WOMEN.

Julia, Wife to Francisco, young and handsom,
   in love with Carlos, Mrs. Davis.
Clara, Sister to Julia, in love with Antonio, Mrs. Petty. Isabella, Daughter to Francisco; proud, vain and
   foolish, despising all Men under the degree of Quality,
   and falls in love with Guiliom, Mrs. Corror.
Jacinta, Woman to Julia, Mrs. Osborne.  Wife to Petro.

Dancers, Singers, &c.

ACT I.

SCENE I. The Street.

    Enter Carlos, Antonio and Guzman.

Car.  By all that’s good, I’m mad, stark raving mad,
To have a Woman young, rich, beautiful,
Just on the point of yielding to my Love,
Snatcht from my Arms by such a Beast as this;
An old ridiculous Buffoon, past Pleasure,
Past Love, or any thing that tends that way;
Ill-favour’d, ill-bred, and ill-qualify’d,
With more Diseases than a Horse past Service;
And only blest with Fortune and my Julia;
For him, I say, this Miser, to obtain her,
After my tedious nights and days of Love,
My midnight Watchings, Quarrels, Wounds and Dangers;
—­My Person not unhandsom too,
By Heav’n, ’twas wondrous strange!

Ant.  And old Francisco, without the expence of an hour’s Courtship, a Billet-Doux, or scarce a sight of her, could gain her in a day; and yet ’tis wonder, your Fortune and your Quality, should be refus’d by Don Baltazer her Father.

Car.  A Pox upon’t, I went the wrong way to work, and courted the Daughter; but indeed my Father, the late Governour of Cadiz, whose Estate and Honour I now enjoy, was then living; and, fearing he would not consent to my Passion, I endeavoured to keep it secret, though sacred Vows had past between us two.

Ant.  Did she not tell you of this Marriage with old Francisco?

Car.  The night before, she did; but only by a Letter from her Window dropt; which when by the help of a dark Lanthorn, I had read, I was struck dead with Grief.
               [Gives him the Letter.

Ant. [reads.]

Expect to morrow night to hear I’m dead, since the next
Sun will guide me to a fatal Marriage with old Francisco.
Your Julia.

Car.  Judge, dear Antonio, my Surprize and Grief;
A-while I stood unmov’d, thoughtless, and silent,
But soon Rage wak’d me to new Life again;
But what I said and did, I leave to raging Lovers,
Like disappointed me, to guess and judge;
She heard—­and only answer’d me in Tears,
Nor could I beg one tender Word from her,
She sigh’d, and shut the Window too, and vanish’d.