Lop. Married!-to whom?-I don't know that he courted any body!

Ped. Nay, I know nothing of that-but I'm sure he showed me the contract-Within, there!

Enter SANCHO, L.

Bid my daughter come hither; she'll tell you another story, my lord.

San. She's gone out in a chair, sir.

Ped. Out in a chair!-What do you mean, sir!

San. As I say, sir; and your daughter, Donna Isabella, went in another, just before her.

Lop. Isabella !

San. And Don Felix followed in another; I overheard them all bid the chairs go to the Terriero de Passa.

[Exit, L. Ped. Ha! what business has my daughter there? I am confounded, and know not what to think. Within there!

Lop. My heart misgives me plaguily. guazil-I'll pursue them straight.

[Exit, L. Call me an al[Exit, L.

SCENE III.-The Street before Don Pedro's House.

Enter LISSARdo, r.

Liss. (R.) I wish I could see Flora-methinks I have an hankering kindness after the slut-we must be reconciled.

Enter GIBBY, R.

Gibby. Aw my sal, sir, but Ise blithe to find yee here

now.

I

Liss. Ha, brother! give me thy hand, boy.

Gibby. No se fast, se ye me-brether me ne brethers: scorn a leer as muckle as a thiefe, se ye now, and ye must gang intul this house with me, and justifie to Donna Violante's face, that she was the lady that ganged in here this morn, se ye me, or the deel ha my saul, sir, but ye and I shall be twa folks.

Liss. Justify it to Donna Violante's face, quotha! For what! Sure you don't know what you say !

Gibby. Troth de I, sir, as weel as yee de; therefore,

come along, and make no mair words about it.

Liss. Why, what the devil do you mean? Don't

you consider you are in Portugal ? Is the fellow mad?

Gibby. Fellow! Ise none of yer fellow, sir, and gin the place were hell, I'd gar ye do me justice.-[Lissardo going.] Nay, the deel a feet ye gang.

off.

[Lays hold of him, and knocks. Liss. Ha! Don Pedro himself! I wish I were fairly

Enter DON PEDRO, d. f.

[Aside.

Ped. How now? what makes you knock so loud? Gibby. Gin this be Don Pedro's house, sir, I would speak with Donna Violante, his daughter.

Ped. Ha! What is it you want with my daughter, pray?

Gibby. An she be your daughter, and lik your honour, command her to come out, and answer for herself now, and either justifie or disprove what this chiel told me this morn.

Ped. Why, what did he tell you, ha!

Gibby. By my saul, sir, Ise tell you aw the truth.My master got a pratty lady upon the how-de-call't— Passa-here at five this morn, and he gar me watch her heam-and in troth I lodged her here: and meeting this ill-favoured thiefe, se ye me, I speered wha she wasand he tald me her name was Donna Violante, Don Pedro de Mendosa's daughter.

Ped. Ha! my daughter with a man, abroad at five in the morning! Death, hell, and furies! By St. Antony, I'm undone.

Gibby. Wounds, sir! ye put yer saint intul bonny company.

Ped. Who is your master, you dog, you?

Gibby. You dog, you! 'Sblead, sir, you don't call names. I won't tell you who my master is, se ye me,

now.

Ped. And who are you, rascal, that know my daughter so well? ha! [Holds up his cane.

Liss. What shall I say, to make him give this Scotch dog a good beating? [Aside.]-I know your daughter, signior! not I; I never saw your daughter in all my life!

Gibby. [Knocks him down with his fist.] Deel ha my saul, sir, gin ye get no your carich for that lie, nɔw. Ped. What, hoa! where are all my servants?

Enter DON FELIX, DONNA VIOLANTE, COLONEL BRITON, and DONNA ISABELLA, R. S. E.

Raise the house in pursuit of my daughter!

Col. B. Hey-day! what's here to do?

Gibby. This is the loonlike tike, an like your honour, that sent me heam with a lee this morn.

Col. B. Come, come, 'tis all well, Gibby; let him rise.

Fel. This is a day of jubilee, Lissardo; no quarreling with him this day.

Liss. A pox take his fists!-Egad, these Britons are but a word and a blow.

Enter DON LOPEZ, R.

Lop. So, have I found you, daughter! Then you have not hanged yourself yet, I see!

Col. B. But she is married, my lord!

Lop. Married! zounds! to whom?

Col. B. Even to your humble servant, my lord.-If you please to give us your blessing.

[Kneels. Lop. Why, hark ye, mistress, are you really married? Isab. Really so, my lord.

Lop. And who are you, sir?

(ol B. An honest North Briton by birth, and a Colonel by commission, my lord.

Lop. (R.) An heretic! the devil! [Holding up his hands. Ped. (L.) She has played you a slippery trick, indeed, my lord. Well, my girl, thou hast been to see thy friend married-next week thou shalt have a better husband, my dear. [To Violante. Fel. Next week is a little too soon, sir: I hope to live longer than that.

Ped. What do you mean, sir? You have not made a rib of my daughter too, have you?

Vio. (c.) Indeed, but he has, sir: I know not how, but he took me in an unguarded minute, when my thoughts were not over-strong for a nunnery, father.

Lop. Your daughter has played you a slippery trick too, signior.

Ped. But your son shall never be the better for❜t, my lord; her twenty thousand pounds were left on certain conditions, and I'll not part with a shilling.

Lop. But we have a certain thing, called law, shall make you do justice, sir.

Ped. Well, we'll try that-my lord, much good may

it do you with your daughter-in law.

Lop. I wish you much joy of your rib.

[Exit, L.

[Exit, R.

Enter FREDERICK, R.

Fel. Frederick, welcome! I sent for thee to be partaker of my happiness, and pray give me leave to introduce you to the cause of it.

Fred. Your messinger has told me all, and I sincerely share in all your happiness.

Col. B. To the right about, Frederick-wish thy friend joy.

Fred. I do with all my soul-and, madam, I congratulate your deliverance. Your suspicions are cleared now, I hope, Felix ?

Fel. They are, and I heartily ask the colonel pardon, and wish him happy with my sister; for love has taught me to know that every man's happiness consists in choosing for himself.

Liss. After that rule, I fix here.

[To Flora. Flora. That's your mistake; I prefer my lady's service, and turn you over to her that pleaded right and title to you to-day.

Liss. Choose, proud fool! I sha'nt ask you twice.

Gibby. What say ye now, lass; will ye gee yer hond to poor Gibby? Will ye dance the reel of Bogie with me? Inis. That I may not leave my lady, I take you at your word; and though our wooing has been short, I'll, by her example, love you dearly.

Fel. Now, my Violante, I shall proclaim thy virtues to the world :

Let us no more the sex's conduct blame,
Since thou'rt a proof, to their eternal fame,
That man has no advantage, but the name.

[Exeunt omnes.

DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS, AT THE FALL OF THE CURTAIN:

GIB. INIS. ISAB. COL. BRIT. FRED. FEL. VIO. FLO. LIS.

R.

R C.

-C.

L. C.

-L.

PROLOGUE.

OUR author fears the critics of the stage,
Who, like barbarians, spare nor sex nor age;
She trembles at those censors in the pit,
Who think good-nature shows a want of wit:
Such malice, oh! what muse can undergo it?
To save themselves, they always damn the poet.
Our author flies from such a partial jury,
As wary lovers from the nymphs of Drury;
To the few candid judges for a smile,
She humbly sues, to recompense her toil.
To the bright circle of the far, she next

Commits her cause, with anxious doubts perplex'd.
Where can she with such hopes of favour kneel,
As to those judges who her frailties feel?
A few mistakes her sex may well excuse,
And such a plea no woman should refuse:
If she succeeds, a woman gains applause;
What female but must favour such a cause?
Her faults, whate'er they are, e'en pass them by,
And only on her beauties fix your eye.
In plays, like vessels floating on the sea,
There's none so wise to know their destiny.
In this, howe'er, the pilot's skill appears,

While by the stars his constant course he steers;
Rightly our author does her judgment show,
That for her safety she relies on you.

Your approbation, fair ones, can't but move

Those stubborn hearts, which first you taught to love:
The men must all applaud this play of ours;
For who dare see with other eyes than yours?