The Stolen Heiress Part 3

_Fran._ Pr'ythee, what brought you hither?

_Sanc._ Why, that that brings some Men to the Gallows, a Wench.

_Fran._ What, I warrant, you have got your Bed-maker with Child, and so are expell'd the College.

_Sancho._ That's a Mistake.

_Fran._ What, thou art not come hither to take Physic, ha!

_Sancho._ No, not the Physic you mean; but am going to enter into a Course, that is, the Course of Matrimony.

_Fran._ Matrimony, with who, pr'ythee?

_Sanc._ Why, with Don _Larich_'s Daughter: Do you know her?

_Fran._ Ha! Is this my Rival? This was a lucky Discovery, [_Aside._] I know her; ay, very well, Sir. I can a.s.sure you she's very handsome, and as witty as she's fair: Thou won't visit her in that Dress, sure?

_Sancho._ To chuse, Sir, 'tis an Emblem of Learning; nay, I design my Man shall carry a Load of Books along with me too, that she may see what he is Master of, that is to be Master of her.

_Fran._ Indeed, my Friend, you'll never succeed upon those Terms.

_Tristr._ Sir, my Master has such an Itch to this foolish Learning, that he bestows more Money yearly upon Books, than would build an Hospital for all the Courtesans in _Italy_.

_Sancho._ No more, or you'll displease me, _Tristram_.

_Tristr._ I can't help that, Sir,--Sir, will you believe me, I have spent two Days in sorting Poets from Historians, and as many Nights in placing the Divines on their own Chairs, I mean their Shelves; then separating Philosophers, from those People that kill with a License, cost me a whole Day's Labour; and tho' my Master says Learning is immortal, I find the Sheets it is contain'd in savours much of Mortality.

_Sancho._ I hope my Books are in good Case, _Tristram_?

_Tristr._ Yes, yes, Sir, in as good Case as the Moths have left 'em.

_Sancho._ Od'so, I had forgot, to get me _Suarez Metaphysicks_, _Tolet de Anima_, and _Granados Commentaries_, on _Primum Secundae Thomae Aquinatis_.

_Tristr._ How the Devil does he do to remember all these Author's hard Names, I dare swear he understands not a Syllable of their Writings----Sir, would not the famous History of _Amidis de Gaul_ do as well?

_Fran._ Ay, better, better far, Man, hark'ee _Sancho_, you are not at _Salamanca_ now, amongst your square Caps, but in _Palermo_, come up to see your Mistress the fair _Lavinia_, the Glory of the City; go and court her like a Gentleman, without your Tropes and Figures, or all the Physics, Metaphysics, and Metaphors, will streight be made pitiful Martyrs.

_Sancho._ Martyrs, Sir, why, I thought--

_Fran._ Thyself an errant Idiot, thy Brain's more dull than a _Dutch_ Burghers. Is this a Dress fit for a Gentleman to court his Mistress in?

Away, away, the Lady you speak of, I can a.s.sure you is too much a Gallant to be taken with a Band and a square Cap--If you would succeed, you must throw off that Pedant, and a.s.sume the Gentleman, learn the Toss of the Head, and know the Principles of each Man by the c.o.c.k of his Hat.

_Sancho._ How's that, pray?

_Fran._ Oh! I'll teach you: If you be but willing to improve, I'll warrant you carry the Lady.

_Sanch._ But I am to be married to her as soon as I see her, so my Father told me, and that her Father admired a Scholar above all Things.

_Fran._ I'll improve that Hint--Ay, as I told you, a Scholar that is read in Men, not in Books.

_Sancho._ In Men, what's that? in Men! _Tristram_, what does he mean?

what Man is to be read? In Men! I don't understand you; but you'll teach me, you say.

_Fran._ Ay, ay, I'll give you a Lesson upon that Subject.

_Sancho._ Very well; but what shall I do for Cloaths to dress like a Gentleman?

_Fran._ If you please to step into my Lodgings here, I'll equip you with a Suit of mine till you can have one made, and there I'll teach you a little of the Town breeding, and I warrant you you'll succeed.

_Sancho._ Come on; faith I long to become thy Scholar.

_Fran._ And I to make you an a.s.s. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Eugenio _and his Man_.

_Eug._ What can this mean; where e'er I come the News is current of my Death, yet not two Days since, I wrote and received Letters from my Father, and here the Rumour goes, I have been dead this fortnight! I am resolv'd to know the Grounds, if possible. _Pedro_, go get me some Disguise, and for your Life discover not who I am, I'll stay here at this Inn 'till you return, and in the mean Time think what Method to pursue my Project in. [_Exit._

SCENE _changes to the Grove_. Lucasia _sola_.

_Lucasia._ Methinks this silent solitary Grove Should strike a Terror to such Hearts as mine; But Love has made me bold, the Time has been, In such a Place as this, I should have fear'd Each shaking Bough, and started at the Wind, And trembled at the Rushing of the Leaves; My Fancy would have fram'd a thousand Shapes; But now it seems a Palace, Delightful as the Poets feign The _Elizian_ Fields; Here do I expect To meet my Love, my faithful, dear _Palante_.

Why does he stay thus long? when last we Parted, each Hour he said wou'd seem a Year, Till we were met again, and yet I'm here Before him; I'll rest a while, for come I Know he will. [_Goes and sits down._

_Enter_ Palante _and_ Clerimont.

_Pal._ This _Clerimont_, this is the happy Place, Where I shall meet the Sum of all my Joys, And be possest of such a vast Treasure As wou'd enrich a Monarch to receive; And thou, my Friend, must give her to my Arms.

_Luc._ 'Tis my _Palante_'s Voice. [_Comes forward._

_Pal._ My Life, my Soul, what here before me? still Thou prevent'st me in the Race of Love, and Makest all my Endeavours poor in Compet.i.tion With thy large Favours---- But I forget, Dearest; bid my Friend here welcome, This is he whom I dare trust, next my own Heart, with Secrets.

_Luc._ I must admire him that loves _Palante_; Friendship's a n.o.ble Name, 'tis Love refin'd; 'Tis something more than Love, 'tis what I wou'd Shew to my _Palante_.

_Cler._ It is indeed a Beauty of the Mind, a Sacred Name, In which so brightly shines that Heavenly Love, That makes th' immortal Beings taste each others Joy; 'Tis the very Cement of Souls. Friendship's A Sacred Name, and he who truly knows The Meaning of the Word, is worthy of Estimation.

No Pains he'll spare, no Difficulties start, But hazard all for th' Int'rest of his Friend.

_Pal._ Ay! Now methinks I'm Emperor of the World, With my inestimable Wealth about me: To such a Mistress, such a Friend, what can be Added more to make me happy?---- Oh! thou darksome Grove, that wont to be call'd The Seat of Melancholy, and Shelter For the discontented Souls! sure thou'rt wrong'd!

Thou seem'st to me a Place of Solace and Content?

A Paradise! that gives me more than Courts Cou'd ever do: Blest be then thy fair Shades, Let Birds of Musick always chant it here; No croaking Raven, or ill-boding Owl, Make here their baleful Habitation: But may'st thou be a Grove for Loves fair Queen To sport in, for under thy blest Shade two faithful Lovers meet----Why is my _Lucasia_ sad?

_Luc._ I know not, but I long to quit this Place, My Thoughts seem to divine of Treachery, But whence I know not; no Creature's conscious To our meeting here but _Laura_; I have always Found her honest, and yet I would she did not know it.

_Pal._ 'Tis only Fear a.s.saults thy tender Mind; But come, my Friend, let's to the Cell adjoining To this Grove, and there the Priest Shall make us one for ever. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Larich _and_ Lavinia.

_Lar._ Come, set your Face in order, for I expect young _Sancho_ here immediately, he arriv'd in Town last Night, and Sent me Word but now, he'd be here in an instant.