Page:Representative American plays.pdf/234

Cab. Oh! o' my conscience, a loving father!

Ram. He gave me no encouragement to speak to him. Had he but looked upon me kindly, that look would have cast me at his feet.

Cab. What, at his feet? Not if he were twenty times your father. <'Slid, at his feet! Why> he would have spurned thee. Didst thou hear? He has absolved Mendoza from the match, robbed thee of Juana, nay, and absolutely counselled the merchant to marry her to your rival. A loving and merciful father! He ruins thee every way. Were he mine own father, I would—

Ram. What wouldst thou do? Thou wouldst not kill him?

Cab. By mine honor, no. I hold any bodily harm done to one's parent altogether inexplicable. But I would not forgive him.

Ram. I will not!

Cab. Why, that was said like a man.

Ram. He forgives not me, he pardons not a folly, and how shall I forgive a cruelty? For a single weakness, he punishes me with all degradation and misery; expels me from his house; looks not on me in the street; leagues with those who wrong me; leaves me penniless and perishing; and even persuades another to break faith with me, and give my betrothed to a stranger: And how shall I forgive him?

Cab. Why, thou shalt not.

Ram. I will not. I am even a desperate man; and so I will yield me up to the wrath of desperation. Art thou my true friend?

Cab. Else may I have no better hope than purgatory.

Ram. We will kill the merchant of Quito.

Cab. No, the saints forbid! no murder. He hath not money enough with him.

Ram. Why, thou dost not think I will slay him for money?

Cab. And for what else should you be so bloody-minded? Thou art not mad enough to cut his throat because he loves thy mistress?

Ram. Thou knowest, if he live, he will marry her.

Cab. Oh! she detests him, and loves you.

Ram. Yet will she wed none her father mislikes; and her father likes not me.

Cab. Wherefore? Because you have lost your father's favor? No. Because you are called a wild fellow, and hate chapels? No. Because you are no longer the hopeful-heir to Baptista Febro, the rich broker? Ay: there lies his disgust, thence comes his indignation. Now were you the veriest rogue in Bogota, he would love you well, so you had but money.

Ram. Why do you tell me that? I know he is mercenary; nothing will win his heart but money, a curse on it! I would I were rich for Juana's sake; but for myself, I care not for gold—It has been the ruin of me.

Cab. Thou speakest like an innocent goose. Money, <Sirrah!> 'tis the essence of all comfort and virtue. Thou carest not for gold! Give me gold, and I will show thee the picture of philosophy, the credential of excellence, the corner-stone of greatness. It is wisdom and reputation—the world's religion, mankind's conscience; and what is man without it? Pah! 'Tis as impossible honesty should dwell easily in an empty pocket, as good humor in a hollow stomach, or wit in a full one. Didst thou ever see integrity revered in an old coat, or unworthiness scorned in a new? <Thou carest not for gold!> 'Slife, it made my blood boil to hear you say so.

Ram. Well, after all, as money or murder must rid me of my rival, tell me how one can be more easily come at than the other.

Cab. Why, you rogue, there is our silver mine! We have been hunting it long; we must needs be near the vein.

Ram. That stratagem is growing stale. I sware but this morning to an old friend, of whom I desired to borrow money that we had discovered the tomb of Bochica the Indian emperor, which was doubtless as full of gold as the Inca's grave in Peru; but the knave laughed at me, <and said if I found no gold in it, I should have plenty brass.>

Cab. The rascal! and he lent thee no money?

Ram. Not a real.

Cab. There is no gratitude among friends. <Do thy good offices to strangers; and courtesy will teach them the grace of thankfulness. Canst thou cheat nobody?>

Ram. Cheat, Antonio?

Cab. Pho! be not in a passion. All's honest that fetcheth money.> We must have gold, or Juana is lost.