

Repote, ſweet as thy Beauties, feal thy Eves; 

Once more, adieu. I have thy Promile, Love; 
Remember, and be faithtul. CT Ex. Julio. 

D. Beru. His Tatrer is as unſettled, as he is way- 
ward, in his Ditpotiiica, If I thought young TFu!is's 
Temper were rot mend ed by the Mettal of his Mother, 
1 fiould be fo thing crazy In giving my Content to 
this Match: And, to tell you true, if my 85 might 


be the Directors to your Mind, I could. in this Towe = 


look upon twenty A n of more delicete Choice. I 
peak not This : he ether to unbend your Aitections to 
him: But the Meani: 2 of what I fav i is, tat you let 
fuch Price upon vyourle'f to him, as Many, and much 
his Dcttzrs, 1 Bald bt uy you at; (and reckon thoſe Vir- 
| rues 


- 1 — CT 1 TY y_ i dw. 4 


© 


Which make her all One Liglit. 


The Dis TREST LoveRs. 9 


tves in you at the rate of their Scarcity ;) to which if 
be come not up, you remain for a better Mart. 


Lean. My Obedience, Sir, is chain'd to your Advice. 
D. Bern. Tis well ſaid, and wiſely. I fear, your 


Lover is a little Folly-tainted ; which, — after it 


proves ſo, you will repent. 
Leon. Sir, I conteſs, J approve him of all the Men I 


know ; but that Approbation is nothing, till ——— 
by your Conſent. 


Bern We ſhall hear 45 what his Fa. der will 


do, —_ ſo proceed accorcingly. I nave no gi eat Heart 5 
» the Buſineſs, neither will | with any Violence Op} poſe 


But lea e it to hat Power which ules in th. (on- 


e and there's an E:d. Come; haſte e hume- 
ward, Girl. „ 


SCENE RM 
Enter Hemi iquer, and Ser vants with Lights. 


. Beur the Lights cloſe: 
Muſick, Sirs? 
Ser Coming, my Lord. FT» 
Hlenr. Let em not come too near. T is Maid, 
For whom my dighs ride on the Night” s chill V a pour, 


- Where is the : 


Is born mot kumbly, tho' the be as air 
As Nature's richeſt Movld and Skil! can mare her, 
Mended with ſtrong lnegina ion 


But what of That? Th' Obſcureneſs of her Birth 
Cannot ecliple the Lure of her Eyes, 


St rike up my 


VI. rſters; 3 
But touch the Strings with a religious Soctne 8; 
Teach Sound to languiſh thro' the Nignt's du | Ear, 


| Fill Melancholy ſtart trom ber lazy Couch, | 
And Careletinels | Couvert to Attenr: on 


[ Mufech 9 5 


She * me into Wonder, when l ſometimes 
Hear her diſcourſe ; The Court, whereof Report, 
And Gueſs alone inform her, ſhe wil rave ar, 


As 


10 Dous IE FaLlsHo00OD,; or, 


As if ſhe there ſev'n Reigns had ſlanderd Time. 
Then, when ſhe reaſons on her Country State, 
Health, Virtue, Plainneſs, and Simplicity, 


Oa Beauties true in Title. ſcorning Art, 


Freedom as well to do, as think, what's good; 
My Heart grows lick of Birth and empty Rank, 
And I become a Villager in Wiſh. 5 
Play on; She ſleeps too ſound: — Be ſtill, and 
vaniſh: 
A SGleam of Day breaks ſudden froi her Window: 
0 Taper, graced by that midnight land! 
| Violante appears abwoe at ber Wind:w. 
Viol. Who is't, that wooes at this late How ? : v hat 
are you? 
| Henr One, who for your 7 Sake - 
100 Watches the ſtarleſs Night! 
5 My Lend Henriquez, ot my Ear deceives me. 
You've h d my Aafwer, and 'tis more that, tran e 
| You'll combat thete Repulſes. Good ny Lord, 
Be Friend to your own Health; and give mc Leave, 
Securing my poor Fame, noth ung to =. 
| What Pangs you ſwear you ſuffer. 'Tis 1npoſlible 5 
To plant your choice Affections in my Shade, 
At leaft, for them to grow there. 
Henr, — — Why Violante? 
Viol. Alas! Sir, there are Randes numberleſs 
To bar your Aims. Be warn d to Hours more whole- 
ſome; 5 
For, Theſe you watch in vain. I have read Stories, 
( fear, too true ones;) how young 1.ords, like you, 


Have thus beſung mean Windows, rhymed thei Sutfer- : 


| ings 

_ Ev" to th'Abuſe of Things Divine, ſet up 
Plain Girls, like me, the Idols of their W orſhip, 
Then left them to bewail their eaſie F aith, 

And ſtand the World's Contempt. 

N. | Your Memory, 

Too faithful to the Wren of tew loſt Maids, 

Makes Fear too general. | 


Viol. — et us be homely, 


And let us too be chaſt, "Gang you Lords no W 0 0 
| ut 


The DisTREST LOVERS. 11 
But crediting your Oaths with ſuch a Spirit, 
As you . them: ſo no Party truſted 
Shall make a loſing Bargain. Home, my Lord, 
M bat you can ſay, is moſt unſeaſonable ; what ſing, 
Moſt abſonant and harſh: Nay, your Perfume, 
Which I ſmell hither, cheers not my Senſe 
Like our Field-violet's Breath. | 


Henr. Why, this Diſmiſſion 
Does more invite my Staying. * 
Viol. — —— Men of your Temper 


| \iake ev'ry Thing their Bramble. But I wrong 
That which I am preſerving, my Maid's Name, 
To hold fo long Diſcourſe. You Virtues guide you 
TJ effect ſome nobler Purpoſe!  [Ex. Violante. 
Henr. Stay, bright Maid! 8 ROIR 
Come back, and leave me with a fairer Hope. 


| She's gone: —— Who am I, that am thus contemn'd? 
The ſecond Son to a Prince? — Yes; well; What 
then? | ts 


Why, your great Birth forbids you to deſcend 5 
To a low Alliance: — Her's is the ſelf- ſame Stuff, 
Whereof we Dukes are made; but Clay more pure; 
And take away my Title, which is acquir'd 5 
Not by my ſelf, but thrown by Fortune on Me, 
Or by the Merit of ſome Anceſtour EEE 
f fingular Quality, She doth inherit 5 
| Deſerts t'outweigh me I mult ſtoop to gain her; 
Throw all my gay Comparifons afide, 
And turn my proud Additions out of Service, 
Rather than keep them to become my Maſters. 


The Dignities we wear, are Gifts of Pride; 
And laugh'd at by the Wife, as meer Outſide. 
” 7 e Exit. 


A Cr 


ut 


12 DovsBLte FAaALsHooOD; vr, 


ACT H. SCENE I. 
8 C E N E, * Proſpet of a Hülage. 


Enter F abian and J. oper; ; Henriquez on the Oppoſi te $ ide. 


10. \OFT, ſoft you, Neighbour ; ; who comes here? 
Pray you, ſlink aſide. 


Henr. Ha! Is it come to this ? Oh the Devil, the -- 


Devil, the Devil! 

Fab. Lo you ncw! for Want of the diſcreet Ladle 
of a cool Underſtanding, will this Fellow” s Brains boil 
over. 
© Hene. To have enjoy d ber, I would have * — 
What? 

All that at preſent I could boaſt my own, 

And the Reverſion of the World to boot, 

Flad the Inheritance been mine: And now, 

(Juſt Doom of guilty Joys!) I grieve as much 

That 1 have rifled all the Stores of Beauty, 

Thoſe Charms of Innocence and artleſs Lone, 

As juſt before I was devour'd with Sorrow, 
That ſhe refus'd my Vows, and ſhut the Door 


| Upon ny ardent Longings. 


Lo. Love! Love! — Downright Love! I fee by 
the Foolifines "Z 

Henr. Now then to Recollection — Was't not ſo? 

A Promile fift of Marriage Not a Promiſe only, 

for 'twas bound with Surety of a thouſand Oaths ; — 

and thote not light ones neither. Yet I remember 


too, thoſe Oaths could not prevail; th' unpractis'd 
Maid trembled to meet my Love: By Force alone ! 
ſnatch'd th' imperfect Joy, which now torments my 
Memory. Not Love, but brutal Violence prevai'd 
to which the Time, and Place, and Opportunity, 


were Acceſſaries molt dithonourable. Shame, Shame 
upon it! 


Fab. 


Guilt, to meet the Joy? e Ul g 
— but then the Danger ; the Tears, the Clamours of 


The Dis TREST LOVERS. 13 
Fab. What a Heop of Stuff's this I fancy, this 
Fellow's Head would make a good Pedlat's Pack, Neigh- 
bour. | 15 i 
Henr. Hold, let me be fevere to my Self, but not 


unjuſt. Was it a Rape then? No. Her Shfieks, 
her Exclamations then had drove me from her. True, 
ſhe did not conſent ; as true, ſhe did reſiſt; but ſtill 


in Silence all. — 'Twas but the Coyneſs of a mo- 


deſt Bride, not the Reſentment of a raviſht Maid, 
And is the Man yet born, who would not riſque the 
The Guilt! that's true 


the ruin'd Maid, purſuing me to Court. That, that, 


1 fear will (as it already does my Conſcience) 1 


ſhatter my Honour. What's to be done? But now I 
have no Choice Fair Leonora reigns confeſt the 3 2 


tant Queen of my revolted Heart, and Vialante ſeems 


a ſhort Uſurper there —— Julio already by my Arts 
remov'd. O Friendſhip, how wilt thou anfwer 
That? Oh, that a Man could reafon down this Feaver 
of the Blood, or ſooth with Words the Tumult in his 


Heart! Then, Fulis, I might be, indeed, thy Friend. 
They, they only ſhould condemn me, who born de- 


void of Paſſion ne'er have proy'd the fierce Diſputes 


”rwixt Virtue and Deſire. While they, who hare, like 


ure, 


The looſe Eſcapes of youthful Nature known. 


Mut wink at mine, indulgent to their own. 


; | [Exit Henriquez, 
| Los. This Man is certainly mad, and may be mif- 


chievous. Pr'ythee, Neighbour, let's follow him; but 
at ſome Diſtance, for fear of the worſt. 


5 Exeunt, after Henr. 
SCENE II. An Apartment. 


Enter Violante alone. 


e. Whom ſhail I lock upon without a Bluſh ? | 
There's not a Maid, wi oſe Eye with V irgin Gaze 
| af | Pierces 


= the Letter I commend you to your Leiſure, 


4 Dous Lx FaLsSHnooOD, or, 
Pierces not to my Guilt. What will't avail me, 
To ſay I was not we 
Nothing; but that I publiſh my Or 
And wound my Fame anew. O Miſery, 

To ſeem to all one's Neighbours rich, yet know 
One's Self neceſſitous and wretched. + 


Enter Maid, and afterward; Gerald wa 4. - 
Maid. Madam, bere 8 Gerald, Lord Henriquez Ser- 


vant; 
He brings a Letter to you, | 
Viol. A Letter to me! Howl tremble now ! 
35 Your Lord's for Court, good Gerald, is he not ? 
' Ger. Not ſo, Lady. 
Viol. O my — Heart! When goes he then? 
Ser. His Buſineſs now ſteers him ſome other Courſe. 
Viel. Whither, I pray you ? —— How my Fears tor- 


ment me! 
Ger. Some two Months Pon eſs. | 
Viol. | hither, wes . 


I do beſeech you? Good Heav'ns, I loſe all Patience. 
Did he deliberate this? or was the Buſineſs | 
But then conceiv'd, when it was 2 born? 3. 
Ger. Lady, I know not That; nor is it in the Com- : 
mand I have to wait your Anſwer. For the peruſing | 


Exit Gerald. 
Viol. To Hearts like mine Suſpence is Miſery. 
Wax, render up thy Truſt: Be the Contents 
Proſp'rous, or ſatal, they are all my Due. 


Reads.] Ou Prudence ſhould now teach us to forget, 
what our Indiſcretion has committed. 1 
| bave alrealy made one Step tawards this 
= eur, by preveiting on Myſelf to bid you 

Fa: well. 


©, Wretched and betray'd! Loſt Y . 
Heart- wounded with a thouſand perjur'd Vows, 
Poiton'd with ſtuſied Language, and bequeath'd 
To Deſperation - | ain now become 


The 


The Dis TREsT LOVERS. 15 

The Tomb of my own Honour: a dark Manſion, 
For Death alone to dwell in. I invite thee, 
Conſuming Deſolation, to this Temple, 

Now fit to be thy Spoil : the ruin'd Fabrick, 
Which cannot be repair'd, at once o'er-throw. _ 
What muſt I do? ——— But That's not worth my 
1 will commend to Hazard all the Tine 

That | ſhall ſpend hereafter : Farewel, my Father, 
Whom Il no more offend : and Men adieu, 
Whom PI! no more believe: and Maids, adieu, 
Whom I'll no longer ſhame. The Way I go, 
As yet Iknow not. — Sorrow be my Guide. 

ff.... it - [Exit Violante. 


=, 0 


SCENE Ill. Profpett of a Village, be- 
fore Don Bernard's Houſe. : 


_ Enters Hentiquez. : 


Hlenr. Where were the Eyes, the Voice, the various 

Each beauteous Particle, each nameleſs Grace, 

Parents of glowing Love? All Theſe in Her, 

It feems, were not: but a Diſeaſe in Me, 

That fancied Graces in her. — Who ne'er beheld 

More than a Hawthorne, ſhall have Cauſe to ſay 

The Cedar's a tall Tree; and fcorn the Shade, 

The lov'd Buſh once had lent him. Soft! mine Ho- 

„„ | | 
Begins to ficken in this black Reflection. 

Ho can it be, that with my Honour ſafe 


I could purſue Leonora for my Wife? 


That were accumulating Injuries, 

To Violante firſt, and now to Juli 

To her a perjur'd Wretch, to him perfidious; 

And to myſelf in ſtrongeſt Terms accused 

Of murth'ring Honour wilfully, without which 

My Dog's the Creature of the nobler Kind 
4 EN — 


The cenſuring World Occaſion to reproach 


16 Dous ur Fatsnoon; rr, 
But Pleaſure is too ſtrong for Reaſon's Curb; 
And — ſinks o'er-powered with Beautz's 


Core, Leonora, Authreſs of my Crime, 


Appear, and vindicate thy Empire here; 
Aid me to drive this ling' ring Honour hence, 


And I am wholly thine. 


: Enter to bim, Don Bernard and Leonota. 


D. Bern. Fye, my good Lord; why would you wait 
without? . 3 
If you ſuſpect your Welcome, I have brought 
My Leonora to aſſute you of it. [Henr. ſalutes Leon. 
Henr. O Kiſs, ſweet as the Odours of the Spring, 


But cold as Dews that Dwell on Morning Flow'rs! 


Say, Leonora, has your Father conquer'd 


© Shall Duty then at laſt obtain the Prize, 


Which you refus'd to Love? And ſhall Henriques 


Owe all his Happineſs to good Bernardo? 
Ah! no; I read my Ruin in your Eyes: 
That Sorrow, louder than a thouſand Tongues, 
Pronounces my Deſpair. 


D. Om. — — Come, Leonora, 


1 | You are not now to learn, this noble Lord, 
_ (Whom but to name, reftores my failing Age,) 
Has with a Lover's Eye beheld your Beauty; 


Thro' which his Heart ſpeaks more than Language 
cz 5 5 | | | 
It offers Joy and Happineſs to You, 


And Honour to our Houſe. Imagine then 


The Birth and Qualities of him that loves you; 
Which when you know, you cannot rate too dear. 
Leon My Father, on my Knees I do beſeech you 


To pauſe one Moment on your Daughter's Ruin. 
I vow, my Heart ev'n bleeds, that I muſt thank you 
For your paſt Tenderneſs; and yer diſtruſt 1555 
That which is yet behind. Conſider, Sir, 
Whoe'er's th Occafion of another's Fault, 


Cannot himſelf be innocent. O, give not 


Your 


The Dis rA EST Lovers. iy 


Your harſh Commands; or to 
Which moſt I fear, the Fault bets Diſobedience. 
D. Bern. Prythee, fear neither the One, _—— _ 
ther: I tell thee, Girl, there's more Fear than 
For my own part, as ſoon as Thou art married to 
noble Lord, my Fears will be over. 
Leon. Sir, I ſhould be the vaineſt of my Sex, 
Not to eſteem myſelf unworthy far 
Of this high Honour. Once there was a Time, 
When to have heard my Lord Henriquez' Vows, 
Might have ſubdued my unexperienc'd Heart, 
And made me wholly his. But That's now paſt: 
And my firm-plighted Faith by your Conſent 
Was long fince given to the injut d Julis. 5 8 

D. Bern. Why then, by my Conſent e'en take it back 
again. Thou, like a ſimple Wench, haſt given thy Af- 
fections to a Fellow, that does not care a Farthing for 
them. One, that has left thee for a Jaunt to Court; 
as who ſhould fay, III get a Place now ; tis Time e 
nough to marry, when I'm turn'a out of it. = 
Hlenr. So, ſurely, it ſhould ſeem, moſt lovely Maid ; 
0 alas, feels nothing of my Paſſion: 

is Love is but th' Amnſement of an Hour, 
A ſhort Relief from Buſineſs, or Ambition, 
The Sport of Youth, and Faſhion of the Age. 
O! had he known the Hopes, the Doubt, the A- 


Charge lay That 


ä 
Or half the fond varieties of Paſſio ion, 

Thar play the Tyrant with my tortur'd Soul; 

He had not left Thee to purſue his Fortune: 

To practiſe Crioges in a ſlaviſh Circle, 
And barter real Bliſs for unſure Honour. 
Ten. Oh, the oppoſing Wind, 
Should'ring the Tide, _ bere a fearful Billow : 
I needs muſt perifh in it. Oh, my Lord, 
Is it then poſſible, you can forget | 
What's due to your great Name, and princely Birth, 
To Friendſhip's holy Law, to Faith repos'd, 
To Truth, to Honour, and poor injur'd Julio? 
O think, my Lord, how much this Julio loves you; 
Recall his 3 his well- try d Faich; 


C3. Think 


18 Dos LE FaLsSHooD, or, 
Think too, this very Hour, where- e' er he be, 

Your Favour is the Envy of the Court, 

And ſecret Trinmph of his grateful Heart, 8 
Poor Julio, how ſecurely thou depend'ſt 

Upon the Faith and Honour of thy Maſter ; 

_ Miſtaken Youth! this very Hour he robs thee 
Of all thy Heart holds dear. Tis fo Henrigues 
 Repays the Merits of unhappy Fulio.  [Weeps. 
Hlenr. My ſlumb'ring Honour catches the = 


I 'was to blame to parley with her thus: 
Sh'as ſhown me to myſelf. It troubles me. [A/ide. 
D. Bern. Mad; Mad. Stark mad, by this Light. 
| Leon. I but begin to be ſo. —— | conjure you, 
By all the tender Intereſts of Nature, 
By the chaſte Love twixt you, and my dear Mather, 
O holy Heav'n, that ſhe were living now!) 
Forgive and pity me. — Oh, Sir, remember, 
l've heard my Mother ſay a thouſand Times, 
Her Father would have forced her Virgin Choice; 
But when the Conflit was 'twixt Love and Duty, 
Which ſhould be firſt obey'd, my Mother quickly 
Paid up her Vows to Love, and married You. 
You thought this well, and ſhe was praifed for This; 
For this her Name was honour'd, Di:obedience 
Was ne'er imputed to her, her firm Love _ 
Conquer'd whate'er oppos'd it, and ſhe profper'd 
Long Time your Wie. My Caſe is now the fame ; 
You are the Father, which You then condemr'd ; 
I, what my Mother was; but not fo happy | 2 
D. Bern. Go to, you're a Fool No doubt, You 
have old Stories enough to und) you. —— What, you 
can't throw yourſelf away but by Prececent, ha ?—-. 
You will needs be married to One, that will None of 
You? You will be happy no Body's way tut your 
own, forſooth. But, d'ye maik me, ſpare your 
Tongue for the future ; (and That's ufing you hardly 
| too, to bid you fpare what you have a great deal too 


much of:) Go, go your ways, and d'ye bear, get ready 


within theſ: "Two days to be married to a Huſband you 
don't deſeive ; — Do it, or, by my dead Father's Soul, 
you ate no Acquaiatance of mine, 5 
e ” Hem, 


The D1sTREsT LOVERS. 19 


Henr. She weeps : Be gentler to her, good Bernado. 

Leon. Then Woe the ay. I'm circled round 
with Fire; | 

No Way for my Eſcape, but thro' the Flames. 

Oh, can I e'er reſolve to live without 

A Father's Bleſſing, or abandon Julio? 

With other Maids, the Choice were not ſo hard ; 

Int'reſt, that rules the World, has made at laſt | 

A Merchandize of Hearts: and Virgins now 

Chuſe as they're bid, and wed without Eſteem. 

By nobler Springs ſhall my Affections move; 

Nor own a Mal er, but the Man I love. 


[Exit Leonora. 
| D. [a Go thy ways, Contradiction Follow 
her, my Lord; follow her, in the very Heat. This 
Obſtinacy muſt de combated by Importunity as obſti- 
nate. l Exit Henriquez after ber. 
The Girl ſays Tight ; her Mother was juſt ſuch Ano- 
ther. I remember, Two of Us courted her at the ſame 
Time. She lov'd neither of Us, but She choſe me pure- 
ly to ſpight that ſurly Old Blockhead my Father. in Law. 
Who comes — Camille ? Now the refuſing Part wi.l. 
lie on my * | 


Enters Camillo. 


Casa. My worthy Neighbour, I am muck. in For- 
tune's Favour to find You thus alone. I have a Suit 
to You. 
D. Bern. Pleaſe to name it, Sir, 
Cam. Sir, I have long held Vou in ſingular Eſteem: 
and what J ſhall now fay, will be a Proof of it. You 
know, Sir, | have but one Son. 
D. Bern. Ay, Sir. 
Can And the Fortune I am bleſt withal, You * 
well know what it is. 
D, Bern. Tis a fair One, Sir. 
Cam. Such as it is, the whole Reverſion is my Son's. 
| He is now engaged in his Attendance on our Maſter, 
the Duke. But e'er he went, he left with me the Se- 
cret of his Heart, his Love for your fair Daughter, For 


your 


20 Dous LE FALSHOoO p; or, 
your Conſent, he ſaid, twas ready: I took a Night, 
indeed, to think upon it, and now have brought you 
mine; and am come to bind the Contract with half my 
Fortune in preſent, the Whole ſome time hence, and, 
in the mean while, my hearty Bleſſing, Ha? What ſay 
| You to't, Don Bernard? 1 5 
D. Bern. Why, really, * © ann — I muſt own, 1 
| have heard Something of this Matter. 
Cam. Heard Something of it? No doubt, you have. 
D. Bern. Yes, now I recollect it well. 
Cam. Was it fo long ago then? 5 
D. Bern. Very long ago, Neighbour. — On Tue/- 
 —_—_ OL 
Cam. What, am | mock'd in this Buſineſs, Don Ber- 
| nard 33 5 ” | 
D. Bern. Not mock'd, good Camillo, not mock'd: 


But ia Love matters, you know, there are Abundance 


of Changes in half an Hour. Time, Time, Neigh- 


|  bour, plays Tricks with all of us. 


Cam I 'ime, Sir! What tell you me of Time? Come, 
1 ſee how this goes. Can a little Time take a Man by | 
the Shoulder, and ſhake off his Honour? Let me tell 
you, Neighbour, it muſt either be a ſtiong Wind, or 
a very mellow Honeſty that drops fo eaſily. Tine, 
_ quotha? JJV 
D. Bern. Look'ee, Camillo; will you pleaſe to put 
your Indignation in your Pocket for half a Moment, 
while | tell you the whole Truth ot the Matter. My 
Daughter, you muſt know, is ſuch a tender Soul, ſhe 
cannot poſſibly fee a Duke's younger Son without fal - 
ling deſpera ely in Love with him. Now, you know, 
Neighbour, when Greatneſs rides Poſt after a Man 


of my Years, tis botk Prudence, and good Breediog, 


to let one's ſelf be overtaken by it. And who can 
help all This? I profeſs, it was not my ſeeking, Neigh- 
35 5 | | 
Cam. I profeſs, a Fox might earth in the Hollow- 


| neſs of your Heart, Neizhbour, and there's an End. 


If I were to give a bad Conſcience its true Likeneſs, 
it ſhould be drawn after a very near Neighbour to a 
fe ers = Certain 


— WY 9 9 


Ver know not One that paſſes —— Should I truſt 
My Letter to a Stranger, whom I think 
To bear an honeſt Face, (in which ſometimes 
We fancy we are wond'rous ſkilful; then 


An honeſt Face too — that's no Matter. 


The Dis TREST LOVERS. 21 
certain poor Neighbour of yours. — Neighbour ! 


with a Pox. | 9 
D. Bern. Nay, you are ſo Nimble with me, you will 


hear Nothing. 


Cam Sir, if I muſt ſpeak Nothing, I will hear Nothing. 


As for what you have to ſay, if it comes from your 


Heart, 'tis a Lye before you ſpeak it —P Il to Leonora ; 


and if I find her in the ſame Story, why, I ſhall believe 
your Wife was true to You, and your Daughter is your 


own. Fare you well. [Exit, as into D. Bernard's Houſe. 
D. Bern. Ay, but two Words muſt go to that Bar- 


: gain. It happens, that I am at preſent of Opinion 


my Daughter ſhall receive no more Company to day at 
leaſt, no ſuch Viſits as yours. 8 . 
e [Exit D. Bernard, following bim. 


S E NE IV. Changes to another Proſpect 


_ of Don Bernard's Houſe. 
| 1 Leonora, abobe. | 
Leon. How tediouſly I've waited at the Window, 


4 


I might be much deceiv'd. This late Example 
Of baſe Henriquez, bleeding in me now, 


From each good Aſpect takes away my Truſt: 


For his Face ſeem'd to promiſe Truth and Honour. 


Since Nature's Gitts in nohleſt Forms deceive, 


Be happy You, that want em! — Here comes One; 


I've ſeen him, tho' I know him not; He has 


| E nters Citizen. 


Citiz. To me? an 
Leon. As You were of a virtuous Matron born, 
(There is no Doubt, you are:) 1 do conjure oo. : 

Er tant 


——u— ——— — — et — — 


22 Dou BLZ FALsSHoOOD, ex, 
Grant me one Boon. Say, do you know me, Sir} 

Citis. Ay, Leonora, and your worthy Father. 

Leon. | have not Time to preſs the Suit Pve to you 
With many Words; Gn ] ſhould want the Words, 

Tho' I had Leiſure: but for Love of Juſtice, 

And as you pity Miſery But I wander 

Wide from my Subject. Know you Julio, Sir? 

Citi. Yes, very well; and love him too, as well. 

Lien. Oh, there an Angel fpake! Thea I conjure you, 
Convey this Paper to him: and believe me, 


| You do Heav'n Service in ; 7 and ſhall have Cauſe 


—— — 2 — 


n 5 
— 


— — — ——— 


— —U— — 


Not to repent your Pains. - I know not what 
| Your Fortune is; —— Pardon me, gentle Sit, 
— That I am bold to offer This. 
[Throws down a Purſe with Money. 
MM Hm within.] Leonora. 
Leon. I truft to you ; Heav'n put it in your Heart 
To work me ſome Relief. 
Citiz, Doubt it not, Lady. You have mov'd me ſo, 
That tho? a thouſand Dangers barr'd my way, 


; Id dare em all to ſerve you, [Exit Citizen. 
Leon. Thanks from a richer Hand than mine _ | 
you! 


D. Bern. within.) Why, Daughter 
Leon. | come: — Oh, Julio, feel but half my Grief, | 
And Thou wilt outfly Time to bring Relief. 
[Exit Leonora from the W., indow. i 


Mm —_— 


ACT Il. SCENE I. 
8 CE NE, The Proſpect of a Village. 


Enter Julio with a Letter, and Citizen. 


5 Citi. 7 7 H E N from the Window ſhe did bow 
and call, 


Her Paſſions ſhook her Voice; and from her a 
Mittemper 


ow 


pet 


| Beſpoke Concern above a common Sorrow. 


Hold Amity and Concordance. 
A Writer could not put down in his Scene, 
Without Taxation of his 3 

For Fiction moſt enormous. 


The Dis rREST LOVERS. 23 


Miſtemper and Diſtraction, with ſtrange Wildneſs 


Jul. Poor Leonera! Treacherous, damn'd Henriques ! 


She bids me fill my Memory with her Danger ; 


Ido, my Leonora; yes, I fill 
The Region of my Thought with nothing elſe ; 
Lower, ſhe tells me here, that this Affair 


Shall yield a Teſtimony of her Love: 
And prays, her Letter may come fafe and ſudden. 


This Pray'r the Heav'ns have heard, and I beſeech em, 


To hear all Pray'rs ſhe makes. 


Citis. Have Patience, Sir. 


Jul. O my good 1 Friend, methinks, I am too patient. 


Is there a Treachery, like this in Baſeneſs, 


Recorded any where? It is the deepeſt: 
None but Itſelf can be its Parallel: 


And from a Friend, profeſs'd! - 
Why, tis 


A Word for ever maim'd; in human Nature 
It was a Thing the nobleſt ; and mong Beaſts, 


It ſtood not in mean Place: "Things of fierce Nature 
Such a Villany 


Citiz. —— — Theſe Upraidings | 


Cool Time, while they are vented. 


Tul. 


80 * preſs'd to't, that I may ee me 


Tuou'll do a little more. 


Citiz. — Put me t Employment 
That's honeſt tho' not ſafe, with my beſt — 
I'll give 't Accompliſhment. 

Jul. No more but This; | 
1 | muſt ſee Leonora: And to appear 

Like Julio, as I am, might haply ſpoil 


Some god Event enſuing. Let me crave 
Th' Exchange of Habit with you: ſome Diſguiſe, 
May 


F riendſip ? 


I am counſel's. . 
F or you, evermore, Thanks You' ve done much for 


4 Therefore lack'd Love. Som 


24 DovusBLe FalsHooD; or, 
May bear Me to my Love, unmark'd, and ſecret, 
Citiz You fhall not want. Yonder's the Houſe 
before us: | | | 


Make Haſte to reach it. 


XJ Still I thank you, Sir. 


O Leonora! ſtand but this rude Shock; = 
Hold out thy Faith againft the dread Affault 
Of this baſe Lord, the Service of my Life 


Shall be devoted to repay thy Conſtaney. [Exeunt. 
SCENE II. Don Bernard' Hoſe. . 


Enters Leonora. 


Loecn. I've hoped :o th lateſt Minute Hope can give: 
He will not come: Has not receiv'd my Letter: 


May be, ſome other View has from our Home 
Repeal'd his chang d Eye: for what Buſineſs can 


_ Excuſe a Tardineſs thus willfull? None. e 
Well then, it is not Buũneſs.—— Oh! that Let- 


ter, 


I fay, is not deliver'd f or He's ſick; 


Or, O Suggeſtion, wherefore wilt Thou fright nie? 


Julio does to Henrigquez on meer Purpoſe, 
On plotted Purpoſe, yield me up; and He 


Hath choſe another Miitreſs. All Preſumpti "EDA 


Make pow'rfu! to this Point: His own Protraction, 
Henriquez left behind; —— That Strain lack'd Fea- 


louke, 


So fure as Liſe hal} 
empty? „ Oe . 
It felf in Death, this new Surmiſe of mige 


Is a bold Certaiaty. Tis plain, and obvious, 


Henrizues would not, durit not, thus infringe 
The Law of Fiiendfhip; thus provoke a Man, 


That hears a Sword, and weais his Flag of Youth 


_ Grots-dawbing 'twixt them Both, ——— But Fin o'er- 


beard. Going. 


Enterr 


The DisTREST LOVERS. 25 
Enters Julio, diſguiſed, 


Jul. Stay, Leonora; Has this outward Veil 
Quite loft me to thy Knowledge? 
Leon. ——————— O my Julio 
Thy Preſence ends the ſtern Debate of Doubt, 
And cures me of a thouſand heartfick Fears, 
Sprung from thy Abſence: yet awakes a Train 
Of other ſleeping Terrors. Do you weep? 
Jul. No, Leonora; when I weep, it muſt be 
The Subſtance of mine Eye. Would I could weeps 
For then mine Eye would drop upon my Heart, 
And ſwage the Fire there. 35 5 
Leon. ——— — You are full poſſeſs'd 
How things go here. Firſt, welcome heartilyj; 
Welcome to th' Ending of my laſt good Hour: 
Now Summer Bliſs and gawdy Days are gone, 
My Leaſe in ems expir cd. 5 
| Jul. — | — Not ſo, Leonora. 
Leon. Yes, Julio, yes; an everlaſting Storm 
ls come upon me, which I can't bear out. 
I cannot ſtay much Talk; we have loſt Leiſure; 
And thus it is: Your Abſence hath giv'n Breeding 


To what my Letter hath declar'd, and is 
This Inftant on th'effecting, Hark! the Muſick 
i [ Flouriſh within. 
is now on tuning, which muſt celebrate | - 
- This Bus'neſs, ſo diſcordant. — Tell me then, 
What you will do. „ 
,, I know not what: Adviſe me: 
In kill the Traytor. | U | 
Leon. — ——— O! take Heed: his Death 
Betters our Cauſe no whit. No killing, Julio. 
Ful. My Blood ſtands ftill ; and all my Faculties 
Are by Enchantment dull'd. You gracious Pow'rs, 
Ihe Guardians of ſworn Faith, and ſuff'ting Virtue, 
Inſpire Prevention of this dreaded Miſchief ! 
r- This Moment is our own; Let's uſe it, Love, 
R And fly o'th” Inſtant from this Houſe of Woe. 
- Leon. Alas! Impoſſible: My Steps are watch'd ; 
| D | 


There's 


_ 


26 Dous LIE FaLsnrooD; or, 
There's no Eſcape for Me. You muſt ſtay too. 
Jul. What! ſtay, and ſee thee raviſh'd from my 
Arms? 
Tu force thy Paſſage. Wear I not a Sword? 
Ne'er on Man's Thigh rode better. If ues 
The Traytor play his Part; if I not do | 
Manhood and Juſtice, Honour let - be deem'd 
A tame, pale, Coward, whom the Night-Owl's Hoot 
May turn to Aſpen-leaf: Some Man take — 
Give Me a Diſtaff for it. = 
Leon. = —— Patience, Julio; 
And truſt to Me: I have — the Means 
To a ages theſe. Nuptials. Hark! again; 
15 IMA ſic, within. 
Theſe are the Bells knoll for Us. See, the Lights 
Move this Way, Julio. — behind yon Arras, 
And take thy ſecret Stand. - Diſpute it not; 
T have my Reaſons, you anon ſhall know them: — 
There you may mark the Paſſages of the Night. 
Vet, more: — I charge you by the deareſt yes, 
What e' er you ſee, or hear, what-cer ſhall hap, 
In your Concealment reſt a filent Statue. 5 
| Nay, hide thee ſttait, — or, — ſee, I'm arm'd, and 
„ Ilshe ut @ Dagger. 5 
To fall a bleeding Sacrifice before Thee. 
[Teruſts him out, to the Arras. 
I dare not tell thee of my Purpoſe, Julio, 
Loeſt it ſhould wrap thee in ſuch Agonies, 
Which 0 Love — not look on. 


SC ENE opens to 4 i. Hall. An Altar pre- 
pared with Tapers. Enter at one Door Ser- 
vants with Lights, Henriquez, Don Ber- 
nard, and Churchman. At another, Alten- 
_ dants t Leonora. Henriquez runs 10 her. 


; [as Why, 3 wilt Thou with this Gloom 
Darken m Triumph; ſuff ring Diſcontent, 1 


And wan iſpleaſure, to ſubdue that Cheek 0 
Where 


=: 


And ſpurn the Tempter back. 


Lou'll propheſie no more. 


The Dis YTREST LOVERS. 27 
Where Love ſhould fit inthron'd? Behold your Slave; 


Nay, frown not; for each Hour of 1 Time 
Shall taſk me to thy Service, 'till by Merit 


Of deareſt Love I blot the low-born Julio 
From thy fair Mind. 


Leon. 


— 80 I ſhall make i it foul; 


"This Counſel is corrupt. 


Hen. - Come, you will Ss 
Leon, Why would you make a Wife of ſuch a One, 


That is ſo apt to change? This foul Proceeding 
Still ſpeaks againſt itſelf, and vithes 


— For your Birth's 


The pureſt o your Judgment. 
Sake 


I will not dart my hoarded . at you, 


Nor give my Meanings Language: For the Love 


Of all good Things together, mu take heed, - 


D. Bern. I think, you TE mad. 
fcoliſh, Wretch! 5 
Lon. How may I be obedient, and wiſe too? 


= of my Obedience, Sir, I cannot ſtri me; 


Nor can I then be wiſe: Grace again Grace! 


| — If I not obey a Father; 
Moſt perjur'd, if I do. 
Or Cer too late, or e'er that Knot be ty'd, 


Yet, Lord, conſider, 


Which may with Violence damnable be broken, 


No other way diſſever'd: Yet conſider, i 
Jou wed my Body, not my Heart, my Lord; 
No Part of my Affection. Sounds it well, 
That Fulio's Love is Lord Henriquez' Wife; 
Have you an Ear for this harſh Sound? 


Henr. No Shot of Reaſon can come near the Place, 


Where my Love's fortified. The Day ſhall come, 
| Wherein you'll chide this . and bleſs 


Our Fervour in this Courſe. 


Leon. — —— No, no, 83 


When you ſhall and what Prophet you are prov'd, 
D. Bern. —— 


D 2 11 


- Perverle, and : 


Have done this Talking, 
If you will cleave to your 2 do t; | 


* 


Struck thro? wick Injuries, 


Should ſtop the Tongue of Queſtion. 


28 Dous IE FalsHnooOd; vr, 


If not, unbolt the Portal, and be gone; 
My Bleſſing ſtay behind you. 


Leon. — Sir, your Pardon 


I will not ſwerve a Hair's Breadth from my Duty; 
It ſhall firſt coſt me dear. 


D. Bern. —— — Well then, to th” Point: 


Give me your Hand. — - My honour'd Lord, te 


ceive 


: My Daughter of Me, — 1 no dragging back. . 
But with my Curſes ;) — 
And wiſh you Joy and Honour. 


whom [ * give you, 


[4 Don Bernard goes to give Leonora 7 Heariquez, 
Julio advances from the Arras, and fleps between. 
Jul. — — , Den Bernard, 


; Mine is the elder Claim. 


D. Borih. ennn— Wh you, Sir? 
Jul. A Wretch, that 8 almoſt loſt to his own Kno- 
ledge, 


Henr.— — Ha! Julio? — . Hear you, 
Were you not ſent on our Commands to Court? | 


| Order'd to wait your fair Diſmiſſion thence ? 
And have you dared, knowing you are our Vaſſal, 


To ſteal away unpriviledg 'd, and leave 


My Buſineſs and your Duty unaccompliſh'd ? | 


Jul. Ungen'rous Lord! The Circumſtance of Things "= 
You have 


wrong d me; 


| Wrong'd me ſo baſely in ſo dear a Point, 
As ſtains the Cheek of Honour with a Bluſh ; 


Cancels the Bonds of Service; bids Allegiance 


Throw to the Wind all high Reſpects of Birth, 


Title, and Eminence; and, in their Stead, 


Fills up the panting Heart with juſt Defiance. 
If you have Senſe of Shame, or Juſtice, Lord, 


Forego this bad Intent; or with your Sword _ 
Anſwer me like a Man, and | ſhall thank you. 


Julio once dead, Leonora may be thine ; 
Bur, i She's a Prize too rich to part with. 


Henr. Vain Man! the preſent Hour is fraught with 
Buſineſs. 


of 


The D1STREST Lovers, 29 


Of richer Moment. Love ſhall firſt be ſerv'd : 
Then, if your Courage hold to claim it of me, 
I may have Leiſure to chaſtiſe this Boldneſs. 
> Nay, then I'll ſeize my Right. 

Henr. What, here, a Brawl ? 
My Servants, — Turn this boiſt'rous Sworder forth; 
And ſee he come not to diſturb our Joys. 

Jul. Hold, Dogs! Leonora, - — - Coward, baſe, 


 Henriques. 
Julio is ſeia 4. and drag d out by the Servants. 
Henr. She dies upon Me ; help! 


[Leonora ſawoons; as they endeavour to recover ber, E 
a Paper drops from her. | 


| Bern. Throng not about her; 
But give her Air. LE 
Her. What Paper's That? fet's ſee it. 


It is her own Hand- Writing | 
D. Bern. — | Bow hae Head: 

*Tis but her Fright ; ſhe will recover ſoon. 

What learn you by that Paper, good my Lord? | 

Henr. That ſhe would do the Viedffurs to herſelf, 

Which Nature hath anticipated on her. | 
What Dagger means ſhe: Search her well, I pray: 

you. 

D. Fa Here i is the Dagger — - Oh, the Rub- 

„ born Sex, | 

Raſh ev'n to Madneſs! —— 


Hlenr.— | : | Bear her to 1 8 
Life flows in her again. Pray, bear her hence: 
And tend her, as you would the World's beſt Treaſure. 

[Women carry Leonora off, 

Don Bernard, this wild Tumult ſoon will ceaſe, 

The Cauſe remov'd; and all return to Calmneſs. 
Paſſions in Women are as ſhort in working, 

As ſtrong in their Effect. Let the Prieſt wait: 

Come, go we in: My Soul is all on Fire; 

And burns impatient of this forc'd Delay. 


1 ; and the Scene cle. 


D 3 SCENE 


30 DounLt FALSs HOOD; or, 
SCENE III. Projpetef a Village at a 
ä 


| Enters Roderick. 


Rod Jie; $ Departure thus in ſecret from Me, 
Wich the long doubtful Abſence of my Brother, 
(Who cannot ſuffer, but my Father feels it;) 
Have truſted me with ſtrong Suſpicions, 

And Dreams, that will not let me ſleep, nor eat, 
Nor taſte thoſe Recreations Health demands: 
But, like a Whirlwind, hither have they ſnatch'd me, 

Perforce, to be reſfolv'd. I know my Brother 
Had Julio's Father for his Hott : from him 


99 _— may befriend me. 


| Em aters Camillo. 


; Old Sir, I'm glad 
To ' ve met you thus: What ails ts Man? canill.— 
Cam. Ha? 
Red. Is't poſſi ble, you ſhould forget your Friends ? 
Cam. Friends ! What are Thoſe ? 
Rad. — Why, Thoſe that love you, Sir. 
Cam. Vou're none of Thoſe, ſure, if you be Lord 
Roderick. 
Rod Les, I am that Lord Roderick, and I lie not, 
85 If I proteſt, I love you paſſing well. : 
Cam. You lov'd my Son too paſſing well, I mke i it: 
One, that believ'd too ſuddenly his Court Creed. 
Red. All is not well. [afide.] Good old Man, 
do not rail. 


Cam. My Lord, my Lord, you's ve dealt diſhonour- 
ably. 
Kad. Good Sir, I am fo far from doing Wirongs 
Of that bafe Strain, J underſtand _—— 
Cam. Indeed! ——— You know not neither, o my 
Conſcience, 


How 


The Dis r REST LOVERS. gr 
How your moſt virtuous Brother, noble Henriques, 
_ (You look ſo like him, Lord, you are the worſe for't ;. 
Rots upon ſuch Diſſemblers!) under colour | 
Of buying Courſers, and I know not what, 
Bought my poor Boy out of Poſſeſſion I 
Ev'n of his plighred Faith. Was not this Ho- 


nour? 
And This a ü Friend? 
Rod. — — [dare not ſay ſo. 


Cam. Now you have robb'd him of his Love, take | 
all; 
Make up your Malice, and diſpatch his Life too. 
Rod. If you would hear me, Sir, — 
Cam. Your brave old Father 
Would have been torn in Pieces with wild Horſes, 5 


Eer he had done this Treachery. On my Conſcience, 


Had he but dreamt you Two durſt have committed 
This baſe, unmanly Crime, —— 
Rod. Why, this is Madneſs. 


Cam. Tve done; I've eas'd my 7 ; now you may 
talk. 


Nod. Then as lama 8 believe me, 
(For I will lie for no Man;) Tm ſo far 

From being guilty of the leaſt Suſpicion 

Of Sin that way, that fearing the long Abſence 
Of Julio and my Brother might beget 
Something to ſtart at, hither have! wavell'd | 

To know the Truth of you. 


| Enters Violante bebind. 


Vio. My Servant loiters ; ſure he means me well. 
Camillo, and a Stranger? Theſe may 3 —_ 


Some Comfort from their Talk. I'Il ſtep aſide: 
And hear what Fame is ſtirring [Violante retires. 
Nod Why this Wond'ring ? 


Cam. Can there be one fo near in Blood as you are 
To that Henriquez, and an honeſt Man? 


Rod. While he was good, I do confeſs my Near- 
nels ; 


But, fince his Fa!l from Honour, bes to me 


" — — — 


And as ſoon loſt. 


Rad. 
I hope al ſhall be well yet. 


Lord! what a heavy Load ] haye within me! 


32 Dou BLE FALSHOOD; or, 
As a ſtrange Face I ſaw but Yeſterday, 


Cam. 


aſk y your Pardon, Lord; 


1 was too raſh and bold. 


Rod. — No Hemp 3 Sir 
Cam. But is it poſſible, you ſhould not hear 


The Paſſage 'twixt Leonora and your Brother ? 55 
Red. None of All This. 


E nter Citizen, 


Cam. How now ? 
Citiz. I bear you Tidings, Sir, which 1 could wiſh 


Some other Tongue deliver d. 


Cam Whence, I pray you? 

_ Citiz. From your Son, Sir. 

Cam. Pr'ythee, where is he? 
Citiz. That's more than I know now, Sir. 


But This I can aſſute you, he has left 
The City raging mad; Heav'n comfort him! 
He came to that curſt arg 


— The Fi iends 
take it! 


Cam. Priythee, be gone, and bid the Bell knoll for 
me: 


I have had one Foot in the 8 ** Time. 


Nay, go, good Friend; thy News deſerve no Thanks. 
How does your Lordihip? [Exit Citizen. 


That's well ſaid, Old Man. 


Cam. = It had need ; 


F. or 'tis a crooked World. Farewell, poor Boy! — 


Enters Don Bernard. 


D. 13 This comes of 1 We omen where the; 
hate: | 


It was my own Sin; and lam rewarded. 
| Now I am like an azed Oak, alone, | 
Left for all Tempeſts. —— I would cry, but cannot : 


Pm dry'd to Death almoſt with theſe Vexations. 


N. 


The Dis TREST LOVERS. 33 
My Heart, — my Heart, — my Heart — 
Cam. Has this ill Weather 
Met with Thee too? 
D. Bern. O Wench, that I were with thee! 
Cam. You do not come to mock at me now ? 
D. Bern. Ha? 
Cam. Do not diſſemble; Thou may'ſt find a Knave 
As bad as thou art, to undo thee too : 
] hope to ſee that Day before I dye yet. 
D. Bern. It needeth not, Camillo; I am Knave | 
- Sufficient to my ſelf. If thou wilt rail, 
Do it as bitterly as thou canſt think of; | 
For I deſerve it. Draw thy Sword, and ftrike me z 
And I will thank thee for't. — I've loſt my Daughter; 
She's ſtol'n away; and whither gone, J know not. 
Cam. She has a fair Bleſſing in being from you, Sir. 
I 'was too poor a Brother for your Greatneſs; 
Vou muſt be grafted into noble Stocks, 
And have your Titles rais d. My State was — at: 


And my Alliance ſcorn d. I've loſt a Son too; 


5 Which muſt not be put up ſo. 3 to LP 
| Rad. — Hold; be counſel'd. 
You've — Loſſes; urge no farther Anger. 
Heav'n pleas'd now at your Love, may bring again, 
And, nv Doubt, will, your Children to your Sen 
forts: 
In which Adventure 1 my Foot ſhall be fo: mall 
And One more will I add, my Honour'd F ether; ; 
ho has a Son to grieve for too, tho' tainted. 
Let your joint Sorrow be as Balm to heal 
Theſe Wounds of adverſe Fortune. 
D. Bern. Come, Camillo, 

Do not deny your Love, for Charity; 

I aſk it of you. Let this noble Lord 

Make Brothers of Us, whom our own croſs Fates 

Could never join. What | have been, forget ; 

What I intend to be, believe and nouriſh : 

I do confeſs my Wrongs; give me your Hand. 
Cam. Heay'n make thee honeſt; there. 
Rod. = Tis done like good Men. 


Nou 


34 Do us LE FALSHoOoOD; vr, 
Now there reſts Nought, but that we part, and each 
Take ſev'ral Ways in Queſt of our loft Friends: 
Some of my Train o'er the wild Rocks ſhall wait you. 
Our beſt Search ended, here we'll meet again, 

And on the Fortunes of our 2 Travels. ¶Exeunt. 


Violante « comes forward. 


Pia. I would, yr. Brother had but half your + Vie 
tue! 

Vet there remains a little Spark of "WI 

That lights me to ſome Comfort. The Match is 

5 croſs d; 

The Parties ſeparate ; and I again 

May come to fee this Man that has betray'd me; 

And wound his Conſcience for it: Home again 

I will not go, whatever Fortune guides me ; 

Tho' ev'ry Step-I went, I trod upon 

| Dangers as fearful and as pale as Death, 

No, no, Henriquez ; I will follow thee . 


Where there is Day. Time may deget a Wonder. 
E. nters 3 erwant. 


o, are you come? What News? 

Serv. None, but the worſt. Your Father makes 
mighty Offers yonder by a Cryer, to any One can bring 
you home again. 

Viol. Art Thou corrupted? 

Serv. No. 

Vio. Wilt thou be honeſt? 

Serv. I hope, you do not fear me. | 
Viol. Indeed, I do not. Thou haſt an 1 F ace; 

= * ſuch a Face, when it deceives, take heed, - 


ID Is curſt of all Heav'n's Creatures. 


Serv, I'll hang firſt. 


Viol. Heay'n leſs thee from that End! — -T ve heard | 
aà Man | 


Ty Say more than This; and yet that Man was falſe, 


Thou'lt not b fo, I hope. 
däerw. By my Lite, Miſtreſs, <—— 1 
| | | F 108. 


The DisTREsT LOVERS. 35 
Viol. Swear not; I credit Thee. But pry'thee tho”, 

Take Heed, thou doſt not fail: I do not Sade * : 

Yet I have truſted ſuch a ſerious F ace, 

And been abuſed too. 
Serv. If I fail your Truſt, - 
Viol I do thee Wrong to hold thy Honeſty | 

At Diſtance thus : 'Thou fhalt know all ad ortunes. 

Get me a Shepherd's Habit. 

Serv. Well; what elſe? 
ä And walt me in the Evening, where I told. 
taee ; 

There Thou ſhalt know my kunde Ends. Take Heed— 
Serv. D'ye fear me til]? | 

101. — No ; This is only Counſel: 

My Life and Death I have put equally 

Into thy Hand : Let not Rewards, nor Hopes, 

Be caſt into the Scale to turn thy Faith. 


Be honeſt but for Virtue's ſake, that's «; TT 
He, that has ſuch a Treaſure, cannot fall. Ss 


— 


ACT IV. SCENE L 
| 8 C E N * 4 Wide Plain, with a Proſper of 


Mou utains at a * 


Enter Maſter — the Flecks, three or four Shepherds, 
| : Violante in Boy's Cloatbs. 


ELL, he's as 8 a Man, Heav'n 


1 Shep. * G 
ET comfort him! as ever theſe Eyes look'd * 


on. ; 
9 Shes. lt he have a Mother, I believe, Neigh- 
| bours, ſhe's a Woe-woman for him at this Hour. 


Maſt, Why ſhould he haunt theſe wild unpeopled 
Mountains, | 


Where 


36 DovsLEe FALSsHoOOp; or, 
Where nothing dwells but Hunger, and FO Winds? 
1. Shep. His Melancholy, Sir, that's the main De- 
vil does it. Go to, I fear he has had too much foul 
Play offer'd him. 
Maſt, How gets he Meat? 
2 Shep. Why, now and then he * our Vieuals 
from us, tho? we deſire him to eat; and inſtead of a 
| ſhort Grace, beats us well and ſoundly, and then fa Is to. 
Maſt. Where lies He? | 
1 Shep. Ev'n where the Night o 'ertakes him. 
22 Shep. Now will I be hang'd, an' ſome fair-ſnouted 
ſkittiſh Woman, or other, be not at the End of this 
_ Madneſs. 
1 Shep. Well, if he lodg'd within the Sound of us, 
I knew our Mufick would allure him. How attentively 
be ſtood, and how he fix'd his Eyes, when your Boy 
ſung his Love-Ditty. Oh, here he comes again. 
Maſt. Let him alone ; he wonders ſtrangely at us. 
1 Shep. Not a Word, Sirs, to croſs him, as you love 
your Shoulders, 
2 Shep. He ſeems much diſturb'd: 1 believe the mad 
Fit i is upon him. | 


| Enters Julio. 


Ful. Horſemanſhip! 13 - Hell - — - Riding ſhall be abo- 
liſh'd: | 

Turn the barb'd Steed looſe to his native Wildneſs 

It is a Beaſt too noble to be made 

.-. "The Property of Man's Baſeneſs. What a Letter 

Wrote he to's Brother? What a Man was 1? | 

Why, Perſeus did not know his Seat like me; 

The Parthian, that rides ſwift without the Rein, 

Match'd not my Grace and Firmneſs. — Shall this Lord 

Dye, when Men pray for him? Think you, 'tis meet? 


1 Shep. I don't know what to ſay: Neither 1, nor 


all the Conteſlors in Spain, can unriddle this wild Stutt. 
Jul. I muſt to Court! be uſher'd into Grace, 
By a large Liſt of Praiſes ready penn d! 
O Devil! What a venomous World is this, 
When Commendations are the Baits to Ruin! 1 


— 


The Dis TR EST LoveRs. 37 

All theſe good Words were Gyves and Fetters, Sir, 

To keep me bolted there: while the falſe Sender 
Play d out the Game of Treach'ty. — Hold; come hi- 

ther; | | | 

You have an Aſpect, Sir, of wond'rous Wiſdom, 
And, as it ſeems, are travell'd deep in Knowledge; 
Have you e'er ſeen the Phenix of the Earth, 


The Bird of Paradiſe? 
_ Shep. — — - In Troth, not I, Sir. 


Ful. I have; and known her Haunts, and where ſhe 
built 5 | 


Her ſpicy Neſt: 'till, like a credulous Fool, . | 


I ſhew'd the Treaſure to a Friend in Truſt, : \ 
And he hath robb'd me of her. —Truft no Friend: 


| Keep thy Heart's Counſels cloſe.---Haft thou a Miſtreſs P 5 


Give her not out in Words; nor let thy Pride 


Be wanton to diſplay her Charms to View; 
Love is contagious: and a Breath of Praiſe, 
Or a flight Glance, has kindled up its Flame, 
And turn'd a Friend a Traytor. 
And it has hurt my Brain. 


— Tis in Proof; 


1 Shep. Marry, now there is ſome Moral in his Mad- - 


_ neſs, and we may profit by it. 
Maſt. See, he grows cool, and penſive. 


Go towards him, Boy, but do nc: look that way. 
Viol. Alas! I tremble — © 
2 Oh, my pretty Youth! 


Came hither, Child; Did not our Song imply 


Something of Love? 5 

1 Shep. Ha— ha— goes i: there? Now if the Boy 

be witty, we ſhall trace ſomething. 
Viol. Yes, Sir, it was the 5ubjeR. 


Ful. Sit here then: Come, thake not, good pretty Soul, 


Nor do not fear me; Ill not do thee Wrong. 
Viol. Why do you look ſo on me? 


Jul. | — — | have Reaſons. % 


It puzzles my Philoſophy, to think 
That the rude Blatt, hot Sun, and daſhing Rains 

Have made no fiercer War upon thy Youth; 
Nor hurt the Bloom of thas Vermilion Cheek. 


You weep too, do you not? 
Jol. — Sometimes, I d). 
ä E | Jul: 


* 
—— ———— 


rr 
© 5 - 


I * TY OS 
: MC IEEE <a erode en ce 


all hands. 


I will avenge Thee. 


38 DovsLtz FALs HOOD; or, 
ul. | weep ſometimes too. You're — young. 
2 Indeed, I've ſeen more Sorrows far than Your 
Ful. Yet all theſe have not broken your Complexion. 
You have a ſtrong Heart, and you are the happier. 


I warrant, Wor re a very loving Woman. 


oman, Sir ?— I fear, tas found me out. 
[Afede. 

2 Shep. He takes the Boy for a Woman. —Mad again! 

Jul. You've met ſome Diſappointment ; ſome foul Play 


JV. zol. A 


= Has croſs'd your Love. I read it in your Face. 


Viol. You read a Truth then. | 
Jul. Where can lie the Fault? 


15 t in the Man, or ſome difſembling Knave, 
| He put in Truſt? Ho! have I hit the Cauſe ? 


Viol. You're not far off. 
Jul. This World is full of Cor ners, very full; 
Young Virgins muſt be wary in their Ways. 


I've known a Duke's Son do as _ a — 
Will you be rul'd by _— - 


Viol. — — — Oh 
Jul. | Ss RTE "Kill Yourſelf. 


Twill be a Terror to the Villain's Conſcience, 
The longeſt Day he „„ 


Viol. — - By no Means. What? 
Commit Self-murther! LEE 
_ — Yes; Ill have i it fo. 


1 Shep. I fear, his Fit i is returning. Take heed of 
Sir, do you want any thing? 

Ful. Thou bi; thou cant not hurt me: I am proof 
"Gainſt farther Wrongs. — Steal cloſe behind me, Lady. 


Viol. Thank the "IRE ns, „Tm free. 
Jul. 9 treach'rous, baſe * have I caught 
_ thee 


— * Shep. Help! help! 3 Neighbours ; 3 he will kill 


me elſe. — ulio ſeizes on the Shepherd; 

; Violante runs out. | 

Jul. Here Thou tale pay thy Heart-blood for the 
 Wrongs 


| Thou'ſt heap'd upon this Head. Faith- breaker! Villain! . 
II ſuck thy 3 


1 Shep. 


| Not all his Father's Guards ſhall ſhield him there. 


' Speaks him of ſuch a Rank, as well perſwades me, 


The D1sTREST LOVERS. 39 
1 Shep. Good Sir, have Patience; this is no Hen- 
riguex. [They reſcue the Shepherd. 
Jul. Well; let him ſlink to Court, and hide a Co- 


ward; 


Or if he prove too ſtrong for Mortal Arm, 

I will ſollicit ev'ry Saint in Heav'n LS 
To lend me Vengeance. I'll about it ſtrait — 
The wrathful Elements ſhall wage this War; : 
Furies ſhall haunt him; Vultures gnaw his Heart; 
And Nature pour forth all her Stores of Plagues 
To join in Puniſhment of Fruſt betray'd, [Ex. Julio. 

2 Shep. Go thy Ways, and a Vengeance po with 

Thee! — Pray, feel my Noſe; is it faſt, Neighbours? 
I Shep. Tis as well as may de. 
2 Shep. He pull'd at it, as he would have drag da 
Bullock backward by the Tail An t had been ſome 
Men's Noſe that I know, Neighbours, who knows 
where it had been now? He has given me ſuch a devi- 
liſh Daſh o'er the Mouth, that I feel, I ſhall never whiſtle 
to my Sheep again: Then they'll make Holy day. 
I Shep. Come, ſhall we go? for, I fear, if the Youth . 
return, our ſecond Courſe will be much more againſt 
JJ T:?: Oo MM. 

Maſt. Walk you afore ; I will but give my Boy 
So:ne ſhort Inſtructions, and I'll follow ſtrait. 
We'll craſh a Cup together. 25 

1. Sep Pray, do not linger. . 3 
Maſt. I will not, Sirs; This muſt not be a Boy; 

His Voice, Mein, Geſture, ev r Thing he does, 

Savour of ſoft and female Delicacy. . 

He but puts on this Seeming, and his Garb 


Ue plays the Swain, rather to cloak ſome Purpoſe, 
Than . tot by a Need: P've waited long 
To mark the End he has in his Diſguiſe ; 

But am not perfect in't. The Madman's Coil 

Has driv'n him ſhaking hence. Theſe Fears betray him. 

If he prove right, I'm happy. O, he's hete. e 


E 2 Emes | 


— ——_— : 
—— — . Rn 


Down to the Ciſterns? Shall 1 make 
Would I were hve Miles from him — How he gripes 


| You would not wrong me. 


40 Dou LIZ FALsSHOoOD,; or, 


En ters Violante. 


Come hither, Boy 3 where did you leave the Flock, 


Child ? 
Viol. Grazing below, Sir — What 405 he mean, to 


ſtroke One o'the Cheek ſo? J hope, I'm not betray'd. 


Maſt Have you learnt the Whiſtle yet, and when 
to Fold? 


And how to make the Dog bring in the Strayers ? 


Viol Tine, Sit, will furniſh me with all theſe Rules; 5 


My Will is able, but my Knowledge weak, Sir, 


Maft. That's a good Child: Why delt thou bluſh, 
. my Boy? 


Tis certainly a Woman. 22 Sorak, my Boy. 
Viol. Heay' n! how | tremble. — Tis unuſual to :ne 
To nnd ſuch Kindneis at a Maſter's Hand, 
That am a poor Boy, ev'ry way unable, 
|  Unlefs it be in Pray'rs, to merit it. 
Beſides, I've often heard old People ſay, 
: Too much Indulgence makes Boys rude and ſawcy. 


Mafj?. Are you fo cunning ! 
—!. ike * Eye ſhake Fire, 
And meaſure ev'ry Piece of Youth abcut me! [ Aſide 
The Ewes want Water, Sir: Snall I 50 drive ein 
aſte, Sit? 


5 me! | | Ls 
Maſt. Come, come, all this is not ſufficient, Child, 


To make a Fool of me.—This is a fine Hand, 


A delicate fine Hand,— Never change Colour ; 


79 You underſtand me,— and a Woman's Hand. 


Viol. You're ftrangely out: Yet if I were a Woman, 


1 know, you are fo honeſt and fo good, 
That tho I wore Diſguiſes for ſome Ends, 


Maſt. Come, you're made for Love ; ; 


Will you comply? I'm madder with this Talk. 
There's Nothing you can fay, can take my Edge off. 


Viol. Oh, do but quench theſe foul Affections in you, 


That, like baſe Thieves, have rob'd you of yous Reaſon, 
And 


The Dis TREST LovERS. 41 
And I will be a Woman; and begin 
So (ad a Story, that if there be aught 

Of humane in you, or a Soul 7 8 Fourk — 

Vou cannot chuſe but pity my loſt 

Maſt. No Stories now. 
il. — Kill me directly, Sir; 

As you have any Goodneſs, take my Life. 

Rod within. Hoa! Shepherd, wa you hear, Sir? 
Mat What bawling Rogue is that, b th Devil's 7 
8 

* Bleſſings upon him, whatſoe' er be be! [Runs out. 


E aters. Roderick. 


Red Goed Even, my Friend; I chought, you al 
had been aſleep in this Country. 
Maſt. You had lied. then; — ou were waking, | 
when you thought fo. | 
Rad. I thank you, Sir. 
Maft. I pray, be cover'd; tis not fo ack worth, Sir. | 
Rod. Was that thy Boy ran crying ?: 1 
Mat. Yes; what then? 
Nod. Why doſt thou beat him fo? 

Maſt. To make him grow. en 
Red. A pretty Med'cine ! Thou can't not tell me 
the Way to the next Nunnery? | 
Mf. How do you know That? — = Yes, 1 can tell 
you; but the Queſtion is, whether I will or no; and, 
indeed, I will not. Fare you well. [Exit Maſter. 

Rod. What a brute Fellow's this! Are they all thus? 

My Brother Henriquez tells me by his Letters, 
The Miſtreſs of his Soul not far from hence 
Hath taken Sanctuary: from which he prays 
My Aid to bring her back. — From what Camillo 
Hinted, I wear * Doubts. Here tis appointed 
That we ſhould meet ; it mon. be here; 'tis fo. 

| He comes. | 


E nters Hentic iquez. 
Now, Brother, what's this poſt haſte Buſineſs 

You hurry me about ? — Some wenching Matter— 
| E 3. | n Henr, 


42 DouBLE FALSHOOD,; ex, 

Henr. My Letter told you, Sir. 

Rod, "Tis true, it tells me, that you' ve loſt a Miſ- 
_ treſs 
Whom your Heart bleeds for ; but the Means to win 
5 _ 

From her cloſe Life, I take it, is not mention'd. 
| You'reever in theſe Troubles.— | 
 flenr. — Noble Brother, 

I own, I have too freely iv'n a Scope 

To Youth's intemp'cate Heat, and raſh Defires : 
But think not, that | would engage your Virtues 
To any Cauſe, wherein my conttant Heart 

| Attended not my Eye. Till now my Paſſions 
| Reign'd in my Blood; ne'er pierc'd into my Mind; 
But I'm a Convert grown to purett Thoughts: 
And muſt in Anguith ſpend my Days to come, 
If I poſſeſs not der: So much 1 love. 

Rad. The Means? — She's in a Cloyſter, is he not 
Within whoſe Walls to enter as We are, 


Will never be: Few Men, but Fryars, come there , þ 
Which We ſhall never make. 


Ken If That would do it, 
T would make Any bing. 
Rod. Are you fo hot? 


Tu ferve him, be it but to fave his Honour. [ Afide, 
Jo feign a Corple —— By th' Mafs, it ſhall be ſo. 
We muſt pretend, we do tranſport a Body 
As 'twere to's Funeral: and coming late by, 
| Crave a Night's Leave to reſt the Herſe reh Convent. | 
That be our Courſe ; for to ſuch Charity 
Strict Zeal and Cuſtom of the Houſe give Way. 
Henr. And, opportune, a vacant Herſe paſs' d by 
Prom Rites but new perform's : This for a Price 
We'll hire, to put our Scheme in Act. Ho! Gerald— 
[Enter Geiald, whom Lenriquez whiſpers ; then Ge- 
_ raid goes out. 
Rod. When we're once lodg'd, the Means of her 
Conveyance, 
By ſafe and fecret Force, wich Eaſe Rt compaſs. 
But, Brother, know my Terms.—If that your Miſt:eſs 
Will to the World come back, and the "ages 


The DisTtreEsT LOVERS. 43 
An Object worthy in our Father's Eye. | 
Wooe her, and win her; but if his Conſent 
Keep not Pace with your Purpoſe — 

Henr. Doubt it not. 

I've look'd not with a common Eye; but choſe 
A noble Virgin, who to make her ſo, 
Has all the Gifts of Heav'n and Earth upon her. 
If ever Woman yet could be an Angel, 
She is the neareſt. 85 
Rad. | - Well; a Lover's Praiſe 
Feaſts not a Common Ear. Now to our Plot; 
: * hall — _ in with Us.  [Exeunt?. 


SCENE u. 


Enter Julio, and T Wo Gentlemen. 


Gone: Good Sir, compoſe cok. | 
Ful. O Lieser 
That Heav'n had ads Thee ſtronger than a W oman, 

How happy had 1 been! 
Gent. — —— He's calm again 
Il take this Jacerval to work upon Him. 
Theſe wild and ſolitary Places, Sir, DOE 
But feed your Pain ; let better Reaſon guide you ; 
And quit this forlorne State, that yields no Comfort. 
| [Lute ſcunds within, | 
Jul. Ha! hark, a Sound from Heav'n! Do you hear | | 
Nothing ? — 
Gent. Ves, Sir; the Touch of ſome ſweet laſtrument: 
Here's no Inhabitant. 
Ful. No, no, the better 
Cent. This is a ſtrange Place to hear Muſick i in. 
Jul. Im often vifited with theſe ſweet Airs. 

The Spirit of ſome hapleſs Man that dy'd, 

And left his Love hid in a faithleſs Woman, 

Sure haunts theſe Mountains. [Violaate ings within. : 
Fond Echo! forega thy light Strain 

And heedſully * a loſt Maid; 
e, tell the falſe Ear of the Swain 


Heu- 


44 DouBLe FaLlsHnoop; or, 


How deeply his Vows have . d. 
Go, tell him, what Sorrows I bear; © 
HGee, yet if his Heart feel my Wee : 
Tis now he muſt heal my Deſpair, 
Or Death will make Pity too flow. 


Sent. See, how his Soul ſtrives 1 in him! This fad 
reis 
Has ſearch'd him to the Mie, 
Jul. Excellent Sorrow! 
You never iov'd? 
Sent. No. | | 
Jul. — Peace ; and © Ren to grieve then. 
[Violante ing within, 


Go, tell him, . Sarrouns I bear ; 
See, yet if his Heart feel my Moe 
*Tis now he muſt heal my Deſpair, 


Or Death Will make Pity too — 


5 Is not this heav'nly * 

Gent. I never heard the Like, Sir. Re, | 

Jul. I'll tell you, my good F riends ; but pray ſay 
N #2 
I'm ſtrangely touch'd with This. The heav 'nly Sound | 
Diffuſes a ſweet Peace thro all my Soul. 1 
But yet I wonder, what new, ſad, Companion 
Grief has brought hither to out bid my Sorrows. 
Stand of, Taos off, ſtand off — Friends, it appears. 


- {iii 8 


Tiol How much more grateful are theſe cragey 
| Mountains, 
And thele wild Trees, Gab things of nobler Natures ; * 
For Theſe receive my Plaints, and mourn again 
In many Echoes to Me. All good People 
Are faln aſleep for ever. None are left, 

That have the Senſe, and Touch of Tenderneſs 
For Vir tue's fake: No, ſcarce their Memory : 
From whom I may expect Counſel in Fears, 


Eaſe to eg a or Redreſe of * 3 
Jul. 


The Dis TREsT LOVERS. 45 
Ful. This is a moving Sorrow, but fay _— 
Fial. What Dangers have | run, and to what Infuits 
Expos'd this Ruin of my felt? Oh! Miſchief 
On that Soul-ſported Hind, my vicious Maſter! 
Who would have thought, that ſuch poor Worms as 
2 | 555 : 
(Whoſe beſt Feed is ceafſe Bread; whoſe Bev'rage, 
JJ > = 
Should have ſo much rank Blood? I ſhake all over, 
And bluſh to think what had become of me, 
If that good Man had not reliev'd me from him. 
Jul Since ſhe is not Leonora, ſhe is head ly. 
When ſhe ſpeaks next, liſten as ſeriouſly, 
As Women do that have their Loves at Sea, 
What Wind blows ev'ry Morning —— 
Viol. I cannot get this falſe Man's Memory 
Out of my Mind. You Maidens, that ſhall live 
To hear my mournful Tale, when I am Aſhes, 
Be wiſe; and to an Oath no more give Credit, 
To Tears, to Vows, (falſe Both !) or any Thing 
A Man ſhall promiſe, than to Clouds, that row 
Bear ſuch a pleaſing Shape, and now are nothing. 

For they will cozen, (if They may be cozend,) 
The very Gods they worſhip. ——Valour, Juſtice, 
| Diſcretion, Honeſty, and all they covet, — 

Io make them ſeeming Saints, are but the Wiles 
By which theſe Hrens lure us to Deſtruction. 


Jul. Do not you weep now? I could drop myſelf 
Into a Fountain for her. „ 
Gent. She weeps extremely. 
Jul. —— Let her weep; 'tis well: 
Her Heart will break elſe. Great Sorrows live in Tears, 
Viol. O falſe Henriquez! | 
Jul. Ha! | 5 
| —_ And Oh, thou Fool, 
1 Forſaken Violante ! whole Belief „„ 
And childiſh Love hath made Thee ſo - go, dye; 
For there is nothing left Thee now to look for, 5 
That can bring Comfort, but a quiet Grave. 
There all the Miſeries I long have felt, 
And Thoſe to come, ſhall ſweetly ſleep together. 
f Fortune 


46 DovsLEt FalsHooD, or, 


Fortune may guide that falſe Henriques hither, 

To weep Repentance o'er my pale, dead Coarſe, 

And cheer my wand'ring Spirit with thoſe lov'd Obſe- 
r lICoing. 

Jul. Stay, Lady, ſlay: Can it be poſſible, 8 
That you are Violante? 5 

Viol. — That loſt Name, 155 


Spoken by One, that needs muſt know my Fortunes 
Has taken much fear from me. Who are you, Sir? 
For, ſure, I am that hopeleſs Violante. 
Ful. And l, as far from any earthly Comfort 
That I know yet, the much wrong'd Julio? 
Viol. — — — . Julio! | 
Jul. I once was thought fo. —D—P— lf the curſt 
Henrique FFV 
Had Pow'r to change you to a Boy, why, Lady, 
Should not that Miſchief make me any thing, 
That have an equal Share in all the Miſeries 

His Crimes have flung upon U? 

Viol. — Well I know it: 
And pardon Me, I could not know your Virtues, 
Before your Griefs. Methought, when laſt we met, 
The Accent of your Voice ſtruck on my Ear 
Like ſomething | had known, but Floods of Sorrow 
 Drown'd the Remembrance. If you'll pleaſe to fit, 

(Since I have found a ſuff ring true Companion,) 
And give me Hearing, I will tell you ſomething | 
Of Teonora, that may comfort youuuuu. 
Jul. Bleſſing upon Thee! Henceſorth, I proteſt 
Never to leave Thee, if Heav'n ſay Amen. . 
But, ſoft! let's ſhift our Ground, guide our ſad Steps 
To ſome remoter Gloom, where undiſturb'd, 


N We may compare our Woes; dwell on the Tale 


Of mutual Injuries, till our Eyes run o'er, 
And we infect each other, with freſh Sotrows. 
Talk'd you of Comfort? "Tis the Food of Fools, 
And We will None on't; but indulge Deſpair : 

So, worn with Griefs, ſteal to the ve of Death, | 
And in a Sigh give up our lateſt Breath. [Exeuxt. 


The End of the Fourth Af. 


The Dis TREsT LOVERS. 47 


ACT V. SCENE I. 


8 0 E N E, 7 he Proſpect of the Mountains 


cont! nued. 


Er nter Roderick, Leonora weild, Henriquez, Atten« 


dants as Mourners. 


Red EST certain, Lady, Nothing fhal betide 


ou, 
But fr and noble Uſage. W me, 
That hitherto a Courſe of Violence | 
Has ſnatch'd you from that Seat of Contemplation 
To which you gave your After Life. | 
Leon. Where am I? 


Nod. Not in the Nunnery ; never bluſk, nor tremble; 


' Your Honour has as fair a Guard, as when 55 
Within a Cloyſter. Know then, what is done, 


( “Which, I preſume, you underſtand not truly,) 


Has this Uſe, to preſerve the Life of One 


Dying for Love of You : my Brother, and your F riend: . 


Under which Colour we defir'd to reſt 

Our Herſe one Night within your ballow'd Walls 
Where we ſurpriz'd you. 

Leon. Are you that Lord Roderick, 

So ſpoken of for Virtue, and fair Life, 

And dare you loſe theſe to be Advocate 

For ſuch a Brother, ſuch a ſinful Brother, 
Such an unfaithful, treacherous, brutal Brother ? 
Red. This is a fearful Charge. 


2 Looks at Henriquezz 
Leon.(kuoyꝛq If you would have me 
Think, you ſtill bear Reſpe& for Virtue's Name; 


As you would wiſh, your Daughters, thus diſtreſs BY 
Might find a Guard, protect me from 2 5 
And J am happy. | 
Rod. Come, Sir, make your Anſwer ; . 

Fot as ] have a Soul, I am aſham'd on't. 


43 DousBLe FalsH400D; or, 


Henr. O Leonora, ſee! thus ſelf-condemn' d, 
I throw me at your Feet, and ſue for Mercy. 
If I have err'd, impute it to my Love; 
The Tyrant God that bows us to his Sway, 


: Rebellious to the Laws of reas' ning Men; 


That will not have his Votaries Actions ſcann'd, 
But calls it Juſtice, when we moſt obey him. 


He but commanded, what your Eyes inſpir d; 


Whoſe ſacred Beams, darted into my Soul, 


Have purg'd the Manſion from impure Deſires, 
And kindled in my Heart a Veſtal's Flame. 


Leon. Riſe, riſe, my Lord; this well diſſembled Paſ- 
ſion | 
Has gain'd you nothing but a deeper Hate. 


Should I 1 —_—_— he can truly love me, 
That, like a 
Or ſhould I drink that Wine, and think it Cordial, 


illain, murthers my Deſires? 


When | fee 1 in't! 
Rod, ————— Draw this way, Lady; 


Jam not perfect | in your Story yet, 


But ſee you've had ſome Wrongs, that want Redreſs. 


Only you muſt have Patience to go with us 
To yon ſmall Lodge, which meets the Sight from 


hence, : 


Where your Diſtreſs ſhall fad the * Reſ ect: 
Till when, your Griefs ſhall govern me as much, 
As Nearneſs and Affection to my Brother. 


Call my Attendants yours; and uſe them freely; 
For as I am a Gentleman, no Pow'r, 


Above your own Will, ſhall come near your Perion. 


[4s they are going out, Violante enters, ani plucks 
Roderick by the Sleeve; the reſt ge out. 
Vid Your Ear a Moment: Scorn not my tender 
Youth. | 

| Red. Look to the Lady there. — I follow ſtrait. 
What ails this Boy? Why dolt thou ſingle me? 

Viol. The due Obſervance of your noble Virtue, 
Vow'd to this mourning Virgin, makes | me bold | 
To give it more Employment. 

Red. Art not Thou 
The ſurly Shepherd g Bay, that, when | calid 


Ta 


The DisTREST LOVERS. 49 


_ 1 the Way, ran crying by me ? 
oY Viol. Yes, Sir. 


And I thank Heav'n and you for helping me. 
Rod. How did I help thee, Boy? 7 
Viol. J do but feem fo, Sir; and am indeed 

A Woman; one your Brother once has lov'd; 

Or, Heav'n forgive him elſe, he ly'd extremely. 
Rod. Weep not, good Maid; O this licentious Bro- 

V „ 

But how came you a Wand'rer on theſe Mountains? 

] will aſſure you, Sir, theſe barren Mountains 

Hold many Wonders of your Brother's making. 

Here wanders hapleſs Ju/ro, worthy Man! 

Beſides himſelf with Wrongs 1 
Red. That once again 5 

Viol. Sir, 1 faid, 7 ulis. Sleep weigh'd down his 
.. Eyelids, - 35 5 

Oppreſs'd with Watching, juſt as you approach'd us. 
Rod, O Brother! We thall found the Depths of 

Falſhood. ET : e 

If this be true, no more but guide me to him 

hope, a fair End will ſucceed all yet. 

it be He, by your Leave, gentle Brother, „ 

111 fee him ſerv'd firſt. Maid, you have o'erjoy'd me. 

Thou ſhalt have Right too: Make thy fair Appeal 

Io the good Duke, and doubt not but thy Tears 

Shall be repaid with Intereſt from his Jufice. 

Lead me to Julio. | | 


* 


[Exeunt. 
SCENE II. An Apartment in the Lodge. 
Enter Duke, Don Bernard, and Camillo. 


Cam. Ay, then your Grace had had a Son more; He, 
a Daughter; and I, an Heir: But let it be as tis, 1 


cannot mend it; one way or other, I ſhall rub it over, 


with rubbing to my Grave, and there's an End on't. 
Due. Our Sorrows cannot help us, Gentlemen, 
Cam. Hang me, Sir, if 1 ſhed one Tear more. By 
Tove, I've wept fo long, os as blind as Juſtice. ber | 
; | come 


50 Dou sLZ FAaLsSHoo0D; or, 


I come to ſee my Hawks (which I held a Toy next to 
my Son ;) if they be but Houſe-high, I muſt ſtand aim- 
ing at them like a Gunner. a 
Duke. Why, be mourns like a Man. Don 3 you 
Are fill like April, ſull of Show'rs and Dews : | 


And yet I blame you not: for I myſelf 
Feel the ſelf-ſame Affections. 
They're diſobedient Children. 


- Let them go; 


D. Bern. Ay, my Lord ; ; 


Vet they may turn again. | 
Cam. Let them een have their Swing. they” re young 


and wanton ; the next Storm we ſhall have them gallop 


homeward, whining as Pigs do in the Wind. 


D. Bern. Would J had my Daughter any way. 
Cam. Would'ſt thou have her with Bearn, Man, tell - 


me that? 


D. Bern. I care not, if an honeſt Father got 3 

Cam. Vou might have had her ſo in this good Time, 
Had my Son had her: Now you may go ſeek N 
Vour Fool to ſtop a Gap with. 


Duke. You ſay, that Redrich charg'd you here ſhould e 


wait him: 


| He has o'erſlip'd the Time, at which his Letters 


Of Speed requeſt that I ſhould alſo meet him. 


I. fear, ſome bad Event is uſher'd in 
By this — 


How now ? 


e Gentleman, 
Cent. $0 pleaſe your Grace, 


Lord Redrick makes Approach. 


Duke. I thank thee, Fellow, 
For thy ſo timely News: Comes he alone ? 
Gent. No, Sir , attended well: and in his Train 


55 F ollows a Herſe with all due Rites of Mourning. 


[Exit Gent. 
Duke. Heavy n ſend, 8 live! 


Can. - "Tis my poor Julio. — _ 


4 Sam Roderick, baſtily. 
Duke. O welcome, welcome, 


Welcome, good Red'rick ! Say, what News? 


Cam. 


ft. 


Behind that Lady 


And Fulic's! O Confuſion ! = | 
I bow me for your Pardon, | Fo the Duke. 


The Dis TREST LOVERS. 51 
Cam. Do you bring Joy or Grief, my Lord? For me» 
Come what can come, I'll live a Month or two 


Tf the Gout — curſe my Phyfician once more, 
And then, ----------— _ | 


Under this Stone 2; 
Lies Sev'nty One. 


Red Signior, you doexpreſs a manly Patience. 


My noble Father, ſomething I have brought 
To eaſe your Sorrows: My Endeavours have not 
Been alto _ barren in my Journey. 


| Duke. It comes at need, Boy ; ; but 1 hop'd it from thee. 


Enter Leonora veil d, Henriquez bebind, and 4. 
tendants. 


Red. The dee I bring, will bear me ; Wirneſs | 


The buſieſt of my Time has been employ'd 


On this good Taſk. Don Bernard finds . 
This Veil his Daughter. You, my Royal Father, 
kad a wand' ring Son. oo 
How I met with them, and how brought them hither, 
More Leiſure muſt unfold. 
Henr.— — My Father here! 
Low as Earth | 


D Bern. O my Girl! 


Thou bring'ſt new Life. . Leonora. 


Duke. And you, my Son, reſtore me [To Roderick. 


One Comfort here that has been miſſing lon 
I hope, thy Follies thou haſt left abroad. 17 o Henriq. 


Cam. Ay, ay; you've all Comforts but I; you have 


ruin'd me, kill'd my poor Boy; , cheated and ruin'd him; 


and 1 have no Comfort. 
Red. Be patient, Signior ; Time my * Hand 


To work you Comfort too. 


Cam. I thank your Lordſhip; 
Would Grandfire Time had been ſo kind to've - done it; 


We might have joy'd together like good Fellows. 
But he's fo full of. Buſineſs, good Old Man, 


"Tis * he could do the Good he has done. | 
8 D. ern. 


52 DousnLtE FALSs noob; vr, 
D. Bern. Nay, Child, be eomforted. Theſe Tears 


diſtrat me. 
Duke. Here your good Father, Lady. 
Leon. Willingly. 


' Duke. The Voice of Parents is the Voice of Gods: 
For to their Children they are Heav'n's Lieutenants : 
Made Fathers, not for common Uſes meerly 
Of Procreation ; (Beaſts and Birds would be 

As noble then as we are) but to ſteer _ 

The wanton F reight of Youth he Storms and Dan- 
ers, 
Which with full Sails they ben upon: and legen 
The moral Line of Life, they bend ſo often. 
For theſe ate We made Fathers; and for Theſe, 

May challenge Duty on our Children's Part. 
Obedience is the Sacrifice of Angels, 

Whoſe Form you carry. 
„ Here the Duke, good Wench. 1 
Leon. I do moſt . My gracious Lord. 


[To the Duke. 


; Let me be fo unmanner'd to requeſt, 
He would not farther preſs me with Perſeakoas 7, 
O' th' inſtant Hour: but have the gentle Patience 
Lo bury this keen Suit, till I ſhake Hands 
Wich my old Sorrows, 
Cam. Why doſt look at me? 
Alas! I cannot help thee. 
_ -- Zoom. — And but weep 
A Farewell to my murther'd Julio, 
Cam. Bleſſing be with thy Soul, whene” er it leaves = 
Thee! 
Leon. For ſuch ad Rites NE be bello o. my 


Lord, 

Eer I can love again. Maids, that have lov'd, 
If they be worth that noble Teſtimony, 
| Wear their Loves here, my Lord; here, in their 

Hearts; | | 
Deep, deep within ; not in their Eyes, or Accents ; 

Such may be ſlip'd away; or with two Tears 
Waſh'd out of all Remembrance: Mine no Phyſick, 
But Time, or Death, can cure. 


| Henr. 


The Dis TREsT LOVERS. 53 
Henr. You make your own Conditions, and I ſeal 
1 | 

Thus on your virtuous Hand. [Afde. 
Cam. Well, Wench, thy = ual 

Shall not be found in haſte ; I give thee That: 

Thou art a right one, ev'ry inch Thy Father 

(For, without Doubt, that Snuff never Tk Thee, 

Was ſome choice Fellow, ſome true Gentleman; 

. give thy Mother Thanks for't there's no Harm | 

done 5 

1 Would I were young again, and had but thee, 
A good Horſe under me, and a m Sword, 
And thus mack for Inheritance. 


| [Violante offers, once or twice, to Rev 5 
„„ herſelf, but goes Sack. 
Duke. What Boy's That, 
Has offer d twice or thrice to break upon 1 
I've noted him, and ſtill he falls back fearful. 
Rod. A little Boy, Sir, like a ä 
Duke. Yes. 
Rod. Tis your Page, Brother ; 
Vas fo, late. 
Henr. My Page! What Page? - 
Red. Ev'n ſo he fays, your page; 
Ad more, and worſe, you ſtole him * his F riends, 
And promis'd him Preferment. | 
Henr. I, Preferment! 
Red. And on ſome fi ight Occaſion let him ſlip 
Here on theſe Mountains, where he had been ſtarv d. 
Had not my People found him, as we travell'd. 
This was not handſome, Brother. 
Henr. ———— You are merry. 
Rod. You'll find it ſober Truth. 
Duke. — If ſo, tis ill. 
Henr. 'Tis Fiction all, Sir; ; 
pleaſe 
To look ſome other Fool to put theſe Tricks on; 
They are too obvious: 
Leave 


- One that 


Brother, you muſt : 


T' admit the Boy ; If he know me,.and fay, 3 
I ſtole him from his Friends, ard caft him off, 5 


Pleaſe your Grace, give 1 


wy — — I? — — 


— —_— — — — — 


—— 


54 Dous LE FALSHOOD,; or, 
Know me no more. - 


= Brother, pray do not wrong 


Enters Violante, 


Rod Here is the Boy. If he deny this to you, 
Then [ have wreng'd you. 
Duke. Hear me; What's thy Name, Boy 
Viol. Florio, an't like your Grace. 
Duke. ———— A pretty Child. 


Where waſt thou born? 


Viol. On t ks Side the Mountains 


Duke. What are thy Friends? i. 
Vid. ———— A Father, Sir; but Sar. 
Duke, How cameſt thou hither? how, to leave thy 
Father? | 
Viol. That noble Gentleman pleas oy once to like me, 
[ Pointing to Henrique: 


: And, not to o lye, ſo much to doat upon me, 


That with his promiſes he won my Youth, 

And Duty, from my Father : Him 1 follow d. 

Rad. How fay you now, Brother ? . 
Cam. — Ay, my Lord, how ſay You ? 
Herr. As ] have Life and Soul, tis all a Trick, Sir. 


| 1 never ſaw the Boy before. 


Viol. — | O it, 


Call not your Soul to wine in a Wrong: 


And *tis not noble in you, to deſpiſe 
What you have made thus. If 1 lye, let Juſtice 


Turn all her Reds upon me. 


Duke. ———ç— — Henriques ; 


Thee is no Tiace of Curning in this Bon. 


Cam. A good Boy! 


Be not feattul: Speak thy 
Mind, Child. 


Nature, "LA meant thou ſhould'ſt hase been a Wench ; 
And then't it had been no Marvel he had bobb'd thee. 


Duke. Way did he put thee fret him? 
Fial. — .—— Tha: to me 


Is yet unknown, Sir; for mv Faith, he could not; 


I never did deceive him: fo; my Service, | 
He had no juſt Cauſe; what my Youth was able, 


My 


De DisTREsT LOVERS. 25 
My Will ſtill put in Act, to pleaſe my Maſter? 
I cannot ſteal; therefore that can be nothing 


Io my Undoing : no, nor lye ; my Breeding, 
Tho' it be plain i is honeſt. 


Duke. Weep not, Child. 

Cam. This Lord has abuſed Men, Women, and 
Children already : What farther Plot he has, the Devil 
knows. 

Duke. If thou can'ft bring a Witneſs of thy Wrong, 

| {Elſe it would be Injuſtice to believe thee, 

He having {worn _— it ;) thou ſhalt have, 
T bind it with my Honour, Satisfaction 

To thine ov. Wishes. 
a I deſire no more, Sir. 
The :a witneſs, and a noble one, 
For Truth and Honeſty. 

Rad. C 2, bring hin nich zer. [Exit Violante. 
| Henr. This lying oy will take him to his Heels, 
(And j-ave me flan der'd 

Rod. — Wow, ru be his Voucher, 

Henr. Nay then 'tis plain, this is Confederacy. 

Kad. That he has been an Agent in your Service, 
Appears from this, Here is a yur Brother, 
 {Produc'd, perforce, to give him Credit with me;) 

| The Writing! vours; the Matter, Love; for fo, 

He fays, he can explain | it. 


Cow: = — | — Then, belike, 
A roung He-bawd. | 
Henr. ——— ——— This Forgery confounds me! 


Duke. Read it, Roderick. 

Rad. Reads. Our Prudence ſvould niw teach us 7 
Forget, what our Indiſcretion has 
committed. I hade already made 

one Step towards this Wiſdom 
- Henr. Hold, Sir, — M V vory Words to Violante ! 


A de. i 
Duke. Go on. . * = 
 Henr: —— My gracious Father, gire me e Pardon "M 
I do confeſs, I foune. ſuch Letter wrote 
(The Purport all too trivial for your Kar,) 
Bat how it reach'd this young Citſcinbler': Hands. 


Is 


56 DOUBLE FaLsHnoop; ; Or, 

Is what I cannot folve. For on my Soul, 

And by the honours of my Birth and Houſe, 

The Minion's Face till now I never faw. 

| Red. Run not too far in Debt on Proteſtation.— 

Why ſhould you do a Child this Wrong ? 

__Henr, —— Go to; 
Your Friendſhips paſt warrant not this Abuſe: 

Tf you provoke me thus, I ſhall forget 

What you are to me. This is a meer Practice, 
And Villany to draw me into Scandal. 

Rod. No more; you are a a Boy. — Here comes A 

G 

Shall Prove you fo: No more: 


Enter Julio, diſguis 4; Violante a a W on. 


Henr. — — —— Another Raſeal! : 
Duke. Hold. RE CE 
. [sei ing Violante. 


| Duke. What's hae? 

Henr. By all my Sins, the jr Violante. [Afide. 

Rod. Now, Sir, whoſe Practice breaks? | 
Can. r Isthis a Page? (To Henr. 
|. Read. One that has done him Service, 

And he has paid her for't; but broke his Covenant. 
Viol. My Lord, I come not now to wound your 
Spirit. | 
Your — Affection dead, which brit nn , 
My Claim dye with it! Only let me not 


Shrink to the Grave with Infamy upon me: 


Protect my Virtue, tho' it hurt your Faith; 

And my laſt Breath ſhall ſpeak Henriquez noble. 
Henr. What a fierce Conflict Shame, and wounded = 
| Honour, OE : 

Raiſe in my Breaſt ! — But ties ſhall o 'ercome. 

She looks as beauteous, and as innocent, 

As wheu I wriong'd her. — Virtuous Violante ! 

Too good for me! dare you ſtill love a Man, 

So faithleſs as I am? — I know you love me, 

Thus, thus, and thus, I print my vow'd Repentance : 

Lat all Men read it here, — - My gracious Father, 


F orgive, 


The Dis TREST LOVERS. 57 
F orgive, and make me rich with your Conſent, 
This is my Wife; no other would I chuſe, 
Were ſhe a Queen. 
Cam. Here's a new Change. Bernard looks gull upon't, t. 
Hienr. And fair Leonora, from whoſe Virgin Arms 
I forcd my wrong d Friend Julio, O forgive me. 
Take home your holy Vows, and let him him have em 
That has deſerv'd them. O that he were here! 
That I might own the Raſeneſs of my Wrong, 
And purpos d Recompence. My Violante, 
Lou * in be widow'd: for I vow 
A ceaſeleſs  Pdgrimage, ne'er to know Joy, 
*TillI can give it to the injur'd _ 
Cam. This almoſt melts me : 
Boy. 
Kad. Tl top that Voy yage, — — Gentle „ 
What think you of this honeſt —_ 
mm & 
My Thoughts, my Lord, were all employ” d within ! 


But my poor loſt 


| He has a Face makes me remember ſomething 


I have thought well of; how he looks upon me! 
Poor Man, he weeps. — Ha! ſtay; it cannot be — 
He has his Eye, his Features, Shape, and Geſture. _ 
Would, he would ſpeak. 
Jul. - Leonora, — 5 k of bis Diſquiſe 
Fan — — - Yes, tis He. . 
O Ecſtacy of Joy! 5 embrace. 
Cam, Now, what's the Matter? _ | 
Red. Let 'em alone; they're almoſt ſtarv'd for Kiſſes. 
Cam. Stand forty Foot off; no Man trouble em. 
luch Good may't do your Hearts What is he, Lord, 


| What i is he? 


| Rad. A certain Son of yours. 
Cam. ——---—— The Devil he is. 
Rod. If he be the Devil, that Devil muſt al] you 
Father. 
Cam By your Leave a nutte, ho,—Are you my — 
Jul. My duty tells me ſo, Sir, 
O Teonora, do I once more hold thee? | | 
Cam. Nay, to't again : T will not hinder you a Kiſs, 
Tie NE [Leaps 
| Leon, 


; * . 
* 


57 Dou BLE Pals OOo; or, 


| Leon. The righteous Power” s at length has crown'd 
| our Loves. 
Think, Fulio, from the Storm that's now o  erblown, 

| Tho? four Affliction combat Hope awhile, 
D When Lovers ſwear true Faith, the liſt'ning Angels N 
| Stand on the golden Battlements of Heay' n, . 
. And waft their Vows to the Eternal Throne. 
ill Such are our Vows, and fo are they repaid. 
Duke. E'en as you. are, we U join your Hands to- 


gether. 
A Providence above our Pow” r, rules all. 
Aſk him Forgiveneſs, Boy [To Heariquez. To 
Jul. fe has it, Sir: =] 
Ihe Fault was Love's, not bis... © . - 
_. Hens. —— Brave, gen rous Juli, / 


I knew thy nobleneſs of old, and priz' d it, 
Till Paſſion made me blind — Once more, my Friend, 
Share in a Heatt that ne'er ſhall wrong thee more. 
And, Brother, —— 
Rd, ———— This Embrace cuts off Excuſes. 
+. "Dake L muſt, in part, repair my Son's Offence : . 
At your beſt Leiſure, Julio, know our Court. 
And, Violante, (for | know you now;} 
I have a Debt to pay: Your good old Father, 
Once, when I chas'd the Boar, preſerv'd my Life &. 
For that good Deed, ard for your Virtue's Sake, 
Tho? your Deſcent be low, call me your Father. f 
A Match drawn out of 8 and Goodneſs, N 
Is Pedigree enough. Are you all pleas'd? \ 
1 her to Henriquez. 
8 All. 


Hlenr. 5 | = | 
P. Bern 3 — al, * ” | 


Jul. All. ; | 1 

| Duke. And I not leaſt. We'll now return to Court: » 
(And that ſhort Travel, and your Loves compleated, | 
Shall, as I truſt, for Life reſtrain theſe Wand'rings.) 

ou There, the Solemnity, and Grace, I'll do 

Tour ſev'ral Nuptials, ſhall approve my Joy; | 
And make griev'd Lovers that your Story read. 1 
Wich, true Love's Wand” ”_y may like yours ſucceed. 
[Curtain falls. 


r ——— — — 
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