A Grove.
Discovers Euphemia veil’d, walking alone.
Euph. Olinda stays long; I hope she has overtook the Cavalier. Lord, how I am concern’d; if this should be Love now, I were in fine condition, at least if he be married, or a Lover: Oh that I fear: hang me, if it has not disorder’d me all over. But see, where she comes with him too.
Enter Olinda and Alonzo.
Olin. Here he is, Madam, I hope ’tis the right Man.
Alon. Madam, you see what haste I make to obey your kind Commands.
Euph. ’Twas as kindly done, Sir; but I fear when you know to what end ’tis, you’ll repent your Haste.
Alon. ’Tis very likely; but if I do, you are not the first of your Sex that has put me to Repentance: But lift up your Veil, and if your Face be good —
[Offers to lift up her Veil.
Euph. Stay, you’re too hasty.
Alon. Nay, let’s have fair Play on both sides, I’ll hide nothing from you.
[Offers again.
Euph. I have a Question or two to ask you first.
Alon. I can promise nothing till I see my Reward. I am a base Barterer, here’s one for t’other; you saw your Man and lik’d him, and if I like you when I see you —
[Offers again.
Euph. But if you do not, must all my liking be castaway?
Alon. As for that, trust to my good Nature; a frank Wench has hitherto taken me as much as Beauty. And one Proof you have already given of that, in this kind Invitation: come, come, do not lose my little new-gotten good Opinion of thee, by being coy and peevish.
[Offers again.
Euph. You’re strangely impatient, Sir.
Alon. O you should like me the better for that, ’tis a sign of Youth and Fire.
Euph. But, Sir, before I let you see my Face —
Alon. I hope I must not promise you to like it.
Euph. No, that were too unreasonable, but I must know whether you are a Lover.
Alon. What an idle Question’s that to a brisk young Fellow? A Lover! yes, and that as often as I see a new Face.
Euph. That I’ll allow.
Alon. That’s kindly said; and now do I find I shall be in love with thine as soon as I see’t, for I am half so with thy Humour already.
Euph. Are you not married, Sir?
Alon. Married!
Euph. Now I dread his Answer. [Aside.] Yes, married.
Alon. Why, I hope you make no Scruple of Conscience, to be kind to a married Man.
Euph. Now do I find, you hope I am a Curtezan that come to bargain for a Night or two; but if I possess you, it must be for ever.
Alon. For ever let it be then. Come, let’s begin on any Terms.
Euph. I cannot blame you, Sir, for this mistake, since what I’ve rashly done, has given you cause to think I am not virtuous.
Alon. Faith, Madam, Man is a strange ungovern’d thing; yet I in the whole course of my Life have taken the best care I could, to make as few Mistakes as possible: and treating all Women-kind alike, we seldom err; for where we find one as you profess to be, we happily light on a hundred of the sociable and reasonable sort.
Euph. But sure you are so much a Gentleman, that you may be convinc’d?
Alon. Faith, if I be mistaken, I cannot devise what other use you can make of me.
Euph. In short this; I must leave you instantly; and will only tell you I am the sole Daughter of a rich Parent, young, and as I am told not unhandsom; I am contracted to a Man I never saw, nor I am sure shall not like when I do see, he having more Vice and Folly than his Fortune will excuse, tho a great one; and I had rather die than marry him.
Alon. I understand you, and you would have me dispatch this Man.
Euph. I am not yet so wicked. The Church is the only place I am allowed to go to, and till now could never see the Man that was perfectly agreeable to me: Thus veil’d, I’ll venture to tell you so.
Alon. What the Devil will this come to? her Mien and Shape are strangely graceful, and her Discourse is free and natural. What a damn’d Defeat is this, that she should be honest now!
[Aside.
Euph. Well, Sir, what Answer? I see he is uneasy.
[Aside.
Alon. Why, as I was saying, Madam, I am a Stranger.
Euph. I like you the better for that.
Alon. But, Madam, I am a Man unknown, unown’d in the World; and much unworthy the Honour you do me — Would I were well rid of her, and yet I find a damnable Inclination to stay too.
[Aside.
Will nothing but Matrimony serve your turn, Madam? Pray use a young Lover as kindly as you can.
Euph. Nothing but that will do, and that must be done.
Alon. Must! ‘slife this is the first of her Sex that ever was before-hand with me, and yet that I should be forc’d to deny her too.
[Aside.
Euph. I fear his Answer, Olinda.
[Aside.
Olin. At least ’tis but making a Discovery of your Beauty, and then you have him sure.
Alon. Madam, ’tis a matter of Moment, and requires Deliberation; besides I have made a kind of Promise —
Euph. Never to marry?
Alon. No, faith, ’tis not so well: But since now I find we are both in haste, I am to be marry’d.
Euph. This I am sure is an Excuse; but I’ll fit him for’t.
[Aside.
To be marry’d said you?
That Word has kill’d me, Oh I feel it drill
Through the deep Wound his Eyes have lately made:
’Twas much unkind to make me hope so long.
[She leans on Olinda, as if she swooned, who pulls off her Veil:
he stands gazing at a Distance.
Olin. Sure she does but counterfeit, and now I’ll play my Part. Madam, Madam!
Alon. What wondrous thing is that! I should not look upon’t, it changes Nature in me.
Olin. Have you no pity, Sir? Come nearer pray.
Alon. Sure there’s Witchcraft in that Face, it never could have seiz’d me thus else, I have lov’d a thousand times, yet never felt such joyful Pains before.
Olin. She does it rarely. What mean you, Sir?
Alon. I never was a Captive to this Hour.
If in her Death such certain Wounds she give,
What Mischiefs she would do, if she should live!
Yet she must live, and live that I may prove
Whether this strange Disorder here be Love.
[To his heart.
Divine, divinest Maid.
[Kneels.
Olin. Come nearer, Sir, you’ll do a Lady no good at that Distance. Speak to her, Sir.
[He rises and comes to her, gazing still.
Alon. I know not what to say,
I am unus’d to this soft kind of Language:
But if there be a Charm in Words, and such
As may conjure her to return again;
Prithee instruct me in them, I’ll say any thing,
Do any thing, and suffer all the Wounds
Her Eyes can give.
Euph. Sure he is real.
[Aside.
Alas! I am discover’d; how came my Veil off?
[She pretends to recover, and wonder that her Veil is off.
Alon. That you have let me see that lovely Face,
May move your Pity, not your Anger, Madam;
Pity the Wounds ‘t has made, pity the Slave,
Who till this Moment boasted of his Freedom.
Euph. May I believe all this? for that we easily do in things we wish.
Alon. Command me things impossible to all
Sense but a Lover’s, I will do’t: to shew
The Truth of this, I could even give you
The last Proof of it, and take you at your Word,
To marry you.
Euph. O wondrous Reformation! marry me!
[Laughs.
Alon. How, do you mock my Grief?
Euph. What a strange dissembling thing is Man! To put me off too, you were to be married.
Alon. Hah, I had forgotten Hippolyta.
[He starts.
Euph. See, Olinda, the Miracle increases, he can be serious too. How do you, Sir?
Alon. ’Tis you have robb’d me of my native Humour,
I ne’er could think till now.
Euph. And to what purpose was it now?
Alon. Why, Love and Honour were at odds within me,
And I was making Peace between them.
Euph. How fell that out, Sir?
Alon. About a Pair of Beauties; Women,
That set the whole World at odds.
She that is Honour’s Choice I never saw,
And love has taught me new Obedience here.
Euph. What means he? I fear he is in earnest.
[Aside.
Olin. ’Tis nothing but his Aversion to Marriage, which most young Men dread now-a-days.
Euph. I must have this Stranger, or I must die; for whatever Face I put upon’t, I am far gone in Love, but I must hide it.
[Aside.
Well, since I have mist my Aim, you shall never boast my Death; I’ll cast my self away upon the next handsom young Fellow I meet, tho I die for’t; and so farewel to you, loving Sir.
[Offers to go.
Alon. Stay, do not marry, as you esteem the Life of him that shall possess you.
Euph. Sure you will not kill him.
Alon. By Heaven, I will.
Euph. O I’ll trust you, Sir: Farewel, farewel.
Alon. You shall not go in triumph thus,
Unless you take me with you.
Euph. Well, since you are so resolv’d (and so in love) I’ll give you leave to see me once more at a House at the Corner of St. Jerom’s, where this Maid shall give you Entrance.
Alon. Why, that’s generously said.
Euph. As soon ’tis dark you may venture.
Alon. Till then will be an Age, farewel, fair Saint,
To thee and all my quiet till we meet.
[Exeunt.