Page:Representative American plays.pdf/235

Ram. Ay—Set me to what roguery you will, so it may regain her.

Cab. The tomb of Bochica, the Indian emperor! I know not by what hallucination it happens, but I never hear thee mention that, without thinking of the vaults of thy father.

Ram. Hah!

Cab. Now, were he not thy father, couldst thou not have the heart to rob him?

Ram. Rob him!

Cab. That is, as long as he oppresses thee so tyrannically. Faith, I would even steal mine own share.

Ram. Thou dost not seriously advise me to be such a villain?

Cab. No, good faith—I? I was jesting. But I will tell thee what thou shalt do. Thou shalt ask him for money.

Ram. And have him spurn me again?

Cab. Tell him thou art in danger of a prison.

Ram. I will go near him no more. No more begging! The prison first.

Cab. <Why, we must have money. I am sorry to tell thee, some evil rogues have disparaged us among the free gamesters, and they will be free with us no more.> Pablo the innkeeper is wrathful with thee, and says he must have money for thy food and lodging.

Ram. The villain! He has had my last dollar.

Cab. He is not so merciful as thy father; but he has harbored thee long. Hearken—I will go to thy father.

Ram. Thou!

Cab. And entreat him for thee very piteously.

Ram. <He will fill thy pockets with curses.>

Cab. Why, then I will cheat him.

Ram. Cheat him?

Cab. Oh, thou dost not care?

Ram. You may rob him, if you will: I care not.

Cab. I will deal with him with good security, and will fetch thee the money. <But I must not give thee too much hope: he will think I borrow it for thee, and will refuse me. But> do thou in the meantime endeavor to speak with Juana. Marco must not have her.

Ram. Not if any new dye upon my soul can preserve her. <Do what you will, or can; and if you fail, we will consider another way to amend our fortunes.>

Cab. All the men of Bogota are our enemies—How many of them have money in thy father's hands?

Ram. Why more than I can tell thee. But what has that to do with their enmity?

Cab. So much that if one were to break Baptista's vaults, we should have much feeding of grudges.

Ram. Say no more of this.

Cab. Look, here comes thy friend Mendoza again!

Ram. Where? Nay, thou art mistaken: 'tis another, and a greater than Mendoza, and one not more our friend. Seest thou nothing beyond that muffled cloak? It is the Viceroy.

Cab. The Viceroy! I warrant me, he is spying over us. What does he in disguise? and near thy father's house?

Ram. Perhaps I could tell thee. But let us be gone. He hardens my father against me.—Let him not see us.

Feb. Come hither, Leonora. What, my girl,
That stranger youth I bade thee see no more,
Dost thou still speak with him?

Leon. Alack, dear father, I hope you are not angry.

<Feb. Is it so? Comes he still near thee?

Leon. Oh, I am sure indeed, I never gave him countenance.>

Feb. I charged thee give him such scorn, if still he followed thee,
As should have driven him from thee; for, indeed,
These trashbrained idlers, that do follow thee,
Sighing in chapel, staring in the street,
And strumming silly lovesongs at thy window,
They are but things of naught,—base, lazy rogues,
That hunt for rich men's daughters for their prey,
And now they haunt thy steps the more, because
The broker, weak old Febro, that must die,
In natural course of age, ere many years,
Hath but two heirs to share his hoards.