[]THE GIPSIES.

ACT I.

[2] Having put up my horſe, my next care is to ſee after my maſter, Signor Lelio; who, I dare ſay, expects me with impatience. 'Twas here I left him—but here he comes!

Ah, Carlo! I am glad thou art re⯑turned.

I don't doubt it, Sir; for you muſt have been in a thouſand frights and fears. But the portrait is found, Sir; 'tis found, and all our cares are over.

Give it me.

There; devour it with kiſſes.—

Hey-day! how you receive it!

As a thing become perfectly indifferent to me.

The devil!—why, whence comes this change? when Signor Aſcorino, your father, gave it you at Naples, zounds, there was no keeping you within bounds; you had your beſt bib and tucker on in a minute.

I confeſs it.

The character he had given you of Iſabella, and the ſight of her picture, had ſo ſired you, you muſt ſet out to Leghorn to ſee her that very moment.

All this is true.

It is indeed; for away we decamped immediately from Naples, and came poſt-haſte here. On our arrival, you perceived you had left the portrait of Iſabella at our inn at Rome; ſo not daring to appear before her without it, away I was diſpatched, as if the devil was in me, [3] to fetch it: I have brought it back to you, and now you put it in your pocket without looking at it.

I agree to this: I will even tell thee, that, impatient to ſee her, ſo far from having the reſolution to wait thy return, the very day after thy departure I ſet out to her houſe, though I had not the portrait.

I gueſs what followed: The painter was remarkable for taking handſome likeneſſes, I warrant you.

No; I have not ſeen her. On my way, I met with a perſon who took away all my in⯑clination.

A perſon?

Yes; a very reſpectable perſon; a young Gipſy, who offered to tell me my fortune.

Oh, I underſtand you: She looked at your line of life, and found there certain croſſes, ſomething in the ſhape of horns.

No, no, Carlo; 'twas in looking in my face ſhe did the buſineſs, not in my hand.

How do you mean?

That my heart was ſtolen by the charms of this beautiful Gipſy, who appeared to be a divinity.

Oh, ſome pilgrim, I ſuppoſe, who knows very well how to ſell her cockleſhells.

Thou art deceived; ſhe has not leſs wiſdom than beauty: Imagine to thyſelf all the attractions, all the graces together, this is Spinetta. She receives your praiſes with an honeſt diſdain; and, if you are too free, ſhe oppoſes to your vi⯑vacity an agreeable ſeverity.

That's as much as to ſay, ſhe holds the ſugar-plumb as high as ſhe can.

Alas, why is not her birth equal to her merit?

That's right, Signor Lelio! puſh the matter further; be a perfect hero in this buſineſs, and perſuade yourſelf ſhe is ſome princeſs in diſguiſe, whoſe misfortunes have reduced her royal highneſs to ſtroll about the country to tell fortunes, and ſteal pigs and chickens.

Truce to pleaſantry.—I confeſs, it agrees but little with my birth to have a paſſion ſo de⯑licate for a Gipſy; but I am ſo entirely conquerred, that, let what will be the conſequence, I can think of nothing but her, and the means of pleaſ⯑ing her.

Oh, brave! And where does this won⯑derful creature live, pray, Sir?

Juſt here, with a brother named Clarin, an honeſt and worthy lad.

Oh, like ſiſter like brother, I dare ſay.

And they are at the head of a band of Gipſies.

Who are alſo very honeſt, no doubt.—Zounds, you are got into a great deal of very honeſt company ſince I left you.

Peace! I ſee Spinetta coming this way, with Laura her companion.—How my heart beats!—Draw aſide a moment, before we accoſt them.

Yes, Laura, Lelio pleaſes my brother▪ and I love him: But that is not enough; I muſt have every proof of his affection, while he be⯑lieves me a Gipſy; 'twill be a painful trial, but 'tis neceſſary.

I approve your delicacy: What joy for Lelio, when he finds—

Huſh! he's here. Leave us!

Signor Lelio, I was ſearching for you, to bid you adieu.

How! adieu?

My brother is determined to leave Leg⯑horn immediately.

Ah, my dear Spinetta, what frightful news! and with what barbarous tranquility you tell it me!

Would to Heaven I could be as indif⯑ferent as you think me! but 'tis time to diſcover my ſentiments: I cannot depart without telling you, that I am not inſenſible to your love.

I'll follow you to the end of the world.

The man's gone mad!

No, Lelio; I forbid you. After the confeſſion I have made, what muſt you think of me! you muſt forget me.

Hang me, if ſhe is not a very ſenſible girl!

Alas, I cannot. Your cruel kindneſs has taken away every hope. Let me follow you!

My delicacy will not permit me.

The delicacy of a Gipſy! Oh, dear!

My life depends on it.

And my virtue, which is as dear to me as my life, will not ſuffer me to let a man ac⯑company me, who is not my huſband.

That ſhall be no objection.

The devil it ſha'n't!

The ſon of a nobleman marry a Gipſy!

Very true, my little dear! 'twould be a damn'd ſhame, would not it?

Love confounds all ranks!

Suppoſe I conſented, how would it look for you to put on the habit of a Gipſy, and live like us!

How, Spinetta!—Surely, after you were my wife, you would not think of con⯑tinuing the ſtate of life in which I ſee you at preſent.

You are miſtaken: I cannot reſolve either to quit my brother or his fortune; we muſt therefore part. 'Tis a cruel ſtroke; but Fate will have it ſo. Beſides, how can I flatter myſelf that your love is any other than the effect of youth and vivacity?

This is all very well! Now, Sir, I ſup⯑poſe I muſt go to Iſabella, and announce your arrival, muſt not I?

I'll marry her!

Iſabella, Sir?

Spinetta, blockhead.

Oh, Lord, Sir, all the court of Naples will be charm'd to hear what an honourable choice you have made.

Say another word, and I'll—

Dear Sir! I beg your pardon! You are right, perfectly right, Sir! pleaſe yourſelf; get little Gipſies, and let the world talk and be hang'd.

Alas, Carlo, inſtead of inſulting me with railleries and reproaches, pity me rather. Do you believe I yield without remorſe to this paſſion? no; 'tis impoſſible to deſcribe the conflicts in my mind betwixt reaſon and love.

Well, Lelio, I have conſulted my bro⯑ther; and he thinks as I do, that we ought to part, and is coming to bid you adieu.

No, Spinetta, I can never part with you: I conſent to all you aſk

What's that?

Nothing at all.

I ſuſpect ſomething, and will ſee

Ah! 'tis a portrait, and of a very pretty woman too.

Lord, 'tis only the portrait of his grand⯑mama, when ſhe was in her teens.

You ſeem uneaſy, Lelio: What ought I to think of this?

Don't judge too raſhly; hear me a moment.

I'll hear nothing.

Let me undeceive you!

I am undeceived.

Nay, hang it, Madam Gipſy, you are a little unreaſonable this bout; to refuſe to hear, is not the way to know the truth. Let me get between you, and I'll ſet the matter to rights in a moment.

This being the caſe, your anger abates, and then you kiſs and are friends.

He tells you the truth.

This I muſt ſearch into.

I deſire no better.

Signor Lelio, I come—but you ſeem moved, both of you; have you any cauſe of diſpute?

Yes, brother; and this is the ſubject: Lelio dropt a portrait, which, he ſays, is that of a couſin he has never ſeen, and to whom he was to have been married.

Heavens, 'tis the portrait of Iſabella! And do you really prefer my ſiſter to ſo much beauty?

Was my couſin a thouſand times hand⯑ſomer, I would make her that ſacrifice with pleaſure.

And for me, I would prefer your couſin to all the women I ever ſaw.

You prefer my couſin? What does he mean?

Your aſtoniſhment will ceaſe, when I inform you I have ſeen your couſin; that I had the good fortune to do her a material ſervice; that I have reſolved to pay my addreſſes to her; and that this habit only has prevented me from having had a ſecond interview with her.

But that obſtacle is now removed, and you may ſee her whenever you chuſe, if Signor Lelio will conſent to it.

Who? me?—you joke, Spinetta.

Not at all; as you have never ſeen your couſin, my brother may very eaſily paſs for you.

For me? it can't be.

Why not? he need but have the portrait to introduce him; he can deport himſelf like a gentleman, I aſſure you, Sir; nor will Iſabella have any ſuſpicion of the trick.

A man of the calling of your brother! I can't conſent to it.

Nor I neither. Damn me, they have a deſign againſt the whole family!—Would you wiſh, Ma'am, that any body ſhould marry his father? he is deviliſh rich, I aſſure you.

Well, what do you ſay, Lelio?

Don't oblige me, Spinetta, to repreſent to you the abſurdity of this project.

Your reſiſtance betrays you, Lelio: You've an attachment for Iſabella.

'Tis not that; you take that for the effect of love, which is only a principle of honour: The diſparagement is too great; a lady of quality marry a Gipſy!

Oh, ho! you begin to feel it now.

Say no more: I exact nothing from you. Keep your noble pride; you have need of it yourſelf. I would have abandoned for you the greateſt princes upon earth; and you are always refuſing every thing I requeſt of you.

But conſider—

Go, ungrateful! you don't merit the heart of Spinetta: Leave me, and vaunt to Iſa⯑bella [12] your ſcrupulous attention to her honour: She'll pardon the contempt you have had for her charms. Come, my brother.—Adieu, noble Lelio! If you think your couſin ought to diſ⯑dain a Gipſy, ſuch as my brother, believe me a Gipſy, ſuch as I am, can diſdain you in her turn.

What a devil of a ſpirit ſhe has!

I'll perſiſt, even if I loſe her.

That's right, Sir.

I'll after, and reaſon her out of her abſurd folly.

Zounds, Sir, don't go to ſpoil all!

Never fear: I'll repreſent to her the extravagance of ſuch an idea.

Ah, that's as much as to ſay you'll conſent to whatever ſhe pleaſ [...]s.

No, no; this has waked my ſenſes out [13] of the lethargy in which they have been entranced.Stay here, while I bid her adieu for ever.

A noble reſolution, and couragiouſly taken. What a pity 'tis, that one hypocritical tear ſhould overturn it.—The devil fly away with all the Gipſies upon earth, I ſay!

I thank you for the body in general, and myſelf in particular.

You are welcome, my dear, if it was ten times as much.

Then this Gipſy's dreſs that I have brought for you, I may take back again.

You may indeed.

And why ſo?

Becauſe I am not in love.

Oh, your time will come, never fear.—Let me ſee.

Come, come, don't be palming of me, and looking at my line of life.—I wiſh I may never ſtir, if I an't afraid of her.

You are in love.

Oh, I am: With who, pray?

With me.

With you.—She's deviliſh handſome, for the matter of that—zounds, if I ſhould get bewitched too!

What's the matter with you?

I am conſidering—

Conſidering? what?

That it is not honeſt for a man to abandon his maſter.

That's a good lad.

And that I am afraid you had ſome ſecret way of making my heart come out of my fingers' ends juſt now, for I wiſh I may die if I have not loſt it.

Did not I tell you ſo?

I feel myſelf already almoſt as great? fool as my maſter.

And that's ſaying a great deal.

'Tis done! I ſacrifice my aunt, my couſin, my grandmother, and all the whole ſhop!

What a happy woman am I!

Yes; we'll go and leap over the ſtick as ſoon as you pleaſe.—But all that troubles me is, how the devil you do to tell peoples' fortunes.

Oh, there's nothing in the world ſo eaſy.

So, according to this, I have only to tell a married woman her huſband will die before her; a young girl, that ſhe'll ſoon get married; a phyſician, that he'll have a great many patients; a poet, that all his pieces will ſucceed; and, in ſhort, what I think will pleaſe them beſt.—But what's all this?

Our joyous band, who are coming to perform the accuſtomed ceremonies upon receiv⯑ing your maſter and you into the company.

Really the company do us a great deal of honour.

ACT II.

No news of Lelio yet, Violetta?

No, madam.

Heaven be praiſed!

Lord, madam, how the wind is changed in our corner. When Signor Aſcorino propoſed his ſon to you—oh, dear—nothing was ever ſo charming as the idea of ſuch an alliance—pomp, place, and precedence, at the court of Naples, was ſuch a temptation—away I was ſent for the [18] moſt famous painter in all Leghorn to draw your portrait; for though you had three by you, one was too ſerious, another too ill-dreſſed, the third too maſculine; in ſhort, every nerve muſt be ſtrained to attract the heart of ſo wealthy and accompliſhed a cavalier.

All this is true.

Now ſee the difference: He ought to have been here eight days ago; and though 'tis poſſible he may have broke his neck upon the road, been aſſaſſinated by robbers, though it is the moſt aſtoniſhing thing in the world we have not ſeen him, when I tell you he is not arrived, you cry—"heaven be praiſed!"

What ſhall I ſay to you, Violetta?

The truth, ma'am; that this unknown—this beggar—

For ſhame! I ſhall be angry with you.

Nay, what ſignifies mincing the matter?—Your coach breaks down; you are in danger of loſing your life, by falling near the horſes, when a man, all over rags and tatters, flies to your aſſiſtance—he relieves you—inſiſts upon conducting you home—and becauſe he refuſes a purſe of ducats, which you offer him, you are convinced he has a noble mind, an elevated un⯑derſtanding, and a great many more fine things which I have forgot.

'Tis very true, that, under the moſt ab⯑ject appearance, that wonderful man diſcovered an air, an education, a politeneſs and ſentiment, a prince need not bluſh to entertain; that I firmly believe his dreſs to be but a diſguiſe; and that though perhaps I ſhall never ſee him any more—

Signor Lelio, madam.

This portrait, madam, will give you to underſtand who I am.

Am I awake?—Violetta! Surely it can⯑not be—

'Tis he himſelf, ma'am; I have examined him from head to foot.

I confeſs to you, Sir, I cannot recover myſelf from the aſtoniſhment into which your appearance has thrown me; either I am deceived, or I have ſeen you before.

You have, dear couſin; and I can never enough entreat you to pardon the in⯑nocent ſtratagem with which love inſpired me:—Lelio and your Deliverer are but one perſon.

And, for Heaven's ſake, how came you—

When I had received your portrait from my father, I haſtened to preſent myſelf before you; but, conſcious of my own de⯑merits, I diſguiſed myſelf, to enquire into the ſtate of your heart: Fortune, to crown my wiſhes, preſented me with an opportunity of being ſerviceable to you.—Happy ſhould I be, if, in my own character, I was capable of in⯑ſpiring you with the fainteſt of thoſe ſentiments which at that moment took ſuch poſſeſſion of me.

After the ſentiments you were capable of inſpiring me with, under a leſs amiable ap⯑pearance, it would be a folly to diſſemble: I muſt confeſs, my heart had formed a wiſh that Lelio might be made like you.

I am but too happy.

A parcel of Gipſies are at the garden-gate, and beg to be admitted.

Oh, dear ma'am, let us have them; they'll divert us.

If you have no objection, Lelio.

None at all.

Shew them to us.

How lucky it happens, ma'am! You can conſult them about your marriage; and I dare ſay they'll be able to tell you how many huſbands you'll have beſides this gentleman.

and Clarin. Ha, ha, ha!

This is, without doubt, the head of the gang.

She has an engaging preſence.

My beautiful lady, will you let me tell you your fortune?

With all my heart.

Come here, brother!

Take the lady's other hand, while I obſerve this.

You have a brother of a good mien: Without doubt, he is ſkilful.

Skilful, madam!—he is the firſt man in the world for palmiſtry; nobody can tell you better than he what will happen to you.

No, by my faith, he only knows too well; that's all.

Oh, madam, don't believe her—Hea⯑vens, to what ſhe expoſes me!

Happy hand!—My good lady, an amiable gentleman, upon ſeeing only your portrait, has conceived for you a moſt violent paſſion.

Lord, Madam, what a witch ſhe muſt be to know that.

Yes, deviliſh cunning, to be ſure!

You are ſoon to marry him; and 'tis a man who will do you and your family great honour.

Oh, infinite!

Heavens, can I bear all this?

You ſeem uneaſy: Is it becauſe you ſaw any thing ſiniſter in my t'other hand?

Yes, Madam;—you are menaced—

With what?

With a ſudden chagrin; which—

Oh, I know what he means: Yes, Madam, you'll meet with a ſevere vexation, which will be trou⯑bleſome to you for a moment; but it will paſs like a ſhadow, and be followed by a thouſand pleaſures.

Madam, the Marquis Aſcorino demands to ſee you.

My father!

Ah, Lelio, this is a hap⯑pineſs I did not expect.

Nor I neither.

You ſeem troubled.

Nothing; only my father—a—his coming—ſo unexpectedly.

Give me your hand; I'll tell you in a moment whether you have any thing to fear.—

Draw her aſide; amuſe her a little while, and let me alone.—

Your father's journey to Leghorn need [...]ot give you the leaſt uneaſineſs.

Madam, I have particular [23] reaſons for wiſhing to ſpeak to you before you ſee my father.

In ſhort, you would inſiſt upon it, and you ſee what is the conſequence.

Patience, patience!

I ſay, let us decamp.

'Tis the beſt way.

What, and leave my brother in the toils?

'Tis too late, Sir; for I wiſh I may never ſtir if here is not your father.

Let us accoſt him with a ſong, and leave the reſt to me.

This is the way; this is the way. Zounds, which is the way? I ſhall never find them, I believe.—Hey! where the devil have you brought me? and who are theſe?

What is all this? is it poſſible that you can be my ſon?—And Carlo too, in a new livery! or I'm miſtaken.

No, no, Sir; you are right enough.

Why, what's the meaning of this diſguiſe?

Sir—I—

You—what? you are diſconcerted.

Sir, I'll explain to you the whole affair: Your preſence has thrown us into the greateſt conſternation in the world.

So it ſeems, indeed!

We ſhould have been much more pleaſed, Sir, if you had ſtay'd away ſome time longer.

And why ſo?

Becauſe, Sir, we are afraid you'll diſ⯑concert our meaſures.—We are going to ſerve Iſabella ſuch a trick!

Trick!—well, what trick?

What the devil is ſhe going to ſay?

You ſhall hear, Sir.—Lelio arriving at this town, met with Clarin my brother, who he knew at Naples; ſaid Lelio to his friend, ‘"I have an excellent thought! my couſin has never ſeen me, and I could wiſh to know whether my perſon would make any impreſſion on her without my appearing in my own form▪ Suppoſe therefore you take my name, and go inſtead of me. In the mean time, we'll all diſguiſe ourſelves; your ſiſter, your ſervants, [26] Carlo, and I, as Gipſies; ſo go to Iſabella under pretence of telling her fortune, and at a proper time make myſelf known."’

What extravagance!

Pretty well for that.

And ſo, Sir, we beſpoke theſe dreſſes immediately, and have been 'till this day getting perfect in our little farce. But, Sir, we can't go a ſtep further without you lend us your aſſiſtance.

Well, with all my heart: What muſt I do?

You'll embrace your niece, with whom you'll find my brother Clarin.

Well?

And you will alſo embrace him, as if he was your ſon.

Willingly.

Support this feint 'till the evening, and leave the reſt to us.

I ſhall be diſcreet, never fear.—I can't help laughing to think, how Iſabella will be ſur⯑prized when ſhe comes to know the truth.

Yes, faith, and ſo will you too.

Now, Spinetta, what's your deſign?

This is it: We ſhall in the beginning of the evening have a bark ready; and while I find ſome means of keeping the Marquis out of the way, my brother ſhall draw aſide Iſabella, under pretence of taking a walk to the ſea-ſhore; we ſhall then force her aboard, and ſet ſail in a moment.

Carry off my couſin?

Oh, what you are at your objections again.—If you ſay another word, I'll carry off your father.

The devil you will! Ay, and all the reſt of the family, I ſuppoſe.—But who have we here?

Here they are.

Who do you want, Sir?

You.—The governor, who is at the door, ſent me to ſee if you were here.

Heavens! we are diſcovered!

What's the matter, Spinetta?

Something perhaps on which my life depends; but the ſubject of my fears will not bring a bluſh upon the cheek of Lelio.

The governor? we ſhall finiſh our farce in a priſon.

Nay, but, Carlo—

Zounds, I'll hear no more ſtuff!—Help, help! murder! fire! the devil and all his imps!

What's the matter?

Pardon, dear Sir! pray pardon me, and I'll diſcover the whole truth.

Speak!

Signor Lelio then is up to the head and ears in love with this little devil in petticoats, which is the only cauſe of our putting on theſe fool's frocks.

Heavens! is not this Lelio then?

No more, madam, than 'tis your great grandpapa; 'tis the brother of this pretty lady, and he has taken my maſter's name to impoſe upon you.

'Tis you, I ſuppoſe, who are at the head of theſe Gipſies?

Why that demand, Sir?

I have an order from the grand-duke to paſs you into Sicily, where you are expected.

My lord, it is to me you ought to addreſs yourſelf: I am Alphonſo, that unfor⯑tunate prince for whom you ſeek. I vainly be⯑lieved, by my flight and my diſguiſe, to ſave my life from the cruelty of the King of Sicily; he is not content to have executed my father for his attachment to Manfroy, he demands my life; and you may take it.

My lord, I am not come with any ſuch diſagreeable news, the king is dead, and the ſon of Manfroy is placed on the throne. The new king, who loves you, knowing you were flown with the princeſs Matilda your ſiſter, having made ſearch for you every where, at laſt diſcover'd [29] that you were both at Leghorn, with your faith⯑ful domeſtics, diſguiſed as Gipſies; in conſe⯑quence of which, he has written to the grand-duke, from whom I have an order to offer you on his part all that may be neceſſary to convey you to Palermo.

Oh, theſe ragamuffins turn out to be princes after all!

Charming Iſabella, will you, in re⯑ceiving my faith, finiſh my happineſs?

My lord, the unhappineſs I felt at find⯑ing you were not Lelio, ought to convince you of my joy in ſeeing you the prince Alphonſo.

And you, Lelio—

Ah, Madam, may the amorous Lelio flatter himſelf that the princeſs Matilda will ap⯑prove the tenderneſs of Spinetta?

Doubt it not: When I told you I would abandon princes for your ſake, you little be⯑lieved I had done ſo already.

Now for me: And will the amiable Laura, firſt lady of honour to the princeſs Ma⯑tilda, deign to caſt a twinkle of affection upon the love-ſtricken Carlo, as lord of the bedchamber?

As you have followed the example of your maſter, I think I cannot do better than imi⯑tate my miſtreſs.