The Comedies of Carlo Goldoni

Mar. If the father is satisfied, no one has a right to complain.

Phil. A father with an only child, when he finds an opportunity of marrying her respectably, ought to be pleased to avail himself of it.

Mar. May God bless you! these are sentiments worthy of so good a man. I am delighted both for the officer and the young lady. – [Aside.] And not less so for myself, as my beloved Gascoigne may now remain with me.

[Exit. Enter Mademoiselle Costanza

Phil. [To himself.] Good actions deserve praise, and every person of sense will approve of what I am doing.

Cost. Here I am, sir, at your commands.

Phil. Ah, Mademoiselle Costanza! it gives me great pleasure to see you.

Cost. You are very kind.

Phil. I am gratified at your friendship for my daughter.

Cost. She deserves it, and I love her with all my heart.

Phil. Ah, do not say with all your heart!

Cost. Why not? are you not convinced I love her sincerely?

Phil. Sincerely, I believe, but not with all your heart.

Cost. Why should you doubt it?

Phil. Because, if you loved my daughter with all your heart, there would be none of it left for any one else.

Cost. You make me laugh; and who should have a part of it?

Phil. Ah, Mademoiselle, we understand!

Cost. Indeed, I do not understand.

Phil. Now let us dismiss Lady Modesty, and introduce Lady Sincerity.

Cost. [Aside.] I cannot discover what he is aiming at.

Phil. Tell me, have you come on purpose to visit my daughter?

Cost. Yes, sir.

Phil. No, Mademoiselle.

Cost. For what, then?

Phil. Know I am an astrologer. I am visited by a certain spirit that tells me everything, and hence I have learnt this: Mademoiselle Costanza has come not to visit those who stay, but those who go away.

Cost. [Aside.] I suspect there is some truth in what the spirit says.

Phil. What! are you puzzled how to answer?

Cost. I will answer you frankly: if I have come to show civility to your guest, I do not perceive I deserve reproof.

Phil. Reproof! on the contrary, praise; acts of civility ought not to be omitted – especially when dictated by a more tender feeling.

Cost. You seem to be in a humour for jesting this morning.

Phil. And you seem to be out of spirits; but I lay a wager I can cheer you up.

Cost. Indeed?

Phil. Without fail.

Cost. And how?

Phil. With two words.

Cost. And what are those fine words?

Phil. You shall hear them. Come this way – a little nearer. The Lieutenant is not going away. Does not your heart leap at this unexpected news?

Cost. For mercy's sake! Monsieur Philibert, do you believe me in love?

Phil. Say no, if you can.

Cost. No; I can say it.

Phil. Swear to it.

Cost. Oh, I will not swear for such a trifle.

Phil. You wish to hide the truth from me, as if I had not the power of serving you, or was unwilling to do so, and of serving the poor young man too, who is so unhappy.

Cost. Unhappy, for what?

Phil. On account of you.

Cost. On account of me?

Phil. Yes, you; we are in the dark, so that his love for you is in a manner hidden, and every one does not know that his despair sends him away.

Cost. Despair for what?

Phil. Because your father, from pride and avarice, will not consent to give you to him: this, my girl, is the whole affair.

Cost. It appears that you know more of it than I do.

Phil. You know, and do not choose to know. I make allowance for your modesty; but when a gentleman speaks to you, when a man of my character exerts himself in your behalf, you ought to lay aside modesty and open your heart freely.

Cost. You take me so by surprise, I am embarrassed what answer to make.

Phil. Let us end this conversation. Tell me, like an honest girl as you are, do you not love Monsieur de la Cotterie?

Cost. You force me to own it.

Phil. [Aside.] Thank Heaven! so my daughter spoke the truth. – And he loves you with an equal affection.

Cost. Of that, sir, I know nothing.

Phil. If you do not know it, I tell you so; he loves you to perdition.

Cost. [Aside.] Can it be possible? and he has never declared it to me!

Phil. And I have undertaken to persuade your father.

Cost. But does my father know I am in love with the officer?

Phil. He certainly ought to know.

Cost. He has never mentioned it to me.

Phil. Oh, your father will soon come and talk with you on the subject.

Cost. He has never objected to my coming here, where I meet the officer.

Phil. He knows that you are visiting in an honourable house; no greater liberty would be allowed you here than is proper for a modest young lady. In a word, are you willing that I should manage the affair?

Cost. Entirely willing.

Phil. Bravo! this is enough; and what would it avail you to deny with your lips what your looks proclaim? the flame that burns in your heart sparkles in your eyes.

Cost. You have a most penetrating glance.

Phil. Ah, here comes the officer.

Cost. By your leave, sir.

Phil. Where are you going?

Cost. To Mademoiselle Giannina.

Phil. Remain here, if you will.

Cost. Oh no, sir, excuse me – your servant. – [Aside.] I am overjoyed! I know not in what world I am!

[Exit.Philibert, alone

Phil. How amusing these girls are! Boldness and modesty are mingled in so strange a manner, that it is a pleasure to observe them. Here is an instance of love to devotion, and if it succeeds it will be owing to my daughter's intervention.

Enter De la Cotterie

De la Cot. They told me, sir, that you asked for me.

Phil. Have you seen Mademoiselle Giannina?

De la Cot. No, sir, I have not seen her.

Phil. I am sorry that you appear so melancholy.

De la Cot. One whose health is bad cannot be expected to look cheerful.

Phil. Do you not know I am a physician, and have the skill to cure you?

De la Cot. I did not know that you were skilled in the medical art.

Phil. Well, my friend, capacities often exist where they are not suspected.

De la Cot. Why, then, have you not prescribed for me before now?

Phil. Because I did not sooner know the nature of your disease.

De la Cot. Do you think you know it now?

Phil. Yes, certainly – indubitably.

De la Cot. If you are learned in the medical art, sir, you know much better than I do how fallacious and how little to be relied on are all the symptoms that seem to indicate the causes of disease.

Phil. The indications of your disease are so infallible, that I am confident there is no mistake, and on condition that you trust to my friendship, you shall soon have reason to be content.

De la Cot. And by what process do you propose to cure me?

Phil. My first prescription shall be for you to abandon all intention of going away, and to take the benefit of this air, which will speedily restore you to health.

De la Cot. On the contrary, I fear this air is most injurious to me.

Phil. Do you not know that even from hemlock a most salutary medicine is extracted?

De la Cot. I am not ignorant of the late discoveries, but your allusion covers some mystery.

Phil. No, my friend; so far as mystery is concerned, each of us is now acting his part; but let us speak without metaphor. Your disease arises from love, and you think to find a remedy by going away, whereas it is an act of mere desperation. You carry the arrow in your heart, and hope to be relieved; but the same hand which placed it there must draw it out.

De la Cot. Your discourse, sir, is altogether new to me.

Phil. Why pretend not to understand me! Speak to me as a friend who loves you, and takes the same interest in you as if you were his son. Consider: by dissembling you may destroy your happiness for ever. My attachment to you arises from a knowledge of your merit, and from your having spent several months with me; besides, I should be mortified for you to have contracted in my house an unhappy passion; and therefore I most zealously interfere in your favour, and am anxious to find a remedy for you.

De la Cot. My dear friend, how have you discovered the origin of my unhappiness?

Phil. Shall I say the truth? – my daughter revealed it to me.

De la Cot. Heavens! had she the courage to disclose it?

Phil. Yes, after a little persuasion she told me everything.

De la Cot. Oh, by the friendship you possess for me, have pity on my love!

Phil. I have pity on you; I know what human frailty is at your age, and the violence of passion.

De la Cot. I confess I ought not to have encouraged my affection, and concealed it from such a friend.

Phil. This is the only complaint I have to make. You have not treated me with that unreserved confidence which I think I was entitled to.

De la Cot. I had not the courage.

Phil. Well, Heaven be praised! There is yet time. I know the girl loves you, for she told me so herself.

De la Cot. And what do you say to it, sir?

Phil. I approve of the marriage.

De la Cot. You overwhelm me with joy.

Phil. You see I am the good physician who understands the disease and knows the remedy.

De la Cot. I can hardly feel assured of this great happiness.

Phil. Why not?

De la Cot. I thought the narrowness of my fortune an insuperable obstacle.

Phil. Family and merit on your side are equal to a rich dower on the other.

De la Cot. Your kindness to me is unequalled.

Phil. But my kindness has yet done nothing; now it shall be my endeavour to provide for your happiness.

De la Cot. This will depend entirely on your own good heart.

Phil. We must exert ourselves to overcome the difficulties.

De la Cot. And what are the difficulties?

Phil. The consent of the father of the girl.

De la Cot. My friend, it seems you are making game of me; from the way you spoke just now, I thought all obstacles were removed.

Phil. But I have not mentioned it to him yet.

De la Cot. To whom have you not mentioned it?

Phil. To the father of the girl.

De la Cot. Oh, Heavens! and who is the father of the girl?

Phil. Good! You do not know him? you do not know the father of Mademoiselle Costanza, that horrid savage, Monsieur Riccardo, who has grown rich by usury, and has no idol but his money?

De la Cot. [Aside.] I shall go mad! Thus end all my hopes.

Phil. Riccardo does not visit at my house, you never go out, so it is not surprising you do not know him.

De la Cot. [Aside.] Ah! I am obliged to dissemble, not to disclose my love at a moment so unpropitious.

Phil. But how did you know the father would not give you his daughter if you did not know him?

De la Cot. I had reasons for thinking so, and for my despair there is no remedy.

Phil. Am I not your physician?

De la Cot. All your attention will be unavailing.

Phil. Leave it to me; I will go immediately to find Monsieur Riccardo, and I flatter myself —

De la Cot. No, sir, do not.

Phil. It seems the prospect of success turns your head; just now you were all joy. Whence arises this sudden change?

De la Cot. I am certain it will end unfortunately.

Phil. Such despondency is unworthy of you, and unjust to me.

De la Cot. Do not add to my unhappiness by your interference.

Phil. Are you afraid the father will be obstinate? let me try.

De la Cot. By no means; I am altogether opposed to it.

Phil. And I am altogether for it, and will speak to him.

De la Cot. I shall leave the Hague; I shall go in a few minutes.

Phil. You will not treat me with so much incivility.

Enter Giannina

Gian. What, sirs, is the cause of this altercation?

Phil. Monsieur de la Cotterie acts towards me with a degree of ingratitude that is anything but agreeable.

Gian. Is it possible he can be capable of this?

De la Cot. Ah, Mademoiselle, I am a most unfortunate man!

Phil. I may say he does not know his own mind. He confessed his passion, and, when I offered to assist him, fell into transports; and then, when I promised to obtain the hand of Mademoiselle Costanza for him, he got furious, and threatened to go away.

Gian. I am surprised the Lieutenant should still speak of leaving us.

De la Cot. Would you have me stay and entertain such hopes? [Ironically.]

Gian. I would have you stay, and entertain a mistress who loves you. With my father's permission, you shall hear what Mademoiselle Costanza has just said of you.

Phil. May I not hear it?

Gian. Impossible; my friend directed me to tell it to him alone.

Phil. [Aside.] I shall hear all from my daughter when we are by ourselves.

Gian. [Apart to De la Cotterie.] I have contrived to make my father believe you were in love with Mademoiselle Costanza. As you love me, say it is so, and talk no more of going away.

De la Cot. [Aside.] Oh, the stratagems of love!

Phil. Will you still persist in your obstinacy?

De la Cot. Ah, no, sir; I rely on your kindness.

Phil. Do you desire me to speak to Monsieur Riccardo?

De la Cot. Do what you please.

Phil. Are you still anxious to go?

De la Cot. I promise you to remain here.

Phil. [Aside.] What magic words have wrought this change? I am curious to hear them.

De la Cot. Pardon, I pray you, my strange conduct.

Phil. Willingly; the actions of lovers are often extravagant. Tell me, Giannina, is Mademoiselle Costanza gone?

Gian. No, sir; she is waiting in my room.

Phil. Go, Lieutenant, and keep her company for a little while.

De la Cot. I would rather not, sir.

Gian. Go, go. – [Aside to De la Cotterie.] Listen! Wait for me in the antechamber; I will be there presently.

De la Cot. I shall obey you, sir.

[Exit.

Phil. [Aside.] The power of words! – Well, what did you say to him?

Gian. I told him to go to his mistress; that she expected him.

Phil. But the first time you spoke to him?

Gian. I said that Mademoiselle Costanza had hope she could persuade her father.

Phil. Why did you not tell him so openly, before me?

Gian. Things said in private often make the greatest impression.

Phil. Perhaps so.

Gian. By your leave.[Going.]

Phil. Where are you going?

Gian. To encourage this timid gentleman.

Phil. Yes, by all means; I recommend him to you.

Gian. Doubt not I shall take good care of him.

[Exit.

Phil. My girl has a good heart, and mine is like hers.

END OF THE FIRST ACT

ACT II

Scene I. —The chamber of Mademoiselle GianninaMademoiselle Costanza, alone, seated

Cost. Who would ever have thought Monsieur de la Cotterie had such a liking for me? It is true he has always treated me with politeness, and been ready to converse with me; but I cannot say I have observed any great signs of love. Now I have always loved him, but have not had courage enough to show it. I flatter myself he too loves me, and for the same reason conceals it; in truth a modest officer is a strange animal, and it is hard to believe in its existence. Monsieur Philibert must have reasons for what he says, and I am well pleased to think him not mistaken, especially as I have no evidence that he is so. Here comes my handsome soldier – but Mademoiselle Giannina is with him; she never permits us to be alone together for a moment. I have some suspicion she is my rival.

Enter Mademoiselle Giannina and De la Cotterie

Gian. Keep your seat, Mademoiselle; excuse me for having left you alone for a little while. I know you will be kind enough to forgive me, and I bring some one with me, who, I am sure, will secure your pardon.

Cost. Though surely in your own house and with a real friend such ceremony is needless, your company is always agreeable. I desire you will put yourself to no inconvenience.

Gian. Do you hear, Lieutenant? You see we Dutch are not without wit.

De la Cot. This is not the first time I have observed it.

Cost. Monsieur de la Cotterie is in a house that does honour to our country, and if he admires ladies of wit, he need not go out of it.

Gian. You are too polite, Mademoiselle.

Cost. I simply do justice to merit.

Gian. Let us not dispute about our merits, but rather leave it to the Lieutenant to decide.

De la Cot. If you wish a decision, you must choose a better judge.

Gian. A partial one, indeed, cannot be a good judge.

Cost. And to say nothing of partiality, he feels under obligations to you as the mistress of the house.

Gian. Oh, in France, the preference is always given to the guest: is it not so, Lieutenant?

De la Cot. It is no less the custom in Holland, than in my own country.

Cost. That is to say, the greater the merit, the greater the distinction with which they are treated.

Gian. On that principle you would be treated with the most distinction.

De la Cot. [Aside.] I shall get into trouble if this conversation continues.

Cost. By your leave, Mademoiselle.

Gian. Why do you leave us so soon?

Cost. I am engaged to my aunt; I promised to dine with her to-day, and it is not amiss to go early.

Gian. Oh, it is too early; your aunt is old, and you will perhaps still find her in bed.

De la Cot. [Aside.] Do not prevent her from going.

Gian. He begs me to detain you.

Cost. I am overpowered by your politeness. [Curtseying.] – [Aside.] Her amusement is to torment me.

Gian. [To Costanza.] What say you, my friend, have I not a good heart?

Cost. I must praise your kindness to me.

Gian. [To De la Cotterie.] And do you, too, own you are under obligations to me?

De la Cot. Yes, certainly, I have reason to be grateful to you; you, who know my feelings, must be conscious of the great favour you do me. [Ironically.]

Gian. [To Costanza.] You hear him? he is delighted.

Cost. My dear friend, as you have such a regard for me, and take so much interest in him, allow me to speak freely to you. Your worthy father has told me a piece of news that overwhelms me with joy and surprise. If all he has told me be true, I pray you, Monsieur De la Cotterie, to confirm it.

Gian. This is just what I anticipated; but as your conversation cannot be brief, and your aunt expects you, had you not better defer it to another opportunity?

De la Cot. [Aside.] Heaven grant I may not be still more involved!

Cost. A few words are all I ask.

Gian. Come, Lieutenant, take courage, and say all in a few words.

De la Cot. Indeed, I have not the courage.

Gian. No, my dear, it is impossible to express in a few words the infinite things he has to say to you.

Cost. It will be enough if he says but one word.

Gian. And what is that?

Cost. That he really loves me.

Gian. Pardon me; the Lieutenant is too polite to speak of love to one young lady in the presence of another; but I can, by going away, give you an opportunity of conversing together, and so remove all obstacles to an explanation. [Going.]

De la Cot. Stay, Mademoiselle!

Cost. Yes, and mortify me no more. Be assured I should never have spoken with the boldness I have done, had you not led me to do so. I do not comprehend your meaning; there is an inconsistency in your conduct; but, be it as it may, time will bring the truth to light. And now permit me to take leave.

Gian. My dear friend, pardon my inattention to you on first coming. You are mistress to go or remain as you please.

Enter Philibert

Phil. What delightful company! But why are you on your feet? why do you not sit down?

Gian. Costanza is just going.

Phil. [To Costanza.] Why so soon?

Gian. Her aunt expects her.

Phil. No, my dear young lady, do me the favour to remain; we may want you, and in affairs of this kind moments are often precious. I have sent to your father, to say I desire to have a conversation with him; I am certain he will come. We will have a private interview, and, however little he may be inclined to give his consent, I shall press him so as not to leave him time to repent; if we agree, I will call you both immediately into my room.

De la Cot. [Aside.] Our situation is becoming more critical every moment.

Phil. [To De la Cotterie.] You seem to me to be agitated.

Gian. It is the excess of joy.

Phil. [To Costanza.] And what effect has hope on you?

Cost. I have more fear than hope.

Phil. Rely on me. For the present, be content to remain here; and, as we do not know exactly when your father will come, stay to dinner with us.

Gian. She cannot stay, sir.

Phil. Why not?

Gian. Because she promised her aunt to dine with her to-day.

Cost. [Aside.] I see she does not wish me to remain.

Phil. The aunt who expects you is your father's sister?

Cost. Yes, sir.

Phil. I know her; she is my particular friend. Leave it to me. I will get you released from the engagement, and, as soon as Monsieur Riccardo comes here, I will send word to her where you are, and she will be satisfied.

Cost. I am grateful, Monsieur Philibert, for your great kindness; permit me for a moment to see my aunt, who is not well. I will soon return, and avail myself of your politeness.

Phil. Very well; come back quickly.

Cost. Good morning to you; you will soon see me again.

Gian. Good-bye. – [Aside.] If she does not come back I shall not break my heart.

Phil. Adieu, my dear. – One moment. Lieutenant, for a man who has been in the wars, you do not seem quite as much at your ease as you should be.

Cost. Why do you say so, sir?

Phil. Because you are letting Mademoiselle go away without taking notice of her – without one word of civility.

Cost. Indeed, he has said but few.

De la Cot. [To Philibert.] I ought not to abuse the privilege you have given me.

Phil. [Aside.] I understand. – Giannina, a word with you.