Page:Representative American plays.pdf/232

Mendoza. You have your answer. Come no more near my house: I'll have no disobedient, disinherited sons there. <Come no more near to me.>

Ram. Señor Mendoza, you make my unhappiness my crime and condemn me for my misfortune.

Men. Truly, I have so learned to criminate misfortune ever since I found that, when one grief springs from ill fate, twenty come from our own faults. I have never known a young man sink in the world, without finding he had overburdened himself with follies.

Ram. If you will listen to me, I will show you how much you wrong me.

Men. Wrong you? I wrong you not: you are your own wronger. <I should be glad to be rid of you.>

Ram. You treat me with much shame, señor; but, for your daughter's sake, I forgive you.

Men. So would I that your father did for you for my daughter's sake; for then might I think of you for a son. But now, you must pardon me—Think no more of that.

Ram. Señor Mendoza, I have your promise to wed Juana.

Men. I made that promise when you were your father's heir; and I break it, now that you are your father's outcast. I will have no discarded son for my child's husband, believe that.

Ram. My father will restore me to his favor.

Men. When he does that, I will perhaps take thee to mine,—not before. <Fare thee well, señor.>

Ram. Señor Mendoza, it is said you will marry Juana <to another?

Men. And if I do, señor, who is to gainsay me?>

Ram. To Marco, the young merchant of Quito?

Men. Content thee, señor Ramon, Marco is neither discarded nor poor, nor ill spoken of; and will be a good husband for a good man's daughter. <Farewell—Come to me no more.>

Ram. By heaven, it shall not be!

Men. Oho! it shall not be! You are the King of Castile, señor Ramon! You will have fathers marry their children to men of your choosing!

Ram. Señor, you will break my heart. It is enough to lose my father, my family—all—yet you will rob me of my betrothed wife.

Men. Betrothed to Baptista Febro's heir, not to Ramon the penniless and houseless. <You are scurrilous.> I will talk with you no more. Farewell—and come no more near me; my daughter is not for you.

Ram. Misery follow thee, thou false old churl,
And age's torments! till they rack as sore
As the fresh pangs and agonies of youth.
Perhaps his daughter is not much averse:
Yet many an oath, with many a sigh, of old,
Breathed she for truth and loving constancy.

Cab. Hola, Ramon! brother Sorrowful! Señor Will-o'-the-wisp! are you there? I have been seeking <for> you.

Ram. I should think then thou hadst some execution upon me; for who else now seek me but my creditors?

Cab. Why, thy true friends, thy true friends (for am not I a host?), thy true friends, Cabarero. Come now, hast thou been petitioning thy father?

Ram. I tell thee, I had better ask an alms of the cutthroat on the highway, than of my father.

Cab. <An alms!> Oh, thou art the smallest-souled pretty fellow in all Granada here. Why dost thou talk of an alms? Art thou not thy father's eldest son?