Don Henrique rich, and his revenues long

since

Encreas'd by marrying with a wealthy heir,
Call'd madam Violante, he yet holds

A hard hand over Jamie, allowing him
A bare annuity only.

Ars. Yet, 'tis said,

He hath no child; and, by the laws of Spain,
If he die without issue, don Jamie
Inherits his estate.

Mil. Why, that's the reason

[lord

Of their so many jars. Though the young Be sick of th' elder brother, and in reason Should flatter and observe him; he's of a na

ture

Too bold and fierce to stoop so, but bears up, Presuming on his hopes.

Ars. What's the young lad

That all of 'em make so much of?

Mil. 'Tis a sweet one,

And the best-condition'd youth I ever saw yet;
So humble, and so affable, that he wins
The love of all that know him; and so modest,
That, in despite of poverty, he would starve
Rather than ask a courtesy. He's the son
Of a poor cast captain, one Octavio;

And she, that once was call'd the fair Jacintha,

Is happy in being his mother. For his sake, [Enter Jamie, Leandro, and Ascanio.] Though in their fortunes fal'n', they are esteem'd of

[come.

And cherish'd by the best. Oh, here they
I now may spare his character; but observe
He'll justify my report.
[him,

Jam. My good Ascanio,

Repair more often to me; above women
Thou ever shalt be welcome.

Asc. My lord, your favours
May quickly teach a raw untutor'd youth
To be both rude and saucy.

Lean. You cannot be

Too frequent, where you are so much desir'd. And give me leave, dear friend, to be your rival

In
part of his affection; I will buy it
At any rate.

Jam. Stood I but now possess'd

In Salamanca, I'll supply your studies
With all conveniencies.

Asc. Your goodness, Signiors,
And charitable favours, overwhelm me.
If I were of your blood, you could not be
More tender of me: What then can I pay,
A poor boy and a stranger, but a heart [ness
Bound to your service? With what willing-
I would receive, good Sir, your noble offer,
Heav'n can bear witness for me; but, alas,
Should I embrace the means to raise my for-
tunes,

I must destroy the lives of my poor parents, To whom I owe my being; they in me

Place all their comforts, and, as if I were The light of their dim eyes, are so indulgent, They cannot brook one short day's absence from me; [young,

And, what will hardly win belief, though I am their steward and their nurse: The bounties ['em; Which others bestow on me, serve to sustain And to forsake them in their age, in me Were more than murder.

Enter Henrique.

Ang. This is a kind of begging
Would make a broker charitable.
Mil. Here, sweetheart,

I wish that it were more.
Lean. When this is spent,
Seck for supply from me.
Jam. Thy piety

For ever be remeinber'd! Nay, take all,
Though 'twere my exhibition to a ryal
For one whole year.

Asc. High Heav'ns reward your goodness! Hen. So, Sir, is this a slip of your own You are so prodigal?

Jam. A slip, Sir? Hen. Yes,

[grafting,

A slip; or call it by the proper name,
Your bastard.

[voke me:
Jam. You're foul-mouth'd. Do not pro-
I shall forget your birth if you proceed,
And use you, as your manners do deserve,
Uncivilly.

Hen. So brave! Pray you, give me hearing: Who am I, Sir?

Jam. My elder brother: One, [puted, That might have been born a fool, and so reBut that you had the luck to creep into The world a year before me.

Lean. Be more temperate.

[it

Jam. I neither can nor will, unless I learn By his example. Let him use his harsh Unsavory reprehensions upon those [land That are his hinds, and not on me. The Our father left to him alone, rewards him For being twelve months elder: Let that be Forgotten, and let his parasites remember One quality of worth or virtue in him, That may authorize him to be a censurer Of me, or of my manners, and I will Acknowledge him for a tutor; till then, [Sir? Hen. From whom have you your means, Jam. From the will

never.

Of my dead father; I am sure I spend not,
Nor give't, upon your purse.

Hen. But will it hold out
Without my help?

Jam. I am sure it shall; I'll sink else; For sooner I will seek aid from a whore, Than a courtesy from you.

Hen. 'Tis well; you are proud of [him, Your new exchequer; when you have cheated And worn him to the quick, I may be found In the list of your acquaintance.

Leon. Pray you, hold; And give me leave, my lord, to say thus much, And in mine own defence; I am no gull To be wrought on by persuasion, nor no coward [whom

To be beaten out of my means, but know to
And why I give or lend, and will do nothing
But what my reason warrants. You may be
As sparing as you please; I must be bold
To make use of my own, without your licence.
Jam. 'Pray thee let him alone; he's not
worth thy anger.

All that he does, Leandro, 's for my good:
I think, there's not a gentleman of Spain
That has a better steward, than I have of him.
Hen. Your steward, Sir?

Jum. Yes, and a provident one.
Why, he knows I'm giv'n to large expence,
And therefore lays up for me: Could be-
lieve else,

you

[yoke

That he, that sixteen years hath worn the
Of barren wedlock, without hope of issue,
His coffers full, his lands and vineyards fruit-
ful,

Could be so sold to base and sordid thrift,
As almost to deny himself the means
And necessaries of life? Alas, he knows
The laws of Spain appoint me for his heir;
That all must come to me, if I outlive him,
Which sure I must do, by the course of nature,
And the assistance of good mirth and sack,
However you prove melancholy.

Hen. If I live,

Thou dearly shalt repent this.

Jam. When thou'rt dead,

I am sure, I shall not.

Mil. Now they begin to burn

Like oppos'd meteors.

Ars. Give them line and way;

My life for don Jamie.

Jam. Continue still

The excellent husband, and join farm to farin;
Suffer no lordship, that in a clear day
Falls in the prospect of your covetous eye,
To be another's; forget you are a grandee;
Take use upon use, and cut the throats of heirs
With coz'ning mortgages; rack your poor
tenants,

Till they look like so many skeletons

For want of food; and when that widows'

curses,

The ruins of ancient families, tears of orphans,
Have hurried you to the devil, ever remember
All was rak'd up for me, your thankful bro-
ther,

That will dance merrily upon your grave,
And, perhaps, give a double pistolet
To some poor needy friar, to say a mass
To keep your ghost from walking.
Hen. That the law

Should force me to endure this!

Jam. Verily,

When this shall come to pass, as sure it will, If you can find a loop-hole, though in hell, To look on my behaviour, you shall see me

Of my misfortunes had not spread itself Upon my son Ascanio, though my wants Were centuplied upon myself, I could be paBut he is so good, so miserable, [tient:

His pious care, his duty, and obedience,
And all that can be wish'd for from a son,
Discharg'd to me, and I barr'd of all means
To return any scruple of the debt

I owe him as a mother, is a torment
Too painful to be borne.

Oct. I suffer with you

In that; yet find in this assurance comfort, High Heav'n ordains, whose purposes cannot alter,

Children, that pay obedience to their
Shall never beg their bread.

Enter Ascanio.

Jac. Here comes our joy. Where has my dearest been?

Asc. I have made, mother,

parents,

[prize,

Asc. Were it ill got,

I am sure, it could not be employ'd so well As to relieve your wants. Some noble friends, Rais'd by Heav'n's mercy to me, not my merits, Bestow'd it on me.

Oct. It were a sacrilege

Ao rob thee of their bounty, since they gave it
To thy use only.

Jac. Buy thee brave clothes with it,
And fit thee for a fortune, and leave us
To our necessities. Why dost thou weep?

Asc. Out of my fear I have offended you;
For, had I not, I'm sure you are 100 kind
Not to accept the offer of my service,
In which I am a gainer. I have heard
My tutor say, of all aerial fowl

The stork's the emblem of true piety; Because, when age hath seiz'd upon his dam, And made unfit for flight, the grateful young

one

Takes her upon his back, provides her food,

Repaying so her tender care of him
Ere he was fit to fly, by bearing her.
Shall I then, that have reason and discourse,
That tell me, all I can do is too little,
Be more unnatural than a silly bird?
Or feed or clothe myself superfluously,
And know, nay, see you want? Holy saints,
Jac. Can I be wretched,
[keep me!4

And know myself the mother to such good

ness?

[a feast, Oct. Come, let us dry our eyes; we'll have Thanks to our little steward.

Juc. And, in him,

Believe that we are rich.

Asc. I'm sure I am,

Enter Henrique and Violante.

Viol. Is it my fault, don Henrique, or my

fate? [bed, What's my offence? I came young to your I had a fruitful mother, and you met me With equal ardour in your May of blood; And why then am I barren?

Hen. 'Tis not in man

To yield a reason for the will of Heav'n,
Which is inscrutable.

Viol. To what use serve
[ings,
Full fortunes, and the meaner sort of bless-
When that, which is the crown of all our
The period of human happiness, [wishes,
One only child, that may possess what's ours,
Is cruelly deny'd us?

Hen. 'Tis the curse

Of great estates, to want those pledges, which
The poor are happy in: They in a cottage,
With joy, behold the models of their youth;
And, as their root decays, those budding
branches

Sprout forth and flourish, to renew their age.
But this is the beginning, not the end
Of misery to me, that, 'gainst my will,
Since Heav'n denies us issue of our own,
Must leave the fruit of all my care and travel
To an unthankful brother, that insults
On my calamity.

Viol. I will rather choose

A bastard from the hospital, and adopt him, And nourish him as mine own.

Hen. Such an evasion,

My Violante, is forbid to us.

what is not our Author's.