Double Falsehood
Act II, Scene 3
Prospect of a village. Before Don Bernard’s house.
Henriquez
1 - 23
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Where were the eyes, the voice, the various charms,
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Each beauteous particle, each nameless grace,
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Parents of glowing love? All these in her,
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It seems, were not: but a disease in me,
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That fancied graces in her. Who ne’er beheld
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More than a hawthorne, shall have cause to say
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The cedar’s a tall tree; and scorn the shade,
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The lov’d bush once had lent him. Soft! Mine honor
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Begins to sicken in this black reflection.
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How can it be, that with my honor safe
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I should pursue Leonora for my wife?
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That were accumulating injuries,
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To Violante first, and now to Julio;
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To her a perjur’d wretch, to him perfidious;
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And to myself in strongest terms accus’d
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Of murd’ring Honor willfully, without which
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My dog’s the creature of the nobler kind.
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But Pleasure is too strong for Reason’s curb;
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And Conscience sinks o’erpower’d with Beauty’s sweets.
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Come, Leonora, auth’ress of my crime,
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Appear, and vindicate thy empire here;
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Aid me to drive this ling’ring Honor hence,
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And I am wholly thine.
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Enter to him, Don Bernard and Leonora.
Don Bernard
24 - 26
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Fie, my good lord; why would you wait without?
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If you suspect your welcome, I have brought
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My Leonora to assure you of it.
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Henriquez salutes Leonora.
Henriquez
27 - 35
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O kiss, sweet as the odors of the spring,
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But cold as dews that dwell on morning flow’rs!
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Say, Leonora, has your father conquer’d?
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Shall duty then at last obtain the prize,
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Which you refus’d to love? And shall Henriquez
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Owe all his happiness to good Bernardo?
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Ah! No; I read my ruin in your eyes:
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That sorrow, louder than a thousand tongues,
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Pronounces my despair.
Don Bernard
36 - 44
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Come, Leonora,
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You are not now to learn, this noble lord,
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(Whom but to name, restores my failing age,)
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Has with a lover’s eye beheld your beauty;
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Through which his heart speaks more than language can;
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It offers joy and happiness to you,
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And honor to our house. Imagine then
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The birth and qualities of him that loves you;
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Which when you know, you cannot rate too dear.
Leonora
45 - 54
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My father, on my knees I do beseech you
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To pause one moment on your daughter’s ruin.
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I vow, my heart ev’n bleeds, that I must thank you
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For your past tenderness; and yet distrust
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That which is yet behind. Consider, sir,
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Whoe’er’s th’ occasion of another’s fault,
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Cannot himself be innocent. O, give not
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The censuring world occasion to reproach
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Your harsh commands; or to my charge lay that
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Which most I fear, the fault of disobedience.
Don Bernard
55 - 58
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Prithee, fear neither the one, nor the other: I tell thee,
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girl, there’s more fear than danger. For my own part, as
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soon as thou art married to this noble lord, my fears will
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be over.
Leonora
59 - 66
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Sir, I should be the vainest of my sex,
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Not to esteem myself unworthy far
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Of this high honor. Once there was a time,
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When to have heard my lord Henriquez’ vows,
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Might have subdued my unexperienc’d heart,
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And made me wholly his.—But that’s now past:
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And my firm-plighted faith by your consent
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Was long since given to the injur’d Julio.
Don Bernard
67 - 71
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Why then, by my consent e’en take it back again. Thou, like
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a simple wench, hast given thy affections to a fellow, that
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does not care a farthing for them. One, that has left thee
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for a jaunt to court; as who should say, “I’ll get a place
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now; ’tis time enough to marry, when I’m turn’d out of it.”
Henriquez
72 - 82
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So, surely, it should seem, most lovely maid;
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Julio, alas, feels nothing of my passion:
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His love is but th’ amusement of an hour,
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A short relief from business, or ambition,
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The sport of youth, and fashion of the age.
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O! Had he known the hopes, the doubts, the ardors,
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Or half the fond varieties of passion,
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That play the tyrant with my tortur’d soul;
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He had not left thee to pursue his fortune:
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To practice cringes in a slavish circle,
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And barter real bliss for unsure honor.
Leonora
83 - 99
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Oh, the opposing wind,
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Should’ring the tide, makes here a fearful billow:
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I needs must perish in it.—Oh, my lord,
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Is it then possible, you can forget
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What’s due to your great name, and princely birth,
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To friendship’s holy law, to faith repos’d,
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To truth, to honor, and poor injur’d Julio?
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O think, my lord, how much this Julio loves you;
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Recall his services, his well-tried faith;
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Think too, this very hour, where’er he be,
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Your favor is the envy of the court,
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And secret triumph of his grateful heart.
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Poor Julio, how securely thou depend’st
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Upon the faith and honor of thy master;
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Mistaken youth! This very hour he robs thee
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Of all thy heart holds dear. ’Tis so Henriquez
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Repays the merits of unhappy Julio.
Henriquez
100 - 102
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My slumb’ring honor catches the alarm.
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I was to blame to parley with her thus:
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Aside.
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She’s shown me to myself. It troubles me.
Don Bernard
103
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Mad; mad. Stark mad, by this light.
Leonora
104 - 120
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I but begin to be so. I conjure you,
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By all the tender interests of nature,
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By the chaste love ’twixt you, and my dear mother,
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(O holy heav’n, that she were living now!)
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Forgive and pity me.—Oh, sir, remember,
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I’ve heard my mother say a thousand times,
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Her father would have forced her virgin choice;
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But when the conflict was ’twixt love and duty,
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Which should be first obey’d, my mother quickly
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Paid up her vows to love, and married you.
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You thought this well, and she was praised for this;
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For this her name was honor’d, disobedience
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Was ne’er imputed to her, her firm love
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Conquer’d whate’er oppos’d it, and she prosper’d
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Long time your wife. My case is now the same;
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You are the father, which you then condemn’d;
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I, what my mother was; but not so happy.
Don Bernard
121 - 130
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Go to, you’re a fool. No doubt, you have old stories enough
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to undo you. What, you can’t throw yourself away but by
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precedent, ha? You will needs be married to one, that will
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none of you? You will be happy no body’s way but your own,
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forsooth. But, d’ye mark me, spare your tongue for the
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future; (and that’s using you hardly too, to bid you spare
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what you have a great deal too much of) go, go your ways,
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and d’ye hear, get ready within these two days to be married
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to a husband you don’t deserve. Do it, or, by my dead
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father’s soul, you are no acquaintance of mine.
Henriquez
131
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She weeps: be gentler to her, good Bernardo.
Leonora
132 - 141
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Then woe the day. I’m circled round with fire;
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No way for my escape, but through the flames.
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Oh, can I e’er resolve to live without
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A father’s blessing, or abandon Julio?
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With other maids, the choice were not so hard;
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Int’rest, that rules the world, has made at last
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A merchandize of hearts: and virgins now
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Choose as they’re bid, and wed without esteem.
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By nobler springs shall my affections move;
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Nor own a master, but the man I love.
Don Bernard
142 - 149
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Go thy ways, contradiction. Follow her, my lord; follow her,
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in the very heat. This obstinacy must be combated by
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importunity as obstinate.
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Exit Henriquez after her.
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The girl says right; her mother was just such another. I
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remember, two of us courted her at the same time. She lov’d
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neither of us, but she chose me purely to spite that surly
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old blockhead my father-in-law. Who comes here, Camillo? Now
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the refusing part will lie on my side.
Camillo
150 - 151
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My worthy neighbor, I am much in fortune’s favor to find you
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thus alone. I have a suit to you.
Don Bernard
152
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Please to name it, sir.
Camillo
153 - 155
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Sir, I have long held you in singular esteem: and what I
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shall now say, will be a proof of it. You know, sir, I have
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but one son.
Camillo
157 - 158
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And the fortune I am blest withal, you pretty well know what
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it is.
Don Bernard
159
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’Tis a fair one, sir.
Camillo
160 - 168
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Such as it is, the whole reversion is my son’s. He is now
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engaged in his attendance on our master, the Duke. But e’er
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he went, he left with me the secret of his heart, his love
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for your fair daughter. For your consent, he said, ’twas
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ready. I took a night, indeed, to think upon it, and now
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have brought you mine; and am come to bind the contract with
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half my fortune in present, the whole some time hence, and,
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in the mean while, my hearty blessing. Ha? What say you
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to’t, Don Bernard?
Don Bernard
169 - 170
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Why, really, neighbor,—I must own, I have heard something of
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this matter.
Camillo
171
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Heard something of it? No doubt, you have.
Don Bernard
172
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Yes, now I recollect it well.
Camillo
173
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Was it so long ago then?
Don Bernard
174
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Very long ago, neighbor. On Tuesday last.
Camillo
175
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What, am I mock’d in this business, Don Bernard?
Don Bernard
176 - 178
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Not mock’d, good Camillo, not mock’d: but in love-matters,
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you know, there are abundance of changes in half an hour.
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Time, time, neighbor, plays tricks with all of us.
Camillo
179 - 183
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Time, sir! What tell you me of time? Come, I see how this
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goes. Can a little time take a man by the shoulder, and
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shake off his honor? Let me tell you, neighbor, it must
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either be a strong wind, or a very mellow honesty that drops
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so easily. Time, quoth’a?
Don Bernard
184 - 192
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Look’e, Camillo; will you please to put your indignation in
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your pocket for half a moment, while I tell you the whole
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truth of the matter. My daughter, you must know, is such a
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tender soul, she cannot possibly see a Duke’s younger son
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without falling desperately in love with him. Now, you know,
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neighbor, when greatness rides post after a man of my years,
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’tis both prudence, and good breeding, to let one’s self be
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overtaken by it. And who can help all this? I profess, it
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was not my seeking, neighbor.
Camillo
193 - 197
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I profess, a fox might earth in the hollowness of your
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heart, neighbor, and there’s an end. If I were to give a bad
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conscience its true likeness, it should be drawn after a
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very near neighbor to a certain poor neighbor of
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yours.—Neighbor! With a pox!
Don Bernard
198
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Nay, you are so nimble with me, you will hear nothing.
Camillo
199 - 203
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Sir, if I must speak nothing, I will hear nothing. As for
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what you have to say, if it comes from your heart, ’tis a
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lie before you speak it. I’ll to Leonora; and if I find her
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in the same story, why, I shall believe your wife was true
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to you, and your daughter is your own. Fare you well.
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Exit, as into Don Bernard’s house.
Don Bernard
204 - 206
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Ay, but two words must go to that bargain. It happens, that
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I am at present of opinion my daughter shall receive no more
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company to day; at least, no such visits as yours.
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Exit Don Bernard, following him.