Of prejudice against my course or custom,
Opinion sways your confidence, I know not.
Much anger, if my fears persuade not falsely,
Sits on this gentleman's stern brow; yet, sir,
If an unhappy maid's word may find credit,
As I wish harm to nobody on earth,

So would all good folks may wish none to me!
Aur. None does, sweet sister.

Cast. If they do, dear Heaven

Forgive them, is my prayer; but, perhaps,
You might conceive (and yet methinks you should
not)

How I am faulty in my sister's absence:
Indeed 't is nothing so, nor was I knowing
Of any private speech my lord intended,
Save civil entertainment: pray, what hurt
Can fall out in discourse, if it be modest?
Sure noblemen will show that they are such
With those of their own rank;-and that was all
My sister can be charged with.

Aur. Is 't not, friend,

An excellent maid?

Aurel. Deserves the best of fortunes; I ever spoke her virtuous.

Cast. With your leave,

You used most cruel language to my sister,
Enough to fright her wits; not very kind
To me myself: she sigh'd when you were gone,
Desired no creature else should follow her;
And, in good truth, I was so full of weeping,
I mark'd not well which way she went.

Aur. Staid she not

Within the house then?

Cast. 'Las, not she !-Aurelio

Was passing rough.

Aur. Strange! nowhere to be found?

Cast. Not yet; but on my life, ere many hours, I shall hear from her.

Aur. Shalt thou? worthy maid,

• Thou hast brought to my sick heart a cordial.

Friend,

Good news!-Most sweet Castanna!

Aurel. May it prove so.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

A Street.

Enter BENATZI.

Ben. The paper in the purse for my directions appointed this the place, the time now; here dance I attendance-she is come already.

Enter LEVIDOLCHE.

Lev. Parado! so I overheard you named.

Ben. A mushroom, sprung up in a minute by the sunshine of your benevolent grace. Liberality and hospitable compassion, most magnificent beauty, have long since lain bedrid in the ashes of the old world, till now your illustrious charity hath raked up the dead embers, by giving life to a worm inevitably devoted yours, as you shall please to new-shape me. Lev. A grateful man, it seems. Where gratitude Has harbour, other furniture, becoming

Accomplished qualities, must needs inhabit. [Aside. What country claims your birth?

Ben. None; I was born at sea, as my mother was in passage from Cape Ludugory to Cape Cagliari,1 towards Afric, in Sardinia; was bred up in Aquilastro, and at years put myself in service under the Spanish viceroy, till I was taken prisoner by the Turks. I have tasted in my days handsome store of good and bad, and am thankful for both.

1 As my mother was in passage from Cape Ludugory to Cape Cagliari.] Benatzi is sufficiently correct in his geography. In our old maps of Sardinia, the northern division of the island is called Logudori, and the southern Cagliari.-GIFFORD.

Lev. Dare you be secret?

Ben. Yes.

Lev. And sudden?

Ben. Yes.

Lev. But, withal, sure of hand and spirit?
Ben. Yes, yes, yes.

Lev. I use not many words, the time prevents

'em :

A man of quality has robb'd mine honour.

Ben. Name him.

Lev. Adurni.

Ben. He shall bleed.

Lev. Malfato

Contemn'd my proffered love.

Ben. Yoke them in death.

What's my reward?

Lev. Propose it, and enjoy it.
Ben. You for my wife.
Lev. Ha!

Ben. Nothing else: deny me,

And I'll betray your counsels to your ruin;

Else do the feat courageously.—Consider.

Lev. I do despatch the task I have enjoined, Then claim my promise.

Ben. No such matter, pretty one,

We'll marry first,-or-farewell.

Lev. Stay: examine

[Going.

From my confession what a plague thou draw'st

Into thy bosom: though I blush to say it,

Know, I have, without sense of shame or honour, Forsook a lawful marriage-bed, to dally

Between Adurni's arms.

Ben. This lord's?

Lev. The same.

More; not content with him, I courted
A newer pleasure, but was there refused
By him I named so late.

Ben. Malfato?

Lev. Right:

Am henceforth resolutely bent to print

My follies on their hearts; then change my life
For some rare penance.1 Canst thou love me now?
Ben. Better;

I do believe 't is possible you may mend:

All this breaks off no bargain.

Lev. Accept my hand; with this a faith as constant
As vows can urge; nor shall my haste prevent
This contract, which death only must divorce.
Ben. Settle the time.

Lev. Meet here to-morrow night;
We will determine further, as behooves us.
Ben. How is my new love called?

Lev. Levidolche.

Be confident, I bring a worthy portion.-
But you'll fly off.

1

-then change my life

For some rare penance.] It might almost be conjectured from this passage, that the author really had some Italian story before him. It is the genuine mode of repentance in that country. "Let me only commit a few more crimes, despatch a few more enemies, and I will then do some rare penance, and amend my life for good and all."

It may seem somewhat extraordinary that Benatzi should not recognise his wife. She, it appears, had discovered him through all his disguises, his military rags and accoutrements, his false beard, &c., whereas he continues ignorant of her, though she meets him without any apparent effort at concealment, affects no change of language, or even of name, and resides with her uncle, with whom Benatzi must have been sufficiently familiar But there is the old plea-aliter non fit, Avite, liber! Otherwise, no plot.-GIFFORD. But was Benatzi really so ignorant as Mr. Gifford supposes him? Had not the author designed, for we can hardly say contrived, a double plot, by which the divorced pair should each have separate designs upon the other?

What Levidolche's

intentions were, are sufficiently apparent from her own language; and Benatzi's may without any great difficulty be inferred. The disguise which he assumes (for a soldier, with the distinguished part imputed to him by a victorious commander, [Act v. scene 2], should not necessarily be in rags), and the situation in which he is first found, at the door of Levidolche's uncle's house, evidently imply a design of becoming a spy upon the actions of his divorced wife, and of shaping his future course as circumstances might direct. A very few words put into the mouth of Benatzi, instead of the obscure intimation of Auria (p. 85), would with ease have made all this sufficiently clear: and these few words, we are almost persuaded, were to be found in the original draught of the drama; we say original draught, because so many obscurities pervade the printed copies, that we can scarcely believe them to have received the author's own personal correction and revision. See further the note at p. 85.

Ben. Not I, by all that 's noble!

A kiss-farewell, dear fate!

Lev. Love is sharp-sighted,

[Exit.

And can pierce through the cunning of disguises. False pleasures, I cashier ye; fair truth, welcome!

[Exit.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

A Room in the House of MALFAto.

Enter MALFATO and SPINELLA.

Mal. Here you are safe, sad cousin; if you please, May over-say the circumstance of what

You late discours'd: mine ears are gladly open,
For I myself am in such hearty league

With solitary thoughts, that pensive language
Charms my attention.

Spin. But my husband's honours,

By how much more in him they sparkle clearly,
By so much more they tempt belief, to credit-
The wreck and ruin of my injured name.

Mal. Why, cousin, should the earth cleave to the

roots,

The seas and heavens be mingled in disorder,
Your purity with unaffrighted eyes

Might wait the uproar; 'tis the guilty trembles
At horrors, not the innocent! you are cruel
In censuring a liberty allow'd.

Speak freely, gentle cousin, was Adurni
Importunately wanton?

Spin. In excess

Of entertainment, else not.
Mal. Not the boldness
Of an uncivil courtship?

Spin. What that meant,

I never understood. I have at once
Set bars between my best of earthly joys,