Part 4

_Phil._ A curious obstacle, truly. And who is this Monsieur Riccardo, that he has such rigorous maxims? He is nothing but a broker, sprung from the mud, grown rich amid the execrations of the people. Does he think to rank himself among the merchants of Holland? A marriage with an officer would be an honour to his daughter, and he could not better dispose of his ill-got wealth.

_Gian._ It seems, then, if you were a broker, you would not refuse him your daughter?

_Phil._ Assuredly not.

_Gian._ But, being a Dutch merchant, the match does not suit you?

_Phil._ No, certainly not; not at all--you know it very well.

_Gian._ So I thought.

_Phil._ I must interest myself in behalf of Monsieur de la Cotterie.

_Gian._ In what manner, sir?

_Phil._ By persuading Monsieur Riccardo to give him his daughter.

_Gian._ I would not advise you to meddle in the affair.

_Phil._ Let us hear what the Lieutenant will say.

_Gian._ Yes, you should hear him first.--[_Aside._] I must give him warning beforehand.

_Phil._ Do you think he will set out on his journey immediately?

_Gian._ I know he has already ordered his horses.

_Phil._ I will send directly to see.

_Gian._ I will go myself, sir.--[_Aside._] I must take care not to make matters worse. [_Exit._

_Phil._ [_Alone._] I feel I have done injustice to my daughter in distrusting her; it is a happiness to me to be again certain of her sincerity. There may be some concealed deception in her words, but I will not believe her so artful; she is the daughter of a man who loves truth, and never departs from it, even in jest. Everything she tells me is quite reasonable: the officer may be in love with Mademoiselle Costanza; the absurd pride of the father considers the match as far below what his daughter is entitled to. I will, if possible, bring about the marriage by my mediation. On the one hand, we have nobility reduced in circumstances; on the other, a little accidental wealth; these fairly balance one another, and each party will find the alliance advantageous.

_Enter_ Marianna.

_Mar._ Isn't my mistress here, sir?

_Phil._ She is just gone.

_Mar._ By your leave. [_Going._]

_Phil._ Why are you in such haste?

_Mar._ I am going to find my mistress.

_Phil._ Have you anything of consequence to say to her?

_Mar._ A lady has asked for her.

_Phil._ Who is she?

_Mar._ Mademoiselle Costanza.

_Phil._ Oh! is Mademoiselle Costanza here?

_Mar._ Yes; and I suspect, by her coming at this unusual hour, that it is something extraordinary that brings her here.

_Phil._ I know what this extraordinary something is. [_Smiling._] Say to Mademoiselle Costanza, that, before going to my daughter's room, I will thank her to let me see her here.

_Mar._ You shall be obeyed, sir.

_Phil._ Is the officer in?

_Mar._ No, sir, he is gone out.

_Phil._ As soon as he returns, ask him to come to me in this room.

_Mar._ Yes, sir. Do you think he will go away to-day?

_Phil._ I am sure he will not.

_Mar._ Indeed, his health is so bad, that it would be dangerous for him to proceed on his journey.

_Phil._ He shall remain with us, and he shall get well.

_Mar._ My dear master, you alone have the power of restoring him to health.

_Phil._ I? How! do you know what is the Lieutenant's disease?

_Mar._ I know it; but do you, sir?

_Phil._ I know everything.

_Mar._ Who told you?

_Phil._ My daughter.

_Mar._ Indeed! [_With an expression of surprise._]

_Phil._ Why are you surprised? Would not my daughter be wrong to conceal the truth from her father?

_Mar._ Certainly; she has acted most wisely.

_Phil._ Now we can find the remedy.

_Mar._ In truth, it is an honourable love.

_Phil._ Most honourable.

_Mar._ The Lieutenant is an excellent young man.

_Phil._ Most excellent.

_Mar._ It is his only misfortune that he is not rich.

_Phil._ A handsome fortune with his wife would indeed make his situation more comfortable.

_Mar._ If the father is satisfied, no one has a right to complain.

_Phil._ A father with an only child, when he finds an opportunity of marrying her respectably, ought to be pleased to avail himself of it.

_Mar._ May God bless you! these are sentiments worthy of so good a man. I am delighted both for the officer and the young lady.--[_Aside._] And not less so for myself, as my beloved Gascoigne may now remain with me. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Mademoiselle Costanza.

_Phil._ [_To himself._] Good actions deserve praise, and every person of sense will approve of what I am doing.

_Cost._ Here I am, sir, at your commands.

_Phil._ Ah, Mademoiselle Costanza! it gives me great pleasure to see you.

_Cost._ You are very kind.

_Phil._ I am gratified at your friendship for my daughter.

_Cost._ She deserves it, and I love her with all my heart.

_Phil._ Ah, do not say with all your heart!

_Cost._ Why not? are you not convinced I love her sincerely?

_Phil._ Sincerely, I believe, but not with all your heart.

_Cost._ Why should you doubt it?

_Phil._ Because, if you loved my daughter with all your heart, there would be none of it left for any one else.

_Cost._ You make me laugh; and who should have a part of it?

_Phil._ Ah, Mademoiselle, we understand!

_Cost._ Indeed, I do not understand.

_Phil._ Now let us dismiss Lady Modesty, and introduce Lady Sincerity.

_Cost._ [_Aside._] I cannot discover what he is aiming at.

_Phil._ Tell me, have you come on purpose to visit my daughter?

_Cost._ Yes, sir.

_Phil._ No, Mademoiselle.

_Cost._ For what, then?

_Phil._ Know I am an astrologer. I am visited by a certain spirit that tells me everything, and hence I have learnt this: Mademoiselle Costanza has come not to visit those who stay, but those who go away.

_Cost._ [_Aside._] I suspect there is some truth in what the spirit says.

_Phil._ What! are you puzzled how to answer?

_Cost._ I will answer you frankly: if I have come to show civility to your guest, I do not perceive I deserve reproof.

_Phil._ Reproof! on the contrary, praise; acts of civility ought not to be omitted--especially when dictated by a more tender feeling.

_Cost._ You seem to be in a humour for jesting this morning.

_Phil._ And you seem to be out of spirits; but I lay a wager I can cheer you up.

_Cost._ Indeed?

_Phil._ Without fail.

_Cost._ And how?

_Phil._ With two words.

_Cost._ And what are those fine words?

_Phil._ You shall hear them. Come this way--a little nearer. The Lieutenant is not going away. Does not your heart leap at this unexpected news?

_Cost._ For mercy's sake! Monsieur Philibert, do you believe me in love?

_Phil._ Say no, if you can.

_Cost._ No; I can say it.

_Phil._ Swear to it.

_Cost._ Oh, I will not swear for such a trifle.

_Phil._ You wish to hide the truth from me, as if I had not the power of serving you, or was unwilling to do so, and of serving the poor young man too, who is so unhappy.

_Cost._ Unhappy, for what?

_Phil._ On account of you.

_Cost._ On account of me?

_Phil._ Yes, you; we are in the dark, so that his love for you is in a manner hidden, and every one does not know that his despair sends him away.

_Cost._ Despair for what?

_Phil._ Because your father, from pride and avarice, will not consent to give you to him: this, my girl, is the whole affair.

_Cost._ It appears that you know more of it than I do.

_Phil._ You know, and do not choose to know. I make allowance for your modesty; but when a gentleman speaks to you, when a man of my character exerts himself in your behalf, you ought to lay aside modesty and open your heart freely.

_Cost._ You take me so by surprise, I am embarrassed what answer to make.

_Phil._ Let us end this conversation. Tell me, like an honest girl as you are, do you not love Monsieur de la Cotterie?

_Cost._ You force me to own it.

_Phil._ [_Aside._] Thank Heaven! so my daughter spoke the truth.--And he loves you with an equal affection.

_Cost._ Of that, sir, I know nothing.

_Phil._ If you do not know it, I tell you so; he loves you to perdition.

_Cost._ [_Aside._] Can it be possible? and he has never declared it to me!

_Phil._ And I have undertaken to persuade your father.

_Cost._ But does my father know I am in love with the officer?

_Phil._ He certainly ought to know.

_Cost._ He has never mentioned it to me.

_Phil._ Oh, your father will soon come and talk with you on the subject.

_Cost._ He has never objected to my coming here, where I meet the officer.

_Phil._ He knows that you are visiting in an honourable house; no greater liberty would be allowed you here than is proper for a modest young lady. In a word, are you willing that I should manage the affair?

_Cost._ Entirely willing.

_Phil._ Bravo! this is enough; and what would it avail you to deny with your lips what your looks proclaim? the flame that burns in your heart sparkles in your eyes.

_Cost._ You have a most penetrating glance.

_Phil._ Ah, here comes the officer.

_Cost._ By your leave, sir.

_Phil._ Where are you going?

_Cost._ To Mademoiselle Giannina.

_Phil._ Remain here, if you will.

_Cost._ Oh no, sir, excuse me--your servant.--[_Aside._] I am overjoyed! I know not in what world I am! [_Exit._

Philibert, _alone_.

_Phil._ How amusing these girls are! Boldness and modesty are mingled in so strange a manner, that it is a pleasure to observe them. Here is an instance of love to devotion, and if it succeeds it will be owing to my daughter's intervention.

_Enter_ De la Cotterie.

_De la Cot._ They told me, sir, that you asked for me.

_Phil._ Have you seen Mademoiselle Giannina?

_De la Cot._ No, sir, I have not seen her.

_Phil._ I am sorry that you appear so melancholy.

_De la Cot._ One whose health is bad cannot be expected to look cheerful.

_Phil._ Do you not know I am a physician, and have the skill to cure you?

_De la Cot._ I did not know that you were skilled in the medical art.

_Phil._ Well, my friend, capacities often exist where they are not suspected.

_De la Cot._ Why, then, have you not prescribed for me before now?

_Phil._ Because I did not sooner know the nature of your disease.

_De la Cot._ Do you think you know it now?

_Phil._ Yes, certainly--indubitably.

_De la Cot._ If you are learned in the medical art, sir, you know much better than I do how fallacious and how little to be relied on are all the symptoms that seem to indicate the causes of disease.

_Phil._ The indications of your disease are so infallible, that I am confident there is no mistake, and on condition that you trust to my friendship, you shall soon have reason to be content.

_De la Cot._ And by what process do you propose to cure me?

_Phil._ My first prescription shall be for you to abandon all intention of going away, and to take the benefit of this air, which will speedily restore you to health.

_De la Cot._ On the contrary, I fear this air is most injurious to me.

_Phil._ Do you not know that even from hemlock a most salutary medicine is extracted?

_De la Cot._ I am not ignorant of the late discoveries, but your allusion covers some mystery.

_Phil._ No, my friend; so far as mystery is concerned, each of us is now

## acting his part; but let us speak without metaphor. Your disease arises

from love, and you think to find a remedy by going away, whereas it is an act of mere desperation. You carry the arrow in your heart, and hope to be relieved; but the same hand which placed it there must draw it out.

_De la Cot._ Your discourse, sir, is altogether new to me.

_Phil._ Why pretend not to understand me! Speak to me as a friend who loves you, and takes the same interest in you as if you were his son. Consider: by dissembling you may destroy your happiness for ever. My attachment to you arises from a knowledge of your merit, and from your having spent several months with me; besides, I should be mortified for you to have contracted in my house an unhappy passion; and therefore I most zealously interfere in your favour, and am anxious to find a remedy for you.

_De la Cot._ My dear friend, how have you discovered the origin of my unhappiness?

_Phil._ Shall I say the truth?--my daughter revealed it to me.

_De la Cot._ Heavens! had she the courage to disclose it?

_Phil._ Yes, after a little persuasion she told me everything.

_De la Cot._ Oh, by the friendship you possess for me, have pity on my love!

_Phil._ I have pity on you; I know what human frailty is at your age, and the violence of passion.

_De la Cot._ I confess I ought not to have encouraged my affection, and concealed it from such a friend.

_Phil._ This is the only complaint I have to make. You have not treated me with that unreserved confidence which I think I was entitled to.

_De la Cot._ I had not the courage.

_Phil._ Well, Heaven be praised! There is yet time. I know the girl loves you, for she told me so herself.

_De la Cot._ And what do you say to it, sir?

_Phil._ I approve of the marriage.

_De la Cot._ You overwhelm me with joy.

_Phil._ You see I am the good physician who understands the disease and knows the remedy.

_De la Cot._ I can hardly feel assured of this great happiness.

_Phil._ Why not?

_De la Cot._ I thought the narrowness of my fortune an insuperable obstacle.

_Phil._ Family and merit on your side are equal to a rich dower on the other.

_De la Cot._ Your kindness to me is unequalled.

_Phil._ But my kindness has yet done nothing; now it shall be my endeavour to provide for your happiness.

_De la Cot._ This will depend entirely on your own good heart.

_Phil._ We must exert ourselves to overcome the difficulties.

_De la Cot._ And what are the difficulties?

_Phil._ The consent of the father of the girl.

_De la Cot._ My friend, it seems you are making game of me; from the way you spoke just now, I thought all obstacles were removed.

_Phil._ But I have not mentioned it to him yet.

_De la Cot._ To whom have you not mentioned it?

_Phil._ To the father of the girl.

_De la Cot._ Oh, Heavens! and who is the father of the girl?

_Phil._ Good! You do not know him? you do not know the father of Mademoiselle Costanza, that horrid savage, Monsieur Riccardo, who has grown rich by usury, and has no idol but his money?

_De la Cot._ [_Aside._] I shall go mad! Thus end all my hopes.

_Phil._ Riccardo does not visit at my house, you never go out, so it is not surprising you do not know him.

_De la Cot._ [_Aside._] Ah! I am obliged to dissemble, not to disclose my love at a moment so unpropitious.

_Phil._ But how did you know the father would not give you his daughter if you did not know him?

_De la Cot._ I had reasons for thinking so, and for my despair there is no remedy.

_Phil._ Am I not your physician?

_De la Cot._ All your attention will be unavailing.

_Phil._ Leave it to me; I will go immediately to find Monsieur Riccardo, and I flatter myself--

_De la Cot._ No, sir, do not.

_Phil._ It seems the prospect of success turns your head; just now you were all joy. Whence arises this sudden change?

_De la Cot._ I am certain it will end unfortunately.

_Phil._ Such despondency is unworthy of you, and unjust to me.

_De la Cot._ Do not add to my unhappiness by your interference.

_Phil._ Are you afraid the father will be obstinate? let me try.

_De la Cot._ By no means; I am altogether opposed to it.

_Phil._ And I am altogether for it, and will speak to him.

_De la Cot._ I shall leave the Hague; I shall go in a few minutes.

_Phil._ You will not treat me with so much incivility.

_Enter_ Giannina.

_Gian._ What, sirs, is the cause of this altercation?

_Phil._ Monsieur de la Cotterie acts towards me with a degree of ingratitude that is anything but agreeable.

_Gian._ Is it possible he can be capable of this?

_De la Cot._ Ah, Mademoiselle, I am a most unfortunate man!

_Phil._ I may say he does not know his own mind. He confessed his passion, and, when I offered to assist him, fell into transports; and then, when I promised to obtain the hand of Mademoiselle Costanza for him, he got furious, and threatened to go away.

_Gian._ I am surprised the Lieutenant should still speak of leaving us.

_De la Cot._ Would you have me stay and entertain such hopes? [_Ironically._]

_Gian._ I would have you stay, and entertain a mistress who loves you. With my father's permission, you shall hear what Mademoiselle Costanza has just said of you.

_Phil._ May I not hear it?

_Gian._ Impossible; my friend directed me to tell it to him alone.

_Phil._ [_Aside._] I shall hear all from my daughter when we are by ourselves.

_Gian._ [_Apart to_ De la Cotterie.] I have contrived to make my father believe you were in love with Mademoiselle Costanza. As you love me, say it is so, and talk no more of going away.

_De la Cot._ [_Aside._] Oh, the stratagems of love!

_Phil._ Will you still persist in your obstinacy?

_De la Cot._ Ah, no, sir; I rely on your kindness.

_Phil._ Do you desire me to speak to Monsieur Riccardo?

_De la Cot._ Do what you please.

_Phil._ Are you still anxious to go?

_De la Cot._ I promise you to remain here.

_Phil._ [_Aside._] What magic words have wrought this change? I am curious to hear them.

_De la Cot._ Pardon, I pray you, my strange conduct.

_Phil._ Willingly; the actions of lovers are often extravagant. Tell me, Giannina, is Mademoiselle Costanza gone?

_Gian._ No, sir; she is waiting in my room.

_Phil._ Go, Lieutenant, and keep her company for a little while.

_De la Cot._ I would rather not, sir.

_Gian._ Go, go.--[_Aside to_ De la Cotterie.] Listen! Wait for me in the antechamber; I will be there presently.

_De la Cot._ I shall obey you, sir. [_Exit._

_Phil._ [_Aside._] The power of words!--Well, what did you say to him?

_Gian._ I told him to go to his mistress; that she expected him.

_Phil._ But the first time you spoke to him?

_Gian._ I said that Mademoiselle Costanza had hope she could persuade her father.

_Phil._ Why did you not tell him so openly, before me?

_Gian._ Things said in private often make the greatest impression.

_Phil._ Perhaps so.

_Gian._ By your leave. [_Going._]

_Phil._ Where are you going?

_Gian._ To encourage this timid gentleman.

_Phil._ Yes, by all means; I recommend him to you.

_Gian._ Doubt not I shall take good care of him. [_Exit._

_Phil._ My girl has a good heart, and mine is like hers.

END OF THE FIRST ACT.

## ACT II.

## SCENE I.--_The chamber of_ Mademoiselle Giannina.

Mademoiselle Costanza, _alone, seated_.

_Cost._ Who would ever have thought Monsieur de la Cotterie had such a liking for me? It is true he has always treated me with politeness, and been ready to converse with me; but I cannot say I have observed any great signs of love. Now I have always loved him, but have not had courage enough to show it. I flatter myself he too loves me, and for the same reason conceals it; in truth a modest officer is a strange animal, and it is hard to believe in its existence. Monsieur Philibert must have reasons for what he says, and I am well pleased to think him not mistaken, especially as I have no evidence that he is so. Here comes my handsome soldier--but Mademoiselle Giannina is with him; she never permits us to be alone together for a moment. I have some suspicion she is my rival.

_Enter_ Mademoiselle Giannina _and_ De la Cotterie.

_Gian._ Keep your seat, Mademoiselle; excuse me for having left you alone for a little while. I know you will be kind enough to forgive me, and I bring some one with me, who, I am sure, will secure your pardon.

_Cost._ Though surely in your own house and with a real friend such ceremony is needless, your company is always agreeable. I desire you will put yourself to no inconvenience.

_Gian._ Do you hear, Lieutenant? You see we Dutch are not without wit.

_De la Cot._ This is not the first time I have observed it.

_Cost._ Monsieur de la Cotterie is in a house that does honour to our country, and if he admires ladies of wit, he need not go out of it.

_Gian._ You are too polite, Mademoiselle.

_Cost._ I simply do justice to merit.

_Gian._ Let us not dispute about our merits, but rather leave it to the Lieutenant to decide.

_De la Cot._ If you wish a decision, you must choose a better judge.

_Gian._ A partial one, indeed, cannot be a good judge.

_Cost._ And to say nothing of partiality, he feels under obligations to you as the mistress of the house.

_Gian._ Oh, in France, the preference is always given to the guest: is it not so, Lieutenant?

_De la Cot._ It is no less the custom in Holland, than in my own country.

_Cost._ That is to say, the greater the merit, the greater the distinction with which they are treated.

_Gian._ On that principle you would be treated with the most distinction.

_De la Cot._ [_Aside._] I shall get into trouble if this conversation continues.

_Cost._ By your leave, Mademoiselle.

_Gian._ Why do you leave us so soon?

_Cost._ I am engaged to my aunt; I promised to dine with her to-day, and it is not amiss to go early.

_Gian._ Oh, it is too early; your aunt is old, and you will perhaps still find her in bed.

_De la Cot._ [_Aside._] Do not prevent her from going.

_Gian._ He begs me to detain you.

_Cost._ I am overpowered by your politeness. [_Curtseying._]--[_Aside._] Her amusement is to torment me.

_Gian._ [_To_ Costanza.] What say you, my friend, have I not a good heart?

_Cost._ I must praise your kindness to me.

_Gian._ [_To_ De la Cotterie.] And do you, too, own you are under obligations to me?

_De la Cot._ Yes, certainly, I have reason to be grateful to you; you, who know my feelings, must be conscious of the great favour you do me. [_Ironically._]

_Gian._ [_To_ Costanza.] You hear him? he is delighted.

_Cost._ My dear friend, as you have such a regard for me, and take so much interest in him, allow me to speak freely to you. Your worthy father has told me a piece of news that overwhelms me with joy and surprise. If all he has told me be true, I pray you, Monsieur De la Cotterie, to confirm it.

_Gian._ This is just what I anticipated; but as your conversation cannot be brief, and your aunt expects you, had you not better defer it to another opportunity?