Act 2

Scene 1.

Harlequin and Marinetta.

[In this Italian scene, which begins the second act, Harlequin appears as pursued by Marinetta, whose love and passion he has flighted. This scene contains what she says to him to endeavor to raise his love; he scornfully refuses, and gives her to understand he loves only Colombine; which declaration inspires Marinetta sentiments of rage and jealousy, and Harlequin goes off rallying and laughing at her.]

Scene 2.

Marinetta, alone.

[Marinetta, transported with love and jealousy, swears to be revenged of Harlequin, threatens to kill him, and at the time she is in the height of her passion sees Harlequin Jr. enter with Pierrot, and taking him for the other, says these words with a great deal of warmth:]

Scene 3.

Enter Harlequin Jr., Pierrot, and Marinetta.

MAR. Pernicious, ungrateful traitor, too hateful object! How comes it, base man, that you are returned? Is it to insult my weakness once again? Nothing can make me relent, my hate is inexorable and the more love I have had for you, the more cruelty you will meet with from me. No! I will hearken no longer to a blind passion, but will revenge myself on thee for the coldness thou hast expressed. Hold and take nevertheless these first effects of my just rage -- and thou too, brute, here receive thy share. [She gives Harlequin a box on the ear, and Pierrot another, and then goes off.]

Scene 4.

Harlequin and Pierrot.

HAR. JR. The jade has a very liberal hand of her own! A handsome reception, this! Iwit with such like strokes as these that they regale strangers which come to Paris.

PIE. I know not what you mean, Master Harlequin: what is this and what is that, nor why I ought to be boxed for the love of you. This morning when I scraped acquaintance with you, and you was afraid of the pickpockets, you gave me your purse to keep, in which was twenty ducats, saying you was an Italian, and that you had never been in Paris, and that all that came there were used with civility like friends.

HAR. JR. My surprise, Pierrot, is equal to yours; and I never was in Paris before.

PIE. The devil you was not. How come you be so well known?

HAR. JR. Let me be ground in a mill if ever I set foot in the place before, and did not come directly from Italy.

PIE. Perhaps there they may take a box of the ear in good friendship, but in Paris it may be otherwise.

HAR. JR. My eldest brother, head of the family of the Harlequine, after some months spent in the service of the public, upon the banks of the Seine, was seized with a sudden distemper of which he died in a quarter of an hour, and I am come as the heir to inherit what is left.

PIE. And that's the reason of your journey out of Italy? Well! Don't you know that whoever dies by the hand of justice, their effects are forfeited; therefore, ‘tis in vain for you to expect anything. But how do you know he is dead?

HAR. JR.  He told me so himself, and I can't have better testimony.

PIE. Himself?

HAR. JR. Yes, I tell you, himself.

PIE. All trash and stories.

HAR. JR. If you won't believe what is said, see here’s the will, with the schedule to it, which the poor man writ before he died. [He reads.] “The same death which seized our late father in the open air, I die of. I leave you all my effects, desiring you to enclose the bones of your dear brother, and bury ‘em under some tree. Harlequin.”

PIE. In the midst of a hemp-ground, then, your father got his death.

HAR. JR. We are all like father, like son; our family could never be cured. They were all guilty of company-keeping, and my brother lost his life that way. What I ask of my dear Pierrot, since he has taken a share in my interest, is to tell what my brother’s business was, and the wealth he died possessed of.

PIE. Good God! What wealth would you have an Italian possessed of, who commenced a footman in Paris?

HAR. JR. Ah, Pierrot, how you are deceived. A footman in Paris is not like a serving-man or waiter in Rome, for in Rome, a servant may grow old, and be so still, with a livery twenty years on his back; but a footman at Paris is the true novice of fortune, and the first step towards a gentleman.

PIE. Well, I have seen those who have one while rolled in their coach, and at most, have scarce been happy enough to ride behind. I know now two fellow servants who lived with a rich Commissioner, that are both come to great preferment. I shall hear some news in a day or two of your brother.

Scene 5.

Enter Piquelard the Scullion, or cook’s-boy.

PIQ. See here, you are just come in pudding-time; meat was never better roasted, nor hotter; but don’t burn your greedy throat while it’s too hot.

HAR. JR. What says the lad?

PIQ. ‘Tis what Colombine ordered to be got ready for you.

HAR. JR. A pleasant piece of diversion. What devil has been here?

PIE. ‘Tis some relation to draw you in, undoubtedly a sharking trick.

PIQ. The flesh of the turkey is white and fine. Make haste to your victuals, for the leverets are roasted nicely; never morsel was more delicate or tender, you will pick the very bones. But pray go in, then: why do you wait?

HAR. JR. What say you to this masterpiece, tell me, Pierrot?

PIE. I say that it must certainly be a cheat.

PIQ. The meat is just ready for drawing; enter quickly, sir.

HAR. JR. Where is it that I must go?

PIQ. There.

HAR. JR. There?

PIQ. Yes, there; ‘tis there Colombine has prepared an entertainment for Harlequin.

HAR. JR. See, here’s another adventure started. Don’t you hear this knave knows my name!

PIE. Pure knavery, altogether a cheat; ‘tis undoubtedly some whore.

HAR. JR. Who is this Colombine that would treat me? Is she young and fresh, of a good mean and sound?

PIQ. When the meat goes out of the kitchen, you’ll have no time to banter; but I know your humor, Harlequin; you think of nothing but mirth, and are always rallying. I must run quickly, here, take my plate and call for a pint.

HAR. JR. If the reckoning’s paid, I shall do well enough.

PIQ. Yes, sir, long ago; you have reason to believe.

HAR. JR. Give me the plate.

PIQ. But, pray,sir, remember the boy, he has had nothing yet.

HAR. JR. Take this, and drink my health with it. I’ll make use of your plate, and have two partridges tomorrow at the same price.

PIQ. Spare nothing that the shop affords; your credit’s good for the whole.

HAR. JR. Always please my palate, and I shall be a good customer. [Exit Piquelard.]

Scene 6.

Harlequin and Pierrot.

HAR. JR. Ha ha ha ha ha! This turn is extraordinary. The reason’s plain: as soon as the Parisians receive a stranger, the bring him something to eat. ’Tis a civil sort of policy, and the provisions are very obliging. I would they would bring us some flasks of wine, then our supper would be complete.

PIE. Are not we to blame to take affront?

HAR. JR. Here, take the plate, and I’ll follow thee into the tavern, and drink good wine.

Scene 7.

Harlequin Jr., Colombine.

HAR. JR. He bid me take care how I behaved myself, but I am always glad to be thus cheated when I know my price. This moment I imagined that poor Colombine was waiting for me in the kitchen, while the meat was at the fire, and her dear Harlequin smoking.

[Colombine enters, and approaches gently.]

COL. Yes, my dear, I waited with impatience. Each minute seemed longer than a day.

HAR. JR. See the sly jade, with what impudence she professes love.

COL. What say you now you are all alone, dear object of my soul!

HAR. JR. Oh, the impudent woman! [Aside.] I say, that the first time we meet, ‘tis impossible to prostitute one’s passion, and that before we love, we ought to know one another.

COL. Tell me what ails you. Have I given you any occasion for this harsh reproach?

HAR. JR. If you will have me explain myself to tell you truly, I am a stranger, and not a beast, and despise a wanton, fickle heart.

COL. You talk as jealous as an Italian; but thy sudden melancholy amazes me, and concerns me, since thy poor Colombine never sighed for anyone besides thyself. For thee I have despised the caresses and presents of a thousand young gallants, slave to my charms, and have abandoned my heart to the pleasure of loving thee; nay, have sacrificed everything for the person. Perfidious man! Is this all that is due to me? Du Buisson, la Forest, Saint-Amant, and Pepine, all famous valets, would have sacrificed their hearts to me; but I refuse to them all for Harlequin, whom I thought only deserving of all my vows: forbear, then, cruel man, thy unjust fears; let thy heart return again, through pity, if not through love, regard my tears.

HAR. JR. [Aside.] Who a pox can help believing this prating woman, she manages her tack so well -- but why does she address herself to me? She must certainly be a fool. One can’t tell what to make of these women at Paris! One boxes me, and another banters me.

COL. Too ungrateful Harlequin, you see the condition whereunto I am reduced; why dost thou throw me off, dost not thou return me an answer? Hath so just a reproach confounded thee? Calm with one word my troubles, and observe the cruel torments wherewith my soul is overwhelmed!

HAR. JR. [Aside.] This woman's brain is certainly turned; they say, that humoring them in their folly, often times brings them to their senses again -- I’ll try it for once.

COL. What a pleasure you take, cruel wretch, at my grief!

HAR. JR. ‘Twas only to make proof of thy love and constancy, that I alarmed, by this feigned rigor, thy timorous heart. I have proved thy perseverance, and am so well convinced of thy passion, that, for the future, was I to be a cuckold, I should patiently submit.

COL. Oh, never put my heart to such trials again; for then you touched it too near, for one whose flame is pure, and without disguise. Art thou sensible of the melancholy which this trial causes in me? However, I forgive thee, provided thou promisest to love forever thy Colombine, who adores thee.

HAR. JR. Yes, yes, I’ll love thee ‘till Aurora draw her crimson curtain. [Aside.] Five doses of hellebore will hardly cure her.

COL. What’s that you say?

HAR. JR. I say, that love devours me, and that my heart bleeds within me.

COL. Now to thy master’s amours, I have done all that lies in my power to serve him.

HAR. JR. [Aside.] A new vision again!

COL. [Opening the caskets of jewels, and showing them to Harlequin.] I presented these to my mistress, from Gerontes; and used all my art to explain the old gentleman’s impatience, love, and tenderness. She approved his passion; but out of niceness refused them, and ordered me to return them to you.

HAR, JR. [Taking the jewels, aside.] Upon my faith, a very odd adventure.

COL. Give them to your old master and tell him Isabella is not adverse to a marriage with him; but know at the same time that Colombine expects the same from Harlequin. Thou answer’st not! Are thy eyes so earnestly fixed on the jewels that thou hast not a word to say?

HAR. JR. [Looking greedily on the jewels.] No, not I; but the more I look at them, the more I admire them; they are so beautiful, I cannot but look at them with pleasure -- they are alright; just my number.

COL. Go and carry them this minute to Gerontes, and tell him that I shall, to my utmost, support all his designs; that he need not trouble himself; that all things will go well on his side; and that I warrant he shall hear from Isabella in less than a week -- Go quickly, and come to supper presently.

HAR. JR. Farewell; you shall see me again in an instant.

COL. You know where the cook lives; as you go, tell him we are ready.

HAR. JR. [Aside, going out] This is very well -- could I get as much everyday, I would not desire better fortune; I could live very well. [Exit.]

Scene 7.

Colombine, alone.

I am afraid, lest this old fellow should run back; but in play it is not allowed, where the board is a player; and I wish it was so in this case. But I see Harlequin -- what, returned already!

Scene 8.

Enter Harlequin.

HAR. Well, my dear, is supper ready? Forgive me, my dear Colombine, forgive me, I have been running about ever since noon; let us see if our roast is not too cold, for, to dissipate a melancholy humour, nothing is more agreeable than the air of the kitchen.

COL. Are you then a fool? What's come to you; did you bid them, as you went out, bring the victuals?

HAR. I! No. Why do you ask that question? Did you order me, or did I know they waited?

COL. Did I not bid you?

HAR. You bid me! When?

COL. Just now.

HAR. Where?

COL. There.

HAR. You banter me.

COL. What? Can you deny it?

HAR. Do you take a pleasure to laugh at me?

COL. Did I not bid you, when I gave you the jewels, carry them to Gerontes?

HAR. The jewels!

COL. Aye, the jewels.

HAR. By your leave, you dream.

COL. ‘Tis you yourself that dreams.

HAR. This story of yours in sets my brains to work.

COL. Could going four or five steps thus take away thy memory, deprive thee of thy senses, and make thee such a fool?

HAR. Can you think that you can make me believe -- but, indeed, I am a fool to offer to confound thee by arguments when I ought only to study to answer them.

COL. Leave off your fooling, it begins to vex me.

HAR. Have done! You take too much delight in laughing thus at me.

COL. And you too much pleasure in seeing me so uneasy.

HAR. There’s no great satisfaction in repeating it so often.

COL. We have laughed already too much.

HAR. I am sure we have rallied too much.

COL. I cannot bear it any longer; you have them, I am sure, and I will search you.

HAR. That you shall, to the very bottom of my purse; look, if you will I’ll undress me.

COL. Show me your hands -- nigher --  let me see your right hand -- now the other -- now both.

HAR. Hold, look if the casket is at the bottom of my pockets, under my hat, in my hair, or in any plait of my shirt.

COL. [After searching him.] Tell me, where have you put it? You carry the jest too far; for you did but just go out after I gave it into your hands.

HAR. What dream are you in! Do you take me for a fool to laugh at? For since I left you last, I have been three hours together running about Paris; and if you do not soon put an end to this pleasantry of yours, any anger will get the better of my love.

COL. I shall not be able to govern my passion neither, if you don't tell what's become of the jewels.

HAR. This discourse, in short, puts me out of all patience; my heart already gives way to my rage.

COL. What, do you design to cheat your master, and to lay it upon me?

HAR. Is this your art, to father your theft on poor Harlequin?

COL. What, is it not sufficient to play upon Colombine, by so barefaced an affront, but you must insult me too with your tongue, even to injure me in sport! But now I find out the bottom of thy false transport; thou, like an arch offender, art sure to cry out “Whore!” first. Go, traitor, and enjoy the product of thy malice; and enriched as thou art with thy booty, take back also thy heart, which is unworthy of me -- my engagement is now void, and thou mayst go, guilty monster, as thou art, whither thy fate hurries thee, since thou art now disdained and renounced by Colombine. [Exit Colombine.]

Scene 10.

Harlequin, alone.

[In speaking these lines, imitated from The Cid, Harlequin copies after that famous and never to be too much regretted French comedian, Mr. Baron, in whom every action was perfection.] (EDITOR’S NOTE: The text here goes on at length, describing how great Baron’s performance was, and how great the comedian who imitated Baron was.)

Pierced to the very bottom of my heart with so mortal and unexpected an accusation, I thus torture my poor distracted brain on this unhappy incident; and the more I think, the worse I am. Oh heavens! How great is my confusion, and how cunning this artifice! To be accused of theft, and that by Colombine! Is this a feint, or is it matter of fact? Has she lost these jewels, or is this a concerted business, between her and Isabella, to lay this upon me? However, I condemn, and as freely forgive; alas! Love is my greatest torment -- but after so vile an action, how canst thou, Harlequin, be so weak? She flies also, yet canst thou preserve any sparks of love? No, my blood boils at the very remembrance, the ingrate hath but too much injured me. Well, I can renounce this cheat -- without any pain -- for whom I despised the lovely Marinetta, who was much more deserving; and would she now but hearken to my flatteries, thou shouldst see I’d give her both my heart and hand. It's very dark, and there's neither moon nor stars to light me. I must retire, and in some tavern go drown my sorrows.

Scene 11.

[The scene draws and represents night.]

Harlequin, Marinetta, and Harlequin Jr.

[While Harlequin is thinking of going off, hears Marinetta carrying a guitar, who goes out on the one side, while Harlequin Jr. enters on the other; which makes Harlequin to stay, and say:]

HAR. But what do I hear? Let me listen.

HAR. JR. How soon the night is closed! I have made sure of the turkey in my belly, of the jewels at home; and, since I have gone thus far, why may I not still go on? But what’s this? Am I at Rome, where the guitar is continually jingling in one’s ears?

[Marinetta plays a small prelude, to which the two Harlequins listen.]

HAR. So fine a prelude raises my expectations of somewhat more finer -- I’ll listen. [Marinetta, tuning her voice, sings an Italian air to her guitar.] ‘Tis very fine -- how well she plays! What a turn she gave to that air!

HAR. JR. I perceive she is in love, and dissatisfied.

MAR. [Sings the following air to this purpose:] Cruel love, I break thy chains; I adore Harlequin, and the ingrate flights me. Ah! How sweet it is to love! But alas, there’s no flame so violent but what cold disdain may extinguish.*

(*Ed: This was the translation given for the original French lyrics to this second song: Cruel amour je romps tes noeuds/J’adorois Arlequin, et l’ingrat me dédaigne/Ah qu’il est doux d’aimer! Mais il n’est point de feux/Qu’un froid mépris enfin n’éteigne. No music is provided, but it is likely to be in the 17th century air de cour style.)

HAR. JR. Is this not my fool with her jewels?

HAR. ‘Tis undoubtedly Marinetta.

MAR. [Hears them, and goes off, saying:] Let them stay that will; for my part, I’ll retire. [Exit.]

Scene 12.

Harlequin, Harlequin Jr.

HAR. JR. I’ll approach.

HAR. I’ll advance.

HAR. JR. By some stratagem I’ll attempt to gain some other prize.

HAR. I will say that I love, and that Harlequin will no more be Colombine’s.

[Both seek each other, and pass from one end of the stage to the other, without touching.]

HAR. JR. Colombine, hist -- hist --

HAR. Art thou Marinetta?

HAR. JR. Hist -- hist --

[They repass a third time.]

HAR.  Hist -- hist --

HAR. JR. Are you there, then?

HAR. I can’t find you.

[They repass again, and in meeting take each other by the arm.]

HAR. JR. Do you pretend to play at hide and seek?

[They feel each other by their beards, and retire.]

HAR. [Taking the arm of the other.] Marinetta, I have caught you.

BOTH [Going off, say:] Who goes there? [Both at a time answer:] Harlequin. [In pronouncing the word Harlequin, both fall.]

HAR. JR. ‘Tis my brother’s ghost, which knows that I’m arrived.

HAR. I hope it is not the soul of my father, who died discontented at the finishing a stave. [Both rise on their knees.]

HAR. JR. Thou wandering ghost of my once dear brother, whom hemp deprived of life, why are you so troublesome, to take all this pain here? Leave Harlequin in peace, and quit the place; I was never curious of hearing news from the other world.

[They rise gently, and as the one rises, the other falls flat on the ground.]

HAR. [Drawing his sword.] What devil has assumed my shape -- be bold, Harlequin, and break his neck; they say they are afraid of a mortal stab with iron. Fly hence, and dread my fatal sword, or I shall strike off thy head. [He flourishes his sword, seeking for the other, who endeavors to rise softly. Harlequin strikes him on the head, and at the same time falls upon him. Both rise again, the younger Harlequin flies, after having exchanged some blows, and Harlequin Sr. enters on the other side, fencing.]