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We’ll hire, to put our Scheme in Act. Ho! Gerald —

[Enter Gerald, whom Henriquez whispers; then Gerald goes out.

Rod. When we’re once lodg’d, the Means of her Conveyance,

By safe and secret Force, with Ease we’ll compass

But, Brother, know my Terms. — If that your Mistress

Will to the World come back, and she appear

An Object worthy in our Father’s Eye,

Wooe her, and win her; but if his Consent

Keep not Pace with your Purpose —

Henr. Doubt it not.

I’ve look’d not with a common Eye; but chose

A noble Virgin, who to make her so,

Has all the Gifts of Heav’n and Earth upon her.

If ever Woman yet could be an Angel,

She is the nearest.

Rod.Well; a Lover’s Praise

Feasts not a Common Ear. — Now to our Plot;

We shall bring Night in with Us. [Exeunt.

Scene II.

Enter Julio, and Two Gentlemen.

Gent. Good Sir, compose yourself.

Jul. O Leonora,

That Heav’n had made Thee stronger than a Woman,

How happy had I been!

Gent. He’s calm again:

I’ll take this Interval to work upon Him.

These wild and solitary Places, Sir,

But feed your Pain; let better Reason guide you;

And quit this forlorne State, that yields no Comfort.

[Lute sounds within.

Jul. Ha! hark, a Sound from Heav’n! Do you hear Nothing?

Gent. Yes, Sir; the Touch of some sweet Instrument:

Here’s no Inhabitant.

Jul. No, no, the better.

Gent. This is a strange Place to hear Musick in.

Jul. I’m often visited with these sweet Airs.

The Spirit of some hapless Man that dy’d,

And left his Love hid in a faithless Woman,

Sure haunts these Mountains. [Violante sings within.

Fond Echo! forego thy light Strain,

And heedfully hear a lost Maid;

Go, tell the false Ear of the Swain

How deeply his Vows have betray’d.

Go, tell him, what Sorrows I bear;

See, yet if his Heart feel my Woe:

’Tis now he must heal my Despair,

Or Death will make Pity too slow.

Gent. See, how his Soul strives in him! This sad Strain

Has search’d him to the Heart.

Jul. Excellent Sorrow!

You never lov’d?

Gent. No.

Jul. Peace; and learn to grieve then.

[Violante sings within.

Go, tell him, what Sorrows I bear;

See, yet if his Heart feel my Woe:

’Tis now he must heal my Despair,

Or Death will make Pity too slow.

Is not this heav’nly?

Gent. I never heard the Like, Sir.

Jul. I’ll tell you, my good Friends; but pray, say Nothing;

I’m strangely touch’d with This. The heav’nly Sound

Diffuses a sweet Peace thro’ all my Soul.

But yet I wonder, what new, sad, Companion

Grief has brought hither to out-bid my Sorrows.

Stand off, stand off, stand off — Friends, it appears.

Enters Violante.

Viol. How much more grateful are these craggy Mountains,

And these wild Trees, than things of nobler Natures;

For These receive my Plaints, and mourn again

In many Echoes to Me. All good People

Are faln asleep for ever. None are left,

That have the Sense, and Touch of Tenderness

For Virtue’s sake: No, scarce their Memory:

From whom I may expect Counsel in Fears,

Ease to Complainings, or Redress of Wrongs.

Jul. This is a moving Sorrow, but say nothing.

Viol. What Dangers have I run, and to what Insults

Expos’d this Ruin of my self? Oh! Mischief

On that Soul-spotted Hind, my vicious Master!

Who would have thought, that such poor Worms as They,

(Whose best Feed is coarse Bread; whose Bev’rage, Water;)

Should have so much rank Blood? I shake all over,

And blush to think what had become of me,

If that good Man had not reliev’d me from him.

Jul. Since she is not Leonora, she is heav’nly.

When she speaks next, listen as seriously,

As Women do that have their Loves at Sea,

What Wind blows ev’ry Morning. —

Viol. I cannot get this false Man’s Memory

Out of my Mind. You Maidens, that shall live

To hear my mournful Tale, when I am Ashes,

Be wise; and to an Oath no more give Credit,

To Tears, to Vows, (false Both!) or any Thing

A Man shall promise, than to Clouds, that now

Bear such a pleasing Shape, and now are nothing.

For they will cozen, (if They may be cozen’d,)

The very Gods they worship. — Valour, Justice,

Discretion, Honesty, and all they covet,

To make