ture, and I loved her passionately!-to distraction! till I found she loved me, and that satiate my desires at

once.

Gran. Indeed!

Count. I do not say, I shall not marry the Marchioness; perhaps I may-yes, I may take her fortune; for you know, Granada, I have none of my own.

Gran. I have known it for these six years, my lord, ever since I have been in your service.

Count. Yes, I once loved, I doted upon Merida; but the first time she kindly condescended to declare her passion for me, I fell asleep. [Yanns.

Gran. But who can be this new object?

Count. Have not you heard of the young orphan Amanthis, of whom so many wonderful conjectures have been formed?

Gran. The young lady, whom the Marquis Almanza has brought up from her infancy, and keeps confined in a part of this castle, and has never suffered any living creature to behold?

Count. The same. But I have beheld her-I have written to her-I have spoken to her.

Gran. And would you, my lord, for a poor orphan, of whose birth and fortune all the world are ignorant, resign the noble and beautiful Marchioness?

Count. Yes; for I tell you she loves me, and it is very troublesome to be beloved. And although curiosity and envy were my sole motives for seeking to behold Amanthis, yet after such a sight, in which perfect beauty and enchanting grace, timid innocence with matchless sensibility, were all united, never can forego the pleasing contemplation, or the hope, which has allured me to this enterprise.

Gran. But it is by some supposed, that the Marquis, notwithstanding his rank and fortune, means to marry Amanthis. Now, as he is your friend

Count. You mistake, Granada; the Marquis is no friend of mine. He is, to be sure, very obliging and civil when we meet; but no friendship, that should deter a man of gallantry from making him miserable, subsists between us.

Gran. But, my lord, pray satisfy my curiosity, how you found means to see her.

Count. By mounting that wall, the prodigious height of which attracted your attention as we passed by at a

distance. That wall surrounds the garden appropriated to Amanthis.

Gran. But how was it possible for you to ascend it? Count. Every thing is to be effected by perseverance, and by money; and prove your skill, as I have proved nine. [Exeunt, R.

Enter DUKE MURCIA and SEVILLE, L.

Duke. Seville, you know, every body, knows, how fond I am of my nephew. Have not I, from his child hood, acted as a father to him? Then why are the secret motives of this wonderful behaviour, which has surprised all the court, all his friends, and all his acquaintance, why not (though concealed from them,) revealed to me?

Sev. I can, my lord, give you but little light upon the subject; every thing relative to this young lady has ever been held by the Marquis a most profound secret from every part of his family. I have only entrusted to me the key of a chamber adjoining to her apartments, where I go daily to receive her orders, and take to her all those things she commands, except one, and that the Marquis has positively prohibited.

Duke. And what can that one be? I am all impatience to know.

Sev. Books of every kind.

Duke. Poor thing! Poor thing! Why how, in such solitude, can she pass her time without reading?

Sev. She reads a great deal, sir. The Marquis, while he is in town, sends her books frequently; but they are all of his own hand-writing.

Duke. A man write books to a young woman? Why, you simpleton, they are love-letters.

Sev. No, indeed, my lord; some are on morality, some on divinity, and some history.

Duke. Write history! My nephew write books! And pray, when you wait upon her, what kind of conversation does she hold on the other side of the wainscot?

Sev. I never heard her speak.

Duke. Did not you say you received her commands? Sev. In writing. Every morning I find a paper, on which she or the duenna has written her orders. Would you like to see what she has ordered for to-day?

Duke. Very much-certainly-I am much obliged to you.

Sev. [Takes out a paper.] This is written by Amanthis herself.

Duke. And pray, how do you know her hand from the duenna's?

Sev. By the number of letters she writes to my lord, and of which I have the charge.

[He gives the paper to the DUKE. Duke. And what can they be but love-letters? Seville, your account is a very suspicious one. [Reads.] Bring me some pens, some paper, and some pencils, for drawing' and who has taught her to write and to draw?

Sev. Your nephew, I have no doubt, sir; and many other accomplishments besides.

Duke. I am out of all patience! [Reads again.] 'Dinner and supper at the usual hours; and coffee at six o'clock.' [Returning the paper.] Why, sir, your whole time is employed in fetching and carrying.

Enter SERVANT, L.

Serv. My lord is arrived, and now extering the

avenue.

Duke. He is alone? He has brought no company with him, I suppose?

Serv. Yes, sir; there are two ladies in the carriage.

[Exit, L.

Sev. Ladies! It is a long time since I have seen a lady in this house.

Duke. He has brought them to shut up, I suppose; more employment for you, Mr Seville. [Looks out.] Oh, no! I see who it is, a relation, a distant relation; the Marchioness Merida.

Enier MARQUIS ALMANZA, MARCHIONESS MERIDA, and a Female Attendant.

Duke. So, nephew, you see I have made free in your absence. Did you expect to find me here?

Mar. No, sir; but it gives me great pleasure, and I regret I did not come sooner on that account.

Duke. My dear Marchioness, by what strange good fortune do I meet you at the castle?

March. By my complying with the request of the Marquis. [To the MARQUIS.] But, my lord, did not one of your servants acquaint you Count Valantia was here? Duke. You see what your ladyship's attractions are; he heard you were coming, and so he contrived to be

here before you. Came, too, with the pretence of having broken down his carriage! Ha, ha, ha! Very well, Marchioness.

March. Well, this is an instance of romantic gallantry, for which I will forgive him a thousand slights. Ha, ha, ha! It diverts me beyond measure; and he really broke the wheel of his carriage for the purpose? Sev. So I am told, madam.

Mar. Seville, go immediately to the Count Valantia, and conduct him hither. [Exit SEVILLE.] In the mean time, madam, permit me to show you to your apart

ments.

March. No, my lord, that's a ceremony I must decline. I will merely adjust my dress, and be with you in less than an hour. [Exit, Attendant following, R. Duke. [Aside.] Now we are by ourselves, I willyes, I will open my mind to him. Marquis, nephew, I suppose you know who I am?

Mar. Certainly, sir. Did I ever seem to forget? Duke. You know, at your father's death, I adopted you.

Mar. I know it, sir.

Duke. And, in your youth, did I suffer you to squander your money? No. Did I ever suffer you to have any? No.

Mar. No.

Duke. Or did I ever comply with any of your foolish wishes? Is there a single indulgence you can lay to my charge?

Mar. No.

Duke. Then, do you not feel for me that respect, that reverence, that fear, and that love, which is due for all my kindness to you?

Mar. Yes, indeed, sir, I do.

Duke. I take your word. I believe you do. Who is that young woman you keep in a separate part of this house? Is she your mistress, or your daughter, or one whom you mean to marry, and by so doing bring disgrace upon your family? Or, do you intend

Mar. Dear sir, I have no objection to reveal to you what I mean shortly to declare to all the world.

Duke. Why, then, I am under a vast obligation to you for your confidence!

Mar. For these few months past, I have resolved to change my conduct, in regard to the person of whom you speak; and for that purpose did I bring hither the Mar

B

chioness Merida, as the most proper person of my family to whom I could introduce Amanthis.

Duke. But not as your wife! Not as your wife, I hope.

Mar. No; as an unfortunate orphan, whom friendship and pity caused me to adopt. For thirteen years I have been possessed of this precious charge.

Duke. But why precious? Speak coolly; don't put yourself in a passion: speak of her in the same language as when you speak of other women.

Mar. I should, did not I see her unlike all others. Duke. No more raptures. I want to hear who she is. Mar. Among the various friendships of my youth, do you not remember the name of Alberto?

Duke. Certainly; was he not obliged to fly his country, on account of some unfortunate duel, and has died in exile?

Mar. So it is believed. From an affluent fortune I saw him, by unthought-of casualties, reduced to ruin. saw him follow to the grave a much-loved wife; beheld him returning from that fatal duel by which his life was forfeited to his country. In this scene of sorrow I softened, in some sort, his agonising woes, by taking from his hand all his poor distracted mind had left to solace in, an infant daughter; swearing to become to her that careful guardian, that tender parent, and that faithful friend which I have proved.

Duke. Very careful, indeed! But did you promise him to lock her up?

Mar. The mode of her education has been an afterthought, entirely. As Amanthis grew up, I saw, with dread, the charge I had undertaken; and the reported death of my friend increased my apprehensions for my trust. I had vowed to protect, to guard her. To whom could I transfer the oath? and my rank at court would often take me from her.

Duke. And do you think, if she had been an ugly woman, you would have been so thoughtful about your oath ?

Mar. Her danger had been then less. Yet I'll not disguise my sentiments: I love Amanthis, dote to distraction but the difference of our ages and of our states [Proudly]-places an insuperable bar between us. 'Duxe. This is the wisest sentence I have heard you speak for a long time.

Mar. To-day, I restore Amanthis to that liberty she