Act 5 — SCENE III.

A room in Fernando’s house.

Enter Fernando, Guiamara, and Constanza.

Fer. Don John, son to the count of Carcomo?

Woman, take heed thou trifle not.

Gui. Is this,

My lord, so strange?

Fer. Beauty in youth, and wit

To set it forth, I see, transform^[379] the best

Into what shape love fancies.

Const. Will you yet

Give me my husband’s life?

198Fer. Why, little one,

He is not married to thee.

Const. In his faith

He is; and faith and troth I hope bind faster

Than any other ceremonies can;

Do they not, pray, my lord?

Fer. Yes, where the parties

Pledg’d are not too unequal in degree,

As he and thou art.

Const. This is new divinity.

Gui. My lord, behold this child well: in her face

You may observe, by curious insight, something

More than belongs to every common birth.

Fer. True, ’tis a pretty child.

Gui. The glass of misery

Is, after many a change of desperate fortune,

At length run out: you had a daughter call’d

Constanza?

Fer. Ha!

Gui. A sister, Guiamara,

Wife to the count Alvarez?

Fer. Peace, O, peace!

Gui. And to that sister’s charge you did commit

Your infant daughter, in whose birth your wife,

Her mother, died?

Fer. Woman, thou art too cruel!

Const. What d’ye mean, granam? ’las, the nobleman

Grows angry!

Fer. Not I, indeed I do not:—

But why d’ye use me thus?

Gui. Your child and sister,

As you suppos’d, were drown’d?

Fer. Drown’d? talking creature!

Suppos’d?

Gui. They live; Fernando, from my hand,

199Thy sister’s hand, receive thine own Constanza,

The sweetest, best child living.

Const. Do you mock me?

Fer. Torment me on; yet more, more yet, and spare not,

My heart is now a-breaking; now!

Gui. O brother!

Am I so far remov’d off from your memory,

As that you will not know me? I expected

Another welcome home: look on this casket,

[Shewing casket.

The legacy your lady left her daughter,

When to her son she gave her crucifix.

Fer. Right, right; I know ye now.

Gui. In all my sorrows,

My comfort has been here, she should be [yours],

Be yours [at last].—Constanza, kneel, sweet child,

To thy old father.

Const. How? my father? [Kneels.

Fer. Let not

Extremity of joys ravish life from me

Too soon, heaven, I beseech thee! Thou art my sister,

My sister Guiamara! How have mine eyes

Been darken’d all this while! ’tis she!

Gui. ’Tis, brother;

And this Constanza, now no more a stranger,

No Pretiosa henceforth.

Fer. My soul’s treasure,

Live to an age of goodness; and so thrive

In all thy ways, that thou mayst die to live!

Const. But must I call you father?

Fer. Thou wilt rob me else

Of that felicity, for whose sake only

I am ambitious of being young again:

Rise, rise, mine own Constanza!

200Const. [rising] ’Tis a new name,

But ’tis a pretty one; I may be bold

To make a suit t’ye?

Fer. Any thing.

Const. O father,

And if you be my father, think upon

Don John my husband! without him, alas,

I can be nothing!

Fer. As I without thee;

Let me alone, Constanza.—Tell me, tell me,

Lives yet Alvarez?

Gui. In your house.

Fer. Enough:

Cloy me not; let me by degrees disgest^[380]

My joys.—Within, my lords Francisco, Pedro!

Come all at once! I have a world within me;

I am not mortal sure, I am not mortal:

Enter Francisco, Pedro, Maria, Roderigo, and Clara.

My honourable lord[s], partake my blessings;

[The] count Alvarez lives here in my house;

Your son, my lord Francisco, Don John, is

The condemn’d man falsely accus’d of theft;

This, my lord Pedro, is my sister Guiamara;

Madam, this [is] Constanza, mine own child,

And I am a wondrous merry man.—Without!

The prisoner!

Enter Alvarez, Louis, John, Diego, Sancho, Soto, and Cardochia.

Louis. Here, free and acquitted,

By her whose folly drew her to this error;

201And she for satisfaction is assur’d^[381]

To my wrong’d friend.

Card. I crave your pardons;

He whose I am speaks for me.

Diego. We both beg it!

Fer. Excellent! admirable! my dear brother!

Alv. Never a happy man till now; young Louis

And I are reconcil’d.

Louis. For ever, faithfully,

Religiously.

Fran. Ped., &c.^[382] My noble lord, most welcome!

Alv. To all my heart pays what it owes, due thanks;

Most, most, brave youth, to thee!

John. I all this while

Stand but a looker-on; and though my father

May justly tax the violence of my passions,

Yet if this lady, lady of my life,

Must be denied, let me be as I was,

And die betimes.

Const. You promis’d me——

Fer. I did.—

My lord of Carcomo, you see their hearts

Are join’d already, so let our consents

To this wish’d marriage.

Fran. I forgive thine errors;

Give me thy hand.

Fer. Me thine.^[383]—But wilt thou love

My daughter, my Constanza?

202John. As my bliss.

Const. I thee as life, youth, beauty, any thing

That makes life comfortable.

Fer. Live together

One, ever one!

Fran. Rod., &c.^[384] And heaven crown your happiness!

Ped. Now, sir, how like you a prison?

San. As gallants do a tavern, being stopped for

a reckoning, scurvily.

Soto. Though you caged us up never so close,

we sung like cuckoos.

Fer. Well, well, you be^[385] yourself now.

San. Myself?—am I out of my wits, Soto?

Fer. Here now are none but honourable friends:

Will you, to give a farewell to the life

You ha' led as gipsies, these being now found none,

But noble in their births, alter’d in fortunes,

Give it a merry shaking by the hand,

And cry adieu to folly?

San. We’ll shake our hands, and our heels, if you’ll give us leave. [A dance.

Fer. On, brides and bridegrooms! to your Spanish feasts

Invite with bent knees^[386] all these noble guests.

[Exeunt omnes.