HANDBOUND
AT THE
UNIVERSITY OF
TORONTO PRESS
yr<t
EIGHT DRAMAS
OF
CALDERON
FREELY TRANSLATED
BY
EDWARD FITZGERALD
3LontJ0n
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
NEW YORK : THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
I 906
All rights reserved
/joi
CONTENTS
PAGE
ADVERTISEMENT i
THE PAINTER OF HIS OWN DISHONOUR 3
KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 81
GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 139
THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 193
THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 255
BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 309
THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 369
SUCH STUFF AS DREAMS ARE MADE OF . . 441
ADVERTISEMENT
IN apologizing for the publication of so free transla-
tions of so famous a poet as Calderon, I must plead,
first, that I have not meddled with any of his more
famous plays ; not one of those on my list being
mentioned with any praise, or included in any selection
that I know of, except the homely Mayor of Zalamea.
Four of these six indeed, as many others in Calderon,
may be lookt on as a better kind of what we call
melodramas. Such plays as the Magico Prodigioso
and the Vida es Sueno (I cannot rank the Principe
Constante among them) require another translator,
and, I think, form of translation.
Secondly, I do not believe an exact translation of
this poet can be very successful ; retaining so much
that, whether real or dramatic Spanish passion, is still
bombast to English ears, and confounds otherwise
distinct outlines of character ; Conceits that were a
fashion of the day ; or idioms that, true and intelligible
to one nation, check the current of sympathy in others
to which they are unfamiliar ; violations of the prob-
able, nay possible, that shock even healthy romantic
licence ; repetitions of thoughts and images that
Calderon used (and smiled at) as so much stage
properties so much, in short, that is not Calderon's
own better self, but concession to private haste or
<& i B
2 ADVERTISEMENT
public taste by one who so often relied upon some
striking dramatic crisis for success with a not very
accurate audience, and who, for whatever reason, was
ever averse from any of his dramas being printed.
Choosing therefore such less famous plays as still
seemed to me suited to English taste, and to that
form of verse in which our dramatic passion prefers
to run, I have, while faithfully trying to retain what
was fine and efficient, sunk, reduced, altered, and
replaced, much that seemed not ; simplified some
perplexities, and curtailed or omitted scenes that
seemed to mar the breadth of general effect, supply-
ing such omissions by some lines of after-narrative ;
and in some measure have tried to compensate for
the fulness of sonorous Spanish, which Saxon English
at least must forgo, by a compression which has its
own charm to Saxon ears.
That this, if proper to be done at all, might be
better done by others, I do not doubt. Nay, on
looking back over these pages, I see where in some
cases the Spanish individuality might better have been
retained, and northern idiom spared ; and doubtless
there are many inaccuracies I am not yet aware of.
But if these plays prove interesting to the English
reader, I and he may be very sure that, whatever of
Spain and Calderon be lost, there must be a good
deal retained; and I think he should excuse the
licence of my version till some other interests him as
well at less expense of fidelity.
I hope my Graciosos will not be blamed for
occasional anachronisms not uncharacteristic of their
vocation.
THE PAINTER
OF HIS OWN DISHONOUR
DRAMATIS PERSONS
FEDERIGO .... Prince of Orsino.
CELIO . . . . .his Friend.
DON Luis .... Governor of Naples.
PORCIA his Daughter.
ALVARO his Son.
FABIO ^
BELAKDO .... their Servants.
JULIA J
DON JUAN ROCA
SERAFINA .... his Wife.
DON PEDRO .... his Father-in-law.
LEONELO 1
. their Servants.
FLORA )
MASKERS, MUSICIANS, SAILORS, etc.
THE PAINTER
OF HIS OWN DISHONOUR
ACT I
SCENE I. A Room in DON Luis' palace at Naples.
Enter DON Luis and DON JUAN meeting.
Luis. Once more, a thousand times once more,
Don Juan,
Come to my heart.
Juan. And every fresh embrace
Rivet our ancient friendship faster yet !
Luis. Amen to that ! Come, let me look at
you
Why, you seem well
Juan. So well, so young, so nimble,
I will not try to say how well, so much
My words and your conception must fall short
Of my full satisfaction.
Luis. . How glad am I
To have you back in Naples !
Juan. Ah, Don Luis,
Happier so much than when I last was here,
Nay, than I ever thought that I could be.
Luis. How so ?
6 THE PAINTER OF ACT I
Juan. Why, when I came this way before,
I told you (do you not remember it?)
How teased I was by relatives and friends
To marry little then disposed to love
Marriage perhaps the last thing in my thoughts
Liking to spend the spring time of my youth
In lonely study.
Luis. Ay, ay, I remember :
Nothing but books, books, books still day and
night
Nothing but books ; or, fairly drowsed by them,
By way of respite to that melancholy,
The palette and the pencil
In which you got to such a mastery
As smote the senseless canvas into life.
O, I remember all not only, Juan,
When you were here, but I with you in Spain,
What fights we had about it !
Juan. So it was
However, partly wearied, partly moved
By pity at my friends' anxieties,
Who press'd upon me what a shame it were
If such a title and estate as mine
Should lack a lineal inheritor,
At length I yielded
Fanned from the embers of my later years
A passion which had slept in those of youth,
And took to wife my cousin Serafina,
The daughter of Don Pedro Castellano.
Luis. I know ; you show'd me when you last
were here
The portrait of your wife that was to be,
And I congratulated you.
Juan. Well now
Still more congratulate me as much more
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 7
As she is fairer than the miniature
We both enamoured of. At the first glance
I knew myself no more myself, but hers,
Another (and how much a happier !) man.
Luis. Had I the thousand tongues, and those of
brass,
That Homer wished for, they should utter all
Congratulation. Witty too, I hear,
As beautiful ?
Juan. Yourself shall judge of all,
For even now my lady comes ; awhile
To walk the Flora of your shores, and then
Over your seas float Venus-like away.
Luis. Not that, till she have graced our gardens
long,
If once we get her here. But is she here ?
Juan. Close by she and her father, who'
would needs
See her aboard ; and I push'd on before
To apprize you of our numbers so much more
Than when I first proposed to be your guest,
That I entreat you
Luis. What ?
Juan. to let us go,
And find our inn at once not over-load
Your house.
Luis. Don Juan, you do me an affront
What if all Naples came along with y^ou ?
My heart yes, and my house should welcome
them.
Juan. I know. But yet
Luis. But yet, no more ' but yets '-
Come to my house, or else my heart shall
close
Its doors upon you.
8 THE PAINTER OF ACT i
Juan. Nay, I dare not peril
A friendship
Luis. Why, were't not a great affront
To such a friendship when you learn besides,
I have but held this government till now
Only to do you such a courtesy.
Juan. But how is this ?
Luis. Sickness and age on-coming,
I had determined to retire on what
Estate I had no need of other wealth
Beside, Alvaro's death my only son
Juan. Nay, you have so felicitated me,
I needs must you, Don Luis, whose last letter
Told of a gleam of hope in that dark quarter.
Luis. A sickly gleam you know the ship he
sail'd in
Was by another vessel, just escaped
The selfsame storm, seen to go down it seem'd
With all her souls on board.
Juan. But how assured
'Twas your son's ship?
Luis. Alas, so many friends
Were on the watch for him at Barcelona,
Whither his ship was bound, but never came
Beside the very messenger that brought
The gleam of hope, premised the tragedy
A little piece of wreck,
That floated to the coast of Spain, and thence
Sent to my hands, with these words scratcht upon't
' Escaped alive, Alvaro?
Juan. When was this ?
Luis. Oh, months ago, and since no tidings heard,
In spite of all inquiry. But we will hope.
Meanwhile, Serafina when will she be here?
Juan. She must be close to Naples now.
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 9
Luis. Go then,
Tell her from me
I go not forth to bid her welcome, only
That I may make that welcome sure at home.
Juan. I'll tell her so. But
Luis. What ! another But ' ?
No more of that. Away with you. Porcia !
{Exit JUAN.
Enter PORCIA.
Daughter, you know (I have repeated it
A thousand times, I think) the obligation
I owe Don Juan Roca.
Porcia. Sir, indeed
I've often heard you talk of him.
Luis. Then listen.
He and his wife are coming here to-day
Directly.
Por. Serafina !
Luis. Yes.
To be our guests, till they set sail for Spain ;
I trust long first
Por. And I. How glad I am !
Luis. You ! what should make you glad ?
Por. That Serafina,
So long my playmate, shall be now my guest.
Luis. Ay ! I forgot that's well, too
Let us be rivals in their entertainmept.
See that the servants, Porcia, dress their rooms
As speedily and handsomely as may be.
Por. What haste can do (which brings its own
excuse)
I'll do 'tis long a proverb hereabout
That you are Entertainer-general,
Rather than Governor, of Naples.
io THE PAINTER OF ACT I
Luis. Ay,
I like to honour all who come this way.
Enter LEONELO.
Leonelo. Peace to this house ! and not only that,
but a story beside. A company of soldiers coming
to a certain village, a fellow of the place calls out for
two to be billeted on him. * What ! ' says a neigh-
bour, * you want a double share of what every one
else tries to shirk altogether ? ' ' Yes,' says he, * for
the more nuisance they are while they stay, the more
glad one is of their going.' In illustration of which,
and also of my master's orders, I crave your Lord
ship's hand, and your Ladyship's foot, to kiss.
Luis. Welcome, good Leonelo. I was afraid 1
had overlooked you in receiving your master.
For. And how does marriage agree with you,
Leonelo ?
Leon. One gentleman asked another to dine : but
such an ill-ordered dinner that the capon was cold,
and the wine hot. Finding which, the guest dips a
leg of the capon into the wine. And when his host
asks him what he's about * Only making the wine
heat the capon, and the capon cool the wine,' says
he. Now just this happened in my marriage. My
wife was rather too young, and I rather too old ; so,
as it is hoped
Par. Foolery, foolery, always ! tell me how
Serafina is
Leon. In a coach.
Por. What answer is that ?
Leon. A very sufficient one since a coach
includes happiness, pride, and (a modern author
says) respectability.
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 11
Par. How so ?
Leon. Why, a certain lady died lately, and for
some reason or other, they got leave to carry her to
the grave in a coach. Directly they got her in,
the body, I mean, it began to fidget and when
they called out to the coachman 'Drive to St.
Sepulchre's! 3 'No!' screams she, 'I won't go
there yet. Drive to the Prado first; and when I
have had a turn there, they may bury me where they
please.'
Luis. How can you let your tongue run on so !
Leon. I'll tell you. A certain man in Barcelona
had five or six children : and he gave them each to
eat
( Voices within.} ' Way there ! way ! '
Por. They are coming.
Leon. And in so doing, take that story out of my
mouth.
Enter JULIA.
Julia. Signor, your guests are just alighting.
Luis. Come, Porcia
Leon. (No, no, stop you and listen to me about
those dear children.)
Por. They are coming upstairs at the door
Enter DON JUAN leading SERAFIN4, DON PEDRO
and FLORA all in travelling dress.
Luis. Your hand, fair Serafina, whose bright eyes
Seem to have drawn his lustre from the sun,
To fill my house withal ; a poor receptacle
Of such a visitor.
Por. Nay, 'tis for me
12 THE PAINTER OF ACT 1
To blush for that, in quality of hostess \
Yet, though you come to shame my house-keeping,
Thrice welcome, Serafina.
Serafina. How answer both,
Being too poor in compliment for either !
I'll not attempt it.
Pedro. I am vext, Don Luis,
My son-in-law should put this burden on you.
Luis. Nay, vex not me by saying so. What
burden ?
The having such an honour as to be
Your servant?
Leon. Here's a dish of compliments !
Flora. Better than you can feed your mistress
with.
(Guns heard without.}
Juan. What guns are those ?
Enter FA BIO.
Fabio. The citadel, my lord,
Makes signal of two galleys in full sail
Coming to port.
Luis. More guests ! the more the merrier !
Ped. The merrier for them, but scarce for you,
Don Luis.
Luis. Nay, good fortune comes like bad,
All of a heap. What think you, should it be,
As I suspect it is, the Prince Orsino
Returning ; whom, in love and duty bound,
I shall receive and welcome
Juan. Once again,
Don Luis, give me leave
Luis. And once again,
And once for all, I shall not give you leave.
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 13
Prithee, no more
All will be easily arranged. Porcia,
You know your guest's apartments show her thither:
I'll soon be back with you.
Fed. Permit us, sir,
To attend you to the port, and wait upon
His Highness.
Luis. I dare not refuse that trouble,
Seeing what honour in the prince's eyes
Your company will lend me.
Leon. And methinks
I will go with you too.
Juan. What, for that purpose ?
Leon. Yes and because perhaps among the crowd
I shall find some to whom I may relate
That story of the children and their meat.
\Exeunt DON Luis, PEDRO, JUAN,
LEONELO, FABIO, etc.
Ser. Porcia, are they gone ?
For. They are.
Ser. Then I may weep.
For. Tears, Serafina !
Ser. Nay, they would not stay
Longer unshed. I would not if I could
Hide them from you, Porcia. Why should I,
Who know too well the fount from which they flow ?
For. I only know you weep no more than that.
Ser. Yet 'tis the seeing you again ; again
Unlocks them is it that you do resent
The discontinuance of our early love,
And that you will not understand me ?
For. Nay,
What can I say?
Ser. Let us be quite alone.
For. Julia, leave us.
14 THE PAINTER OF ACT I
Ser. Flora, go with her.
Julia. Come, shall we go up to the gallery,
And see the ships come in ?
ftora. Madam, so please you.
[Exeunt FLORA and JULIA.
Ser. Well, are we quite alone ?
Por. Yes, quite.
Ser. All gone,
And none to overhear us ?
Por. None.
Ser. Porcia,
You knew me once when I was happy !
Por. Yes,
Or thought you so
Ser. But now most miserable !
Por. How so, my Serafina?
Ser. You shall hear.
Yes, my Porcia, you remember it,
That happy, happy time when you and I
Were so united that, our hearts attuned
To perfect unison, one might believe
That but one soul within two bodies lodged.
This you remember?
Por. Oh, how could I forget !
Ser. Think it not strange that so far back I
trace
The first beginnings of another love,
Whose last sigh having now to breathe, whose last
Farewell to sigh, and whose deceased hopes
In one last obsequy to commemorate,
I tell it over to you point by point
From first to last by such full utterance
My pent up soul perchance may find relief.
Por. Speak, Serafina.
Ser. You have not forgot
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 15
Neither, how that close intimacy of ours
Brought with it of necessity some courtesies
Between me and your brother, Don Alvaro
Whose very name, oh wretched that I am !
Makes memory, like a trodden viper, turn,
And fix a fang in me not sharp enough
To slay at once, but with a lingering death
Infect my life
For. Nay, calm yourself.
Ser. We met,
Porcia and from those idle meetings love
Sprang up between us both for though 'tis true
That at the first I laugh'd at his advances,
And turn'd his boyish suit into disdain,
Yet true it also is that in my heart
There lurk'd a lingering feeling yet behind,
Which if not wholly love, at least was liking,
In the sweet twilight of whose unris'n sun
My soul as yet walk'd hesitatingly.
For, my Porcia, there is not a woman,
Say what she will, and virtuous as you please,
Who, being loved, resents it : and could he,
Who most his mistress's disfavour mourns,
Look deeply down enough into her heart,
He'd see, however high she carries it,
Some grateful recognition lurking there
Under the muffle of affected scorn.
You know how I repell'd your brother's suit :
How ever when he wrote to me I tore*
His letters would not listen when he spoke
And when, relying on my love for you,
Through you he tried to whisper his for me,
I quarrell'd with yourself quarrell'd the more
The more you spoke for him. He wept I laugh'd ;
Knelt in my path I turn'd another way ;
16 THE PAINTER OF ACT i
Though who had seen deep down into my heart,
Had also seen love struggling hard with pride.
Enough at last one evening as I sat
Beside a window looking on the sea,
Wrapt in the gathering night he stole unseen
Beside me. After whispering all those vows
Of love which lovers use, and I pass by,
He press'd me to be his. Touch'd by the hour,
The mask of scorn fell from my heart, and Love
Reveal'd himself, and from that very time
Grew unconceal'd between us yet, Porcia,
Upon mine honour, (for I tell thee a//,)
Always in honour bounded. At that time
In an ill hour my father plann'd a marriage
Between me and Don Juan yours, you know,
Came here to Naples, whence he sent your brother,
I know not on what business, into Spain ;
And we agreed, I mean Alvaro and I,
Rather than vex two fathers at one time
By any declaration of our vows,
'Twere best to keep them secret at the least,
Till his return from Spain. Ah, Porcia,
When yet did love not thrive by secrecy ?
We parted he relying on my promise,
I on his quick return. Oh, mad are those
Who, knowing that a storm is up, will yet
Put out to sea. Alvaro went my father
Urged on this marriage with my cousin, Oh !
Por. You are ill, Serafina !
Ser. Nothing nothing
I reason'd wept implored excused delay 'd
In vain O mercy, Heaven !
Por. Tell me no more :
It is too much for you.
Ser. Then suddenly
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 17
We heard that he was dead your brother
drown'd
They married me and now perhaps he lives
They say Porcia, can it be ? I know not
Whether to hope or dread if that be true :
And every wind that blows your father hope
Makes my blood cold; I know that I shall meet
him,
Here or upon the seas dead or alive
Methinks I see him now ! Help ! help ! [Swoons.
Por. Serafina !
She has fainted ! Julia ! Flora !
Enter ALVARO.
Alvaro. My Porcia !
Por. Alvaro ! (They embrace.)
Alv. I have outrun the shower of compliment
On my escapes which you shall hear anon
To catch you to my heart.
Por. Oh joy and terror !
Look there !
Alv. Serafina !
And sleeping too !
Por. Oh, swooning ! see to her
Till I get help. [Exit.
Ser. (in her swoon). Mercy, mercy !
Alvaro, slay me not ! I am not guilty '.
Indeed I am not !
Alv. She dreams and dreams of me but
very strangely
Serafina !
Ser. (waking). Dead ! or return'd alive to curse
and slay me !
But I am innocent ! I could not help
C
i8 THE PAINTER OF ACT I
They told me you were dead and are you not ?
And I must marry him
Alv. Must marry ? whom ?
Why, you are dreaming still
Awake ! 'tis your Alvaro
(Offers to embrace her.)
Ser. No, no, no
I dare not
Alv. Dare not !
Enter PORCIA, FLORA, JULIA.
For. Quick, quick !
Flora. My lady !
Julia. My lord alive again !
Alv. Porcia, come hither I am not alive,
Till I have heard the truth nay, if t be true
That she has hinted and my heart forebodes,
I shall be worse than dead
\Retires with PORCIA to back of Stage.
Enter JUAN and PEDRO.
Juan. What is the matter?
My Serafina !
Pedro. We have hurried back,
Told of your sudden seizure What is it ?
Ser. The very heart within me turn'd to ice.
Juan. But you are better now ?
Ser. Yes better pray,
Be not uneasy for me.
Alv. (to PORCIA in the rear). This is true then !
For. Nay, nay, be not so desperate, Alvaro,
Hearing but half the story no fault of hers
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 19
I'll tell you all anon. Come, Serafina,
I'll see you to your chamber.
Pedro. She will be better soon
Juan. Lean upon me, my love so so.
Alv. Oh, fury !
Ser. Oh, would to heaven these steps should be
my last,
Leading not to my chamber, but my grave !
Par. (to ALVARO). Wait here compose your-
self I shall be back
Directly. [Exeunt PORCIA, SERAFINA, and JUAN.
Alv. She is married broke her troth
And I escape from death and slavery
To find her but the prince ! Oh weariness !
Enter the PRINCE ORSINO, CELIO, DON Luis,
and Train.
Prince. Each day, Don Luis, I become your
debtor
For some new courtesy.
Luis. My lord, 'tis I
Who by such small instalments of my duty
Strive to pay back in part the many favours
You shower upon your servant. And this last,
Of bringing back Alvaro to my arms,
Not all my life, nor life itself, could pay.
Prince. Small thanks to me, Don Luis ; but
indeed
The strangest chance two chances two escapes
First from the sinking ship upon a spar,
Then from the Algerine who pick'd him up,
Carried him captive off-
He first adroitly through their fingers slipping
That little harbinger of hope to you,
20 THE PAINTER OF ACT i
And then, at last, himself escaping back
To Barcelona, where you know I was
If glad to welcome, house, and entertain
Any distrest Italian, how much more,
Both for his own sake and for yours, your son,
So making him, I trust, a friend for life.
Alv. Rather a humble follower, my lord.
Luis. I have no words to thank you we shall
hear
The whole tale from Alvaro by and by
To make us merry once so sad to him.
Meanwhile, Alvaro, thou hast seen thy sister?
Alv. Yes, sir
Luis. Oh what a joy 'tis to see thee !
Prince. A day of general joy.
Alv. (aside). Indeed !
Prince. Especially
To her, Alvaro
Alv. Sir?
Prince. I mean your sister.
Alv. Yes, my lord no I am not sure, my lord
A friend of hers is suddenly so ill,
My sister is uneasy
Luis. Serafma !
Indeed ! I know your Highness will forgive
My seeing to her straight. [Exif.
Alv. And I, my lord,
Would fain see some old faces once again
As soon as may be.
Prince. Nay, no more excuse
Follow your pleasure.
Alv. (aside). 'Tis no friend I seek,
But my one deadliest enemy myself. \Exit.
Prince. Celio, I think we have well nigh exhausted
The world of compliment, and wasted it :
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 21
For I begin to doubt that word and deed
Are wasted all in vain.
Celio. How so, my lord ?
Prince. Why, if I never am to see Porcia,
Whom I have come so far and fast to see
Cel. Never, my lord ! her father's guest is ill,
And she for a few minutes
Prince. Minutes, Celio !
Knowest thou not minutes are years to lovers ?
Cel. I know that lovers are strange animals.
Prince. Ah, you have never loved.
Cel. No, good my lord,
I'm but a looker-on ; or in the market
Just give and take the current coin of love
Love her that loves me ; and, if she forget,
Forget her too.
Prince. Ah, then I cannot wonder
You wonder so at my impatience ;
For he that cannot love, can be no judge
Of him that does.
Cel. How so ?
Prince. I'll tell thee, Celio.
He who far off beholds another dancing,
Even one who dances best, and all the time
Hears not the music that he dances to,
Thinks him a madman, apprehending not
The law that rules his else eccentric action.
So he that's in himself insensible
Of love's sweet influence, misjudges him
Who moves according to love's melody :
And knowing not that all these sighs and tears,
Ejaculations, and impatiences,
Are necessary changes of a measure,
Which the divine musician plays, may call
The lover crazy ; which he would not do
22 THE PAINTER OF ACT I
Did he within his own heart hear the tune
Play'd by the great musician of the world.
Cel. Well, I might answer, that, far off or near,
Hearing or not the melody you tell of,
The man is mad who dances to it. But
Here is your music.
Enter PORCIA.
Porcia. I left my brother here but now.
Prince. But now,
Sweet Porcia, you see he is not here
By that so seeming earnest search for him
Scarce recognising me, if you would hint
At any seeming slight of mine toward you,
I plead not guilty
Par. You mistake, my lord
Did I believe my recognition
Of any moment to your Excellency,
I might perhaps evince it in complaint,
But not in slight.
Prince. Complaint !
Por. Yes, sir complaint.
Prince. Complaint of what ? I knowing, Porcia,
And you too knowing well, the constant love
That I have borne you since the happy day
When first we met in Naples
Por. No, my lord
You mean my love to you, not yours to me
Unwearied through your long forgetful absence.
Prince. How easily, Porcia, would my love
Prove to you its unchanged integrity,
Were it not that our friends
Por. Your friends indeed,
Who stop a lame apology at the outset.
SCENE I HIS OWN DISHONOUR 23
Enter SERAFINA.
Serafina. I cannot rest, Porcia, and am come
To seek it in your arms but who is this ?
Por. The Prince Orsino.
Ser. Pardon me, my lord
I knew you not coming so hurriedly,
And in much perturbation.
Prince. Nay, lady,
I owe you thanks for an embarrassment
Which hides my own.
Ser. Let it excuse beside
What other courtesies I owe your Highness,
But scarce have words to pay. Heaven guard your
Highness
Suffer me to retire. \Exit.
Por. I needs must after her, my lord. But tell
me,
When shall I hear your vindication ?
To-night ?
Prince. Ay, my Porcia, if you will.
Por. Till night farewell, then. {Exit.
Prince. Farewell. Celio,
Didst ever see so fair an apparition,
As her who came and went so suddenly ?
Cel. Indeed, so sweetly manner'd when surprised,
She must be exquisite in her composure.
Prince. Who is she ?
Cel. Nay, my lord, just come with you,
I know as little
What ! a new tune to dance to ?
Prince. In good time,
Here comes Alvaro.
24 THE PAINTER OF ACT i
Enter ALVARO.
Alvaro. How restless is the sickness of the soul !
I scarce had got me from this fatal place,
And back again
Prince. Alvaro !
Alv. My lord
Prince. Who is the lady that was here anon ?
Alv. Lady, my lord what lady ?
Prince. She that went
A moment hence I mean your sister's guest.
Alv. (This drop was wanting !)
My lord, the daughter of a nobleman
Of very ancient blood
Don Pedro Castellano.
Prince. And her name ?
Alv. Serafina.
Prince. And a most seraphic lady !
Alv. You never saw her, sir, before ?
Prince. No, surely.
Alv. (aside). Would I had never done so !
Prince. And in the hasty glimpse I had,
I guess her mistress of as fair a mind
As face.
Alv. Yes, sir
Prince. She lives in Naples, eh ?
Alv. No on her way
To Spain, I think
Prince. Indeed ! To Spain. W 7 hy that ?
Alv. (How much more will he ask ?)
My lord, her husband
Prince. She is married then ?
Alv. Torture !
Prince. And who so blest to call her his,
Alvaro ?
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 25
Alv. Sir, Don Juan Roca, her cousin.
Prince. Roca ? Don Juan Roca ? Do I know
him ?
Alv. I think you must; he came, sir, with my
father
To wait upon your Grace.
Prince. Don Juan Roca !
No ; I do not remember him should not
Know him again.
Enter DON Luis.
Luis. My lord, if my old love
And service for your Highness may deserve
A favour at your hands
Prince. They only wait
Until your tongue has named it.
Luis. This it is then
The captain of the galleys, good my lord,
In which your Highness came,
Tells me that, having landed you, he lies
Under strict orders to return again
Within an hour.
Prince. 'Tis true.
Luis. Now, good my lord,
The ships, when they go back, must carry with them
Some friends who, long time look'd for, just are come,
And whom I fain
Prince. Nay, utter not a wish
I know I must unwillingly deny.
Alvaro. Confusion on confusion !
Prince. I have pledg'd
My word to Don Garcia of Toledo,
The galleys should not pass an hour at Naples.
I feel for you, and for myself, alas !
26 THE PAINTER OF ACT I
So sweet a freight they carry with them. But
I dare not and what folly to adore
A Beauty lost to me before I found it !
[Exeunt PRINCE and CELIO.
Luis. And those I so had long'd for, to avenge
Their long estrangement by as long a welcome,
Snatcht from me almost ere we'd shaken hands !
Is not this ill, Alvaro ?
Alv. Ill indeed.
Luis. And, as they needs must go, my hospitality,
Foil'd in its spring, must turn to wound myself
By speeding their departure. (Going.)
Alv. Sir, a moment.
Although his Highness would not, or could not,
Grant you the boon your services deserved,
Let not that, I beseech you, indispose you
From granting one to me.
Luis. What is't, Alvaro ?
'Twere strange could I refuse you anything.
Alv. You sent me, sir, on state affairs to Spain,
But being wreckt and captured, as you know,
All went undone.
Another opportunity now offers :
The ships are ready, let me go and do
That which perforce I left undone before.
Luis. What else could'st thou have askt,
In all the category of my means,
Which I, methinks, had grudged thee ! No, Alvaro,
The treacherous sea must not again be trusted
With the dear promise of my only son.
Alv. Nay, for that very reason, I entreat you
To let me go, sir. Let it not be thought
The blood that I inherited of you
Quail'd at a common danger.
Luis. I admire
SCENE I HIS OWN DISHONOUR 27
Your resolution, but you must not go,
At least not now.
Beside, the business you were sent upon
Is done by other hands, or let go by
For ever.
Alv. Nay, sir
Luis. Nay, Alvaro. [Exit.
Alv. He is resolved. And Serafina,
To whose divinity I offer'd up
My heart of hearts, a purer sacrifice
Than ever yet on pagan altar blazed,
Has play'd me false, is married to another,
And now will fly away on winds and seas,
As fleeting as herself.
Then what remains but that I die ? My death
The necessary shadow of that marriage !
Comfort ! what boots it looking after that
Which never can be found ? The worst is come,
Which 'twere a blind and childish waste of hope
To front with any visage but despair.
Ev'n that one single solace, were there one,
Of ringing my despair into her ears,
Fails me. Time presses ; the accursed breeze
Blows foully fair. The vessel flaps her sails
That is to bear her from me. Look, she comes
And from before her dawning beauty all
I had to say fades from my swimming brain,
And chokes upon my tongue.
Enter SERAFINA, drest as at first ', and PORCIA.
Porcia. And must we part so quickly ?
Serafina. When does happiness
Last longer ?
Alv. Never ! who best can answer that ?
28 THE PAINTER OF ACT I
I standing by, why ask it of another ?
At least when speaking of such happiness
As, perjured woman, thy false presence brings !
Ser. Alvaro, for Heaven's sake spare me the pang
Of these unjust reproaches.
Alv. What ! unjust !
Ser. Why, is it not unjust, condemning one
Without defence ?
Alv. Without defence indeed !
Ser. Not that I have not a most just defence,
But that you will not listen.
Alv. Serafina,
I listen'd ; but what wholly satisfies
The criminal may ill suffice the judge ;
And in love's court especially, a word
Has quite a different meaning to the soul
Of speaker and of hearer. Yet once more,
Speak.
Ser. To what purpose ? I can but repeat
What I have told your sister, and she you,
What on the sudden waking from my swoon,
I, who had thought you dead so long, Alvaro,
Spoke in my terror, suddenly seeing you
Alive, before me.
Alv. I were better, then,
Dead than alive ?
Ser. I know not were you dead
I might in honour weep for you, Alvaro ;
Living, I must not.
Alv. Nay then, whether you
Forswear me living or lament me dead,
Now you must hear me ; if you strike the wound,
Is it not just that you should hear the cry ?
Ser. I must not.
Alv. But I say you must.
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 29
Ser. Porcia,
Will you not help me when my life and honour
Are thus at stake ?
Alv. Porcia's duty lies
In keeping watch that no one interrupt us.
Porcia. Between the two confused, I yield at last
To him, both as my brother, Serafina,
And for his love to you. Compose yourself;
I shall be close at hand, no harm can happen.
And let him weep at least who has lost all. \Exit.
Ser. If I am forced to hear you then, Alvaro,
You shall hear me too, once more, once for all,
Freely confessing that I loved you once ;
Ay, long and truly loved you. When all hope
Of being yours with your reported death
Had died, then, yielding to my father's wish,
I wed another, and am what I am.
So help me Heaven, Alvaro, this is all !
Alv. How can I answer if you weep ?
Ser. No, no,
I do not weep, or, if I do, 'tis but
My eyes, no more, no deeper.
Alv. Is't possible you can so readily
Turn warm compassion into cold disdain !
And are your better pulses so controlPd
By a cold heart, that, to enhance the triumph
Over the wretched victim of your eyes,
You make the fount of tears to stop or flow
Just as you please ? If so, teach me the trick,
As the last courtesy you will vouchsafe me.
Ser. Alvaro, when I think of what I was,
My tears will forth ; but when of what I am,
My honour bids them cease.
Alv. You do feel then
Ser. Nay, I'll deny it not.
30 THE PAINTER OF ACT i
Alv. That, being another's
Ser. Nay, no argument
Alv. These tears
Ser. What tears ?
Alv. Are the relenting rain
On which the Iris of my hope may ride ;
Or a sweet dew
Ser. Alvaro
Alv. That foretells
That better day when in these arms again
Ser. Those arms ! Alvaro, when that day shall come
May heaven's thunder strike me dead at once !
(Cannon within.}
Mercy, what's that ?
Enter PORCIA.
Porcia. A signal from the ship,
'Tis time : your father and Don Juan now
Are coming for you.
Alv. O heavens !
Por. Compose yourself,
And you, Alvaro (Motions him back.)
Enter DON JUAN, Luis, PEDRO, LEONELO, etc.
Luis. Lady, believe how sadly I am come
To do you this last office.
Juan. Trembling still ?
But come, perhaps the sea-breeze, in requital
Of bearing us away from those we love,
May yet revive you.
Luis. Well, if it must be so,
Lady, your hand. Porcia, come with us.
\Exeunt all but ALVARO.
SCENE I HIS OWN DISHONOUR 31
ACT II
SCENE I. A room in DON JUAN'S house at Barcelona :
he is discovered painting SERAFINA. It gradually
grows dusk.
Juan. Are you not wearied sitting ?
Serafina. Surely not
Till you be wearied painting.
Juan. Oh, so much
As I have wish'd to have that divine face
Painted, and by myself, I now begin
To wish I had not wish'd it.
Ser. But why so ?
Juan. Because I must be worsted in the trial
I have brought on myself.
Ser. You to despair,
Who never are outdone but by yourself!
Juan. Even so.
Ser. But why so ?
Juan. Shall I tell you why ?
Painters, you know, (just turn your head a little,)
Are nature's apes, whose uglier semblances,
Made up of disproportion and excess,
Like apes, they easily can imitate :
But whose more gracious aspect, the result
Of subtlest symmetries, they only outrage,
Turning true beauty into caricature.
The perfecter her beauty, the more complex
And hard to follow ; but her perfection
Impossible.
Ser. That I dare say is true,
32 THE PAINTER OF ACT n
But surely not in point with me, whose face
Is surely far from perfect.
Juan. Far indeed
From what is perfect calPd, but far beyond,
Not short of it ; so that indeed my reason
Was none at all.
Ser. Well now then the true reason
Of your disgust.
Juan. Yet scarcely my disgust,
When you continue still the cause of it.
Well then, to take the matter up again
The object of this act, (pray, look at me,
And do not laugh, Serafina,) is to seize
Those subtlest symmetries that, as I said,
Are subtlest in the loveliest ; and though
It has been half the study of my life
To recognise and represent true beauty,
I had not dreamt of such excess of it
As yours ; nor can I, when before my eyes,
Take the clear image in my trembling soul ;
And therefore if that face of yours exceed
Imagination, and imagination
(As it must do) the pencil ; then my picture
Can be but the poor shadow of a shade.
Besides,
Ser. Can there be any thing besides ?
Juan. 'Tis said that fire and light, and air and
snow,
Cannot be painted ; how much less a face
Where they are so distinct, yet so compounded,
As needs must drive the artist to despair !
I'll give it up. (Throws away his brushes, etc.)
The light begins to fail too.
And Serafina, pray remember this,
If, tempted ever by your loveliness,
SCENE I HIS OWN DISHONOUR 33
And fresh presumption that forgets defeat,
I'd have you sit again, allow me not,
It does but vex me.
Ser. Nay, if it do that
I will not, Juan, or let me die for it,
Come, there's an oath upon't.
Juan. A proper curse
On that rebellious face.
Enter LEONELO.
Leonelo. And here comes in a story :
A man got suddenly deaf, and seeing the people
about him moving their lips, quoth he, 'What the
devil makes you all dumb ? ' never thinking for a
moment the fault might be in himself. So it is with
you, who lay the blame on a face that all the world is
praising, and not on your own want of skill to paint it.
Juan. Not a very apt illustration, Leonelo, as
you would admit if you heard what I was saying
before you came in. But, whose soever the fault,
I am the sufferer. I will no more of it, however.
Come, I will abroad.
Ser. Whither, my lord ?
Juan. Down to the pier, with the sea and the
fresh air, to dispel my vexation.
Ser. By quitting me ?
Juan. I might indeed say so, since the sight of
you is the perpetual trophy of my defeat. But what
if I leave you in order to return with a double zest ?
Ser. Nay, nay, with no such pretty speeches hope
to delude me ; I know what it is. The carnival
with its fair masks.
Juan. A mask abroad when I have that face at
home !
34 THE PAINTER OF ACT n
Ser. Nay, nay, I know you.
Juan. Better than I do myself?
Ser. What wife does not ?
Leon. Just so. A German and the priest of his
village coming to high words one day, because the
man blew his swine's horn under the priest's window,
the priest calls out in a rage, * I'll denounce your
horns to the parish, I will ! ' which the man's wife
overhearing in the scullery, she cries out, ' Halloa,
neighbour, here is the priest revealing my con-
fession ! '
Ser. What impertinence, Leonelo !
Leon. Very well then, listen to this ; a certain
man in Barcelona had five or six children, and one
day
Juan. Peace, foolish fellow.
Leon. Those poor children will never get the
meat well into their mouths.
Juan. Farewell, my love, awhile.
[Exeunt JUAN and LEONELO.
Ser. Farewell, my lord.
Thou little wicked Cupid,
I am amused to find how by degrees
The wound your arrows in my bosom made,
And made to run so fast with tears, is healing.
Yea, how those very arrows and the bow
That did such mischief, being snapt asunder
Thyself art tamed to a good household child.
Enter FLORA, out of breath.
Flora. O madam !
Ser. Well, Flora, what now?
flora. O madam, there is a man down-stairs !
Ser. Well?
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 35
Flora. Brest sailor-like.
Scr. Well?
Flora. He will not go away unless I give this
letter into your hands.
Ser. Into my hands ? from whom ?
Flora. From the lady Porcia he says, madam.
Ser. From Porcia, well, and what frightens you ?
Flora. Nothing, madam, and yet
Ser. And yet there is something.
Flora. O, my lady, if this should be Don Alvaro !
Ser. Don Alvaro ! what makes you think that ?
Flora. I am sure it is he.
Ser. But did you tell him you knew him ?
Flora. I could not help, madam, in my surprise.
Ser. And what said he then ?
Flora. That I must tell you he was here.
Ser. Alvaro !
Flora, go back, tell him you dared not tell me,
Fearful of my rebuke, and say beside,
As of your own advice, that it is fit,
Both for himself and me,
That he depart immediately.
Flora. Yes, madam.
As she is going, enter ALVARO, as a Sailor.
Alvaro. No need. Seeing Don Juan leave his
house,
I have made bold to enter, and have heard
What Flora need not to repeat.
Ser. Nay, sir,
Rather it seems as if you had not heard ;
Seeing the most emphatic errand was
To bid you hence.
Alv. So might it seem perhaps,
36 THE PAINTER OF ACT n
Inexorable beauty : but you know
How one delinquency another breeds :
And having come so far, and thus disguised,
Only to worship at your shrine, Serafina,
(I dare not talk of love,) I do beseech you
Do not so frown at my temerity,
As to reject the homage that it brings.
Ser. Don Alvaro,
If thus far I have listen'd, think it not
Warrant of further importunity.
I could not help it 'tis with dread and terror
That I have heard thus much ; I now beseech
you,
Since you profess you came to honour me,
Show that you did so truly by an act
That shall become your honour well as mine.
Alv. Speak, Serafina.
Ser. Leave me so at once,
And without further parley,
That I may be assured you are assured
That lapse of time, my duty as a wife,
My husband's love for me, and mine for him,
My station and my name, all have so changed me,
That winds and waves might sooner overturn
Not the oak only,
But the eternal rock on which it grows,
Than you my heart, though sea and sky themselves
Join'd in the tempest of your sighs and tears.
Alv. But what if I remember other times
When Serafina was no stubborn oak,
Resisting wind and wave, but a fair flower
That open'd to the sun of early love,
And follow'd him along the golden day :
No barren heartless rock,
But a fair temple in whose sanctuary
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 37
Love was the idol, daily and nightly fed
With sacrifice of one whole human heart.
Ser. I do not say 'twas not so ;
But, sir, to carry back the metaphor
Your ingenuity has turn'd against me,
That tender flower, transplanted it may be
To other skies and soil, might in good time
Strike down such roots and strengthen such a stem
As were not to be shook : the temple, too,
Though seeming slight to look on, being yet
Of nature's fundamental marble built,
When once that foolish idol was dethroned,
And the true God set up into his place,
Might stand unscathed in sanctity and worship,
For ages and for ages.
Alv. Serafina,
Why talk to me of ages, when the account
Of my misfortune and your cruelty
Measures itself by hours, and not by years !
It was but yesterday you loved me, yes,
Loved me, and (let the metaphor run on)
I never will believe it ever was,
Or is, or ever can be possible
That the fair flower so soon forgot the sun
To which so long she owed and turn'd her beauty,
To love the baser mould in which she grew :
Or that the temple could so soon renounce
Her old god, true god too while he was there,
For any cold and sober deity
Which you may venerate, but cannot love,
Newly set up.
Ser. I must leave metaphor,
And take to sober sense ; nor is it right,
Alvaro, that you strive
To choke the virtuous present with the past,
38 THE PAINTER OF ACT n
Which, when it was the past, was virtuous too,
But would be guilty if reiterate.
Nor is it right, nor courteous, certainly,
Doubting what I declare of my own heart ;
Nay, you who do yourself affirm, Alvaro,
How well I loved you when such love was lawful,
Are bound to credit me when I declare
That love is now another's.
Alv. Serafina
fuan (speaking within]. Light, light, there !
Enter FLORA hurriedly.
Flora. Madam, my lord, my lord.
Alv. Confusion !
Ser. O ye heavens !
Flora. The old lover's story.
Brother or husband sure to interrupt.
Juan (within). A light there, Flora ! Serafina !
night
Set in, and not a lamp lit in the house ?
Alv. He comes.
Ser. And I am lost !
Flora. Quick, Don Alvaro,
Into this closet, till my lord be gone
Into his chamber ; in, in, in !
Alv. My fears
Are all for you, not for myself.
[Hides in the closet.
Flora. In, in ! [Exit.
Juan (entering). How is it there's no light ?
Ser. She had forgot
But here it comes.
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 39
Enter FLORA with lights.
'Twas kind of you, my lord,-
So quickly back again
Sooner than I expected.
Juan. Yes, a friend
Caught hold of me just as I reach'd the pier,
And told me to get home again.
Ser. (aside). My heart !
Juan. And wherefore do you think ?
Ser. Nay, I know not.
Juan. To tell you of a festival, Serafma,
Preparing in your honour.
Ser. (aside). I breathe again.
Juan. The story's this. It is the carnival,
You know, and, by a very ancient usage,
To-morrow all the folk of Barcelona,
Highest as well as lowest, men and women,
Go abroad mask'd to dance and see the shows.
And you being newly come, they have devised
A dance and banquet for you, to be held
In Don Diego's palace, looking forth
So pleasantly (do you remember it ?)
Upon the sea. And therefore for their sakes,
And mine, my Serafina, you must for once
Eclipse that fair face with the ugly mask ;
I'll find you fitting dress, what say you ?
Ser. Nay,
What should I say but that your will is mine,
In this as evermore?
And now you speak of dress, there are ev'n now
Some patterns brought me in the nick of time
To choose from, in my chamber ; prithee come,
And help me judge.
40 THE PAINTER OF ACT n
Juan. I would that not your robe
Only, but all the ground on which you walk
Were laced with diamond.
Ser. What, not done yet
With compliment? Come come.
(She takes a light.)
Juan. But wherefore this ?
Ser. My duty is to wait upon you.
Juan. No.
Take the lamp, Flora,
Ser. Flora waits on me,
And I on you.
Juan. What humour's this ?
But be it as you will.
[Exeunt JUAN and SERAFINA.
Flora (letting out ALVARO). Now is the time,
Signer Alvaro ! hist !
The coast is clear, but silently and swiftly
Follow but, hush ! stop ! wait !
Alv. W T hat now ?
Flora. A moment!
Back, back, 'tis Leonelo.
Alv. Put out the light, I can slip past him.
Flora (falls putting out light). No sooner said
than done.
O Lord, Lord, Lord !
Enter LEONELO.
Leonelo. What is the matter ?
Flora. The matter is, I have fallen.
Leon. Into temptation ?
Flora. It is well, sir, if I have not broken my
leg ; here, sir, cease your gibing, and get this lamp
lighted directly.
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 41
Leon, (stumbling over ALVARO). Halloa !
Flora. What now?
Leon. I've fallen now, and on your temptation I
think, for it has got a beard.
Alv. (groping his way]. The fool ! but I can find
the door. [Exit.
I^eon. There goes some one !
Flora. The man's mad !
Leon. Am I ? Halloa ! halloa, there !
Enter JUAN with light.
Juan. What is the matter?
Flora. Nothing, nothing, my lord.
Leon. Nothing ? I say it is something, a great
Flora. My lord, going to shut the door, I stumbled,
fell, and put out the light, that's all.
Leon. And I stumbled too.
Juan. Well?
Leon. Over a man.
Juan. In this chamber?
Leon. Yes, and
Flora. Nonsense ! my lord, he stumbled against
me, as we both floundered in the dark.
Leon. You ! What have you done with your beard
then?
Juan. Are you mad ? or is this some foolery ?
Leon. My lord, I swear I stumbled over a fellow
here.
Juan (aside). And she so anxious to light me to
her chamber ! what is all this ? Take the lamp,
Leonelo. Though partly I think you have been
dreaming, I will yet search the house ; come with
me. I will draw the sting of. suspicion at once,
come what come may. [Draws sword and exit.
42 THE PAINTER OF ACT n
Flora (to LEON.). All of your work. A murrain
on your head,
Making this pother.
Leon. Minx ! what is said, is said.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE II. The garden of Don Luis' palace at Naples;
a window with a balcony on one side, or in front :
night.
Enter the PRINCE and CELIO muffled up.
Celio. Still sighing? pardon me, your Highness, but
This melancholy is a riddle to me.
Prince. Ah, Celio, so strange a thing is love,
The sighs you think are melancholy sighs,
Yet are not so ; I have indeed drunk poison,
But love the taste of it.
Cel. . I used to think
'Twas all of being away from your Porcia ;
But now when better starr'd, her brother absent,
Her father unsuspicious, at her bidding
Night after night you come beneath her lattice,
And yet
Prince. If Porcia be not the cause
Of my complaint she cannot be the cure :
Yet (such is love's pathology) she serves
To soothe the wound another made.
Cel. Who then was she, my lord, for whose fair
sake
You cannot either love this loving lady,
Nor leave her ?
Prince. I would tell you, Celio,
But you would laugh at me.
SCENE ii HIS OWN DISHONOUR 43
Cel. Tell me, however.
Prince. Rememberest not the lady whom we saw
For a few minutes, like some lovely vision,
In this same house a little while ago,
Not Porcia, but her diviner guest ?
Cel. Oh, I remember ; is it then to be
The speciality of your Highness' love,
That, whereas other men's dies off by absence,
Yours quickens if it can be love at all
Caught from one transitory glance ?
Prince. Nay, Celio ;
Because a cloud may cover up the sun
At his first step into the firmament,
Are we to say he never rose at all ?
Are we to say the lightning did not flash
Because it did but flash, or that the fountain
Never ran fresh because it ran so fast
Into its briny cradle and its grave?
My love, if 'twere but of one moment born,
And but a moment living, yet was love ;
And love it /j, now living with my life. (A harp
heard.)
Cel. O fine comparisons ! but hark, I hear
The widow'd turtle in the leaves away
Calling her faithless mate.
Prince. Yes, Celio, 'tis
Porcia if she sings to me of love,
I am to approach the window ; but if jealousy ,
I am to keep aloof. Listen !
Porcia (singing within}.
Of all the shafts to Cupid's bow,
The first is tipt with fire ;
All bare their bosoms to the blow,
And call the wound Desire.
(She appears at the window.)
44 THE PAINTER OF ACI n
Prince. Ah ! I was waiting, lovely Porcia,
Till your voice drew me by the notes of love,
Or distanced me by those of jealousy.
Por. Which needs not music, prince, to signify,
Being love's plain, prose history.
Prince. Not always ;
For instance, I know one,
Who, to refute your theory, Porcia,
Attracts men by her jealousy as much
As she repels them by her love.
Por. Nay, then
Men must be stranger beings than I thought.
Prince. I know not how that is, I only know
That in love's empire, as in other empires,
Rebellion sometimes prospers.
Por. That the night
Would give us leave to argue out their point !
Which yet I fear it will not.
Prince. Why ?
Por. My father,
Who frets about my brother's sudden absence,
Sits up enditing letters after him ;
And therefore I have brought my harp, that while
We talk together I may touch the strings,
So as he, hearing me so occupied,
May not suspect or ask for me. Besides,
We can talk under cover of the music.
Prince. Not the first time that love has found
himself
Fretted, Porcia.
Por. Oh, the wretched jest !
But listen
The music is for him, the words for you,
For I have much to tell you underneath
This mask of music. (Plays on the harp.)
SCENE ii HIS OWN DISHONOUR 45
You know my father has been long resolved
To quit this government, and to return
To his own country place which resolution,
First taken on my brother's supposed death,
My brother's sudden absence has revived ;
And brought to a head so much so, that to-morrow,
To-morrow, he has settled to depart
To Bellaflor I scarce can say the words
But let my tears
Prince. Tis well that you should mask
111 news under sweet music : though, indeed,
A treason to make sweet the poison'd cup.
Par. Who more than I
Enter JULIA within, hurried.
Julia. Madam, madam, your father
Is gone into the garden I hear his steps.
Por. Nay then (Sings}
Love's second is a poison'd dart,
And Jealousy is named :
Which carries poison to the heart
Desire had first inflamed.
Prince. She sings of jealousy we must retire ;
Hist, Celio ! [CELIO and PRINCE retreat.
Enter Luis.
Julia. Who's there ?
Por. Speak !
Luis. Oh, I, Porcia,
Who writing in my study, and much troubled
About your brother, was seduced away
By your harp's pleasant sound and the cool night,
To take a turn in the garden.
46 THE PAINTER OF ACT n
For. Yes, sir, here
I sit, enjoying the cool air that blows
Up from the shore among the whispering leaves.
Luis. What better ? but, Porcia, it grows late,
And chilly, I think : and though I'd have you here
Singing like a nightingale the whole night through,
It must not be. Will you come in ? [Exit.
For. Directly
I've but a moment.
Prince (entering). And you shall not need
Repeat the love call, for I heard
For. (playing as she speaks]. Nay, listen,
And that attentively. To-morrow, then,
We go to Bellaflor, (you know the place,)
There in the hill-top, hid among the trees,
Is an old castle ; ours, but scarcely used,
And kept by an old man who loves me well,
And can be secret. And if you should come
That way by chance, as hunting it may be,
I think we yet may meet.
Luis (within). Porcia !
For. Sir !
Luis (within). It's time, indeed, to shut your
window.
For. Hark,
I dare no longer.
Frince. Then farewell !
For. Farewell !
Remember Bellaflor : while you retreat
Among the trees, I still shall sing to you
Of love ; not that dark shape of jealousy,
But in the weeds of absence.
Prince. A descant
That suits us both, (aside) but on a different
theme.
SCENE in HIS OWN DISHONOUR 47
For. (singing).
The last of Cupid's arrows all
With heavy lead is set ;
That vainly weeping lovers call
Repentance or Regret.
\As she retires still singing from the window
within, the PRINCE and CELIO retire back
into the garden.
SCENE III. A street before DON DIEGO'S house in
Barcelona.
Enter ALVARO and FABIO, masked : other Masks pass
across, and into DIEGO'S house.
Alv. This is the place ; here will I wait till she
comes by. I know her dress, but I dared not follow
her till myself disguised.
Fab. And no doubt, sir, you will find good
opportunity of talking to her. 'Tis the old and
acknowledged usage of this season, that any one may
accost any one so long as both are masked, and so
neither supposed to know the other.
Alv. Oh, a brave usage, and a br^ave invention,
that of the Carnival ! One may accost whom one
pleases, and whisper what one will, under the very
ears of husband, father, or duenna !
Fab. So received a custom, that even among this
hot-headed jealous people of Spain, no mortal quarrel
has yet arisen on these occasions, though plenty to
provoke it.
Alv. Look ! the Masks are coming ; I hear the
48 THE PAINTER OF ACT n
music within. She must soon be here. Let us with-
draw round this corner till she come. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. A garden leading down to the sea ; on
one side a Portico. Masks singing and dancing ;
in the course of which enter and mix with them,
JUAN, SERAFINA, LEONELO, and FLORA, and
afterwards ALVARO ; all masked.
CHORUS.
Tantara, tantara, come follow me all,
Carnival, Carnival, Carnival.
Follow me, follow me, nobody ask ;
Crazy is Carnival under the mask.
Follow me, follow me, nobody knows ;
Under the mask is under the rose.
Tantara, tantara, etc.
Juan. How like you all this uproar ?
Ser. O quite well.
Juan (aside). And so should I,
Did not a shadow from that darken'd room
Trail after me. But why torment myself !
Leon. My lord, the dancers wait.
Juan (to the musicians}. Pardon me. Strike up !
Voices. Strike up ! strike up !
A Voice. The castanets !
Voices. The castanets ! the castanets !
Musician. What will you have ?
Voices. The Tarazana ! the Tarazana !
\A dance, during which ALVARO observes
SERAFINA.
Fab. You recognise her?
Alv. Yes, Fabio, my heart
SCENE iv HIS OWN DISHONOUR 49
Would recognise her under any dress,
And under any mask.
Fab. Now is your time.
Alv. (to SERAFINA). Mask, will you dance with me ?
Ser. No, Cavalier;
You come too late.
Alv. Too late ?
Ser. I am engaged.
Alv. Nevertheless
Ser. Nay, sir, I am not apt
To change my mind.
Alv. I hoped that in my favour
You might perhaps.
Ser. 'Twas a delusion.
Alv. But,
Fair Mask, didst never change thy mind before ?
Ser. Perhaps once to such purpose that that once
Forbids all other.
Juan. Serafina, the Mask
Has askt your hand to dance. On these occasions
You must permit him, whether known or not.
Unknown, the usage of the time allows ;
If known, 'twere more discourteous to refuse.
Ser. My lord, 'twas chiefly upon your account
That I refused to dance with him ; if you
Desire it, I am ready.
Juan. How, my love,
On my account ?
Ser. Liking your company
Much better.
Juan. Nay, take the humour of the time,
And dance with him. (Aside.} I marvel who it is
That follows Serafina, and to whom,
The very indisposition that she shows,
Argues a kind of secret inclination.
E
50 THE PAINTER OF ACT n
Alv. Well, do you still reject me?
Ser. I am bidden
To dance with you ; what measure will you call ?
Alv. Play ' Love lies bleeding ! '
Ser. But why that ?
Alv. Because
The spirit of the tune and of the words
Moves with my heart, and gives me leave beside
Amid its soft and slow divisions
To gaze on you and whisper in your ear.
(A minuet by the Masks: duri?ig which ALVARO
constantly whispers SERAPINA, who seems distrest ;
after some time, they return in the figure to tlie
front of the Stage.}
Ser. I've heard enough, sir ; save for courtesy,
Too much. No more.
Alv. Brief as the happiness
That once was mine ! But
Ser. Stay, sir, I will hear
No more. I had not danced with you at all,
But that I wish'd to tell you once for all
How hopeless is your passion the great danger
Your coming hither put and puts me to,
And that not my honour only, but my life,
Depends upon your quitting me at once,
Now and for ever.
Alv. Serafina !
Ser. (aloud). I am tired ;
Pardon me, friends, I cannot dance.
Juan. My love,
What is't ? Unwell ?
Ser. I know not.
A Woman. Stop the ball !
Another. All in her honour too !
Another. What is the matter ?
SCENE iv HIS OWN DISHONOUR 51
Juan. You are but tired with dancing.
Ser. No, no, no,
Let us go home.
Juan. Pardon us, friends,
Continue you your revels ; we will go
Into the house awhile, and rest ; I think
The heat and dancing have distrest her much,
But she'll be better. To your dance again.
Come, Serafina. (Aside.} Leonelo ! hither !
Find out the Mask that with your lady danced.
Leon. I'll watch him to the world's end or beyond,
If need be.
Juan. Good Come, Serafina.
\Exeunt JUAN and SERAFINA.
Alv. So end my hopes for ever. Fool ! who
seeking
For what once lost could never more be found
Like to a child after a rainbow running
Leaving my father, who had only just
Recover'd me to his old heart again,
Without adieu equipp'd this Brigantine
(Down to the bottom may she go with me !)
In chase of this not Serafina no
But this false Siren,
Who draws me with the music of her beauty,
To leave me in destruction.
Leon, (watching him). This must be some monk,
who knows of some better entertainment elsewhere.
Alv. And after all,
Not one kind word of welcome or of thanks,
But that her life depended on my leaving her,
Who would for her have sacrificed my own
In any way but that. But it is done !
Henceforward I renounce all hope ; henceforth
And why not all despair ? the world is wide,
52 THE PAINTER OF ACT II
Eh, Fabio ? and the good old saw says well
That fortune at the worst must surely mend.
Let us to sea, the ship is ready ; come,
Away with all this foolery. (Throws off mask, etc.)
Leon. Here is a harlequin sailor !
Fabio. Well resolved.
Alv. Wear them what other fool may list,
I'll straight aboard, and if the wind and sea
Can rise as they were wont, I'll stretch all sail
Toward the perdition she consigns me to.
Halloa there! (Whistles.}
Enter SAILORS.
Sail. Captain ?
Alv. How is't for a cruise ?
Sail. Oh, never better ; just a breeze to keep
The ship from looking in her glass too long.
Alv. Aboard, aboard then! Farewell all my hopes;
My love, farewell for ever !
Voices (within). Fire ! fire ! fire !
All. What's this ?
Voices. Fire ! fire ! in Don Diego's palace !
Help! help!
Alv. She there ! my life shall save the life
She said it jeopardied.
As he is going out, enter JUAN with SERAFINA
fainted in his arms.
Juan. Friends ! Gentlemen ! if you would help in
this calamity, take charge for a moment of this most
precious thing of all, till I return.
Alv. (taking SERAFINA in his arms). Trust me,
sir. [JuAN rushes off.
SCENE iv HIS OWN DISHONOUR 53
Leon. Stop, my lord, stop a moment he is gone,
and this man
Alv. Serafina in my arms ! my ship at hand !
O love, O destiny ! aboard, aboard
'tis the merriest proverb of them all,
How one man rises by his neighbour's fall.
\Exit, carrying off SERAFINA.
Leon. Halloa ! stop him ! stop him ! it is my
mistress ; Don Juan ! my lord ! my lord ! the rascal
has carried her off ! my lord ! my lord !
[Runs after ALVARO.
\st Voice in the crowd. The fire is getting under.
2nd Voice. No lives lost?
yd Voice. Only, they say, one poor girl of the lady
Serafina's.
Enter DON JUAN hurriedly.
Juan. I thought I heard Leonelo calling me But
where is Serafina ? This is the place yes Serafina !
1 left them here taken her perhaps fainting as she
was for help. Gentlemen, have you seen any here
with a lady, fainted, in their charge a sailor, I think ?
\st Man. Not I, sir.
2nd Man. Nor I.
$rd Man. Stay, I think there were some sailors
with a lady in their arms.
Juan. And where
Enter LEONELO breathless.
Leon. Oh, my lord, my lord !
Juan. Speak !
Leon. The Mask who danced with my lady
Juan. Where is she ?
54 THE PAINTER OF ACT in
Leon. Was the sailor you gave her in charge to
He has carried her off.
Juan. The Mask ! the sailor !
Leon. I saw him throw off his disguise, and now
he has carried her off to the shore to sea to the
ship there now spreading her sails in the harbour.
Juan. Man ! beware lest I blast thee !
Leon. As if I were the sailor ! I tell you I ran
after them, shouted, struggled, but was pushed aside,
knocked down
Juan. To the shore, to the shore ! follow me !
Voices. What is the matter?
Juan. What I dare not name till it be avenged ;
Pirate ! Ruffian ! Oh fool, I might have guessed
but I will find them through water and fire too. To
the shore !
{Exit JUAN, LEONELO after him ; confusion, etc.
ACT III
SCENE I. A room in DON Luis' country-house near
Naples.
Enter DON Luis reading a letter.
Luis. 'You bid me tell you why it is Don Juan
Roca has not written to you so long : and though it
be pain to do so, I dare no longer defer answering
you. At a carnival dance here, the palace of Don
Diego de Cordona, in which the festival was held,
took fire so suddenly, as people had much ado to
escape with their lives. Don Juan's wife fainting
from terror, he carried her out, and gave her in
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 55
charge to a sailor standing near, while he himself
returned to help at the fire. No doubt this sailor
was a pirate : for he carried her off to his ship and
set sail immediately. Don Juan returning and
finding her gone rushes madly after ; casts himself
into the sea in his rage and desperation ; is rescued
half drowned, and taken to his house, from which he
was missed he and his servant Leonelo- some days
ago, taking scarce any thing with him, and leaving
no hint of whither he is gone. And since that hour
we have heard nothing of him, or of Serafina.'
My heart prevents rny eyes from reading more.
heavens ! to what chance and danger is
The fortune of the happiest, and still more
The honour of the noblest, liable !
Ill fortune we may bear, and, if we choose,
Sit folded in despair with dignity ;
But honour needs must wince before a straw,
And never rest until it be avenged.
To know where Juan is, and by his side
To put myself, and run all risk with him
Till he were righted, and the offender too,
I'd give my life and all I'm worth ; no corner
In the wide earth but we would ferret it,
Until Porcia !
Enter PORCIA.
For. Pray, sir, pardon me,
But I would know what vexes you, you stand
Angrily talking to yourself alone :
This letter in your hand What is it, sir?
Luis. Nothing, nothing, Porcia ; (for Juan's sake
1 must dissemble) Nay, I have received
A letter upon business that annoys me.
56 THE PAINTER OF ACT in
Por. I'm sorry, sir, for that, for I had come
To ask a favour of you.
Luis. Well, why not ?
Por. They say that those who ask unseasonably
Must be content with a refusal.
Luis. Nay,
Between us two no season's out of season.
Por. So ? then I'll ask. Alvaro
Luis. All but that !
Ask me not that way.
Por. Then 'tis not the season.
Luis. The season for all else but that which
never
Can be in season. How often have I told you
Never to speak to me again of him !
Por. What has my brother done, sir, after all,
To make you so inveterate ?
Luis. What done !
To leave my house, to which I only just
Had welcomed him as only a father can,
Without adieu, or word of when or where,
And then as suddenly come back, forsooth,
Knock at my door, as if he had but made
A morning call, and think to find it open
It and my heart open to him as ever.
Por. But may not, sir, the thoughtlessness of
youth
Be some excuse ? Pray you remember, sir,
How on a sudden you yourself determined
To leave the cheerful city and come here,
Among dull woods and fields, and savage people ;
And surely 'twas no wonder that my brother
Should, ill advised, no doubt, but naturally,
Slip for a month back to the busy world
To which his very dangers had endear'd him.
SCENE i HIS OWN DISHONOUR 57
And now to prove
How much he feels your anger and his fault,
Since his return he has lived quietly,
I might say almost eremitically,
Up in the mountain, yet more solitary
And still than this is, doing penance there.
Let me plead for him, sir ; let him come down,
To kiss your hand and see you once again.
Luis. He should be grateful to you, Porcia
Well, let him come.
Por. Bless you for saying so !
I'll go myself to him this evening,
And tell him this good news.
Luis. Do so. Ah me ! -
That all were settled thus ! Did I but know
Where Juan is,, and where his enemy ! [Exit.
Julia (entering). Well, madam, you have gain'd
your point.
Por. Yes, Julia,
Two points ; for, first, my brother will come back ;
And, secondly, so doing, leave the old castle
At my disposal, where the Prince and I
May meet together in security.
I'll write to Alvaro now, and do you tell
The messenger who brought his letter hither,
I'll go this evening up the mountain. So
Belardo, the old porter,
Who knows and loves me well, will look for me,
And understand the purpose of my going.
Julia. Ah, now I see, beside his bow and arrows,
Love arms himself with trick and stratagem.
Por. And something else ; give me my arque-
buss ;
So, Love and I perchance, as says the song,
May hit a hart, as we shall go along.
58 THE PAINTER OF ACT in
SCENE II. A room in DON Luis' castle in the hills.
Enter ALVARO and FABIO.
Alv. How is't with Serafina ?
Fab. Nay, you know.
Ever the same.
Alv. You mean still weeping?
Fab. Ay.
Alv. Yes, from the hour when, fainting in my arms,
She pass'd from raging flame to the wild seas,
And opening those heavenly eyes again,
Still with the hue of death upon her cheek,
She saw herself in my ship in my power,
She has not ceased to weep ; all my caresses
Unable to console her.
I fondly hoped that she
Enter SERAFINA.
Ser. Good Fabio, [Ex if FABIO.
Leave us awhile. 'You fondly hoped,' Alvaro
So much I heard, connected with my name ;
And I perhaps have something on that text
Would clear the matter up to both of us.
'You fondly hoped* was't not that I might be
So frail, so lost to shame, and so inconstant,
That for the loss of husband, home, and honour,
Lost in one day, I might console myself
With being in his arms, who robb'd me of all !
Was't this you hoped ?
Alv. No, Serafina, but
Ser. But what ?
Alv. And yet perhaps 'twas that I hoped
SCENE ii HIS OWN DISHONOUR 59
The very desperation of my act
Bringing its pardon with it, soon or late,
Seeing the very element of love
Is rashness, that he finds his best excuse
In having none at all. Ah, Serafina,
How greatly must he love, who all for love
Perils the hope of being loved at all !
Ser. Poor argument ! I rather draw that he
Who ventures on such desperate acts can have
No true respect for her he outrages,
And therefore no true love. No, daring traitor
But I'll not strive to break the heart of flint,
But wear it with my tears. Hear me, Alvaro,
In pity in mercy hear me.
This thing is done, there is no remedy,
Let us not waste the time in arguing
What better had been done ; the stars so ruled it
Yea, providence that rules the stars. Well then,
What next ? Alvaro, I would speak of this j
And if't be right I owe you any thing,
Be it for this one boon, a patient hearing.
Listen to me
I never draw a breath but 'tis on fire
With Juan's vengeance ; never move a step
But think I see his fierce eyes glaring at me
From some dark corner of this desolate house
In which my youth is buried. And what gain you
By all this crime and misery ? My body,
But not my soul ; without possessing which,
Beauty itself is but a breathing corpse,
But a cold marble statue, unsufmsed
With the responsive hue of sympathy,
Possess'd but not enjoy'd.
Oh, ill betide that villain love, not love,
That all its object and affection finds
60 THE PAINTER OF ACT in
In the mere contact of encircling arms !
But if this move you not consider, Alvaro
Don Juan is a nobleman as such
Bound to avenge his honour ; he must know
'Twas you who did this monstrous act, for Flora
Would tell him all. There is one remedy :
'Tis this, that you, despairing of my love,
Which you can never gain forgo me quite,
And give me up to some cold convent's cloister,
Where buried I may wear away
Alv. No more,
Rather than give you up again, Serafina,
Pray heaven's thunder (Shot within.)
Ser. Again, this dreadful omen !
'Tis for my death !
Alv. Fear not Belardo ! ho 1
What shot was that ?
Enter BELARDO.
Bel. Your sister Porcia
Is coming up the mountain ; nay, is now
At the very gate.
Ser. Oh, whither must I go !
Alv. Belardo, lead her hence.
Bel. Not that way, sir,
By which your sister enters.
Alv. In here then.
I'll go and meet Porcia.
Ser. Mercy, heaven !
[She goes in at one door, as
PORCIA enters by another.
Alv. How now, Porcia, you look pleased to-day !
Por. And well I may for two reasons, Alvaro.
SCENE ii HIS OWN DISHONOUR 61
Alv. Well, what are they ?
For. First, I have got my father to relax in his
humour against you.
Alv. My good sister !
For. So as he will see you at Bellaflor this very
evening.
Alv. Good ! and your second reason ?
For. That coming up the pass, I made the crowning
shot of my life with this arquebuss a hare at full
speed flying, I might say.
Alv. Give you joy of both your hits, Porcia.
For. I am so proud of the last (though glad of the
first, Alvaro) that I shall try my luck and skill a
little longer about the castle this evening.
Alv. So
For. You will not wait for me, but go down at
once to Bellaflor, and show my father you value his
forgiveness by your haste to acknowledge it.
Alv. You say well ; but you will go with me ?
For. Fear not, I shall soon be after you.
Alv. Well, if so, then (apart to BELARDO,)
Belardo, remember you get the lady to her room
directly my sister is gone out.
For. Our roads lie together as far as the gate at
least. (Aside to BELARDO.) If the Prince happen
to come hither, tell him to wait for me, Belardo ; I
shall be back directly. Come, brother.
[Exeunt ALVARO and PORCIA.
Bel. They say a Pander is a good business ; and
yet here am I ministering both to brother and sister
with very little profit at the year's end.
Ser. (entering cautiously). Porcia's gone ?
Bel. Yes, she is gone.
Ser. Had she resolved on going into the room
where I was she could have done it ; there was
62 THE PAINTER OF ACT m
neither key nor bolt within. But she is gone and I
can get to my own.
Bel. No.
Ser. Belardo! why?
Bel. Some one coming.
Ser. Again ! [She hides as before.
Enter PRINCE.
Prince. How now, Belardo, where is your mistress?
she advised me her brother would be away, and she
here this evening.
Bel. Your Highness comes in good time. She
went with him, but will be back directly. She is
here.
Enter PORCIA.
For. Not far behind, you see. Scarce had he
taken the turn to Bellaflor, when I turn'd back.
Prince. How shall I thank you for this favour ?
Par. My brother's living here has been the reason
of our not meeting before : but that is remedied for
the future.
Prince. And how ?
Par. He is at last reconciled to my father, and is
even now gone home, to Bellaflor.
Prince (aside). My heart thanks you but little,
being away with another ; but if I cannot avenge
memory, I will thus try and deceive or amuse it.
My lovely Porcia !
Bel. (aside}. She hears every word they say !
For. Ah, you flatter still.
Prince. Flatter !
For. Do I not know there is a Siren at Naples
SCENE ii HIS OWN DISHONOUR 63
Prince. Porcia, to prove to you how unfounded
that suspicion is, I have these many days wholly
quitted Naples, and, out of a melancholy that has
taken hold of me, now live retired in a little Villa
hard by this : you may imagine at least one reason
for my doing so. And so enchanted am I with
my solitude, that till this evening (when you broke it
as I could wish) I have not once stirred abroad ; my
only occupation being to watch some pictures that I
am having done, by the best masters of Italy and of
Spain too ; one of which country I have happened
on, who might compete with Apelles. As I told
you, I have spent whole days in watching them at
work.
Por. My jealousy whispered
Enter BELARDO.
Bel. Unlucky to be sure.
Por. What now ?
Bel. What can make your brother return so
suddenly ?
Por. My brother !
Bel. He is now at the gate.
Por. He must suspect the Prince ! O, my lord,
hide yourself.
Prince. Where?
Por. Any where ! quick ! here.
\She puts him where SERAFINA is.
Prince. For your sake, Porcia.
Enter ALVARO.
Alv. I cannot be easy till I am assured that
Serafina Porcia here ?
64 THE PAINTER OF ACT in
Por. Alvaro !
Alv. You left me on a sudden ?
Por. I was tired, and came back for rest.
Alv. So
Por. But you ?
Alv. I bethought me that, considering my father's
late indisposition toward me, it were better you were
at my side when I went to him.
Por. So
Alv. So that if he should relapse into ill-humour,
you know how to direct him.
Por. Well, shall we start again together ?
Alv. Is not that best ?
Por. As you please.
Alv. (aside). She will not then stumble on
Serafina.
Por. (aside). I shall so get him out of the Prince's
way. [Exeunt PORCIA and ALVARO.
Bel. Now then the two imprisoned ones get out.
Enter the PRINCE, and SERAFINA, her hand before
her face.
Ser. In vain you shall not know me.
Prince. Nay, in vain
You try to be unknown.
Ser. Consider
Prince. Nay,
Down with that little hand, too small a cloud
To hide the heaven of your beauty from me.
Lady, I know you but one such. And know
That love himself has wrought a miracle,
To this unlikeliest place, by means unlikeliest,
Bringing us here together.
SCENE in HIS OWN DISHONOUR 65
Bel. Only this was wanting to the plot ! The
sister's gallant in love with the brother's mistress !
Ser. Generous Orsino ! if I try in vain
To hide me from you wretched that I am
To have to hide at all but the less wretched
Being unmaskt by your nobility
I ask this mercy at your feet ; betray not
The secret chance has now betray'd to you.
I am a wretched woman, you a Prince.
Grant me this boon ; and yet one more, to leave me
To weep my miseries in solitude.
Prince. Madam, your prayer is not in vain.
Your name,
Upon the word and honour of a Prince,
Shall never pass my lips.
And for that second wish, hardest of all,
I yet will pay for one delicious glance
The greatest price I can, by leaving you.
Farewell you owe me more anxiety
Than you believe.
Ser. I shall not be ashamed
To own the debt, though hopeless to repay it.
But heav'n shall do that for me. Farewell, my lord.
Prince. Farewell.
[Exeunt PRINCE and SERAFINA.
Bel. I wonder if they know the ancient line,
' I'll keep your secret, only you keep mine.'
[Exit.
SCENE III. The PRINCE'S Villa.
Enter DON JUAN in poor apparel ; and CELIO.
Cel. Your business with the Prince, sir ?
Juan. Only to speak
About a picture I have finish'd for him.
F
66 THE PAINTER OF ACT in
Cel. He is not here at present ; not, I think,
Return'd from hunting.
Juan. Will he soon be home ?
Cel. I cannot speak to that, sir.
[Exit CELIO.
Juan. Why, what a fate is mine !
All of a sudden but I dare not say it ;
Scarce could I of myself believe it, if
I told it to myself; so with some things
Tis easier to bear, than hear of them ;
And how much happens daily in this strange world,
Far easier to be done than be believed.
Who could have thought that I, being what I was
A few days back, am what I am ; to this
Reduced by that name Honour ; whose nice laws,
Accurst be he who framed !
Little he knew the essence of the thing
He legislated for, who put my honour
Into another's hand ; made my free right
Another's slave, for others to abuse,
And then myself before the world arraign'd,
To answer for a crime against myself !
And one being vain enough to make the law,
How came the silly world to follow it,
Like sheep to their own slaughter ! And in all
This silly world is there a greater victim
To its accursed custom than myself !
Enter LEONELO, poorly drest.
Leon. Yes, one,
Who follows your misfortunes, and picks up
The crumbs of misery that fall from you ;
My chief subsistence now.
Juan. And I have left
SCENE in HIS OWN DISHONOUR 67
Country and home to chase this enemy,
Of whom as yet no vestige
Leon. And no wonder,
Seeing he travels with you.
Juan. In these rags
Leon. And very hungry ; and so we come at last
To Naples ; for what purpose ?
Juan. Why, if 't be
Some former lover ; would he not return
To his own country, and hers ?
Leon. In which meanwhile
We starve, without a stiver in our pockets,
While friends swarm round us, if you would, my
lord,
Reveal yourself.
Juan. Shorn of my honour ? No !
Leon. And I, not being shorn of appetite,
Would publish my disgraceful want of food
To all the world. There is Don Luis now,
Your ancient friend.
Juan. What friend but, if he be
True to himself and me, must be my enemy,
And either wholly turn his face away,
Or look at me with pity and contempt ?
I will reveal myself to no one, nay,
Reveal myself I cannot, not myself
Until I be avenged.
Leon. And so you make
The painter's trade your stalking-horse
To track your enemy, and in these rags
Come to the Prince.
Juan. Oh let me die in rags,
Rather than he should recognise me ! Once
He saw me
Leon. O my lord, fear not for that \
68 THE PAINTER OF ACT in
Hunger, and rags, and sleeplessness, and anguish,
Have changed you so your oldest friend would pass
you.
Juan. They have that merit then. But see the
Prince.
Enter PRINCE.
I kiss your Highness' hand.
Prince. Well, Spaniard,
What would you with me ?
Juan. I waited on your Highness,
To tell you of a picture I had finisht.
Thinking your Grace might like
Prince. I thank you, sir.
What is the subject ?
Juan. Hercules, my lord ;
Wherein (unless I do deceive myself)
I think the fair and terrible are join'd
With some success.
Prince. As how ?
Juan. As thus, my lord.
The point I have chosen in that history
Is where the faithless Centaur carries off
Deianira, while beyond the river
Stands Hercules with such a face and gesture
As not a man, I think, who looks on it,
But would exclaim, ' Jealousy and Revenge ! '
Prince. I long to see it.
Juan. That is the main group ;
But far away, among the tangled thicks
Of a dark mountain gap, this Hercules
Fires his own funeral pile to the smoky clouds.
And I would have this motto for the whole,
* So Jealousy in its own flames expires.'
SCENE in HIS OWN DISHONOUR 69
Prince. Not only do I like the subject well,
But now especially, being deeply scorcht,
Not with the flame that burn'd up Hercules,
But that for which the unlucky Centaur died.
Juan. Indeed, my lord.
Prince. Indeed and, having done
This picture for me, you shall set about
One other.
Juan. At your pleasure.
Prince. You shall know then,
That of a certain lady whom but once
I saw, and for a moment, I became
Infatuated so, her memory
Every where and for ever, day and night,
Pursues me. Hopeless of obtaining her,
And ev'n of ever seeing her again,
Chance has discover'd to me where she lives
Conceal'd I know not why, but so it is
And 'twould at least console my hopeless love,
To have her picture. You are a foreigner
Who know not nor are known by any here,
So I can better trust you with a secret
I dare not even to herself reveal.
Juan. I'll do my best to serve you ; but I fear,
If she be such a creature as you say,
That I shall fail to satisfy myself
Or you.
Prince. Why so ?
Juan. I tried at such a face
Once.
Prince. Nay, I know that beauty's subtlest essence
Is most impossible to seize. But yet
I shall commit this business to your hands
Most confidently.
Juan. I'll do my best.
70 THE PAINTER OF ACT in
Prince. Come then,
Remembering this business must be done
With all despatch and secrecy. Yourself
Must not be seen by her, nor I, who know not
(I told you) how or why she should be there ;
But my authority, and a little gold,
(At least, I hope,) shall set the door ajar,
That you may catch a sight of her. Myself
Will be at hand, and ready to protect you
Against all danger.
Juan. I will trust your Highness,
And also (let me say so) trust myself,
Although but a poor painter.
Prince. I believe it ;
And each of us shall play his part, I think,
That neither shall depart unsatisfied. \Exit PRINCE.
Juan. Perhaps, but not as you suppose. Leonelo,
Put up my brushes and my colours, and
My pistols with them.
Leon. Pistols ! Is't to paint
In body colour ?
Juan. Put them up.
Leon. And whither
Are we to carry them ?
Juan. I do not know.
Whither the Prince shall carry me, I go. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. A room in DON Luis' Villa.
Enter Luis and ALVARO.
Alv. Now, sir, that (thanks to Porcia) you have
open'd
Your arms to me once more, I cannot rest
SCENE iv HIS OWN DISHONOUR 71
(So favour ever calls for favour) till
You tell me what the inward trouble is
That mars your outward feature. I was cause
Of so much trouble to you, that I dread
Lest of this also, which with troubled looks
You still keep speaking to yourself apart,
Like people in a play.
Luis. Alvaro, no.
Thank God, this trouble lies not at your door.
Let that suffice.
Alv. You will not trust me, sir?
Luis. Why will you press me ? since you must be
told,
It is about my friend Don Juan Roca.
Alv. Don Juan !
Luis. Yes, Don Juan.
Alv. What of him ?
(I'll drink the cup at once !) (aside).
Luis. What evil star
Made him my friend !
Alv. Too true ! (aside). But what
has happen' d ?
Luis. Why will you know ? and should I dare to tell
My friend's dishonour? Well, no more than this
Some wretch some villain some accursed but
Be there bad name enough to brand him by,
I have not breath for it nor is it well-
For you or for myself has ravisht from him
His wife, his Serafina.
And I, O God ! not able to avenge him !
Alv. (aside). Does he know all? and knowing
whose the crime,
Cannot, he says, avenge it on his son ?
Shall I then tell, and gain at least the grace
Of a confession ? Hear me, sir.
72 THE PAINTER OF ACT in
Luis. Nay, nay,
I know what you would say, how vain it is
To vex myself who cannot help my friend
We neither knowing who the villain is,
Nor whither both are fled : heaven ! if we did,
I should not now be idly moaning here.
Alv. All's safe ! (aside). Nor I, sir ; give me but
a clue,
(Not only for Don Juan's sake, but yours,)
I'll track the villain through the world.
Luis. Alvaro,
Your words are music to me.
Alv. Still, my father,
I will say what to say you said was vain.
Until some clue be found, let not this grief
Consume you so.
Luis. Such wounds are hard to heal.
Yet, quicken'd by your courage, and to show
How well I like your counsel come, Alvaro,
I will with you to your hill castle there ;
That which has been your banishment so long,
Shall witness now our reconciliation.
We'll go this evening now together.
Alv. Good, sir.
But pardon me, let me go on before
To apprize Belardo of your going thither
And also Serafina ! (apart). [Exit.
Luis. Be it so !
fulia (entering). My lord, Don Pedro is without,
and fain
Would speak to you.
Luis. Admit him, Julia.
The wound re-opens Serafina's father !
No doubt upon what errand.
SCENE iv HIS OWN DISHONOUR 73
Enter DON PEDRO.
Ped. Ah, Don Luis,
Your arms ! (They embrace.}
Luis. Don Pedro, I must surely thank
The cause to which my poor retirement owes
This honour.
Ped. Yet a thankless cause, Don Luis.
These many days I have heard nothing of
Don Juan and my daughter ; they neither write
Themselves, nor any one to whom I write
To ask about them answers to the purpose.
What may this mean ? I have come hither thinking
That you, who are the model of all friends,
May deal more clearly with me. You may think
What I endure from this suspense. In mercy
Relieve me from it quickly.
Luis (aside). Poor old man ;
What shall I say? tell his grey hairs at once
The ruin of his honour and his love ?
Ped. You pause, my lord !
Luis. And yet I need not wonder,
I nothing hear of them if you do not.
Ped. And you know nothing of them ?
Enter PORCIA hurriedly.
Por. Sir, I hear
You are going (are you not ?) this evening
To the castle, with my brother.
But who is this ?
Ped. Ever your slave, sweet lady.
Por. Oh, pardon me, my lord.
Luis. Nay, pardon me
74 THE PAINTER OF ACT in
That I cut short your compliments, Porcia.
(This interruption, come so opportune,
Shall carry what ill news I have to tell
Into the open air at least.) Don Pedro,
I am going to the mountain, as she says ;
You to the city ; for some way at least
Our roads are one, and I would talk with you
About this business without interruption.
WilFt please you come ?
Ped. Your pleasure's mine. Adieu,
Fair lady.
For. Farewell, sir.
Luis. Porcia, you
Will follow in the carriage.
[Exeunt Luis and PEDRO.
For. And should go
More gladly, were my lover there to meet me.
[Exit
SCENE V. The garden under ALVARO'S castle.
A large grated door in the centre.
Enter PRINCE, JUAN, LEONELO, and BELARDO.
Prince (to BELARDO). You know your office ; take
this diamond by way of thanks.
Bel. I know little of diamonds but that they sell
for less than you give for them. But this \to JUAN]
is to be your post.
Juan. I am ready.
Prince. Remember, Spaniard, it is for me you run
this hazard, if there be any ; I shall be close at hand
to protect you. Be not frightened.
Juan. Your Highness does not know me : were
SCENE v HIS OWN DISHONOUR 75
it otherwise, danger cannot well appal him whom
sorrows like mine have left alive.
Bel. And, another time doubloons, not diamonds.
\Exeunt PRINCE and LEONELO.
Here she mostly comes of an evening, poor lady, to
soothe herself, walking and sitting here by the hour
together. This is where you are to be. Go in ; and
mind you make no noise.
[Puts JUAN into the grated door, and locks it.
Juan (through the grated window). But what are
you about ?
BeL Locking the door to make all sure.
Juan. But had it not better be unlockt in case
BeL Hush ! she comes.
Juan. My palette then.
Enter SERAFINA.
Ser. How often and how often do I draw
My resolution out upon one side,
And all my armed sorrows on the other,
To fight the self-same battle o'er again !
Juan. He stands in the way ; I cannot see her
face.
BeL Still weeping, madam ?
Ser. Wonder not, Belardo :
The only balm I have. You pity me : .
Leave me alone then for a while, Belardo ;
The breeze that creeps along the whispering trees
Makes me feel drowsy.
Juan (to BELARDO, whispering}. She turns her head
away,
I cannot see her still.
Ser. What noise was that?
Bel. Madam?
76 THE PAINTER OF ACT in
Ser. I thought I heard a whisper.
Bel. Only
The breeze, I think. If you would turn this way,
I think 'twould blow upon you cooler.
Ser. Perhaps it will.
Thank you. I am very miserable and very weary.
Bel. She sleeps : that is the lady.
Make most of time. {Exit.
Juan. Yes. Now then for my pencil.
Serafma ! found at last ! Whose place is this ?
The Prince ? no ! But the stray'd lamb being here,
The wolf is not far off. She sleeps ! I thought
The guilty never slept : and look, some tears
Still lingering on the white rose of her cheek.
Be those the drops, I wonder,
Of guilty anguish, or of chaste despair ?
This death-like image is the sculptor's task,
Not mine.
Or is it I who sleep, and dream all this,
And dream beside, that once before I tried
To paint that face the daylight drawing in
As now and when somehow the lamp was out,
A man I fail'd : and what love fail'd to do,
Shall hate accomplish ? She said then, if ever
She suffered me to draw her face again,
Might she die for it. Into its inmost depth
Heav'n drew that idle word, and it returns
In thunder.
Ser. (dreaming). Juan ! Husband ! on my knees.
Oh Juan slay me not !
Enter ALVARO ; she wakes and rushes to him.
Alvaro,
Save me, oh save me from him !
SCENE v HIS OWN DISHONOUR 77
Alv. So the wretch
Thrives by another's wretchedness. My love !
Juan. Alvaro, by the heavens !
Alv. Calm yourself;
You must withdraw awhile. Come in with me.
Juan. Villain !
Ser. (clinging to ALVARO). What's that ?
Juan (shaking at the door). The door is fast ;
Open it, I say !
Then die, thou and thy paramour !
[Shoots a pistol at each through the grating. Both
fall; SERAFINA into the arms of BELARDO, who
has come in during the noise. Then directly enter
DON Luis, PEDRO, PORCIA.
Luis. What noise is this ?
Ser. My father ! in your arms
To die ; not by your hand Forgive me Oh !
[Dies.
Ped. (taking her in his arms). My Serafina ?
Luis.. And Alvaro !
Alv. Ay,
But do not curse me now ! [Dies.
Enter the PRINCE and LEONELO.
Leon. They must have found him out.
Prince. Whoever dares
Molest him, answers it to me. Open the door.
But what is this ? [BELARDO unlocks the door.
Juan (coming out]. A picture
Done by the Painter of his own Dishonour
In blood.
I am Don Juan Roca. Such revenge
78 THE PAINTER OF ACT in
As each would have of me, now let him take,
As far as one life holds. Don Pedro, who
Gave me that lovely creature for a bride,
And I return to him a bloody corpse ;
Don Luis, who beholds his bosom's son
Slain by his bosom friend ; and you, my lord,
Who, for your favours, might expect a piece
In some far other style of art than this :
Deal with me as you list ; 'twill be a mercy
To swell this complement of death with mine ;
For all I had to do is done, and life
Is worse than nothing now.
Prince. Get you to horse,
And leave the wind behind you.
Luis. Nay, my lord,
Whom should he fly from ? not from me at least,
Who loved his honour as my own, and would
Myself have help'd him in a just revenge,
Ev'n on an only son.
Fed. I cannot speak,
But I bow down these miserable gray hairs
To other arbitration than the sword ;
Ev'n to your Highness' justice.
Prince. Be it so.
Meanwhile
Juan. Meanwhile, my lord, let me depart ;
Free, if you will, or not. But let me go,
Nor wound these fathers with the sight of one,
Who has cut off the blossom of their age :
Yea, and his own, more miserable than all.
They know me ; that I am a gentleman,
Not cruel, nor without what seem'd due cause
Put on this bloody business of my honour ;
Which having done, I will be answerable
Here and elsewhere, to all for all.
SCENE v HIS OWN DISHONOUR 79
Prince. Depart
In peace.
Juan. In peace ! Come, Leonelo.
\He goes out slowly, followed by LEONELO :
and the curtain falls.
Some alterations of this play were made with a view to the
English stage, where, spite of the slightness of many parts, I
still think it might be tried.
Its companion play, the Medico de su Honra, is far more
famous ; has some more terrible, perhaps some finer, situations ;
but inferior, I think, in variety of scene, character, and
incident.
It may add a little to the reader's interest, as it did to mine,
to learn from Mr. Ticknor, that Calderon wrote a ' Tratado
defendiendo la nobleza de la Pintura.'
KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET
81
DRAMATIS PERSONS
ALEXANDER
NlSIDA
DON CESAR
DON ARIAS
DON FELIX
DONNA ANNA
ELVIRA
LAZARO
Prince of Parma,
his Sister,
his Secretary.
Gentlemen of the Court.
Sister to Don Felix,
her Maid.
Don Cesar's Servant.
82
KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET
ACT I
SCENE I. A Room in the Palace.
Enter the PRINCE ALEXANDER, and DON ARIAS.
Prince. I saw her from her carriage, Arias,
As from her East, alight, another sun
New ris'n, or doubling him whose envious ray
Seem'd as I watch'd her down the corridor,
To swoon about her as she moved along ;
Until, descending tow'rd my sister's room,
She set, and left me hesitating like
Some traveller who with the setting sun
Doth fear to lose his way ; her image still,
Lost from without, dazzling my inner eye
Can this be love, Don Arias ? if not,
What is it ? something much akin to love.
Ar. But had you not, my lord, often before
Seen Donna Anna ?
Prince. Often.
tAr. Yet till now
Never thus smitten ! how comes that, my lord ?
Prince. Well askt though ignorantly. Know you
not
"
84 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT i
That not an atom in the universe
Moves without some particular impulse
Of heaven ? What yesterday I might abhor,
To-day I may delight in : what to-day
Delight in, may as much to-morrow hate.
All changes ; 'tis the element the world,
And we who live there, move in. Thus with me ;
This lady I have often seen before,
And, as you say, was ne'er a sigh the worse,
Until to-day ; when, whether she more fair,
Or I less blind, I know not only know
That she has slain me ; though to you alone
Of'all my friends I would my passion own.
Ar. Much thanks ; yet I must wonder, good my
lord,
First, that in all your commerce with Don Cupid
You never, I think, dealt seriously till now.
Prince. Perhaps : but if Don Cupid, Arias,
Never yet tempted me with such an offer ?
Besides, men alter ; princes who are born
To greater things than love, nevertheless
May at his feet their sovereignty lay down
Once in their lives ; as said the ancient sage
' He were a fool who had not done so once,
Though he who does so twice is twice a fool.'
Ar. So much for that. My second wonder is,
That you commit this secret to my keeping ;
An honour that, surpassing my desert,
Yea, and ambition, frights me. Good my lord,
Your secretary, Don Cesar,
To whom you almost trust the government
Of your dominions, whom you wholly love,
I also love, and would not steal from him
A confidence that is by right his own ;
Call him, my lord : into his trusty heart
SCENE i KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 85
Pour out your own let not my loyalty
To you endanger what I owe to him ;
For if you lay't on me
Prince. Don Arias,
I love Don Cesar with as whole a heart
As ever. He and I from infancy
Have grown together ; as one single soul
Our joys and sorrows shared ; till finding him
So wise and true, as to another self
Myself, and my dominion to boot,
I did intrust : you are his friend, and surely
In honouring you I honour him as well.
Besides, Arias, I know not how it is,
For some while past a change has come on him ;
I know not what the cause : he is grown sad,
Neglects his business if I call to him,
He hears me not, or answers from the purpose,
Or in mid answer stops. And, by the way,
We being on this subject, I would fain,
Being so much his friend, for both our sakes,
You would find out what ails and occupies him ;
Tell him from me to use my power as ever,
Absolute still : that, loving him so well,
I'd know what makes him so unlike himself;
That, knowing what it is, I may at least,
If not relieve his sorrow, share with him.
Ar. Oh, not unjustly do you bear the name
Of Alexander, greater than the great
In true deserts !
Enter LAZARO (with a letter).
Laz. Not here ? my usual luck ; had I bad news
to tell my master, such as would earn me a broken
head, I should find him fast enough ; but now when
86 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT i
I have such a letter for him as must bring me a
handsome largess, oh, to be sure he's no where to be
found. But I'll find him if I go to
Prince. How now ? Who's there ?
Laz. The Prince ! Mum ! (hides the letter and
turns to go).
Prince. Who is it, I say ?
Ar. A servant, my lord, of Don Cesar's, looking
for his master, I suppose.
Prince. Call him back ; perhaps he can tell us
something of his master's melancholy.
Ar. True, my lord. Lazaro !
Laz. Eh?
Ar. His Highness would speak with you.
Prince. Come hither, sir.
Laz. Oh, my lord, I do well enough here : if I
were once to kiss your Highness' feet, I could not
endure common shoe-leather for a month to come.
Ar. His humour must excuse him.
Prince. You are Don Cesar's servant, are you ?
Laz. Yes, one of your trinity ; so please you.
Prince. Of my trinity, how so ?
Laz. As thus ; your Highness is one with Don
Cesar ; I am one with him ; ergo
Prince. Well, you are a droll knave. But stop,
stop : whither away so fast ?
Laz. Oh, my lord, I am sure you will have none
of so poor an article as myself, who am already the
property of another too.
Prince. Nay, I like your humour, so it be in season.
But there is a time for all things. I want you now
to answer me seriously and not in jest : and tell me
the secret of your master's melancholy, which I feel
as my own. But perhaps he is foolish who looks for
truth in the well of a jester's mouth.
SCENE i KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 87
Laz. But not so foolish as he who should throw
it there. And therefore since my master is no fool,
it is unlikely he should have committed his mystery
to me. However, in my capacity of Criado, whose
first commandment it is, 'Thou shalt reveal thy
master's weakness as thy own,' I will tell you what
I have gathered from stray sighs and interjections
of his on the subject. There has lately come
over from Spain a certain game of great fashion
and credit called Ombre. This game Don Cesar
learned ; and, playing at it one day, and happening
to hold Basto, Malilla, Spadille, and Ace of Trumps
in his hand, stood for the game ; and lost. On
which he calls out ' foul play,' leaves the party, and
goes home. Well, at night, I being fast asleep in
my room, comes he to me in his shirt, wakes me up,
and, dealing cards as it were with his hands, says,
' If I let this trick go, I am embeasted for that, and
besides put the lead into the enemy's hand ; there-
fore I trump with one of my matadores, and then
I have four hearts, of which the ten-ace must make,
or else let them give me back my nine cards as I
had them before discarding.' And this I take it is
the cause of his dejection. 1
Prince. The folly of asking you has been properly
chastised by the folly of your answer. You are
right ; Don Cesar would never have intrusted with a
grave secret one only fit for idle jest.
1 I will not answer for the accuracy of my version of this
dilemma at Ombre : neither perhaps could Lazaro for his : which,
together with the indifference (I presume) of all present readers on
the subject, has made me indifferent about it. Cesar, I see, starts
with almost the same fine hand Belinda had, who also was
1 Just in the jaws of ruin and Codille, '
as he was, but, unlike him, saved by that unseen king of hearts that
' Lurk'd in her hand and mourn 'd his captive queen.'
88 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT i
Laz. Ah, they are always importing some nonsense
or other from Spain. God keep your Highness ;
I will take warning not to intrude my folly upon you
any more (until you try again to worm some truth
out of me). \Aside and exit.
Prince. A droll fellow ! Were one in the humour,
he might amuse.
Ar. Oh, you will always find him in the same,
whenever you are in the mood. He cannot be sad
Prince. He cannot be very wise then.
Ar. He is as God made him. Did you never
hear any of his stories ?
Prince. I think not.
Ar. He will hardly tell you one of himself that yet
might amuse you. He was one day playing at dice
with me ; lost all his money ; and at last pawned his
very sword, which I would not return him, wishing
to see how he got on without. What does he but
finds him up an old hilt, and clapping on a piece of
lath to that, sticks it in the scabbard. And so wears
it now.
Prince. We will have some amusement of him by
and by.
Alas ! in vain I hope with idle jest
To cool the flame that rages in my breast.
Go to Don Cesar : get him to reveal
The sorrows that he feeling I too feel.
I'll to my sister ; since, whether away,
Or present, Donna Anna needs must slay,
I will not starve with absence, but e'en die
Burn'd in the sovereign splendour of her eye.
\Exeunt severally.
SCENE ii KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 89
SCENE II. A Room in DON CESAR'S House.
Enter CESAR and LAZARO meeting.
Laz. A letter, sir, Elvira just gave me.
Ces. A letter ! Give it me. How long have you
had it ?
Laz. I looked for you first at the Prince's.
Ces. Where I was not ?
Laz. You know it ! I am always looking for what
cannot be found in time. But if you like the letter
I shall claim my largess for all that.
Ces. Ah ! what does she say ?
Laz. The folly, now, of a man with his watch in
his hand asking other people for the time of day !
Ces. My heart fails me. Even if your news be
good it comes late. \He reads the letter.
Laz. So let my reward then only let it come at
last.
Ces. O Lazaro, half drunk with my success,
I lose my wits when most I've need of them.
She writes to me, my lady writes to me
So sweetly, yea, so lovingly ;
Methinks I want to tear my bosom open,
And lay this darling letter on my heart.
Where shall I shrine it ?
Laz. Oh, if that be all,
Keep it to patch your shoe with ; I did so once
When some such loving lady writ to me,
And it did excellently ; keeping tight
Her reputation, and my shoe together.
Ces. O Lazaro ! good Lazaro ! take for this
The dress I wore at Florence.
Laz. Bless you, sir.
90 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT i
Ces. My letter ! oh my lady !
Laz. I bethink me
Upon remembrance, sir, as I may say,
The pockets of that dress were very large
And empty.
Ces. They shall be well lined. Don Arias !
Enter DON ARIAS.
Ar. Ay, Cesar, Arias coming to complain
On his own score, and that of one far greater.
Ces. A solemn preamble. But for the charge,
And him who heads it.
Ar. The Prince, our common Lord,
Who much perplext and troubled too, Don Cesar,
About the melancholy that of late
(No need say more of that which best you know)
Has clouded over you, has askt of me
Whom he will have to be your bosom friend,
The cause of it. Alas, 'tis very plain
I am not what he thinks. Well, I am come,
Say not as friend, but simple messenger,
To ask it of yourself.
Ces. You do yourself
And me wrong, Arias ; perchance the Prince
But yet say on.
Ar. His Highness bids me say
That if your sadness rise from any sense
Of straiten'd power, whatever residue
Of princely rule he hitherto reserved,
He gives into your hands ; as sov'reign lord
To govern his dominions as your own.
Thus far his Highness. For myself, Don Cesar,
Having no other realm to lord you of
Than a true heart, I'd have you think betimes,
SCENE ii KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 91
That, deep as you are rooted in his love,
Nay, may be all the more for that, he feels
Your distaste to his service, and himself:
I'd have you think that all a subject's merits,
However highly heap'd, however long,
Still are but heaps of sand, that some new tide
Of royal favour may wash clean away,
One little error cancelling perhaps
The whole account of life-long services.
Be warn'd by me ; clear up your heavy brow,
And meet his kind looks with a look as kind,
Whatever cloud be on the heart within :
If not your friend, Don Cesar, as your servant
Let me implore you.
Ces. Oh, Don Arias,
I kiss his Highness' feet, and your kind hands
That bring his favours to me : and to each
Will answer separately. First, to him ;
Tell him I daily pray that Heav'n so keep
His life, that Time, on which his years are strung,
Forget the running count ; and, secondly,
Assure him, Arias, the melancholy
He speaks of not a jot abates my love
Of him, nor my alacrity in his service ;
Nay, that 'tis nothing but a little cloud
In which my books have wrapt me so of late
That, duty done, I scarce had time or spirit
Left to enjoy his gracious company :
Perhaps too, lest he surfeit of my love,
I might desire by timely abstinence
To whet his liking to a newer edge.
Thus much for him. For you, Don Arias,
Whose equal friendship claims to be repaid
In other coin, I will reveal to you
A secret scarcely to myself confest,
92 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT i
Which yet scarce needs your thanks, come at a
moment
When my brimm'd heart had overflow'd in words,
Whether I would or no. Oh, Arias,
Wonder not then to see me in a moment
Flying from melancholy to mere joy,
Between whose poles he ever oscillates,
Whose heart is set in the same sphere with mine :
Which saying, all is said. I love, my friend ;
How deeply, let this very reticence,
That dare not tell what most I feel, declare.
Yes, I have fixt my eyes upon a star ;
Toward which to spread my wings ev'n against hope,
Argues a kind of honour. I aspired,
And (let not such a boast offend the ears,
That of themselves have open'd to my story,)
Not hopelessly : the heav'n to which I pray'd
Answer'd in only listening to my vows ;
Such daring not defeated not disdain'd.
Two years I worshipp'd at a shrine of beauty,
That modesty's cold hand kept stainless still ;
Till wearied, if not moved by endless prayers,
She grants them ; yea, on this most blessed day,
With this thrice blessed letter. You must see it,
That your felicitations by rebound
Double my own ; the first victorious trophy
That proud ambition has so humbly won.
Oh Arias, 'tis much I have to tell,
And tell you too at once ; being none of those
Who overmuch entreaty make the price
Of their unbosoming; who would, if they knew
In what the honour of their lady lies,
Name her at once, or seal their lips for ever.
But you are trusty and discreet : to you
I may commit my heart ; beseeching you
SCENE ir KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 93
To keep this love-song to yourself alone,
Assigning to the Prince, remember this,
My books sole cause of my abstraction.
Donna Anna de Castelvi
(I can go on more freely now the name
Of her I worship bars my lips no more,)
Is she who so divides me from myself,
That what I say I scarcely know, although
I say but what I feel ; the melancholy
You ask about, no gloomy sequestration
Out of the common world into a darker,
But into one a thousand times more bright ;
And let no man believe he truly loves,
Who lives, or moves, or thinks, or hath his being
In any other atmosphere than Love's,
Who is our absolute master ; to recount
The endless bead-roll of whose smiles and tears
I'd have each sleepless night a century,
Much have I said have much more yet to say !
But read her letter, Arias, the first seal
Of my success, the final one, I think,
Of my sure trust in you ; come, share with me
My joy, my glory, my anxiety ;
And above all things, once more, Arias,
Down to your secret'st heart this secret slip ;
For every secret hangs in greater fear
Between the speaker's mouth and hearer's ear
Than any peril between cup and lip.
Ar. You have good cause for joy.
Ces. You will say so
When you have read the letter.
Ar. You desire it. (Reads.)
' To confess that one is loved is to confess that one
loves too ; for there is no woman but loves to be
loved. But alas, there is yet more. If to cover
94 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT i
my love I have pretended disdain, let the shame of
now confessing it excuse me. Come to me this
evening and I will tell you what I can scarce under-
stand myself. Adieu, my love, adieu ! '
Your hands are full indeed of happy business.
Ccs. Enough : you know what you shall tell the
Prince
In my behalf : if he be satisfied
I'll wait on him directly.
Ar. Trust to me.
Ces. Let my sighs help thee forward, O thou sun,
What of thy race in heaven remains to run :
Oh do but think that Dafne in the west
Awaits thee, and anticipate thy rest !
[Exeunt CESAR and LAZARO.
Ar. Charged with two secrets,
One from my Prince, the other from my friend.
Each binding equally to silence, each
Equally the other's revelation needing,
How shall I act, luckless embosomer
Of others' bosoms ! how decide between
Loyalty and love with least expense to both !
The Prince's love is but this morning's flower,
As yet unsunn'd on by his lady's favour ;
Cesar's of two years' growth, expanded now
Into full blossom by her smiles and tears ;
The Prince too loves him whom his lady loves,
And were he told, might uncontested leave
The prize that one he loves already owns ;
And so both reap the fruit, and make the excuse
Of broken silence, if it needs must break.
And yet I grope about, afraid to fall
Where ill-advised good-will may ruin all. [Exit.
SCENE in KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 95
SCENE III. A Corridor in the Palace.
Enter PRINCE, DON FELIX, DONNA ANNA, and train.
Prince. I must show you the way.
Anna. Your Highness must not do yourself so
great indignity.
Prince. To the bounds at least of my sister's
territory.
Anna. Nay, my lord, that were undue courtesy.
Prince. What courtesy, madam, can be undue
from any man to any lady ?
Anna. When that lady is your subject, whom
your very condescension dazzles to her own dis-
comfiture.
Prince. What, as the morning star dazzles the
sun whom he precedes as petty harbinger? If I
obey you 'tis that I fear my own extinction in your
rays. Adieu.
Anna. God keep your Highness. [Exit.
Prince. Don Felix, will you attend your sister?
Felix. I only stay to thank your Highness, (both
as subject and as servant,) for all the honour that
you do us ; may Heaven so prolong your life that
even oblivion herself
Prince. Nay, truce to compliment : your sister
will not of my company, unless under "your proxy.
So farewell. [Exit FELIX.] Is there a greater
nuisance than to have such windy nonsense stufPd
into one's ears, when delight is vanished from the
eyes !
Enter ARIAS.
But, Don Arias ! You have seen Cesar ?
Ar. Yes, my lord ; but ere I tell you about him,
96 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT i
would know how far this last interview with Donna
Anna has advanced your love.
Prince. Oh Arias, Arias, my love for her
So blends with my solicitude for him,
I scarce can hold me clear between the two.
Yet let me tell you. In my sister's room,
Whither I went, you know, upon our parting,
I saw my lady like a sovereign rose
Among the common flowers ; or, if you will,
A star among the roses ; or the star
Of stars, the morning star : yea, say at once
The sun himself among the host of heaven !
My eyes and ears were rapt with her ; her lips
Not fairer than the words that came from them.
At length she rose to go : like the ev'ning star
Went with the ev'ning ; which, how short, say love
Who'd spin each golden moment to a year,
Which year would then seem than a moment less.
Ar. Is then, my lord, this passion so deep fixt?
Prince. Nay, but of one day's growth
Ar. I come in time then.
My lord, in one word, if you love Don Cesar,
Cease to love Donna Anna.
Prince. Arias,
He who begins to hint at any danger
Is bound to tell it out nothing, or all.
Why do you hesitate ?
Ar. Because, my lord,
But hinting this to you, I break the seal
Of secrecy to him.
Prince. But it is broken ;
And so
Ar. Oh, Cesar, pardon him who fails
His pledge to you to serve his Prince ! My lord,
The cloud you long have seen on Cesar's brow,
SCENE in KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 97
Is not, as he would have you think it, born
Of bookish studies only, but a cloud,
All bright within, though dark to all without,
Of love for one he has for two long years
Silently worshipt.
. Prince. Donna Anna !
Ar. Ay.
Prince. Cesar loves Donna Anna ! be it so
I love him, as you say, and would forgo
Much for his sake. But tell me, Arias,
Knows Anna of his passion ?
Ar. Yes, my lord,
And answers it with hers.
Prince. Oh wretched fate!
Desperate ere jealous jealous ere in love !
If Cesar but loved her, I could, methinks,
Have pardon'd, even have advanced his suit
By yielding up my own. But that she loves,
Blows rivalry into full blaze again.
And yet I will not be so poor a thing
To whine for what is now beyond my reach,
Nor must the princely blood of Parma
Run jealous of a subject's happiness.
They love each other then ?
Ar. I even now
Have seen a letter
Prince. Well ?
Ar. That Donna Anna
Has written him, and in such honey'd words
Prince. Why, is it not. enough to know she loves
him?
You told me so : my mind made up to that,
Why should a foolish letter fright it back ?
And yet yet, what last spark of mortal love
But must flame up before it dies for ever
H
98 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT I
To learn but what that foolish letter said !
Know you?
Ar. I saw it.
Prince. You saw it ! and what said it ?
Ar. After a chaste confession of her love,
Bidding him be to-night under her lattice.
Prince. Under her lattice, while his Prince is left
Abroad ; they two to whisper love together,
While he gnaws hopeless jealousy alone.
But why, forsooth, am I to be the victim ?
If I can quench my love for Cesar's sake,
Why not he his for me ? Tell me, Don Arias,
Does Cesar know my passion?
Ar. How should he,
You having told the secret but to me ?
Prince. By the same means that I know his.
Ar. My lord,
My loyalty might be spared that taunt.
Prince. Ah, Arias, pardon me, I am put out,
But not with you, into whose faithful charge
I vest my love and honour confidently.
Enough, in what I am about to do
I mean no malice or ill play to Cesar :
Tis but an idle curiosity :
And surely 'tis but fair, that if his Prince
Leave him the lists to triumph in at leisure,
I may at least look on the game he wins.
You shall keep close to him, and tell me all
That passes between him and her I love.
Ar. But having taunted me with my first step
In your behalf, my lord
Prince. Nay, sir, my will
At once absolves and authorizes you,
For what is told and what remains to tell.
Ar. But, sir
SCENE in KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 99
Prince. No more
Ar. I must obey your bidding,
But yet
Prince. I may divert my jealousy,
If not avenge it.
Ar. Ah ! what straits do those
Who cannot keep their counsel fall into !
Prince. All say so, and all blab, like me and you !
Look where he comes ; let us retire awhile.
[PRINCE and ARIAS retire.
Enter CESAR and LAZARO.
Ces. O Phoebus, swift across the skies
Thy blazing carriage post away ;
Oh, drag with thee benighted day,
And let the dawning night arise !
Another sun shall mount the throne
When thou art sunk beneath the sea ;
From whose effulgence, as thine own,
The affrighted host of stars shall flee.
Laz. A pretty deal about your cares
Does that same Phoebus care or know ;
He has to mind his own affairs,
Whether you shake your head or no.
You talk of hastening on the day 7
Why heaven's coachman is the Sun,
Who can't be put out of his way
For you, sir, or for any one.
Ces. The Prince ! and something in my bosom
tells me
All is not well. My lord, though my repentance
Does not, I trust, lag far behind my fault,
I scarce had dared to approach your Highness' feet,
ioo KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT i
Had not my friend, Don Arias, been before
As harbinger of my apology.
Prince. Cesar, indeed Don Arias has told me
The story of your sadness : and so well,
I feel it, and excuse it, as my own ;
From like experience. I do not resent,
But would divert you from it. Books, my friend,
Truly are so seductive company,
We are apt to sit too long and late with them,
And drowse our minds in their society ;
This must not be ; the cause of the disease
Once known, the cure is easy ; if 'tis books
Have hurt you, lay them by awhile, and try
Other society less learn'd perhaps,
But cheerfuller exchange the pent-up air
Of a close study for the breathing world.
Come, we'll begin to-night ;
Visit in disguise (as I have wish'd to do)
The city, its taverns, theatres, and streets,
Where music, masque, and dancing may divert
Your melancholy : what say you to this ?
Ces. Oh, my kind lord, whose single word of pardon
Has turn'd all leaden grief to golden joy,
Made me another man, or, if you will,
The better self I was
Prince. Why this is well ;
To-night together then
Ces. Yet pardon me.
Prince. How now?
Ces. It almost would revive my pain
That you should spend yourself upon a cure
Your mere forgiveness has already wrought.
Let this day's happiness suffice the day,
And its night also : 'twill be doubly sweet,
Unbought by your annoyance.
SCENE in KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 101
Prince. Nay, my Cesar,
Fear not for that : after so long estrangement,
My pain would be the losing sight of you
On this first night of your recovery.
Lazaro !
Laz. My lord ?
Prince. You too shall go with us.
Laz. And not a trustier shall your Highness find
To guard your steps.
Prince. What ! you are valiant ?
Laz. As ever girded sword.
Prince. Your weapon good too ?
Laz. He touches on the quick (aside). Yes, good
enough,
My lord, for all my poor occasions.
Although when waiting on your Grace, indeed,
A sword like yours were better.
Prince. You depreciate
Your own to enhance its value. Sharp is't ?
Laz. Ay,
Not a steel buckler but at the first blow
'Twould splinter it in two. The sword I mean. (Aside. )
Prince. Well temper'd?
Laz. As you bid it.
Prince. And the device
Inscribed upon it ?
Laz. ' Thou shalt do no murder '
Having no love for homicide, per se,
Save on occasion.
Prince. Your description
Makes me desire to see that sword.
Laz. My lord !
Prince. Indeed it does. Show it me.
Laz. Oh, my lord,
I have a vow.
102 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT I
Ces. (aside). Oh weariness !
Prince. A vow ?
Laz. Ay, register'd in heaven !
Never to draw this weapon from her sheath
Except on mortal quarrel. If in such
Your Highness' service challenge her, why, then
She shall declare herself.
Ces. I'm desperate !
But yet one effort more. My lord, you see
(You cannot fail) how your mere word of grace
Has of itself brighten'd me up again ;
I do beseech you
Prince. Pardon me, my Cesar,
Rather I see the cloud that 'gins to break
Is not entirely gone ; nay, will return
If you be left alone which must not be :
If not for your sake, Cesar, yet for mine,
Who feel for your disquiet as my own ;
And since our hearts are knit so close together,
Yours cannot suffer but mine straightway feels
A common pain ; seek we a common cure.
To-night I shall expect you. Until then,
Farewell [Exit.
Ces. Fortune ! to see a fair occasion
So patiently pursued, so fairly won,
Lost at the very moment of success !
O Lazaro what will my lady say ?
Laz. That I can't guess.
Ces. What will she do ?
Laz. Oh that
Is answer'd far more easily. She'll stand
All night beside the window to no purpose.
Ces. Why she must say my love was all pretence,
And her offended dignity vindicate,
Rejecting me for ever ! Misery !
ACT ii KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 103
Laz. Dear me, sir, what is now become of all
About, 'Thou dawning night, benighted day.'
' Thou coachman sun ! ' etceteretera ?
Ces. Wilt thou be ever fool ?
Laz. If thou be not,
Listen fool's bolts, they say, are quickly shot
Who secrets have and cannot hold 'em,
Shall surely rue the day they told 'em. [Exeunt.
ACT II
SCENE I. A Public Square in Parma. Night.
Enter PRINCE, CESAR, FELIX, ARIAS, and LAZARO,
disguised.
Ar. A lovely night !
Prince. As Night we choose to call,
When Day's whole sun is but distributed
Into ten thousand stars.
Pel. Beside the moon,
Who lightly muffled like ourselves reveals
Her trembling silver.
Laz. What ! by way, you mean,
Of making up the account ?
Ces. (aside). To think, alas !
The first sweet vintage of my love thus tost,
And, as my lady must too surely think,
By my forgetfulness. (Aloud.} My lord, indeed
The night wears on. May not the chiller air
That blows from the returning tide of day
Affect you ?
Prince. Nay, my state forbidding me
Much to be seen about the streets by day,
The night must serve my purpose.
104 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT n
Ces. (aside). Patience then !
And I must try and draw my thoughts from her
I cannot reach. (Aloud.) How does the lady Flora
Please you, my lord ?
Prince. The lady Flora ? Oh,
What she of Milan ? Too far off, I think,
For one's regards to reach.
Laz. Ah true, my lord ;
What is the use of a mistress in the moon,
Unless one were the man there ?
Ar. Signora Laura
Has a fair figure.
Laz. Yes, and asks a high one.
Felix. A handsome hand.
Laz. At scolding, yes.
Ar. I think
She lives close by.
Laz. But don't you bid for her
\Vithout fair trial first, my lord. Your women
Are like new plays, which self-complacent authors
Offer at some eight hundred royals each,
But which, when once they're tried, you purchase
dear
Eight hundred for a royal.
Ces. (aside). Now, methinks,
Ev'n now my lady at the lattice stands
Looking for me in vain, and murmuring
1 Why comes he not ? I doubted I was late,
But he comes not at all ! ' And then Ah me,
I have forgotten to forget !
(Aloud) Celia sings well, my lord ?
Laz. A pretty woman
Can no more sing amiss than a good horse
Be a bad colour.
Ces. The old Roman law
SCENE i KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 105
To all the ugly women used to assign
The fortunes of the handsome, thinking those
Sufficiently endow'd with their good looks.
Laz. Ah ! and there Laura lives, the lass who said
She'd sell her house and buy a coach withal ;
And when they ask'd her, where she'd live, quoth
she,
1 Why in my coach ! ' * But when night comes,' say
they,
* Where then?' 'Why in the coach-house to be
sure ! ' l
Ces. Indeed, indeed, my lord, the night wears on,
And sure your sister lies awake foreboding
Some danger to your person.
Consider her anxiety !
Prince (aside}. Nay, yours
Lies nearer to my heart.
Ces. My lord ?
Prince. I said
No matter for my sister, that was all ;
She knows not I'm abroad.
Ces. My hope is gone !
Laz. There, yonder in that little house, there lives
A girl with whom it were impossible
To deal straightforwardly.
Prince. , But why ?
Laz. She's crooked.
Ar. And there a pretty girl enough, but guarded
By an old dragon aunt.
Laz. O Lord, defend me
From all old women !
1 The ambition for a coach, so frequently laughed at by Calderon,
is said to be in full force now ; not for the novelty of the invention,
then, nor perhaps the dignity, so much as for the real comfort of
easy and sheltered carriage in such a climate.
io6 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT n
Prince. How so, Lazaro ?
Laz. Oh, ever since the day I had to rue
The conjurer's old woman.
Prince. Who was she ?
Laz. Why, my lord, once upon a time
I fell in love with one who would not have me
Either for love or money : so at last
I go to a certain witch tell him my story :
Whereon he bids me do this ; cut a lock
From my love's head and bring it to him. Well,
I watch'd my opportunity, and one day,
When she was fast asleep, adroitly lopp'd
A lovely forelock from what seem'd her hair,
But was an hair-loom rather from her wig
Descended from a head that once was young
As I thought her. For, giving it the witch,
To work his charm with, in the dead of night,
When I was waiting for my love to come,
Into my bed-room the dead woman stalk'd
To whom the lock of hair had once belong'd,
And claim'd me for her own. O Lord, how soon
1 Sweetheart ' and ' Deary ' chang'd to ' Apage ! '
And flesh and blood to ice.
Ces. (aside). Alas ! what boots it trying to forget
That which the very effort makes remember ?
Ev'n now, ev'n now, methinks once more I see her
Turn to the window, not expecting me,
But to abjure all expectation,
And, as she moves away, saying, (methinks
I hear her,) ' Cesar, come when come you may,
You shall not find me here.' ' Nay, but my love,
Anna ! my lady ! hear me ! ' Oh confusion,
Did they observe ?
Prince (aside to Arias). How ill, Don Arias,
Poor Cesar hides his heart
SCENE i KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 107
Ar. Ev'n now he tries
The mask again.
Prince. Indeed I pity him,
Losing one golden opportunity ;
But may not I be pitied too, who never
Shall have so much as one to lose ?
Ar. Speak low ;
You know her brother's by.
Prince. No matter ; true
Nobility is slowest to suspect.
Musician (sings within).
Ah happy bird, who can fly with the wind,
Leaving all anguish of absence behind j
Like thee could I fly,
Leaving others to sigh,
The lover I sigh for how soon would I find I 1
Ces. Not an ill voice !
Pel. Nay, very good.
Prince. How sweetly
Sweet words, sweet air, sweet voice, atone together !
Arias, might we not on this sweet singer
Try Lazaro's metal and mettle ? you shall see.
Lazaro !
Laz. My lord !
Prince. I never go abroad
But this musician dogs me.
Laz. Shall I tell him
Upon your Highness's request, politely,
To move away?
Prince. I doubt me, Lazaro,
He will not go for that, he's obstinate.
Laz. How then, my lord ?
Prince. Go up and strike him with your sword.
1 This little song is from the Desdicha de la Voz.
io8 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT n
Laz. But were it brave in me, back'd as I am,
To draw my sword on one poor piping bird ?
If I must do it, let me challenge him
Alone to-morrow.
But let me warn him first.
Prince. Do as I bid you,
Or I shall call you coward.
Ces. Lazaro,
Obey his Highness.
Laz. O good providence,
Temper the wind to a shorn lamb !
Musician (within).
Ah happy bird, whom the wind and the rain,
And snare of the fowler, beset but in vain ;
Oh, had I thy wing,
Leaving others to sing,
How soon would I be with my lover again !
Laz. (aloud within). Pray God, poor man, if thou
be innocent
Of any ill intention in thy chirping,
The blade I draw upon thee turn to wood !
A miracle ! A miracle ! (Rushing in.)
Prince. How now?
Laz. The sword I lifted on an innocent man,
Has turn'd to wood at his assailant's prayer !
Take it, my lord, lay't in your armoury
Among the chiefest relics of our time.
I freely give it you, upon condition
You give me any plain but solid weapon
To wear instead.
J^-ince. You are well out of it.
It shall be so.
Ces. My lord, indeed the dawn
Is almost breaking.
SCENE -ii KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 109
Prince. Let it find us here.
But, my dear Cesar, tell me, are you the better
For this diversion ?
Ces. Oh, far cheerfuller.
Though with some little effort.
Prince. And I too.
So love is like all other evils known ;
With others' sorrow we beguile our own. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. The Garden of DONNA ANNA'S House.
DONNA ANNA and ELVIRA at a window. Dawn.
Elv. Yet once more to the window ?
Anna. Oh Elvira,
For the last time ! now undeceived to know
How much deceived I was !
Alas, until I find myself despised,
Methought I was desired, till hated, loved ;
Was't not enough to know himself beloved,
Without insulting her who told him so ?
Was't not enough
Oh wonder not, Elvira, at my passion ;
Of all these men's enchantments, none more potent
Than what might seem unlikeliest their disdain.
Elv. Indeed you have good cause for anger,
madam :
But yet one trial more.
Anna. And to what end ?
I'll not play Tantalus again for him.
Oh shameful insult ! had I dream'd of it,
Would I have written him so tenderly ?
Told my whole heart? But, once in love, what
woman
Can trust herself, alas, with pen and ink ?
i io KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT n
Elv. Were he to come now after all, how then ?
Would you reproach, or turn your back on him,
Or
Anna. Nay, I know not. Is't not possible,
He is detain'd, Elvira, by the Prince
Upon state business ?
Elv. You excuse him then !
Anna. Oh, any thing to soothe me !
Elv. Who excuses
Will quickly pardon.
Anna. Ay, if he came now,
Now, as you say, Elvira,
And make excuses which I knew were false,
I would believe them still. Would he were come
Only to try. Could I be so deceived !
Enter CESAR and LAZARO, below.
Laz. See you not day has dawn'd, sir ?
Ces. Mine, I doubt,
Is set for ever. Yet, in sheer despair,
I come to gaze upon the empty east !
But look !
Laz. Well, sir ?
Ces. See you not through the twilight ?
Laz. Yea, sir ; a woman : and when I say a woman,
I mean two women.
Ces. Oh see if it be she.
Laz. 'Twould make Elvira jealous, sir.
Ces. Oh lady,
Is it you ?
Anna. Yes I, Don Cesar : who all night
Have waited on your pleasure, unsuspecting
What now too well I know.
My foolish passion, sir, is well revenged
SCENE ii KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET in
By shamed repentance. Oh, you came at last,
Thinking belike, sir, with the morning star
Retrieve the waste of night ; oh, you loved me, sir,
Or seem'd to do, till having won from me
Confession of a love I feel no more,
You turn it to disdain. Oh think not, sir,
That by one little deed in love, like law,
You gain the full possession of my heart
For ever ; and for this idle interview,
Do you so profit by it as to learn
Courtesy to a lady ; which when learn'd
Come and repeat to me. \Retires from window.
Ces. And having now
Arraign'd me of the crime, why do you leave me
To plead my exculpation to the winds ?
Donna Anna, I call Heav'n to witness
'Twas not my negligence, but my ill star
That envied me such ill-deserved delight.
If it be otherwise,
Or even you suspect it otherwise,
Spurn me, not only now, but ever, from you.
Since better were it with a conscience clear
Rejected, than suspiciously received.
The Prince has kept me all the night with him
About the city streets : your brother, who
Was with us, can bear witness. Yet if still
You think me guilty, but come back to say so,
And let me plead once more, and you once more
Condemn, and yet once more, and all in vain,
If you will only but come back again !
Anna (returning to the window}. And this is true ?
Ces. So help me Heav'n, it is !
Why, could you, Anna, in your heart believe
1 could forget you ?
Anna. And, Don Cesar, you
ii2 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT n
That, were it so, I could forget my love ?
But see, the sun above the mountain-tops
Begins to peep, and morn to welcome him
With all her smiles and tears. We must begone.
I shall another quick occasion find,
When I shall call, and you not lag behind ?
Ces. Oh once more taken to your heart again,
My shame turns glory, and delight my pain.
Yet tell me
Anna. Well ?
Ces. Of your suspicions one
Lingers within you ?
Anna. Ay, a legion,
That at your presence to their mistress' pride
Turn traitors, and all fight on Cesar's side !
Ces. Farewell then, my divine implacable !
Anna. Victim and idol of my eyes, farewell !
[Exeunt severally.
Laz. Well, and what has my mistress to say to
me ? Does she also play the scornful lady ?
Elv. I? why?
Laz. Because my mistress' mistress does so to my
master whose love I follow in shadow.
Elv. Oh, I did not understand.
Laz. When he's happy then I'm jolly ;
When he's sad I'm melancholy :
When he's love-infected, I
With the self-same fever fretted,
Either am bound like him to fry,
Or if he chooses to forget it,
I must even take his cue,
And, Elvira, forget you.
Do you enact your lady. Now,
Begin. Be angry first
Elv. But how ?
SCENE in KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 113
Laz. Hide up, no matter how or why,
Behind the window-blind, while I
Underneath it caterwaul ;
Elv. What are the odds I don't reply ?
Laz. Just the odds that I don't call. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. A Room in the Palace.
The PRINCE and DON FELIX, discovered at the back of
the stage.
Fel. Why is your Highness sad ?
Prince. Not sad, Don Felix :
Oh would it were some certain shape of sorrow
That I might grapple with, not a vague host
Of undefined emotions ! Oh how oft
The patching up of but a single seam
Opens a hundred others ! Lucky he,
Who can to disenchantment bare his eyes
Once and for all, and in oblivion
Shut up vain hope for ever !
Enter CESAR, ARIAS, and LAZARO, in front.
Ces. (to ARIAS as they enter]. And so at last was
satisfied.
Ar. His Highness and Don Felix.
Ces. I am sure that he who profits not by oppor-
tunity scarce covets it enough. Taking advantage of
the cleared heaven, I have here written my lady,
asking her when she will give me the meeting she
promised ; Lazaro, take the letter : Don Felix here,
you can easily deliver it.
Laz. I'll feign an errand, and so get into the
mse. \Exit.
i
ii4 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT n
Pel. (to PRINCE). Cesar and Arias, my lord.
Prince. I know their business. Oh what a tempest
does every breeze from that quarter raise in my
bosom ! Well, gentlemen ?
Ar. Cesar, my lord, was telling me
Prince. About his melancholy studies still ? Pray
tell me.
Ces. Nay, my lord, all melancholy flies from the
sunshine of your presence.
Prince. What then ?
Ces. I still distrust myself; Don Arias must, my
lord, answer for me.
Prince. Don Arias, then?
Ar. (aside). Fresh confidence should bind me his
anew. But comes too late.
Ces. (aside to ARIAS). Be careful what you say.
Ar. Trust me. (CESAR retires.}
Prince (to ARIAS apart). Well now, Don Arias.
Ar. At first much enraged against him, at last she
yielded to his amorous excuses ; and, finding Don
Felix here, he has sent her a letter beseeching another
meeting.
Prince. When?
Ar. This moment.
Prince. Who can doubt the upshot ! I must contrive
to thwart them. (Aloud) But ere I hear your story,
Arias, I must tell Don Felix what I was about to do
as these gentlemen came in and interrupted me : that
his sister was ill had fainted from some vexation
or fright, as I think.
Pel. Anna?
Prince. So my sister told me. Had you not
better see to her ?
Pel. With your leave, my lord. \Exit.
Prince (aside}. And so, as I wished, prevent her
SCENE iv KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 115
answering, if not getting, the letter. (Aloud.) I will
ask Nisida how it was. \Eocit..
Ces. What did you tell the Prince to draw this new
trouble on me ?
Ar. Ay, even so. Blame him who has been even
lying in your service. Look you now, the Prince told
me he had overheard the names ' Don Felix ' and
'Donna Anna' between us as we came in talking;
and, tethered to that, I was obliged to drag this faint-
ing fit into the service.
Ces. Oh, if Felix find Lazaro at his house !
Ar. Fear not, anxiety will carry him home faster
than a letter Lazaro.
Ces. Alas ! that the revival of my joy
Is the revival of a fresh annoy ;
And that the remedy I long'd to seize
Must slay me faster than the old disease. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. An Apartment in DON FELIX'S House.
DONNA ANNA and ELVIRA,
Elv. Well, have you finisht writing?
Anna. I have written,
Not finisht writing. That could never be ;
Each sentence, yea, each letter, as I write it,
Suggesting others still. I had hoped, Elvira,
To sum my story up in a few words :
Took pen and paper, both at the wrong end :
Tried to begin, my mind so full I knew not
What to begin with ; till, as one has seen
The fullest vessel hardly run, until
Some inner air should loose the lingering liquid,
So my charged heart waited till one long sigh
Set it a flowing. I wrote, erased, re-wrote,
Then, pregnant love still doubling thought on thought,
n6 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT n
Doubled the page too hastily, and blotted
All that was writ before ; until my letter,
Blotted, erased, re-written, and perplext,
At least is a fair transcript of my heart.
Well, the sum is, he is to come, Elvira,
To-night, when Felix, as I heard him say,
Goes to our country house on business ;
And all will be more quiet. But here, read it.
Elv. My lord ! my lord ! the letter !
Enter FELIX.
Anna (hiding the letter}. Heavens !
Pel. Too well
The traitorous colour flying from your cheeks
Betrays your illness and my cause of sorrow.
What is the matter ?
Anna. Nothing, brother.
Pel. Nothing !
Your changing face and your solicitude
To assure me there is nothing, but assure me
How much there is. I have been told in fact,
And hurried home thus suddenly,
To hear it all.
Anna (aside). Alas ! he knows my secret !
Felix, indeed, indeed, my love
Shall not dishonour you.
Pel. Your love?
I'm more at loss than ever. But perhaps
You feign this to divert me from the truth.
What is the matter, truly ?
Anna. Be assured
I never will disgrace you.
Pel. Ah, she rambles,
Quite unrecover'd yet.
SCENE iv KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 117
Anna (apart to ELVIRA). What shall I do ?
Elv. (apart). Deny it all, there's many a step
between
Suspicion and assurance.
Fel. You, Elvira,
(My sister cannot) tell me what has happen'd.
Elv. Oh, nothing but a swoon, sir :
My mistress fainted : that is all : accounts
For all her paleness and discomfiture.
Fel. Twas that I heard.
Elv. I do assure you, sir,
We thought her dead however she dissemble
Out of her love for you.
Fel. 'Twas kind of her :
But yet not kindness, Anna, to delude me
Into a selfish ignorance of your pain.
Enough, you are better now ?
Anna. Indeed.
Fel. That's well.
But, by the way, what meant you by ''your lovej
And ' not dishonouring me ? '
Anna. l My lovej and * riot
Dishonouring ! ' did I say so ? I must mean,
My senses still half-drown'd, my love for you
That would not have you pain'd. A true love, Felix,
Though a mistaken, may be, as you say, ^
Yet no dishonour.
Fel. Still I have not heard
What caused this illness.
Anna (aside}. He presses hard upon me,
But I'll out-double him. (Aloud.} The cause of it ?
Why sitting in this room,
I heard a noise in the street there : went to the window,
And saw a crowd of people, their swords out, fighting
Before the door ; and (what will foolish fear
ii8 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT n
Not conjure up ?) methought that one of them
Was you and suddenly a mortal chill
Came over me, and you must ask Elvira
For all the rest.
Elv. (aside). Why ever have the trouble
Of coining lies when truth will pass as well ?
Enter LAZARO.
Laz. So far so good.
Pel. Lazaro?
Laz. (seeing FELIX). It's his ghost ? for certainly
I left his body at the palace.
Anna. My evil stars bear hard upon me !
Laz. I'm done for, unless a good lie (Aloud.)
Ruffian, rascal, scamp !
Fel. How now?
Laz. Murderer ! villain !
Fel. Softly, softly, breathe awhile ! what's the
matter ?
Laz. Nothing, nothing, yet had I not exploded
incidentally, or as it were superficially, I had
altogether burst. Oh the rascal ! the slave !
Fel. But tell me the matter.
Laz. Oh the matter indeed the matter you may
well ask it indeed you may Oh the murderer !
Fel. Come, come, tell us.
Laz. Ay, well, look here, my lords and ladies, lend
me your ears ; I was at cards : yes : for you must
know, my lord, I sometimes like a bout as my betters
do : you understand this ?
Fel. Yes well?
Laz. Well, being at cards, as I say : ay, and play-
ing pretty high too : for I must confess that sometimes,
like my betters you understand ?
SCENE iv KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 119
Pel. Go on go on.
Laz. Well, being, as I said, at cards,
And playing pretty high too mark me that
I get into discussion or dispute,
(Whichever you will call it) with a man,
If man he may be call'd who man was none
Ye gods ! to prostitute the name of man
On such as that ! call him a manikin,
A mandarin, a mandrake,
Rather than man I mean in soul, mark you ;
For in his outward man he was a man,
Ay, and a man of might. Nay, more than man,
A giant, one may say. Well, as I said,
This wretch and I got to high words, and then
(Whither high words so often lead) to blows ;
Out came our swords. The rascal having seen
What a desperate fellow at my tool I was,
Takes him eleven others of his kidney,
Worse than himself, and all twelve set on me.
I seeing them come on, ejaculate,
* From all such rascals, single or in league,
Good Lord, deliver us,' set upon all twelve
With that same sword, mark me, our gracious
Prince
Gave me but yesternight, and, God be praised,
Disgraced not in the giving
Beat the whole twelve of them back to a porch,
Where, after bandying a blow with each,
Each getting something to remember me by,
Back in a phalanx all came down on me,
And then dividing, sir, into two parties,
Twelve upon this side do you see ? and nine
On this and three in front
FeL But, Lazaro,
Why, twelve and nine are twenty-one and three
120 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT n
Why, your twelve men are grown to twenty-four !
How's this ?
Laz. How's this? why, counting in the shadows
You see I count the shadows twenty-four,
Shadows and all you see ! 1
Pel. I see.
Laz. Well, sir,
Had not that good sword which our gracious Prince
Gave me but yesterday broke in my hand,
I should have had to pay for mass, I promise you,
For every mother's son of them !
Pel. Indeed !
But, Lazaro, I see your sword's entire :
How's that?
Laz. The most extraordinary part
Of all
Pel. Well, tell us.
Laz. Why, I had first used
My dagger upon one : and when my sword
Snapt, with its stump, sir, daggerwise I fought,
As thus ; and that with such tremendous fury,
That, smiting a steel buckler, I struck out
Such sparks from it, that, by the light of them,
Snatching up the fallen fragment of my sword,
I pieced the two together.
Pel But the dagger
You fought with first, and lost, you say why, Lazaro,
'Tis in your girdle.
Laz. I account for that
Easily. Look, sir, I drew it, as I said,
And struck amain. The man I drew it on,
1 One cannot fail to be reminded of the multiplication of
Falstaff s men in buckram, not the only odd coincidence between
the two poets. Lazaro' s solution of the difficulty seems to me
quite worthy of Falstaff.
SCENE iv KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 121
Seeing the coming blow, caught hold of it,
And struck it back on me ; I, yet more skilful,
With God's good help did so present myself
That, when he struck at me, my own dagger's point
Return'd into its sheath, as here you see it.
Enough, 1 heard the cry of ' Alguazils ! '
Ran off, and, entering the first open door,
Now ask for sanctuary at your feet.
Fel. I think it is your trepidation
Makes you talk nonsense.
Anna. Surely, my brother, this was the riot that so
frighted me.
Fel. And was I then the man, ' if man it could be
called who man was none,' that Lazaro fought with ?
Anna. I know not, I only know 'twas some one of
a handsome presence like yours.
Fel. (aside]. Perhaps his master I much suspect
it was Cesar that was dicing, and afterward fighting ;
and his servant, to cover him, invents this foolish
story (Aloud.) I will look into the street and see
if it be clear. [Exit.
Elv. Now say your say.
Anna (giving LAZARO her letter}. And quickly,
Lazaro ; taking this letter
Laz. (giving CESAR'S). And you this premium
upon it.
Anna. Bid him be sure to come to me "this evening;
I have much to say. And thus much to you, Lazaro;
your quarrel came in the nick of time to account for
a swoon I had occasion to feign.
Elv. Quick ! quick ! he's coming back.
Laz. Madam, farewell.
Anna. And if my plot succeed,
Feign'd quarrel shall to true love-making lead.
{Exeunt.
122 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT n
SCENE V. A Room in the Palace.
CESAR and ARIAS talking : to whom after a time
enter LAZARO.
Laz. Oh, I have had rare work.
Ces. The letter ! (takes it from LAZARO.)
Ar. And how did all end ?
Laz. Well as I am home at last safe and sound.
Ces. Arias, you share my heart; even read my
letter with me. (They read.)
Laz. (aside). That my master should trust that
babbler who let out about my wooden sword to the
Prince ! my life upon't, he'll do the same to him ; for
he who sucks in gossip is the first to leak it.
Ar. Sweetly she writes !
Ces. How should it be but sweet,
Where modesty and wit and true love meet ?
Ar. And expects you this evening !
Ces. Till which each minute is an hour, each hour
A day, a year, a century !
Laz. And then
In saecula saeculorum. Amen.
Ar. The Prince !
Ces. I dread his seeing me.
Ar. But how ?
Ces. Lest, as already twice, he thwart me now.
Enter PRINCE.
Prince. Cesar here, when I am on fire to know the
upshot of my plot upon his letter ! I must get quit
of him.
Ces. Good day, my lord.
SCENE v KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 123
Prince. Well, any news abroad ?
Ar. Not that I know of, my lord.
Prince. Cesar, there are despatches in my closet,
have been lying there since yesterday, should they
not be seen to at once ?
Ces. My lord ! (Aside.) I foresaw it !
Prince. Yes ! I would have you look to them and
report them to me directly.
Ces. (aside). Ah, this is better ! (Aloud.) I'll see
to them.
(Aside.) And then, I trust, day's work with daylight
o'er,
Man, nor malicious star, shall cross me more.
\Exeunt CESAR and LAZARO.
Prince. And now about the letter?
Ar. I only know, my lord, that though Felix got
home first, Lazaro got there somehow, somehow gave
her the letter, and somehow got an answer.
Prince. Hast seen it?
Ar. Yes, my lord.
Prince. And
Ar. She appoints another meeting this evening.
Prince. And I must myself despatch his work, so
as to leave him free to-night ! Oh Arias, what can I
do more ?
Ar. Cannot your Highness go there yourself,
and so at least stop further advancemerit ?
Prince. True, true; and yet I know not; it
might be too suspicious. I must consider what shall
be done ;
And what more subtle engine I may try
Against these lovers' ingenuity. [.Exeunt.
I2 4 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT in
ACT III
SCENE I. A Room in the Palace.
PRINCE and DON ARIAS.
Ar. How well the night went off! did not the
music,
The lights, the dances, and the ladies' eyes,
Divert your Grace's sadness ?
Prince. Rather, Arias,
Doubled it.
Whithersoever Donna Anna moved,
My eyes, that ever follow'd hers along,
Saw them pursue Don Cesar through the crowd
And only rest on him ; I cursed him then,
And then excused him, as the judge should do
Whose heart is yearning with the guilt he damns.
Ar. Where will this passion end ?
Prince. I think in death,
Led by the fatal secret you have told me.
Ar. I err'd, my lord ; but all shall yet be well.
But hush ! Don Cesar comes.
Prince. Make out of him
How sits the wind of love. Behind this screen
I'll listen. (Hides.)
Enter CESAR.
Ar. Well, Don Cesar?
Ces. Nay, ill, Don Cesar !
Misfortune on misfortune ! ev'n good fortune
Forswears her nature but to scowl on me !
SCENE I KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 125
Led by her letter, as the shades of night
Were drawing in, I went not now to stand
Under her lattice with the cold, cold moon
For company, but in the very room
My lady warms and lightens with her presence !
There when we two had just begun to whisper
The first sweet words of love, upon a sudden
As by some evil spirit prompted, her brother
Comes in, and on some frivolous pretext
Carries her to the palace. I suspect
He knows my purpose.
Ar. Nay
Prince (listening). He little thinks
His evil spirit is so near him now.
Ces. Ay, and dead weary of these sicken'd hopes
And lost occasions, I have resolved to break
Through disappointment and impediment,
And turning secret love to open suit,
Secure at once her honour, and her brother's,
And my own everlasting happiness,
By asking her fair hand, fore all the world ! \Exit.
Ar. You heard, my lord ?
Prince (advancing). And if he ask her hand,
Felix will grant it as assuredly
As I would my own sister's ! Oh, Don Arias,
What now?
Ar. Don Felix comes.
Prince. There's yet one way,
He comes in time Felix !
Enter FELIX.
Pel. My lord !
Prince. Come hither.
You came in time were present in my thoughts
126 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT m
Before your coming. Hark you. I have long
Long'd to requite your many services,
By more substantial meed than empty breath,
Too oft, they say, the end of princes' favour.
Much I design for you ; but in mean time,
As some foretaste and earnest of my love,
A kinsman, a near kinsman of my own,
Has set his heart upon the lady Anna,
Your sister ; fain would have her hand in marriage :
And I, with your good liking,
Have promised it to him.
Fel. Oh, my good lord,
Your favour overpowers me !
Prince. Much content
Both for his sake, so near of my own blood,
(His letters show how deep his passion is,)
And yours, if you approve it.
Fel. Did I not,
Your will would be my law.
Prince. Why this is well then.
We'll talk it over at our leisure ; meanwhile,
For certain reasons, let this contract be
Between ourselves alone you taking care
To pledge your sister's hand no other way.
Fel. Oh, trust to me, my lord Heav'n watch above
Your Highness !
Prince (aside). Oh mad end of foolish love !
[Exit.
Fel. I'll straight away,
And tell my sister of the happiness
Awaits her. And may be shall learn of her
How my own suit prospers with Nisida,
The Prince's sister, which his present favour
Now blows upon so fairly. Cesar !
SCENE i KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 127
Enter CESAR.
Ces. Well found at last. Oh, Felix !
Pel. What is't now ?
Your heart seems labouring.
Ces. Yours must lighten it.
You know, Don Felix, how by blood and birth
I am a gentleman not less, I trust,
In breeding and attainment ; my estate
Sufficient for my birth nurst by the Prince
In his own palace from my earliest years,
Until, howe'er unworthy of such honour,
Received into his inmost heart and council :
So far at least fitted for state affairs,
As ever given from my earliest youth
Rather to letters than to arms. Enough :
You know all this, and know, or ought to know,
How much I am your friend ?
Pel. I do believe it.
Ces. Yea, Felix, and would fain that friendship
knit
By one still closer tie Have you not guess'd,
By many a sign more unmistakeable
Than formal declaration, that I love
Presumptuously perhaps but that I love
One of your house. Which saying all is said :
For she is all your house who calls you ' Brother.'
Pel. Cesar, Heav'n knows how faithfully my heart
Answers to yours in all ; how much I prize
The honour you would do me. Would to God
That I had seen the signs of love you talk of,
Pointing this way ; there is, I do assure you,
No man in all the world to whom more gladly
I would ally my sister and myself;
But I did not. I grieve that it is so,
128 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT in
But dare not cancel what is now, too late,
Irrevocably agreed on with another.
Ces. By this * too late,' I think you only mean
To tantalize my too late declaration.
If that be your intent, I am well punisht
Already ; be content with my contrition.
You say you love me; and would well desire
To see me wed your sister ; seal at once
My happiness, nor chill the opening day,
Nor my love's blossom, by a lingering ' Yea. 1
FeL Indeed, indeed, my Cesar, not to revenge
Delay of speech, or insufficient token,
But with repeated sorrow I repeat,
My sister's hand is pledged beyond recall,
And to another ; whom, for certain reasons,
I dare not name, not even to herself,
As yet
Ces. If I survive, 'tis that fate knows
How much more terrible is life than death !
Don Felix, you have well revenged yourself
Upon my vain ambition, speech delay'd,
And signs that you would not articulate ;
But let my fate be as it will, may hers,
Hers, yea, and his whose life you link to hers,
Be so indissolubly prosperous,
That only death forget to envy them !
Farewell.
FeL Farewell then : and remember, Cesar,
Let not this luckless business interrupt
Our long and loving intimacy.
Ces. Nay,
It shall not, cannot, Felix, come what may.
\Exeunt severally.
SCENE i KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 129
Enter PRINCE.
Prince. When in my love's confusion and excess
I fancy many a fond unlikely chance,
Desire grows stronger, resolution less,
I linger more the more I would advance.
False to my nobler self, I madly seize
Upon a medicine alien to my ill ;
And feeding still with that should cure disease,
At once my peace and reputation kill
By turns ; as the conflicting passions fire,
And chase each other madly through my breast,
I worship and despise, blame and admire,
Weep and rejoice, and covet and detest.
Alas ! a bitter bargain he must choose,
Who love with life, or life with love, must lose !
Enter LAZARO.
Laz. Where can my master be? I shall go
crazy, I think, running from room to room, and house
to house, after him and his distracted wits.
Prince. Lazaro ! Well, what news abroad ?
Laz. Ah, my lord, there has been little of that
under the sun this long while, they say. For instance,
the slasht doublets just come into fashion, and which
they call new ; why 'twas I invented them years ago.
Prince. You ! how ?
Laz. Why, look you ; once on a time when I was
not so well off as now, and my coat was out at elbows,
the shirt came through : many saw and admired
and so it has grown into a fashion.
Prince. Who listens to you but carries away food
for reflection ! \Exit.
K
130 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT m
Laz. Aha ! you are somewhat surfeited with that
already, I take it.
So while the world her wonted journey keeps,
Lazarus chuckles while poor Dives weeps.
Enter CESAR.
Ces. Lazaro, I waited till the Prince was gone.
Listen to me. Don Felix has betroth'd
His sister to another, not to me ;
He will not tell me whom, nor does it matter :
All ill alike. But out of this despair
I'll pluck the crown that hope could never reach.
There is no time to lose ; this very night
I'll carry her away.
Laz. Only beware
Telling Don Arias what you mean to do.
Is't possible you see not all along
Your secret playing on his faithless lips ?
Here's one last chance.
Cez. True, true.
Laz. You cannot lose
By secrecy what gain by telling him ?
Ces. You may be right : and to clear up the
cause
Of past mischance, and make the future safe,
I'll take your counsel.
Laz. Then hey for victory !
Meanwhile, sir, talk with all and trust in none,
And least of all in him is coming hither.
And then in ocean when the weary sun
Washes his swollen face, ' there shall be done
A deed of dreadful note.'
SCENE i KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 131
Enter ARIAS.
Ar. How now, Don Cesar ?
Laz. (aside). Here are you, be sure,
When aught is stirring.
Ar. How speeds Love with you ?
Laz. (aside). The lighter, sir, now you are left
behind.
Ces. Arias, my friend ! All's lost !
The love I grew deep in my heart of hearts
Is wither'd at the moment of its blossom.
I went to Felix, ask'd his sister's hand :
It was betroth'd, he told me, to another :
I was too late. All's lost ! It were in vain
Weeping for that I never can attain :
I will forget what I must needs forgo,
And turn to other
Laz. (to ARIAS). Pray, sir, pardon me ;
But pri'thee say no more to him just now ;
It brings on such a giddiness.
Ar. Alas !
But can I be of service ?
Laz. Only, sir,
By saying nothing more.
Ar. I am truly sorry. [Exit.
Laz. That you can lie no longer in the matter.
Oh, the Lord speed you !
Ces. O Love, if mortal anguish ever move thee,
At this last hour requite me with one smile
For all thy sorrows ! let what I have suffer'd
Appease thy jealous godhead ! I complain not
That you condemn my merits as too poor
For the great glory they aspire unto ;
Yet who could brook to see a rival bear
The wreath that neither can deserve to wear !
I 3 2 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT in
Enter PRINCE and ARIAS.
Prince (to ARIAS). Even so ?
Good. That he may not think 'twas out of malice,
I made my business trench upon his love,
Now that his love's but Love-in-idleness,
I'll occupy him still. Cesar !
Ces. My lord !
Prince. I had like to have forgot. Tis Monday,
is't not ?
I have despatches both for Rome and Naples
We must see to them to-night.
Ces. My lord !
Prince. Bring hither
Your writing.
Ces. (apart). Oh ! the cup-full at my lips,
And dasht down, and for ever !
[To LAZARO.] Villain, the victory you told me of!
Laz. What fault of mine, sir ?
Ces. What fault ? said you not
All now was well ?
Laz. Is't I who make it wrong?
Ces. You meddled.
Prince. Are you ready ?
Ces. Immediately.
Alas, alas ! how shall my pen run clear
Of the thick fountain that is welling here !
Prince (aside). And I shall learn from you how
that dark pair
Contrive to smile, Jealousy and Despair.
\Desk and papers brought in :
exeunt ARIAS and LAZARO.
Now, are you ready ? (CESAR sits at the desk.)
Ces. Ay, my lord.
SCENE i KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 133
Prince. Begin then.
4 1 am secretly '
Ces. ' Secretly ' driven to madness !
Prince. ' About the marriage '
Ces. ' Marriage ' that never shall take place !
Prince. ' All is fair for you '-
Ces. ' For you ' though perdition to me !
Prince. ' Believe me '
Ces. I shall not survive it !
Prince. ' That Donna Anna of Castelvi '
Ces. ' That Donna Anna ' I can write no more !
Prince. * Is such in birth, beauty, and wit '
Ces. Oh, my lord, pardon me ; but may I know
This letter's destination ?
Prince. Eh ? to Flanders.
Why do you ask ?
Ces. To Flanders ! But, my lord,
Surely no Flemish courier leaves to-day.
Might not to-morrow
Prince (aside). At the name of Anna
His colour changed. (Aloud.} No matter. 'Tis begun,
And we'll ev'n finish it. Where left I off?
Ces. (reading). * Can write no more '-
Prince. Eh ? ' Write no more ? ' Did I
Say that ?
Ces. My lord ?
Prince. The letter. Give me it.
Ces. (aside). Come what come may then, what is
writ is writ !
Prince (reading). 1 1 am secretly driven to mad-
ness about the marriage that never shall take place.
All is fair for you, though perdition to me. Believe
me I shall not survive it, that Donna Anna I can
write no more.'
Was this what I dictated ?
134 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT in
Ces. (throwing himself at the PRINCE'S feet}. O
my lord,
noble Alexander ! if the service
You have so often praised beyond desert
Deserve of you at all, snatch not from me
The only crown I ever ask'd for it,
To gild a less familiar brow withal.
This lady, Donna Anna,
Whom you are now devoting to another,
Is mine, my lord ; mine, if a two years' suit
Of unremitted love not unreturn'd
Should make her mine ; which mine beyond dispute
Would long ere this have made her, had not I
How many a golden opportunity
Lost from my love to spend it on 'my Prince !
And this is my reward ! Oh, knew I not
How the ill star that rules my destiny
Might of itself dispose the gracious Prince,
Who call'd me for his friend from infancy,
To act my bitterest enemy unawares,
1 might believe some babbler
Prince. Nay, Don Cesar,
If in all these cross purposes of love
You recognise the secret hand of fate,
Accuse no mortal tongue, which could not reach
The stars that rule us all, wag as it would.
Enough. I am aggrieved, and not, I think,
Unjustly, that without my pleasure, nay,
Without my knowledge even, you, my subject,
And servant, (leaving the dear name of friend,)
Disposed so of yourself, and of a lady
Whose grace my court considers as its own.
Give me the pen : and, as you write so laxly,
I must myself report
Ces. My lord !
SCENE i KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 135
Prince. The pen. (He writes.)
Ces. If in misfortune's quiver there be left
One arrow, let it come !
Prince. You could not write,
Don Cesar \ but perhaps can seal this letter :
Tis for Don Felix ; send it to him straight.
Or stay I'd have it go by a sure hand :
Take it yourself directly.
Ces. At one blow
My love and friendship laid for ever low !
[Exit.
Enter FELIX and ARIAS.
Ar. The letter must be written.
Prince. Oh, Don Felix,
I have this moment sent to you. No matter :
'Twas but to say I have this instant heard
Your sister's bridegroom is in Parma ; nay,
Perhaps already at your house.
Fel. Oh, my lord,
How shall I thank you for this gracious news ?
Prince. Nay, we will hear them from your sister's
lips.
To her at once. \Exit FELIX.
And now, Don Arias,
You have to swear upon the holy cross
That hilts this sword, that neither Donna Anna
Know that I ever loved her, nor Don Cesar
I ever cross'd his love.
Ar. Upon this cross
I swear it ; and beseech you in return
Never, my lord, to tell Don Cesar who
Reveal'd his secret.
Prince. Be it so. I promise.
136 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT HI
And now to see whether indeed I dare
Compete with him whose lofty name I wear.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. A Room in FELIX'S House.
ANNA and ELVIRA.
Anna. Beside the charge of my own love, Elvira,
Whose crosses, I believe, will slay me soon,
My brother has confided to me at last
His passion for the Princess Nisida ;
And, for he knows that I am near her heart,
Would have me whisper it into her ears ;
Which, were it such a passion as / feel,
His eyes would have reveal'd her long ago.
However, I have told her, and have got
An answer such But look ! he comes.
Enter FELIX.
Pel Oh, sister,
Might but your news be half as good as mine !
A largess for it, come. You are betroth'd,
By me, and by the Prince himself, to one
In all ways worthy of you, and who long
Has silently adored.
Anna (aside). Is it possible ?
Cesar ! (Aloud.) Well, ask the largess that you will.
Pel. The Princess
Anna. Well ?
Pel. What says she ?
Anna. All she could
At the first blush nothing and that means all :
Go to her, and press out the lingering Yes
That lives, they say, in silence.
SCENE ii KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET 137
Pel. Oh, my sister !
But who comes here ?
Enter CESAR and LAZARO.
Ces. (giving the letter]. I, Felix. This must be
My warrant from the Prince. Oh misery !
Fel. I thank you, Cesar. (Reads.)
'Because happiness is the less welcome when an-
ticipated, I have hitherto withheld from you, that he
to whom I have engaged your sister's hand, is Don
Cesar ! in whom unites all that man or woman can
desire. If the man lives who can deserve such glory,
it is he. Farewell.'
Ces. Great Heav'n !
Fel. Nay, read the letter.
Enter PRINCE, NISIDA, ARIAS, and Train.
Prince. He shall not need,
Myself am here to speak it.
Ces. (kneeling). Oh, my lord !
Prince. Rise, Cesar. If your service, as it did,
Ask'd for reward, I think you have it now ;
Such as not my dominion alone,
But all the world beside, could not supply.
Madam, your hand ; Don Cesar, yours. " I come
To give away the bride :
And after must immediately away
To Flanders, where by Philip's trumpet led,
I will wear Maestricht's laurel round my brows ;
Leaving meanwhile Don Felix Governor
Till my return by this sign manual.
[Puts NISIDA'S hand in FELIX'S.
Fel. My lord, my lord !
I 3 8 KEEP YOUR OWN SECRET ACT m sc. n
Laz. Elvira !
Elv. Lazaro !
Laz. I must be off. Our betters if we ape,
And they ape marriage, how shall we escape ?
Ar. And learn this moral. None commend
A secret ev'n to trustiest friend :
Which secret still in peril lies
Even in the breast of the most wise ;
And at his blabbing who should groan
Who could not even keep his own ?
There are three other plays by Calderon, on this subject of
keeping one's love secret ; a policy, whose neglect is punisht
by a policy characteristically Spanish. I. Amiga, Amante, y
Leal : which has the same Prince and Arias, only the Prince
confides his love to his rival. 2. El Secrete a Voces: where
it is the ladies who shuffle the secret about the men. And 3.
Basta Callar, a more complicated intrigue than any.
GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN
139
DRAMATIS PERSONS
GIL PEREZ.
ISABEL
DON ALONSO 1
MANUEL MENDEZ }
PEDRO )
CASILDA j"
his Sister,
his two Friends.
Servants in his house.
DONNA JUANA .
JUAN BAPTISTA .
a Portugtiese Lady,
a Lover of Isabel.
THE LORD HIGH ADMIRAL OF PORTUGAL.
DONNA LEONOR . . his Cousin.
A SHERIFF.
A JUDGE.
LEONARDO. . . .a Traveller.
ALGUAZILS, OFFICERS, ATTENDANTS, FARMERS, etc.
140
GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN
ACT I
SCENE I. Outside GIL PEREZ'S House.
Enter PEDRO running; GIL PEREZ after him with
a drawn dagger ; and ISABEL and CASILDA inter-
ceding.
Isab. FLY, Pedro, fly !
Gil. And what the use his flying
If I be after him ?
Fed. Hold him ! hold him back,
Both of you !
Gil By the Lord, I'll do for him.
Isab. But why so savage with him ?
Gil He must pay
The long arrear of mischief you've run up.
Isab. I understand you not.
Gil I'll kill him first,
And then explain.
Isab. I, who dread not bodily violence,
Dread your injurious words. What have I done
That you should use me thus ? my enemy,
And not my brother.
Gil You say well your enemy,
141
142 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT i
Who, if you do as you have done so long,
Will one day bathe his sword in your heart's blood,
And after in his own, and so wipe out
One scandal from the world.
Ped. As the good soul
Who meddles to make peace between two brawlers
Oft gets the bloody nose, I'll take the hint.
Farewell, fair Spain ! for evermore farewell !
Gil. Here ! hark you, sir ;
Before you go ; you have escaped this time
By luck, not by desert. I give you warning,
Keep from my sight : for if I see your face
Fifty years hence, among the antipodes,
I'll pay you off.
Ped. Pray don't disturb yourself;
I'll take you at your word, and straight be off
To some old friends of mine indeed relations
In central Africa the Ourang Outangs :
A colony so distant as I trust
Will satisfy us both. And so, good bye.
[Exit ; CASILDA after htm.
Isab. He's gone, poor fellow.
And now perhaps, sir, as we are alone,
You'll tell me why you do affront me thus.
Gil. Sister oh, would to God that I had none
To call by such a name at such expense !
And can you think that I have been so blind,
As well as dumb, not to be ware the tricks
Of the sly gentleman who follows you
So constantly, and who, if this goes on,
Will one day filch away, not your own only,
But the long garner'd honour of our house ?
Why, I have seen it all from first to last,
But would not show my teeth till I could bite ;
Because, in points like this, a man of honour
SCENE i GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 143
Speaks once, and once for all.
This once is now. I'll speak my mind to you ;
Which, if you cannot understand, to-morrow
I must repeat in quite another language.
I know your man Juan Baptista one
Not man enough for me, and so, I tell you,
Not for my sister. This should be enough,
Without his being, as he is, a Jew.
To get you from his reach I brought you here
To Salvatierra, deep amid the mountains,
And safe enough I thought ; but even here
His cursed letters reach you through the hands
Of that fine rascal I have just pack'd off.
There ; I have told my story ; take't to heart ;
Dismiss your man at once, or, by the Lord,
If you and he persist, I'll fire his house,
And save the Inquisition that much trouble.
Isab. Your anger makes you blind accusing me
Of things I never did.
Gil. You never did !
Isab. But so it is, poor women must submit
To such insinuations.
Gil Pray, was't I
Insinuated that letter then ?
Isab. Peace, peace !
I can explain it all, and shall, when fit.
What would you have of me ? You are my brother,
And not my husband, sir ; consider that :
And therefore, in fraternal kindness bound,
Should even take my word without ado.
You talk of honour : is not honour then
Slow to suspect would rather be deceived
Itself than prematurely to accuse ?
I am your sister, Perez, and I know
My duty towards you and myself. Enough
144 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT I
Which, if you cannot understand, to-morrow
I must repeat in quite another language. [Exit.
Gil. She says not ill ; it better were indeed
Had I kept on the mask a little longer,
Till they had dropt theirs beyond all denial.
She's right, and I was wrong ; but from this time
I'll steer another course.
Enter CASILDA.
Cas. A gentleman
(Of Portugal, he says,) is at the door,
And asks for you.
Gil. Bid him come in. Away,
My troubles, for a while ! [Exit CASILDA.
Enter MANUEL MENDEZ.
Man. 'Twas well, Gil Perez,
You sent so quickly, or my impetuosity
Had overrun your leave.
Gil. What, Manuel Mendez !
Come to my arms. What ! you in Salvatierra ?
Man. And, I assure you, at no small expense
Of risk and heart-ache.
Gil. That's unwelcome news.
Man. Not when 'tis all forgotten in the joy
Of seeing you again.
Gil. I shall not rest
Till I have heard ; ill-manner'd though it be
To tax a man scarce winded from a journey
With such expense of breath.
Man. Then listen, Gil.
You, I am sure, remember (time and absence
Cannot have washt so much from memory)
SCENE I GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 145
The pleasant time when you were last at Lisbon,
And graced my house by making it your home.
I need not tell of all we did and talk'd,
Save what concerns me now ; of the fair lady
You knew me then enamour'd of, (how deeply
I need not say being a Portuguese,
Which saying, all is said) Donna Juana,
At whose mere name I tremble, as some seer
Smit with the sudden presence of his God.
Two years we lived in the security
Of mutual love, with so much jealousy
(Without which love is scarcely love at all)
As served to freshen up its sleeping surface,
But not to stir its depths. Ah, dangerous
To warm the viper, or, for idle sport,
Trust to the treacherous sea sooner or later
They turn upon us ; so these jealousies
I liked to toy with first turn'd upon me ;
When suddenly a rich young cavalier,
Well graced with all that does and ought to please,
(For I would not revenge me with my tongue
Upon his name, but with my sword in 's blood,)
Demanded her in marriage of her father ;
Who being poor, and bargains quickly made
'Twixt avarice and wealth, quickly agreed.
The wedding day drew nigh that was to be
The day of funeral too mixt dance and dirge,
And grave and bridal chamber both in one.
The guests were met ; already night began
Loose the full tide of noisy merriment,
When I strode in; straight through the wedding throng
Up to the bride and bridegroom where they were,
And, seizing her with one hand, with the other
Struck him a corpse ; and daring all, to die
Fighting, or fighting carry off my prize,
L
I 4 6 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT I
Carried her off ; lifted her on a horse
I had outside ; struck spur ; and lightning-like
Away, until we reach'd the boundary
Of Portugal, and, safe on Spanish ground,
At last drew breath and bridle. Then on hither,
Where I was sure of refuge in the arms
Of my old friend Gil Perez ; whom I pray
Not so much on the score of an old friendship,
So long and warm, but as a fugitive
Asking protection at his generous hands
A plea the noble never hear in vain.
Nor for myself alone, but for my lady
Who comes with me, and whom I just have left
Under the poplars by the river-side,
Till I had told my news, and heard your answer.
A servant whom we met with on the way,
Pointed your house out whither, travel-tired,
Press'd for my life, and deep in love with her
I bring, as curst by those I left behind,
And trusting him I come to
Gil. Tut, tut, tut !
Go on so, I'll not answer you at all ;
All this fine talk to me ! from Manuel Mendez !
As if 'twere not enough to say ' Friend Gil,
I've left a gentleman I slew behind,
And got a living lady with me, so
Am come to visit you.' Why go about
With phrases and fine speeches ? I shall answer
Quite unpolitely thus, * Friend Manuel,
This house of mine is yours for months, for years,
For all your life, with all the service in't
That I or mine can do for you.' So back,
And bring your lady, telling her from me
I stay behind because I am unapt
At such fine speeches as her lover makes.
SCENE i GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 147
Man. Oh, let me thank you,
Gil. Nay, 'twere better far
Go to your lady ; who may be ill at ease
Alone in a strange place. \Exit MANUEL.
What, Isabel ! (She enters^)
Isabel, if my former love and care
Deserve of you at all, forget awhile
All difference, (for there's a time for all,)
And help me now to honour an old friend
To whom I owe great hospitalities ;
Manuel Mendez, who with his bride is come
To be my guest.
Isab. I'll do my best for you.
But hark ! what noise ?
(Shouts and fighting within.}
Gil. A quarrel's up somewhere.
Voice within. Take him alive or dead.
Another voice. He'll slip us yet !
Isab. Some one on horseback flying at full speed
From his pursuers.
Voices within. Fire upon him ! fire !
(Shots within?)
Isab. Mercy, he's dead !
Gil. Not he ; only his horse ;
And see he's up again, and gallantly
Flashing his sword around on his pursuers
Keeps them at bay, and fighting, fighting,* still
Retreats
Isab. And to our house too
Enter DON ALONSO.
Alon. Shelter! shelter!
In pity to a wretched man at last
Fordone !
i 4 8 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT i
Gil What, Don Alonso !
Alon. But a moment,
To ask you cover my retreat, Gil Perez ;
My life depends on reaching Portugal.
Gil. Away then to the bridge you see below there.
God speed you.
Alon. And keep you ! [Exit.
Voices without. This way ! this way !
Gil. But just in time !
Enter SHERIFF with Officers.
Officer. I'm sure he pass'd by here.
Gil. Well, gentlemen, your business ?
Sher. Don Alonso
Came he this way ?
Gil. He did, and he went that,
And must almost, unless I much mistake,
Be got to Portugal. For, by the Lord, sir.
His feet seem'd feather'd with the wind ?
Sher. Away then !
After him }
Gil. Stop a moment !
Sher. Stop ! what mean you ?
Gil. Just what I say. Come, Mr. Sheriff, come,
You've done your duty ; be content with that ;
And don't hunt gentlemen like wolves to death ;
Justice is one thing, and fair play's another,
All the world over.
Sher. When I've got my man
I'll answer you.
Gil. Perhaps before.
Sher. Why, sir,
Would you detain me ?
SCENE ii GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 149
Gil. Why, if logic fails,
I must try other argument.
Sher. As what, sir ?
Gil. Why, mathematical. As how ? Look here.
You see me draw this line. Well then, 'fore God,
The man who passes it dies. Q. E. D.
Sher. Down with him !
Gil. Back, I advise you.
Voices. Down with him !
Gil. Chicken-hearts ! Curs ! Oh, you will down
with me,
Will you indeed ? and this the way you do it ?
(He fights with them.}
One. Oh, I am slain.
Sher. I'm wounded.
Gil. Back with you !
[Exit, driving tJiem in.
SCENE II. The River-side.
Enter JUANA and MANUEL.
fua. Oh never did I owe more to your love,
Than for this quick return.
Man. O my Juana,
The love such beauty as your own inspires,
Surmounts impossibilities. However,
I needed not go on to Salvatierra,
Lighting on what I look'd for by the way,
Among the mountains ; where my friend Gil Perez
(Whose honour I insult if I declare it)
Has pitcht his tent, with hospitality
Prophetic of our coming ;
So peaceably our love may fold its wings
Under the shadow of my friend's.
150 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT i
Jua. Oh, Manuel,
She who has left home, country, friends, and fame,
And would contentedly leave life, for you,
Desires no other temple of her love
Than a bleak rock, whose unchanged stedfastness
Shall not out-wear her own.
Alon. (within). I can no more !
Jua. Listen ! What noise is that ?
Man. A cavalier
Still with his sword in his exhausted hand. '
He falls !
Enter ALONSO, who falls at the side.
Alon. They e'en must have me.
Man. Courage, sir.
Wounded? (Voices within?)
Alon. Hark ! the bloodhounds are close by ;
And worse, they must have slain Gil Perez first.
Who else
Enter GIL.
Gil. Confound the rogues, they've got the bridge
And the way to 't, and heav'n itself, I think,
To fight upon their side.
Man. Gil, what is this ?
Gil. Trying to help a friend out of a ditch,
I've tumbled in myself.
Man. Come, we are two
In hand, and one in heart ; at least can fight
And die together.
Alon. Nay, add me ;
The cause
Gil. There's but a moment. Manuel,
SCENE ii GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 151
I charge you by your friendship,
Draw not your sword to-day.
Man. Not I my sword
When theirs are on you ?
Jua. (clinging to MANUEL). Heav'ns !
Voices^ within. This way ! This way !
Man. They're coming.
Gil (to ALONSO). Listen ! you can swim ?
Alon. Alas
Gil. I mean upon my shoulders. Manuel,
We two shall cross to Portugal.
Where follow us they may, but cannot seize us.
Meanwhile I leave you master of my house
And honour, centred (no time to say more)
In Isabel, my sister. Swear to me
That you will see to this.
Man. I swear it, Gil.
Gil. Enough, your hand ! Adieu ! Now courage,
sir!
(Takes ALONSO on his shoulders and plunges into
the river.)
Jua. The man swims like a dolphin.
Gil (within). Manuel,
Remember !
Man. How he wrestles with the flood !
And now is half-way over.
Gil (within). Manuel,
Remember ! I have trusted all to you.
'Man. Waste not your breath. I'll do't.
Gil (within). Adieu !
Man. Adieu !
[Exit MANUEL with JUAN A.
1 52 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT I
SCENE III. The Portuguese bank of the River.
Enter the ADMIRAL of Portugal and DONNA
LEONOR as from hunting.
Adm. Since summer's fiery Sirius, fair cousin,
Neither from place nor power in heaven declines,
Will you not rest ?
Leonor. Ah, what a noble sport
Is hunting ! who so abject-spirited
As not to love its generous cruelty !
Adm. It is indeed a noble imitation
Of noblest war. As when a white-tuskt boar
Holds out alone against the yelling pack,
Gores one, o'erthrows another, all the while
Bristling his back like to some ridge of spears :
While many a gallant hound, foil'd in his onset,
Tears his own flesh in disappointed rage,
Then to the charge again he and his foe,
Each with redoubled fury firing up :
A chivalry that nature has implanted
Ev'n in the heart of beasts.
Leonor. So in falconry,
That I love even better ; when the heron
Mounts to the wandering spheres of air and fire,
Poised between which alternately she burns
And freezes, while two falcons, wheeling round,
Strive to out-mount her, tilting all along
The fair blue field of heaven for their lists ;
Until out-ris'n and stricken, drencht in blood,
Plumb down she falls like to some crimson star ;
A rivalry that nature has implanted
Ev'n in the breast of birds.
SCENE HI GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 153
Enter PEDRO.
Fed. Which is the way, I wonder? What with
fright and weariness, I must rest awhile. Well, this
is Portugal, where to be sure a poor Spanish pimp
may hope to escape ferocious honour. That I
should lose a post where others make their thousands
at my first function ! But who are these ? Fine
folks too ! Pray Heaven they be in want of an
officer.
Adm. A horse will soon carry you to the villa.
Hark you, sir ! (To PEDRO.)
Fed. My lord !
Adm. Who are you ?
Ped. Nay, how should I know ?
Adm. But are you one of my people ?
Ped. Yes, if you like it. As said Lord Somebody,
who neither served king, man, or God, but who
entering the palace one day at supper- time, and
seeing all the chamberlains at work without their
coats, whips off his, and begins carrying up dishes.
Suddenly in comes the major-domo, who perceiving a
stranger, asks if he be sworn of the service. ' Not
yet,' says he, * but if swearing is all that's wanted, I'll
swear to what you please.' So 'tis with me. Make me
your servant, and I'll swear and forswear anything.
Adm. You are liberal of your humour.
Ped. Tis all I have to be liberal of; and it would
not be right to spare that.
Gil (within). Hold on, hold on !
Leonor. Who's that?
Adm. Look, some one with erect head and vigor-
ous arms, buffeting the wave before him.
Leonor. With another on his shoulders too.
154 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT i
Adm. (to PEDRO). Now, would you win an
earnest of future favour, plunge in to his assistance.
Ped. I would, sir, but I'm a wretched swimmer.
Leonor. They have reacht the shore at last.
Enter GIL PEREZ and ALONSO, drencht.
A/on. Thank Heaven for our escape !
Gil. Ah, we're well quit of it.
Ped. Now, sir, if I can help. But Lord ha'
mercy ! (Sees GIL.)
Adm. What ! going just when you are wanted ?
Ped. I was born, my lord, with a tender heart ;
that seeing these poor fellows so drencht, bleeds for
them. That he should pursue me even to Portugal !
(Is creeping away.)
Adm. What ! only just come, and going ?
Ped. Oh, my lord, a sudden call. Excuse me.
[Exit.
Adm. Tis an idiot. But let me help you.
Alon. My life is in your hand.
Adm. In my hand ? How is that ?
Alon. You shall hear, if I may first know to whom
I tell my story. Misfortune forces me to be cautious.
Adm. You are right ; but need fear nothing from
the Lord High Admiral of Portugal, who now speaks
to you, and pledges himself to protect you so long as
you stand on his estate.
Alon. Enough, my lord.
My name is Don Alonso de Tordoya,
Not un-illustrious in Spain. I love
A noble lady ; whom going to visit,
When this same westering sun was young in heav'n,
I found a rival with her. I rush'd out,
Bidding him follow with his sword ; he follow'd ;
SCENE in GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 155
We fought, and with two passes in his side
I left him dead : the cry was after us j
The officers of justice at my heels.
No time to lose ; I leap'd upon a horse,
And rode, until a shot, aim'd at his rider,
Kill'd him ; then, taking to my feet, fled on,
Till, coming to a country house, I saw,
To my great joy, my friend
Gil. Here enter I ;
Who, seeing Don Alonso so hard set,
Offer'd my services to keep them back
Till he was safe in Portugal.
That country house of mine a pleasure house
Some call it, though I've found but little there
Stands in a narrow mountain gorge, through which
He and the bloodhounds after him must pass
To reach the river ; as he says, he came,
And saw, and fled ; had scarce got fifty yards,
Up comes the Sheriff with his yelling pack
Panting and blowing. First most courteously
I begg'd them spare themselves as well as him
Further pursuit, but all in vain ; push on
They would ; whereon I was obliged to draw ;
Disabled four or five, Heav'n help their souls !
Till, having done as much as he to figure
In justice's black book, like him I fled
After him to the river ; where on finding
The bridge occupied by the enemy,
Catching my sword between my teeth, and him
Upon my shoulders, I so dash'd in,
And, at last, over ; where now, thanks to Heav'n,
We meet your Excellency, who vouchsafes
Your shelter and protection.
Adm. 'Twas my word,
And I'll abide by't.
156 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT 1
Alon. I have need
Of all assurance, for the man I slew
Was of great note.
Adm. His name?
Alon. Prefacing that he was a cavalier
Of wholly noble parts and estimation,
And that 'tis no disparagement to valour
To be unfortunate, I may repeat it,
Don Diego d'Alvarado.
Adm. Wretched man !
My cousin ! you have slain him !
Leonor. You have slain
My brother, traitor !
Gil. Oh, I see my sword
Must e'en be out again.
Alon. Your Excellency
Will pause before he draws his sword on one
Surrender'd at his feet. My lord, remember
I slew Don Diego in the face of day,
In fair and open duel. And, beside,
Is not your Excellency's honour pledged
To my security ?
Gil. Beside all which,
I say that if all Portugal, and all
Within it, admiralty and army too,
Combine, you shall not touch him while I live.
Adm. I know not what to do ; upon one side
My promise, on the other the just call
Of retribution for my kinsman's death.
I must adjudge between them. Don Alonso,
The word of Honour is inviolable,
But not less so her universal law.
So long as you stand upon ground of mine
I hold your person sacred : for so far
My promise holds ; but set your foot beyond
SCENE i GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 157
E'en but an inch remember, death awaits you.
And so farewell.
Leonor. Nay, hold ! though you have pledged
Your promise
Adm. What I pledge is pledged for you,
As for myself; content you.
[Exeunt ADMIRAL and LEONOR.
A/on. Well, friend Gil,
What say you to all this ?
Gil ' Why then, I say,
At least 'tis better than it was. To-day
The mouse, shut in the cupboard, there must stay :
But will jump out to-morrow if she may. [Exeunt.
ACT II
SCENE I. A Wood near San Lucar in Andalusia.
Enter MANUEL and JUANA as travelling
Man. Misfortune on misfortune !
Jua. Ay, they call
One to another.
Man. Ah, my love !
That you should wander thus about with me
And find no home ! Gallicia, that I thought
Should be our port, unkindly storm'd us out
To Salvatierra, whence before the gale
We drive to Andalusia.
Jua. Manuel,
My home is ever where you are.
Man. Oh how
Requite such love ! but you shall rest awhile
158 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT n
Till I and the poor fellow we pick'd up
Have found fit resting-place in San Lucar.
Pedro !
Enter PEDRO.
Fed. Sir!
Man. Come you with me ;
While you, Juana, underneath those trees
Jua. Weep your departure. [Exit JUANA.
Man. It shall not be long.
Although her grief blindly anticipates
A longer separation than she knows !
Ped. Alas, and how is that ? and how can you
Foredoom such pain to one who loves you so ?
Pardon me who am but your servant, sir,
And that but these two days, for saying it.
Man. Ah, Pedro, 'tis not I who wills all this,
But fate ; that, stronger than all human will,
Drove me from Portugal to Gallicia,
Thence hither ; where my fate still urging on,
I must to sea, joining the armament
That sails to plant the banner of the church
Over the golden turrets of the north :
Leaving my lady not, as you surmise,
Deserted and dishonoured here behind,
But in some holy house at San Lucar,
With all the little substance I possess,
Till I return. For to a soldier
His sword is property enough. (Drums within.)
Ped. And hark
The drum that answers you
Man. No doubt a troop
Recruiting for this war.
Ped. See, they are coming.
SCENE i GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 159
Man. I'll take occasion by the forelock then.
Pedro, go, tell the Ensign of the troop
Two men would join his ranks. I'll to Juana.
[Exit.
Enter GIL PEREZ with soldiers.
Fed. This one looks affable. Pray, sir, can you
courteously inform me which is the Ensign ?
Soldier. There he with the red sash.
Ped. What, he with the lofty presence and broad
shoulders ?
Soldier. Ay !
Gil (to the soldiers). Well then, my lads, we shall
agree together very well, eh ?
Soldiers. Long live our noble Ensign !
\Exeunt soldiers.
Ped. Now's the time !
Gil (to himself). 'Fore heaven, this soldiering
would be pleasant enough did not that trouble follow
and plague me.
Ped. Sir!
Gil. Leaving Isabel at such a risk
Ped. Sir Ensign !
Gil. That as fast as I gain honour here I run the
chance of losing more at home.
Ped. Noble Sir Ensign !
Gil. One good thing, however, my good Manuel
keeps guard for me.
Ped. He must surely be deaf this side I'll try the
other. Noble Ensign !
Gil (turning round}. Who is that ?
Ped. (recognising him gradually). A soldier no,
I only mean one who would be no soldier. If I
said I wish'd to be a soldier, sir, I lied.
160 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT n
Gil. Rascal ! you here ? did I not warn you
whenever and wherever
Fed. Oh yes, yes, but how should I ever expect to
find you here a soldiering ?
Gil (setting upon him). I'll teach you I am here,
scoundrel, to whom I owe half my trouble.
Fed. Help! murder! help!
Enter MANUEL.
Man. A soldier set upon my servant ! stop, sir !
how do you dare Gil Perez !
Gil. Manuel!
Man. Why, did I not leave you in Portugal ?
Gil. And I you at Salvatierra, engaged to me by
solemn promise and old love to guard my honour
there ?
Man. We both have cause for wonder. I will tell
you all ; but first we must be alone.
Gil. Ay, another wonder ; this fellow yours ?
Man. In travelling hither we found him by the
way, and took him.
GiL Well, this saves your life for this time, sir :
but, remember, you will not always have a friend at
hand to do so much for you.
Fed. I know that ; I only wish you would be so
gracious as to tell me where you are next bound,
that I may take good care not to go thither. But
I know one place at least to which you cannot
follow me my own estate and thither I set off
immediately. \Exit.
GiL We are alone. Come, I will tell you first
My story. As you say you saw us last,
Alonso and myself, in Portugal ;
Such an escape as (so the wise men say)
SCENE i GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 161
Is from the frying-pan into the fire.
We landing from the river on the estate
Of that great potentate the High Admiral.
Whose cousin, it turn'd out, was the very man
Alonso slew ; whereat the Admiral,
Who had, before he knew this, promised us
Protection, gave us truly such protection
As the cat gives the mouse that she thinks safe
Under her paw. But we escaped from her,
And after much adventures came at last
To San Lucar here, where the Duke, who now
Is general of the war that our good king
Wages with England, courteously received us ;
Gave Don Alonso a regiment made me
An Ensign in it as you see ; enough
I know you will not wish a longer story
From one whose heart, until you tell him yours,
Hangs from a hair.
Man. To take the story up then
Where you did, Perez scarcely had you plunged
Into the river, than the sheriff's rout
Came after you ; but, seeing all was lost,
Went angry to their homes, and I to yours ;
Where I received such hospitality
As our old friendship But I falter here,
Scarce knowing how to tell
Nay, almost doubting if to tell at all,
Or to conceal, what to conceal and tell
At once were best. You made me promise, Gil,
At parting yea, with those last words hard wrung
Out of your breathless struggle with the flood
That I would watch the honour of your house.
I did so : and it is because I did so
That I was forced to leave it.
Gil. Manuel,
162 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT n
Your words are slaying me by syllables.
But tell me all How was't ?
Man. One Juan Baptista
Courted your sister.
Gil. Well ?
Man. And came at last
To such a boldness, that one night he stole
Into the house.
Gil. Manuel !
Man. I, who was watching,
Ran from my chamber, found a muffled man ;
Threw myself on him ; he, alerter yet,
Leap'd from the window, and I after him
Into the street, where two he'd posted there
Came to his rescue ; one of them I slew,
The other wounded, while the rogue himself
Fled and escaped. What could I do, my friend,
A foreigner, charg'd with a homicide
In a strange country, with Juana too
Involved with me ? If I were wrong to fly,
I did so thinking how yourself would act
In a like case.
Gil. 'Tis true, I cannot blame you.
Ah ! he said truer may be than he meant,
Who liken'd a true friend to a true mirror,
That shows one all oneself indeed, but all
Reversed ; that when I look into your breast
To see my honour, I but see disgrace
Reflected there. I must begone at once
To Salvatierra ; for to leave my name
In danger is to let it run to shame.
SCENE I GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 163
Enter ALONSO.
Oh, Don Alonso, you are come in time.
If aught that I have ever done for you
Deserve return, requite me, I beseech you,
By giving Manuel here the Ensigncy
I must throw up.
Alon. But why?
Gil. I must at once
To Salvatierra, where my honour lies
In the utmost peril.
Alon. But
Gil. I am resolved.
Alon. I fain might try dissuade you, but I know
Your honour will not call in vain. Enough :
Be't as you will on one condition.
Gil. Well ?
Alon. That I may go with you, and share your
risk,
Who more than shared, and conquer'd mine.
Man. Nay, sir,
If any one do that it must be I,
His older friend, who bringing this ill news
Must see him safely through it.
Alon. But 'twas I
Who drew him from his home, where, till I came,
He lived in peace and quiet, but where now
This outrage has grown up in his forced absence.
And surely, the world over, 'tis ill manners
For one who, having drawn a friend from home,
Lets him return alone.
Man. Well, be you courteous,
I'll not be cowardly.
Gil. Oh, this rivalry
164 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT n
Proves the nobility of both ! But, friends,
Neither must go with me ; you both are here
Fled in like peril of your lives from home,
And how could I avail me of your love
At such a price ? Nay, I may want you both
In greater risks hereafter ; and whom look to,
If you be lost ?
Alon. True, but if one of us
Went with you now, the other
Man. And that one
Must be myself.
Alon. You see, sir, one will go.
Do you choose which.
Man. Content.
Gil. How shall I choose,
When to choose one must needs the other hurt ?
But if it needs must be
I say that Don Alonso, so engaged
In high and even holy business here,
Must not forgo't for mine. If one will come,
Let it be Manuel.
Alon. I live to hear
This insult from your lips ! But I'll have vengeance ;
Neither shall go unless you take with you
Thus much at least to compensate
For what you leave. These jewels may assist you
Where my sword cannot. (Giving jewels.}
Gil. I accept them, sir,
As freely as they're given. Come, embrace me.
And now to punish an unworthy sister,
And that ill traitor, from whose heart I swear
My bleeding honour with this sword to tear.
{Exeunt.
SCENE ii GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 165
SCENE II. Outside GIL PEREZ'S House at Salva-
tierra ; as in ACT I. SCENE I.
Enter ISABEL and CASILDA.
Isab. What ! Donna Leonor d'Alvarado, come to
Salvatierra ?
Cas. Yes.
Isab. And for what purpose ?
Cas. They say, to avenge her brother's death. I
myself have seen her conferring with Juan Baptista.
Isab. And what do you infer from that ?
Cas. He is, they say, chief witness against Don
Alonso and your brother, for this murder.
Isab. Against my brother too ! O Casilda, is it
not shameful that Juan Baptista should revenge with
slanders behind my brother's back whom he dares
not meet face to face ! Nay, that a traitor be
revenged at all on him he has betrayed ! thriving
here at home while my brother is banisht !
Cas. But there's something else. He charges
your brother's friend Manuel with murdering his
men.
Isab. In proving which, my honour must be
publicly canvassed and compromised !
Enter PEDRO.
Fed. Oh, what a long way it has seemed ; as it
will when fear fetters one's legs. Oh, permit me,
madam, since fate has sent me back to your feet, to
kiss but the little toe, the pink, the pearl, the petty
Benjamin of those ten toes. But above all, tell me,
for Heaven's sake, is my master here ?
166 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT n
Isab. No, Pedro, you at least are safe. He, alas,
is far away.
Fed. So one might think; but yet on the other
hand I'd swear he must be here.
Isab. Pedro!
Fed. Oh yes, his sole vocation now is to dodge
my steps like some avenging ghost of Capa and
Espada.
Enter JUAN BAPTISTA.
Bapt. (speaking to himself). If they condemn him
To death, as, on my evidence alone,
They must, he'll not return to plague me more
At Salvatierra. But, fair Isabel,
How blest am I on whom the star of beauty,
Bright rival of the sun,
Beams out such rays of love !
Isab. Stand off ! Away !
Not rays of love, whatever heretofore
I and my beauty may have beam'd, Baptista,
But now, if rays at all, lightnings of rage
And indignation from my heart and eyes.
Approach them at your peril ! What, false traitor,
You come to court me with my brother's blood
Upon you, shed too in no manly duel,
Face to face, hand to hand, in the open field,
But like a murderer,
Behind his back stabbing him dead with slander
Never ! {Exit.
Bapt. But, Isabel !
Cas. Your day is over. [Exit.
Bapt. And that I should lose her by the very
means I hoped to win her with !
Fed. Let not this prevent your memory acknow-
SCENE in GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 167
ledging one who has suffered banishment, and lives
in terror of his life, on your account.
Bapt. Pedro !
Ped. And at your service
Bapt. Ah, would you were !
Ped. Try me.
Bapt. But are you still Isabel's servant ?
Ped. I trust so.
Bapt. Oh, good Pedro, I would fain explain to
her, and wipe out (as I easily can) the offence she
has taken against me ; and if you will but be my
friend, and leave the door ajar to-night, that I may
tell her the whole story, I'll pay you well for it.
Ped. Well, I think there can be no danger in that.
Why, if you should happen to call loudly outside the
door to-night, and I let you in, forgetting to ask who
it is surely I shall not be to blame.
Bapt. J Tis well ; the sun is already setting ; go
you to your post, and I shall be at mine immediately.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE III. A Room in GIL PEREZ'S House.
Enter ISABEL and CASILDA.
Isab. Casilda, now the flaming sun has set,
See to the doors ; and you and Ines there
Sing to me 'twill beguile my melancholy.
No merry song, however ; something sad
As my own fancies. (They sing within.')
Hark ! what noise is that ?
One calling at the door at such an hour !
Again 1 Bid Pedro see
Why, what is it that makes me tremble so ?
From head to foot
168 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT n
Enter PEDRO hurriedly.
Fed. O madam !
I sab. Well ?
Ped. O madam
Opening the door only to ask a man
All muffled up ran by me (Aside.) Tis all right.
Enter GIL PEREZ, cloakt.
Isab. Who's this ?
Gil (discovering himself). I, Isabel.
Isab. Oh heavens !
Gil. Well, sister.
What troubles you ?
Ped. Oh Lord, oh Lord, oh Lord !
(Hides.)
Isab. O Gil, how have you dared to venture here,
Your very life at stake !
Gil. Small risk to one
Whom your ill doings have half kill'd already.
Isab. I do not understand you
Gil. You need not :
I come not to explain, but to avenge ;
And, mark my words, what I have come to do,
I'll do.
Isab. Alas ! is it my fault then, brother,
That traitors of their gold can make them wings
To fly into my house?
Gil. Be not afraid ;
I shall not judge of you or any one
Unheard, as others seem to judge of me.
What is the matter ?
Isab. Nay, I only know
SCENE in GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 169
You are accused of aiding, how I know not,
In Don Diego's death on evidence,
As 'tis believed, the Judge (who now is here,
Inflamed by Donna Leonor) declares
Sufficient to convict you of your life
And property Alas, alas, my brother !
Gil. You shall away with me ; for 'tis not well
To leave you here alone and unprotected.
But I must see first what this Judge has got
To say against me.
Isab. But how get at it ?
Gil. Why from the fountain-head. But, by the
Lord,
If I must fly or die for't,
I'll not do so for nothing, I'll begin
My vengeance on this rascal. (Pulling out PEDRO. )
Fed. Oh begin
On some one else and sum up all on me !
Gil. How come you here ?
Fed. Oh, I will tell the truth
And nothing but the truth.
Gil. Well !
Fed. Being assured
That you were coming hither
Gil. Well ?
Fed. * I came
Before.
Gil. And why, when
Fed. That by doing so
You should not see my face, (which you declared,
Seeing again, you'd kill me,) but my back,
Which as you never swore at
Gil (striking him}. Villain, die !
Fed. (falling as dead). Oh ! I am slain !
Gil. Come, Isabel, 'tis I
i;o GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT n
Must bear you on my shoulders through the flames
That rise all round. [Exeunt GIL and ISABEL.
Ped. (rising). Oh, angel of sham death,
How much I owe your out-spread wings to-day,
Under whose shadow Yo escapare. [Exit.
SCENE IV. An open Gallery in the Judge's House
at Salvatierra.
Enter Judge, and attendants, with lights, etc.
Judge. Here in this gallery where the air is cool
Set out my desk and papers.
I must examine all these depositions.
\st Attendant. 'Tis done, my lord.
2nd Attendant. My lord, a stranger asks
Admittance upon something, as he says,
Important to the matter now in hand.
Judge. Admit him, then.
Gil (without). Manuel, keep the door ;
And, till my lord and I have had our talk,
Let no one enter.
Man. (without). Trust me.
Enter GIL.
Gil. First permit me
To kiss your lordship's hand. And secondly,
Having important matter to disclose
About this business, I would tell it you
Alone
Judge (to attendants). Retire ! [Exeunt attendants.
Gil. And with your lordship's leave
Will take a chair.
SCENE iv GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 171
Judge. Sit, sir.
Gil. May I presume
To ask your lordship how Gallicia
Agrees with you ?
Judge. I thank you, very well.
Gil. I'm very glad of that. Humph as I take
it,
Your lordship is come down into these parts
On a great trial ?
Judge. Yes, the case is this ;
A certain Don Alonso de Tordoya,
And one Gil Perez of this place, are charged
With slaying Don Diego d'Alvarado.
Gil. Slaying?
Judge. In duel, sir.
Gil. I marvel much
They should have dragg'd your lordship from the
city
And from the court that you so much adorn,
Into this beggarly place, to try a' cause
That happens almost every day in Spain.
Judge. True, sir, but this is not by any means
The whole, or kernel, of the case. These men,
Beside, and after, the said homicide,
Resisted the king's officers ; this Perez
Especially a notable ruffian
Who lives among these hills a lawless life
Of violence and murder struck the Sheriff,
And but I'm scarce entitled to say more
To one whose very name I know not.
Gil. Oh !
My name is quickly told, if that be all.
Judge. What is it then ?
Gil. Gil Perez.
fudge. Ho ! without !
172 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT n
Man. (appearing at the door). My lord !
Judge. And who are you ?
Gil. A friend of mine.
Man. Who will take care that no one else comes
in,
Till you have done. \Exil.
Gil. Your lordship sees how 'tis
Be not alarm'd pray take your chair again
I've much to say to you.
Judge (aside). Better submit.
This desperate man may have a score beside
Well, sir, your business with me ?
Gil. Why, my lord,
I for these many days have been, so please you,
Away from home ; suddenly coming back,
My friends here tell me of a mortal suit
Your lordship has against me ; when I ask
For the particulars, some say one thing,
And some another. 1, who naturally
Am somewhat interested in the truth,
Think it the wisest course to come at once
Straight to headquarters.
Judge. This is strange proceeding.
Gil. Oh, if your lordship scruple telling me,
These papers will not. I'd not for the world
Annoy your lordship. (Takes the papers.')
Judge. What are you about, sir ?
Gil. Conning my brief.
Judge. But, sir
Gil. Now pray, my lord,
Resume your seat ; let me not ask you this
So very often. (Reading.} Ah the bare indict-
ment
I know in a rough way, no need read that :
But for the evidence. Ah, here it is.
SCENE iv GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 173
Humph ; the first witness called, Andrew Ximenes :
' Andrew Ximenes, being duly sworn,
1 Deposeth thus : that he was cutting wood,
' When the two gentlemen came out to fight ;
* And stood to watch them ; that, after some passes,
' Don Diego fell ; and the officers of justice
' Then coming up, the other leap'd on horse,
' And fled : but being brought to ground by a shot
'That kill'd his horse, then ran, until he reach'd
' Gil Perez's house,' here enter I, ' who first
' Courteously ask'd the Sheriff to desist
* Hunting the gentleman ; but when the Sheriff
' Persisted, drew on him and on his people,
' And fought them back ; but how and when exactly
1 The wound was given, deponent cannot say.
* And all this he deposeth upon oath,
* Andrew Ximenes ' And he says the truth ;
Andrew is a good, honourable fellow.
Now for the second, Gil Parrado ; humph.
' Parrado, duly sworn, deposeth thus ;
'That, hearing a commotion, he ran out
' And got in time to see ' here enter I
' Gil Perez fighting with the officers,
' Then on a sudden running to the river
' Plunge in. And that is all he knows of it.'
How short and sweet !
I Next and third witness, Juan Baptista,' ay,
!^ow for this exemplary Christian
; Juan Baptista sworn, deposeth thus :
; That, as luck fell, he was behind a tree
; When the two gentlemen came out to fight;
' That they fought fairly hand to hand, until '-
Here enter I ' Gil Perez suddenly
' Rush'd from a thicket by, and join'd himself
1 With Don Alonso, and the two together
174 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT n
' Maliciously and treacherously slew
1 Don Diego.' Pray, my lord, what is the worth
Of such a witness, who himself admits
He stood behind a tree watching two men
Set on a third, and slay him, and yet never
Ran to his help ? Well humph ' And after this,
1 Saw Don Alonso jump upon a horse
' And fly, while Perez drew his sword upon
'The officers of justice, and slew one,
' And maim'd another.' Give me leave, my lord,
To take this leaf. (Tears it out)
I'll bring it back to you
When I have made this rascal Jew confess
(If ever Jews confess) what he did see,
If any thing ; but fair that if a judge
Decide on evidence, that evidence
At least be true ; that he should hear moreover
Both sides, accused as well as his accuser.
As to that Sheriffs wounds the only count
To which I own I never sought the fray ;
The fray sought me, as I stood innocently
At my own door ; and pray what man of honour
What would your lordship's sober self have done
In such a case ?
Judge. Within ! within there ! ho !
Perez himself is here ! the culprit ! Seize him !
Man. (appearing). Ay, do, if you can catch him.
Gil. Manuel,
Let them come up ; I have no more to say.
And you and I, who walk'd in by the door,
Can jump out of the window.
Voices (within). Seize him ! Seize him !
Judge. One word, Gil Perez; if you yield at
once,
I'll be your friend.
ACT in GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 175
Gil. I make no friends of lawyers,
And never trust their promises.
Judge. If not,
As sure as Heav'n, I'll bring you to the scaffold.
Gil. If you can catch me.
Judge. Cannot I ?
Gil. Well, try.
Judge. Ho there ! upon him ; and if he resist,
Cut him down !
Man. Now then, Gil !
Gil. Now, Manuel !
Out with the lights ! or wanting them, we two
Will strike them, knaves, in plenty out of you.
(Confusion and Melee^ in which GIL and MANUEL
escape?)
ACT III
SCENE I. On a Mountain by Salvatierra.
Enter GIL PEREZ, MANUEL, ISABEL, and JUANA.
Gil. This mountain then, upon whose wrinkled
edge
The weary moon reclines, must be our fort ;
Where, in some green and shady spot of it,
(Hung round with savage, inaccessible rocks,)
While Isabel and your Juana rest,
You and I, Manuel, will steal into
The little village nestled there below,
And of such travellers as come this way,
Demand (our own all gone) a scanty living,
By fair entreaty, not by violence ;
176 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT in
Until, pursuit giv'n up, we may retreat
Elsewhere, to live upon what little means
Injustice leaves us.
Man. Gil, 'tis nothing new
For criminals to hide
Ev'n where they did the crime, where vengeance least
Expects to find them, and hunts round in vain.
And even should they light upon the place,
Surely we two, back'd by these friendly rocks,
Can keep at bay the rabble that we foil'd
On level ground.
Isab. I have listen'd to you both,
And take it ill you reckon on yourselves
Alone ; when I, who though a woman, having yet
Your blood, Gil Perez, running in my veins,
And something of your spirit in my heart,
Am at your side.
Jua. And I, who, like a coward,
Chime in at last ; yet, if with little power,
With right good will indeed.
Gil. Well spoken both !
But I maintain it as a golden law,
Women be women ever : keep you quiet,
And comforting yourselves as best you may,
While Manuel and I, as becomes men,
Provide for you in all.
Isab. Well, we at least,
If fit for nothing else, can pray for you.
\Exeunt ISABEL and JUANA.
Gil. Now they are gone, I want to talk with you
On a grave matter, Manuel. 'Tis this.
Among those depositions at the Judge's,
One rascal, and a rascal too whose gold
Makes weigh his witness against honesty,
Declared on oath he saw me, me, Gil Perez,
SCENE I GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 177
Abetting Don Alonso treacherously
To slay Don Diego.
Man. Who was this ?
Gil. Why one
Who has not this alone to answer for,
As you will know when I name Juan Baptista.
Man. A coward, who, as all such villains do,
Flies to the tongue for vengeance, not the sword ;
Behind one's back too
Why, let us go at once, and in broad day
Before all eyes, before the very Judge's
He lied to, drag the rascal from his house,
And make him eat his words in the very place
He spit them forth in.
Gil. All this we will do,
But at some better opportunity,
And fitter place. I've heard my grandsire say,
* If you begin the fray, why then
You must abide the how and when ;
But who's drawn into it, I trow,
May suit himself with when and how.'
But footsteps ! Hark !
Now to commence our calling, as new members
Of the most courteous cut-purse company.
Enter LEONARDO, travelling.
Leon, (speaking as he enters). Lead on the horses,
Mendo, 'tis so pleasant
Under the shadow of these wooded rocks,
I'll walk some way alone.
Gil. Your servant, sir.
Leon. Sir, God be with you !
Gil. Travelling all alone ?
And whither, may I ask?
N
i;8 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT in
Leon. To Lisbon, sir.
Gil. And whence ?
Leon. I started at the break of day
From Salvatierra.
Gil. Ay? Then you can tell
What news is stirring there.
Leon. Oh nothing, sir.
Unless perhaps the exploits of a fellow
The terror of that country ; one Gil Perez,
I think ; who, when justice was at his heels
After some crime or other I forget,
Wounded the Sheriff, kill'd his officer,
And then was impudent enough to walk
Into the very Judge's house, and there,
Before his very eyes, snatch up and read
The depositions drawn up against him.
Gil. A very curious story, that !
Leon. And then,
Though half the place was up in arms on him,
He, and another who is, as I hear,
Much such another rascal as himself,
Broke through them all and got away scot free !
But they are after him.
Gil. This is the news ?
Leon. All that I know of.
Gil. Well before you go,
I'll ask you, sir, who by your speech and bearing
Seem a good fellow, if a friend of yours
Came flying for his life, the Philistines
Close on his heels, and fell before your feet,
At your own door, exhausted, and beseeching
Help and protection of you let me ask
What would you do ?
Leon. What do ? why, give it him.
Gil. You would ? and would you, in so doing,
SCENE I GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 179
Deserve the name of rascal for your pains ?
Leon: No, certainly.
Gil. And when a writ was out
Against you for so doing, charging you
With murder, threatening death and confiscation,
Would you be more a rascal for demanding
Such needful information of the Judge
As he alone could give of evidence
Which you suspected, and found false?
Leon. No, truly.
Gil. One question more. If, damn'd by such
false witness,
You were found guilty, all your property
Confiscated, yourself condemn'd to die,
Might not you fly the misdirected sword
Of justice, and of those who well could spare
Beg a poor tithe of what she robb'd you wholly,
And be no rascal still ?
Leon. Oh clearly, clearly.
Gil. This granted then, look to the inference.
I am Gil Perez ; I who struck the Sheriff,
And kill'd his man, and read the Judge's papers,
And flying hither, shorn of house and home,
Ask you for that of which the law robs me ;
Which, having plenty, if you will not give,
By your own free admission I may take,.
And be no rascal still.
Leon. You need not use
My argument against me ; I respect
And pity you, Gil Perez ; take this chain ;
If it be not enough, I pledge my word
I'll bring you more hereafter.
Gil. All you say
Tells of a generous heart. But ere I take
Your present, tell me do you give it me
i8o GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT in
For fear, alone, and in my power, may be,
Or of good will ?
Leon. Good will ! I swear to you,
Gil Perez, I would even do the same
Had I a squadron at my side.
Gil. As such
I take it, then. For when my life must pay,
As soon or late it must, the penalty
Of hungry vengeance, I shall lay it down
Contented in my conscience, and report
That I but took from those who had to give,
And freely gave ; the only retribution
My evil star allow'd me.
Leon. True enough.
Is there aught else that I can do for you ?
Gil. Nothing.
Leon. Farewell and may a better fate
Await you.
Gil. Farewell shall I see you safe
Over the mountain ?
Leon. Not a step adieu. [Exit.
Man. Sure never robbery was known to wear
So fair a face.
Gil. Tut, tut, you're not to call it
Robbery, but preferment, Manuel.
But who are these ?
Enter two Farmers.
ist Farm. I tell you I have bought the stock of
vines
Upon his farm.
^nd Farm. What, Gil's?
ist Farm. Yes ; sold, you know,
To pay the costs of prosecution,
SCENE i GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 181
Judges and Alguazils and such ; and I
Am carrying them the money.
Man. Fair game this.
Gil. I know him, a near neighbour. Well, friend
Antony,
How goes it with you ?
\st Farm. What ! Gil Perez ! you !
When the whole country's after you ?
Gil. And if they catch me nobody's the worse
Except myself. But till they catch and kill me,
(When I shall want, you know, no more to live on,)
I've not a stiver ; clipt of the estate
Whose price you carry in your pocket there.
Now, I'd not starve ; but, on the other hand,
Would not wrong any one to keep me from't :
How shall we settle that ?
ist Farm. Oh easily
Take this and this (offers money} I had better give
it up
At once, for fear. (Aside.)
Gil. But do you give me this
Of free good will ?
ist Farm. Why as to that, Gil Perez,
My will is good to serve you ; but, you see,
I am not very rich.
Gil. You mean by that
You would not give this money could you help it ?
\st Farm. Why certainly.
Gil. Then keep it and begone
In peace.
\st Farm. Gil Perez !
Gil. I'll not have it said
I robb'd not shamed to beg in my distress.
2nd Farm. And I pray, Gil, and he who likes may
hear me,
182 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT in
God keep you from your enemies. I have here
Six pieces that my wife knows nothing of;
You're welcome.
Gil. Not a penny ; go your ways,
Or night will reach you ere you reach your homes.
\Exeunt Farmers.
Man. Gil, while you talk'd with them, I've heard
a sound
As of pursuit listen ! and many too.
Gil. Let us up higher then !
Man. Beware, the trees
Will whisper of our whereabout.
Gil. Then here
Behind the rocks that tell no tales.
Man. Quick, quick ! (They hide.)
Enter DONNA LEONOR, JUAN BAPTISTA, Judge,
Alguazils, etc.
Bapt. Here, madam, till the scorching sun be
sunk,
Tarry awhile.
Leonor. My cousin's grievous sickness
Calls me with all speed homeward.
Judge. And as yet
No vestige of these ruffians, whom to find
And bring to justice, madam, in your cause,
I'll peril my own life.
Gil. Hist, Manuel !
Man. Ay, but speak lower.
Gil. When better than now
Can I avenge Alonso and myself,
When judge, accus'd, accuser, and false witness,
Are all together ?
Man. Wait awhile.
SCENE i GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 183
Gil. But
Man. See,
Fresh comers.
Gil. I shall lose the golden moment.
Enter some, dragging along PEDRO.
Judge. A prisoner ?
ist Man. One of Gil Perez's knaves, my lord,
whom we have just now caught creeping over to
Portugal. The very day Perez swam over there this
fellow was missed from Salvatierra, and returned on
the very evening of his return.
Judge. Very suspicious indeed.
Pedro. Very, my lord, I grant it. Yes, wherever
I go, to Portugal, Flanders, Germany, China, Japan,
'tis all the same. I am sure to find him there.
Judge. You know then where he is now ?
Fed. Oh, doubtless close at hand : he must be, I
being here ; he is such a constant master, that if you
put me in prison he'll soon surrender only to follow
me there.
Judge. Point out the place, then.
Ped. Would to Heav'n I could, for were he clapt
up safe I'd not follow him, I promise you. Indeed,
my lord, I live in terror of my life from him.
Flying from him it was I fled from home
To Portugal ; where the first man I saw
Was he I thought I'd left at Salvatierra :
Flying to Andalusia, the first face
I saw was his I left in Portugal :
Till, rushing homeward in despair, the man
I thought I'd left behind in Andalusia,
Met me at once, and having knockt me down,
1-84 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT in
Left me for dead. Well, I got up at last,
And fled again : but, scarcely got a mile,
Your people seize me on suspicion
Of knowing where he hides, and so far justly,
That carrying me by way of a decoy,
I'll lay my life he soon were in the trap.
Judge. Your folly, or your cunning, sir, shall not
mislead us ; tell me where your master is at once, or
the wooden horse .
Fed. Alas, I'm a bad rider.
Judge. Take him to the village and keep him
close. By his looks I doubt not, spite of this affected
simplicity, he's a desperate ruffian.
Fed. I seem such a desperate fellow to him .
Dear me, of the four men here let one depart, and
leave three, and one of the three leave two, and one
of the two one ; and that one leave half himself; and
that half his half; and that quarter his half, till it
comes to nil : it would still be nilly willy with me.
\Exit) guarded by Alguazils.
Gil. Manuel,
The Alguazils are gone.
Man. Now for it then.
Gil (appearing). God save this noble company !
All. Gil Perez !
Gil. Be not alarm'd ; I have but a few words
To say to one of you, this Juan Baptista.
Judge. Holloa ! my guards !
Man. Judge, never strain your throat,
Unless you would be answer'd by such guards
As waited on you yesterday.
Judge. Is this the way that I, and, in my person,
That justice is insulted?
Gil. Nay, my lord,
You least of all should tax a criminal
SCENE I GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 185
Who so punctiliously respects yourself,
And the realm's Justice in your belly lodged,
That not to waste you in a vain pursuit,
He waits on you himself.
Judge. Impudent man !
And this before that most illustrious lady
Your treachery has render'd brotherless ;
And who with daily prayers
Gil. And 'tis for this
That she may hear my vindication
Ev'n from the very lips that made the charge,
And cease an unjust persecution,
Unworthy of her noble name and blood,
That I am here. For, madam, if I prove
That Don Alonso in fair duel slew
Your brother, and without my treacherous help,
Or any man's, would you pursue us still ?
Leonor. No, sir ; for though the laws of duel are
For men alone, I know enough of them
To pardon all that was in honour done,
Ev'n to my cost. Prove what you say you will,
And Don Alonso may take sanctuary
In my own house against myself and all.
Gil. 'Tis nobly said. On this I take my stand :
And since 'tis general and accepted law
That what a witness first shall swear, and then
Forswear, stand for no evidence at all,
Stand forth, Juan Baptista ;
Here is your deposition ; I will read it
Before the very Judge you swore it to,
And before this great lady, and do you
Substantiate or deny it point by point.
Judge. Audacity !
Gil (reading). In the first place you swear,
That, ' As luck fell, you were behind a tree
186 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT in
'When the two gentlemen came out to fight.'
Say, is this true ?
Bapt. It is.
Gil. ' And that they fought
' Hand to hand fairly, until suddenly
* Gil Perez, rushing from a thicket, sided
* With Don Alonso.' Now, bethink you well ;
Is this the truth, Baptista ?
Bapt. Yes. I swear it.
Gil. Infamous liar! (Shoots him with a pistol.)
Bapt. (falling). Heav'n have mercy on me !
Gil. My lord, you must another murder add
To my black catalogue. Come, Manuel,
We must away while we have time. Farewell.
[Exeunt GIL and MANUEL.
Judge. By the most sacred person of my king,
I swear to punish this audacity,
If it should cost my life.
Bapt. Oh, listen, lady ;
While I have breath to speak. I'm justly slain.
I tried to swear Gil Perez's life away
To gain his sister ; he has told you true :
In fair and open duel, hand to hand,
W T as Don Diego slain. Oh let my death
Atone for this, and my last dying words
Attest it. (Dies.)
Enter the Alguazils with PEDRO.
Alg. We heard a pistol, and returned, my lord, to
see.
Judge. It was Gil Perez ; that is his work. (Point-
ing to BAPTISTA.)
Fed. There, said I not the truth ?
Judge. He must not escape ; after him ! As to
SCENE ii GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 187
this fellow here, who is plainly in his secrets, let two
Alguazils keep guard upon him here, lest he do
further mischief; the rest come with me.
Ped. What crime have I committed ? Did I not
tell you, my lord, he would come, and did he not
come?
Judge. Peace, traitor ! Come, madam. \_Exeunt.
SCENE II. Another Pass in the same Mountain.
Firing and shouting heard ; after which, enter ISABEL
and JUAN A on a platform of rock above the stage.
Isab. That arquebuss ! of which only the thunder
Has reach'd us of perhaps some deadly bolt
On one of those we love !
Why tarry they so long ? What think you, Juana ?
Jua. Oh what, but share your fears !
Isab. Let us descend,
And learn the truth at once ; better at once
To die, than by this torture.
(As they are about to descend, enter to them suddenly
GIL PEREZ and MANUEL.)
Gil. Wait !
Isab. ^ My brother !
Jua. Manuel !
Gil. They are coming ; hide we here ;
There is no time
Enter Judge, LEON OR, Alguazils, etc.
Judge. After them ! after them !
By Heav'n, this mountain-top shall be the scaffold
i88 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT in
On which the wretch shall expiate his crimes.
Two thousand scudi for the man who brings,
Dead or alive, Gil Perez !
Gil (appearing above). By the Lord,
You rate me cheap, my lord ; I'll set you higher
I say four thousand scudi for the Judge,
Alive or stuffd !
Judge. There he is ! Fire ! (Alguazil Jires and
wounds GIL.)
Gil (falling). God help me !
Judge. Yield.
Gil (struggling). I've an arm left yet.
Alg. He'll fight when dead.
Judge. Away with him ! (Judge and Algitazils carry
off GIL.)
Man. (struggling with JUAN A). Leave hold of me,
I say.
Jua. Oh ! Manuel !
Isab. Oh ! my brother !
Man. Let me go,
Or I will dash you headlong with myself. (He rushes
down, ISABEL and JUAN A after him.)
SCENE III. Same as SCENE I.
PEDRO discovered guarded by two Alguazils.
Fed. Shots and shouting ! They must be at work.
Perhaps you gentlemen will wait, while I go and see.
Alg. Be quiet, or two bullets
Ped. Oh, one would be enough, thank you. Well,
if I mustn't go, will you two gentlemen ? and leave
me to wait for you ? I'm quite indifferent.
Alg. We leave you not an instant or an inch.
SCENE in GIL PEREZ, THE GALLTCIAN 189
Fed. Were ever guards half so polite ! Sure, I
must be a holiday to be so strictly kept.
Alg. Hark ! They are coming.
Enter Judge and Alguazils with GIL, a cloak thrown
over him.
Judge. Where is the other prisoner?
Alg. Here, my lord.
Judge. March on with us.
Alg. 2. My lord, this man will faint with loss of
blood and weariness.
Judge. Halt then, and let him breathe awhile.
(They uncover GIL, and PEDRO sees him.)
Fed. I might have guessed it ! Let me be in the
bilboes, on the very scaffold, he must be with me :
he will die on purpose to lie in the same grave with
me, I think !
Gil. Whose voice is that ?
Fed. Nobody's.
Gil. Pedro ? Courage, my poor boy. My day is
over. Oh, vanity of mortal strength !
Judge. But who are these ?
Enter DONNA LEONOR, with ISABEL, JUANA,
and Servants.
%
Leonor. I, Donna Leonor, who, falling in
With these sad ladies, do repent me much,
That, misdirected by a lying tongue,
I have pursued this gentleman I doubt
To death if not, I charge you from this moment
Leave him at liberty.
Isab. Or else
190 GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN ACT in
Enter suddenly MANUEL and DON ALONSO, and
followers.
Alon. Or else,
Look to it.
Gil. Don Alonso ! whom I thought
Far off upon the seas ?
Alon. And should have been,
But when my foot was on the very plank
That rock'd upon the foam along the beach,
I, who could never get you from my heart,
And knew that you had come to peril hither,
Could but return once more to him who saved
My life, though he had waved me from his side.
Enough ; I am in time. I tell you, sir,
Give up this man at once. (To the Judge.}
Judge. Not for you all !
Alon. Then at him and his people !
(ALONSO, MANUEL, and their people rush on the Judge,
Alguazils, etc., disarm them, and beat them out.)
Alon. (embracing GIL). My friend is free.
Gil. And what first use shall make
Of freedom ?
Fed. Why, turn Friar ; you can then
Be free and easy too, and leave me so.
Oh, sir, have I not had enough of terror,
Exile, and hunger, to deserve your pardon ?
Plead for me, Don Alonso.
Alon. Gil
Gil. Nay, nay,
What could you seem about to ask of me
But granted ere 'twas said ? Go. I forgive you.
SCENE in GIL PEREZ, THE GALLICIAN 191
With which magnanimous forbearance now
Gil Perez, the Gallician, makes his bow.
[Exeunt.
'Thus ends,' says Calderon, 'the first part of the hazanas
notables of Luis Perez,' whose name I have, for sundry reasons,
(and without offence to the hero, I hope,) changed to Gil. He
was ' a notorious robber,' says Mr. Ticknor, a kind of Spanish
Rob Roy perhaps ; at all events, one whose historical reality is
intimated by greater distinctness of character than is usual in
these plays. Of such gentry examples are never wanting in
Spain, where so little alters to this day ; witness the career of
the famous Jose Maria, quite lately ended ; who, 1 read in a
book of Travels, was, like Gil, a farmer, for his first calling ; a
most merciful robber when he took to his second ; and who
performed Gil's feat of confronting, if not a Judge, a Prime
Minister in his own den.
Gil perhaps had better have ' played his pranks ' (as Fuller
says of Robin Hood) in prose ; but he was a lawless fellow, and
blank verse lay in his way. Those who think his style
altogether too heroic for a countiy robber, will at least find my
version more than excused by the original.
THREE JUDGMENTS AT A
BLOW
193
DRAMATIS PERSONS
PEDRO IV.
DON MENDO TORKI.I.AS
DONNA VIOLANTE
ELVIRA .
DON LOPE DE URRKA.
DONNA BLANCA
DON LOPE
BEATRICE
DON GUILLEN .
VICENTE .
King of Arragon.
his Minister.
Mendo's Daughter,
her Maid.
his Wife,
their Son.
their Servant.
a Friend of Don Lope's.
Young Lope's Servant.
ROBBERS, OFFICERS, ROYAL SUITE, etc.
194
THREE JUDGMENTS AT A
BLOW
ACT I
SCENE I. A Mountain Pass near Saragassa.
Shot within. Then enter DON MENDO and VIOLANTE
pursued by Robbers, among whom is VICENTE.
Men. Villains, let steel or bullet do their worst,
I'll die ere yield.
Viol. Heaven help us !
Robber I. Fool, to strive
Against such odds upon their own ground too,
Red with the blood of hundreds like yourselves.
Vic. Come, sir, no more ado ;
But quietly give my young madam up,
Nice picking for our captain.
Men. Not while a drop of blood is in my body.
Robbers. Here's at you then !
Viol. My father !
(As the Robbers attack MENDO, enter DON LOPE.)
Lope. How now ? whom have you here ?
Vic. Oh, noble captain,
We found this lady resting from the sun
Under the trees, with a small retinue,
196 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT i
Who of course fled.
All but this ancient gentleman, who still
Holds out against us.
Lope (to MENDO). What can you expect
Against such numbers ?
Men. Not my life, but death.
You come in time
Upon my knees I do beseech of you (kneels)
No other mercy save of instant death
To both of us.
Lope. Arise ! you are the first
Has moved me to the mercy you decline.
This lady is your wife ?
Men. My only daughter !
Viol. In spirit as in blood. If by his death
You think to make you masters of my life,
Default of other weapon, with these hands
I'll cease the breath of life, or down these rocks
Dash myself headlong.
Lope. Lady, calm yourself;
Your beauty has subdued an angry devil
One like yourself first raised within my soul.
Your road lies whither, sir ?
Men. To Saragossa.
Where if I could requite
Lope. Your name ?
Men. Don Mendo
Torellas, after a long embassage
To Paris, Rome, and Naples, summon'd back
By Pedro, King of Arragon with whom
If 't be (as oft) some youthful petulance,
Calling for justice or revenge at home,
Drives you abroad to these unlawful courses,
I pledge my word
Lope. Alas, sir, I might hail
SCENE I THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 197
Your offer could I hope that your deserts,
However great, might cancel my account
Of ill-deserving. But indeed my crimes
Have gather'd so in number, and in weight,
And condemnation committed, some of them,
To stave away the very punishment
They must increase at last ; others, again,
In the sheer desperation of forgiveness
That all had heap'd upon me
Men. Nay, nay, nay ;
Despair not ; trust to my good offices ;
In pledge of which here, now, before we part,
I swear to make your pardon the first boon
I'll ask for or accept at the King's hand.
Your name ?
Lope. However desperate, and ashamed
To tell it, you shall hear it and my story.
Retire ! (To the Robbers, wJw exeunt?)
Don Mendo, I am Lope, son
Of Lope de Urrea, of some desert,
At least in virtue of my blood.
Men. Indeed !
Urrea and myself were, I assure you,
Intimate friends of old, another tie,
If wanting one, to bind me to your service.
Lope. I scarce can hope it, sir ; if I, his son,
Have so disgraced him with my evil^ways,
And so impoverisht him with my expenses,
Were you his friend, you scarcely can be mine.
And yet, were I to tell you all, perhaps
I were not all to blame.
Men. Come, tell me all ;
'Tis fit that I should hear it.
Viol. I begin
To breathe again.
198 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT 1
Lope. Then listen, sir. My father in his youth,
As you perhaps may know, but why I know not,
Held off from marriage ; till, bethinking him,
Or warn'd by others, what a shame it were
So proud a name should die for want of wearer,
In his late years he took to wife a lady
Of blameless reputation, and descent
As noble as his own, but so unequal
In years, that she had scarcely told fifteen
When age his head had whiten'd with such snows
As froze his better judgment.
Men. Ay, 1 know
Too well too well ! (Aside.)
Lope. Long she repell'd his suit,
Feeling how ill ill-sorted years agree ;
But, at the last, before her father's will
She sacrificed her own. Oh sacrifice
That little lacks of slaughter ! So, my father
Averse from wedlock's self, and she from him,
Think what a wedlock this must be, and what
The issue that was like to come of it !
While other sons cement their parents' love,
My birth made but a wider breach in mine.
Just in proportion as my mother loved
Her boy, my father hated him yes, hated,
Even when I was lisping at his knees
That little language charms all fathers' hearts.
Neglecting me himself, as I grew up
He neither taught, nor got me taught, to curb
A violent nature, which by love or lash
May even be corrected in a wolf:
Till, as I grew, and found myself at large,
Spoilt both by mother's love and father's hate
I took to evil company, gave rein
To every passion as it rose within,
SCENE I THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 199
Wine, dice, and women what a precipice
To build the fabric of a life upon !
Which, when my father
Saw tottering to its fall, he strove to train
The tree that he had suffer'd to take root
In vice, and grow up crooked all too late !
Though not revolting to be ruled by him,
I could not rule myself. And so we lived
Both in one house, but wholly apart in soul,
Only alike in being equally
My mother's misery. Alas, my mother !
My heart is with her still ! W T hy, think, Don Mendo,
That, would she see me, I must creep at night
Muffled, a tip-toe, like a thief, to her,
Lest he should know of it ! Why, what a thing
That such a holy face as filial love
Must wear the mask of theft ! But to sum up
The story of my sorrows and my sins
That have made me a criminal, and him
Almost a beggar ;
In the full hey-day of my wilfulness
There lived a lady near, in whom methought
Those ancient enemies, wit, modesty,
And beauty, all were reconciled ; to her,
Casting my coarser pleasures in the rear,
I did devote myself first with mute signs,
Which by and by began to breathe in sighs,
And by and by in passionate words that love
Toss'd up all shapeless, but all glowing hot,
Up from my burning bosom, and which first
Upon her willing ears fell unreproved,
Then on her heart, which by degrees they wore
More than I used to say her senseless threshold
Wore by the nightly pressure of my feet.
She heard my story, pitied me
200 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT I
With her sweet eyes ; and my unruly passion,
Flusht with the promise of first victory,
Push'd headlong to the last ; not knowing, fool !
How in love's world the shadow of disappointment
Exactly dogs the substance of success.
In fine, one night I stole into her house,
Into her chamber ; and with every vow
Of marriage on my tongue \ as easy then
To utter, as thereafter to forswear,
When in the very jewel I coveted
Very compliance seem'd to make a flaw
That made me careless of it when possess'd.
From day to day I put our marriage off
With false pretence, which she at last suspecting
Falsely continued seeming to believe,
Till she had got a brother to her side,
(A desperate man then out-law'd, like myself,
For homicide,) who, to avenge her shame,
With other two waylaid me on a night
When as before I unsuspectingly
Crept to her house ; and set upon me so,
All three at once, I just had time to parry
Their thrusts, and draw a pistol, which till then
They had not seen, when
Voices (within). Fly ! Away ! Away !
Enter VICENTE.
Lope. What is the matter now ?
Vic. Captain !
Lope. Well, speak.
Vic. We must be off; the lady's retinue
Who fled have roused the soldiery, and with them
Are close upon our heels. We've not a moment.
Lope. Then up the mountain !
SCENE I THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 201
Men. Whither I will see
They shall not follow you ; and take my word
I'll not forget my promise.
Lope. I accept it.
Men. Only, before we part, give me some token,
The messenger I send may travel with
Safe through your people's hands.
Lope (giving a dagger). This then.
Men. A dagger ?
An evil-omen'd pass-word.
Lope. Ah, Don Mendo,
What has a wretched robber got to give
Unless some implement of death ! And see,
The wicked weapon cannot reach your hand,
But it must bite its master's. (His hand bleeding.)
Tll-omen'd as you say !
Voices (within). Away ! Away !
Vic. They're close upon us !
Viol. O quick ! begone ! My life hangs on a
thread
While yours is in this peril.
Lope. That alone
Should make me fly to save it. Farewell, lady.
Farewell, Don Mendo.
Men. and Viol. Farewell !
Lope. What strange things
One sun between his rise and setting brings ! [Exit.
Men. Let us anticipate, and so detain
The soldiers. That one turn of Fortune's wheel
Years of half-buried memory should reveal !
Viol. Could I believe that crime should ever be
So amiable ! How fancy with us plays,
And with one touch colours our future days !
[Exettnt severally.
202 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT I
SCENE II. An Audience Hall in the Palace of
PEDRO, King of Arragon.
Enter DON LOPE DE URREA, and DON GUILLEN.
Guil. Such bosom friends, sir, as from infancy
Your son and I have been, I were ashamed,
You being in such trouble, not to offer
My help and consolation. Tell me aught
That I can serve you in.
Urr. Believe me, sir,
My heart most deeply thanks your courtesy.
When came you to the city ?
Guil. Yesterday,
From Naples.
Urr. Naples ?
Guil. To advance a suit
I have in Arragon.
Urr. I too am here
For some such purpose ; to beseech the King
A boon I doubt that he will never grant.
Guil. Ev'n now his Highness comes.
Enter KING PEDRO and Train.
Urr. So please your Majesty, listen to one,
Of whom already you have largely heard
Don Lope de Urrea.
King. Oh ! Don Lope !
Urr. I come not hither to repeat in words
The purport of so many past petitions,
My sorrows now put on a better face
Before your Highness' presence. I beseech you
To hear me patiently.
King. Speak, Urrea, speak !
SCENE ii THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 203
Urr. Speak if I can, whose sorrow rising still
Clouds its own utterance. My liege, my son,
Don Lope, loved a lady here ; seduced her
By no feign'd vows of marriage, but compell'd
By me, who would not listen to a suit
Without my leave contracted, put it off
From day to day, until the lady, tired
Of a delay that argued treachery,
Engaged her brother in the quarrel ; who
With two companions set upon my son
One night to murder him. The lad, whose metal
Would never brook affront, nor cared for odds,
Drew on all three ; slew one a homicide
That nature's common law of self-defence
Permits. The others fled, and set on him
The officers of justice, one of whom
In his escape he struck
A self-defence against your laws I own
Not so to be excused then fled himself
Up to the mountains. I must needs confess
He better had deserved an after-pardon
By lawful service in your camp abroad
Than aggravating old offence at home,
By lawless plunder ; but your Highness knows
It is an ancient law of honour here
In Arragon, that none of noble blood
In mortal quarrel quit his native ground.
But to return. The woman, twice aggrieved,
Her honour and her brother lost at once,
(For him it was my son slew of the three,)
Now seeks to bring her sorrows into port :
And pitying my grey hairs and misery,
Consents to acquit my son on either count.
Providing I supply her wherewithal
To hide her shame within some holy house ;
204 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT
Which, straiten'd as I am, (that, by my troth,
I scarce, my liege, can find my daily bread,)
I have engaged to do ; not only this,
But, in addition to the sum in hand,
A yearly income which to do, I now
Am crept into my house's poorest rooms,
And, (to such straits may come nobility !)
Have let for hire what should become my rank
And dignity to an old friend, Don Mendo
Torellas, who I hear returns to-day
To Saragossa. It remains, my liege,
That, being by the plaintiffs self absolved,
My son your royal pardon only needs ;
Which if not he nor I merit ourselves,
Yet let the merits of a long ancestry,
Who swell your glorious annals with their names
Writ in their blood, plead for us not in vain ;
Pity the snows of age that misery
Now thaws in torrents from my eyes ; yet more,
Pity a noble lady my wife his mother
Who sits bow'd down with sorrow and disgrace
In her starved house.
King. This is a case, Don Lope,
For my Chief Justice, not for me.
Urr. Alas !
How little hope has he who, looking up
To dove-eyed mercy, sees but in her place
Severely-sworded justice !
King. Is't not fit
That the tribunal which arraign'd the crime
Pronounce the pardon also ?
Urr. Were it so,
I know not where to look for that tribunal,
Or only find it speechless, since the death
Of Don Alfonso.
SCENE ii THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 205
King. His successor's name
This day will be announced to Arragon.
Urr. Yet let a father's tears
King. They might indeed
The marble heart of justice make to bleed.
[Exeunt KING, DON GUILLEN, and Train.
Urr. And thus to satisfy the exigence
Of public estimation, one is forced
To sacrifice entreaty and estate
For an ill son.
Yet had but this petition been inflamed
With love, that love of his had lit in me,
My prayer had surely prosper'd. But 'tis done,
Fruitless or not : well done, for Blanca's sake ;
Poor Blanca, though indeed she knows it not,
And scarcely would believe it
But who comes here ? the friend of better days,
Don Mendo ! I would hide me from his eye,
But, oh indignity, his ancient friend,
Equal in birth and honour to himself,
Must now, reduced to't by a shameless son,
Become his tavern-keeper ! For the present
I may hold back the King too ! come to meet
And do him honour.
Enter, meeting, KING, with Train, and DON MENDO.
Men. My royal master, let me at ydur feet
Now and for ever
King. Rise, Don Mendo, rise,
Chief Justice of all Arragon.
Men. My liege,
How shall I rise with such a weight of honour
And solemnest responsibility,
As you have laid upon my neck !
206 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT i
King. Tis long
Since we have met. How fare you ?
Men. How but well,
On whom your royal favour shines so fair !
King. Enough. You must be weary. For to-day
Go rest yourself, Chief Justice. And to-morrow
We'll talk together. I have much to tell,
And much to ask of you.
Men. Your Highness knows
How all my powers are at your sole command,
And only well employ'd in doing it.
[Exit KING with Train.
Urr. If it be true that true nobility
Slowly forgets what once it has esteem'd,
I think Don Mendo will not turn away
From Lope de Urrea.
Men. My old friend !
I must forget myself, as well as honour,
When I forget the debt I owe your love.
Urr. For old acquaintance then I kiss your
hand;
And on two other counts. First, as your host,
You know, on your arrival ; be assured
That I shall do my best to entertain you :
And, secondly, congratulating you
On your new dignity, which you hardly don
Before I am your suitor.
Men. Oh Don Lope,
How gladly shall I serve you !
Urr. This memorial
I had presented to the King, and he
Referr'd to his Chief Justice.
Men. Oh trust to me,
And to my loyal friendship in the cause.
Urr. A son of mine, Don Mendo,
SCENE in THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 207
Men. Nay, no more
I am apprized of all.
Urr. I know that men
Think my heart harden'd toward my only son.
It might have been so ; not, though, till my son's
Was flint to me. O Mendo, by his means
My peace of mind, estate, and good repute
Are gone for ever !
Men. Nay, be comforted :
I fill a post where friendship well can grant
What friendship fairly asks. Think from this hour
That all is ended. Not for your sake only,
But for your son's ; to whom (you soon shall hear
The whole strange history) I owe my life,
And sure shall not be slack to save his own.
All will be well. Come, let us to your house,
Whither, on coming to salute the King,
I sent my daughter forward.
Urr. I rejoice
To think how my poor Blanca will rejoice
To do her honour. You remember Blanca?
Men. Remember her indeed, and shall delight
To see her once again. (Aside.) O lying tongue,
To say so, when the heart beneath would fain
We had not met, or might not meet again !
SCENE III. A Room in URREA'S House.
Enter BLANCA and VIOLANTE in travelling dress^
meeting.
Blan. How happy am I that so fair a guest
Honours my house by making it her own,
208 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT i
And me her servant !
To welcome and to wait on Violante
I have thus far intruded.
Viol. Nay, Donna Blanca,
Mine is the honour and the happiness,
Who, coming thus to Arragon a stranger,
Find such a home and hostess. Pardon me
That I detain you in this ante-room,
My own not ready yet.
Blan. You come indeed
Before your people look'd for you.
Viol. But not
Before my wishes, lady, I assure you :
Not minding on the mountains to encounter
Another such a risk.
Blan. There was a first then ?
Viol. So great that I assure you and too truly,
(aside)
My heart yet beats with it.
Blan. How was 't ?
' Viol. Why, thus :
In wishing to escape the noon-day sun,
That seem'd to make both air and land breathe fire,
I lighted from my litter in a spot
That one might almost think the flowers had chosen
To tourney in, so green and smooth the sward
On which they did oppose their varied crests,
So fortified above with closing leaves,
And all encompass'd by a babbling stream.
There we sat down to rest ; when suddenly
A company of robbers broke upon us,
And would have done their worst, had not as suddenly
A young and gallant gentleman, their captain,
Arrested them, and kindly but how now?
Why weep you, Donna Blanca ?
SCENE in THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 209
Blan. Weeping, yes,
My sorrows with your own But to your tale.
Viol Nay, why should I pursue it if my trouble
Awake the memory of yours ?
Blan. Your father,
Saw he this youth, this robber cavalier
Who graced disgrace so handsomely ?
Viol. Indeed,
And owes his life and honour to him.
Blan. Oh !
He had aton'd for many a foregone crime
By adding that one more ! But I talk wild ;
Pardon me, Violante.
I have an anguish ever in my breast
At times will rise, and sting me into madness ;
Perhaps you will not wonder when you hear
This robber was my son, my only son,
Whose wicked ways have driv'n him where he is,
From home, and law, and love !
Viol. Forgive me, lady,
I mind me now he told us
But I was too confused and terrified
To heed to names. Else credit me
Enter URREA and MENDO.
Urr. Largess ! a largess, wife ! for bringing you
Joy and good fortune to our house, fro*m which
They have so long been banisht.
Blan. Long indeed !
Urr. So long, methinks, that coming all at once
They make me lose my manners. (To VIOLANTE.)
This fair hand
Must, as I think it will, my pardon sign ;
Inheriting such faculty. Oh, Blanca,
p
210 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT I
I must not let one ignorant moment slip
You know not half our joy.
Don Mendo, my old friend, and our now guest,
Graced at the very threshold by the King
With the Chief-Justiceship of Arragon,
Points his stem office with an act of mercy,
By pardoning your Lope whom we now
Shall have once more with us, I trust, for ever.
Oh join with me in thanking him !
Blan. I am glad,
Don Mendo, that we meet under a roof
Where I can do you honour. For my son,
I must suppose from what you daughter says,
You would, without our further prayer or thanks,
Have done as you have done.
Mend. Too true I know-
And you still better, lady that, all done,
I am your debtor still.
Enter ELVIRA.
Elv. Madam, your room is ready.
Viol. May I then
Retire ?
Blan. If I may wait upon you thither.
Urr. Nay, nay, 'tis I that as a grey-hair'd page
Must do that office.
Mend. Granted, on condition
That I may do as much for Donna Blanca.
Viol. As master of the house, I must submit
Without condition.
[Exeunt VIOLANTE and URREA.
Blan. You were going, sir?
Mend. To wait upon you, Blanca.
SCENE in THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 211
Blan. Nay, Don Mendo,
Least need of that.
Mend. Oh, Blanca, Heaven knows
How much I have desired to talk with you !
Blan. And to what purpose, sir ?
No longer in your power perhaps, nor will
To do as well as talk.
Mend. If but to say
How to my heart it goes seeing you still
As sad as when I left you years ago.
Blan. 'As sad? as when you left me years
ago'
I understand you not am not aware
I ever saw you till to-day.
Mend. Ah, Blanca,
Have pity !
Blan. Nay, Don Mendo, let us cease
A conversation, uselessly begun,
To end in nothing. If your memory,
Out of some dreamt-of fragments of the past,
Attach to me, the past is dead in time ;
Let it be buried in oblivion.
Mend. Oh, with what courage, Blanca, do you
wield
Your ready woman's wit !
Blan. I know not why
You should say that.
Mend. But /know.
Blan. I ft be so,
Agree with me to say no more of it.
Mend. But how ?
Blan. By simple silence.
Mend. How be silent
Under such pain ?
Blan. By simple suffering.
212 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT n
Mend. Oh, Blanca, how learn that ?
Blan. Of me and thus.
Beatrice !
Enter BEATRICE.
Beat. Madam?
Blan. Light Don Men do to
His chamber. Thus be further trouble sped.
Mend. Nay, rather coals of fire heap'd on my
head ! {Exeunt severally.
ACT II
SCENE I. A Room in Urreds House.
Enter URREA and BLANCA on one side, and LOPE
and VICENTE on the other.
Lope. Thrice blessed be the day, that brings me
back
In all humility and love, my father,
To kiss your feet once more.
Urr. Rise up, my son,
As welcome to your parents as long lookt for.
Rise and embrace me.
Lope. Till I have your hand
I scarcely dare.
Urr. Then take it, Lope there
And may God make thee virtuous as thy father
Can pray for thee. Thy mother too
Lope. O madam,
I scarcely dare with anguish and repentance
Lift up my eyes to those I have made weep
So many bitter tears
SCENE i THREE JUDGiMENTS AT A BLOW 213
Blan. You see, my son,
You keep them weeping still not bitter tears,
But tears of joy Oh, welcome home again !
Vic. Where is there any room for a poor devil
AVho has done penance upon rock and water
This many a day, and much repents him of
His former sins ?
Urr. What you alive too ?
Vic. Yes, sir,
This saddle's pad, (showing LOPE,) or, if you like, the
beast
That bears the saddle or, by another rule,
That where the cat jumps also goes her tail.
Lope (to his father}. You see, sir, in such godly
company
I must repent.
Vic. Why, devil take't
Urr. What, swearing ?
Vic. But some poor relic of our former life
That yet will stick. Madam, permit me,
If not to kiss your hand, nor ev'n your feet,
At least the happy ground on which they walk.
Blan. Rise, rise. How can I less than welcome
one
Who has so loyally stood by my son,
Through evil and through good.
Vic. A rqonument
As one might say, madam, ad perpetuam
Fidelis Amicitia Memoriam.
Enter BEATRICE.
Beat. What ! is my master home ? Then, by the
saints,
214 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT n
Saving your presence, and before your faces,
I must embrace him.
Lope. Thanks, good Beatrice.
Urr. You see how all rejoice to see you, Lope,
But none so more than I ; believe 't. But now
'Tis time you wait on Mendo, and acknowledge
The kindness he has done us. See, Beatrice,
If he be in his room, or busy there.
[Exit BEATRICE.
Meanwhile, my son, I crave one patient hearing
To what I have to say.
Vic. Now for a lecture.
Lope. Silence, sir ! Coming here, we must expect
And bear such things. Pray speak, sir.
Urr. You see, Lope,
(And doubtless must have heard of it before,)
In what a plight we are : my property,
What yet remains of it, embroil'd and hamper'd,
And all so little, that this last expense,
Of getting (as I have) your Estifania,
Who has already cost us all so much,
Into a convent ; to do this, I say,
I have been forced to let my house for hire
To my old friend ; yea, almost, I assure you,
To beg from door to door. Enough of that :
'Tis done ; and you are now at last restor'd
To home, and station wealth I cannot say
But all is well that ends well. All I ask,
(And 'tis with tears and with a broken voice
I ask it : I would ask it on my knees
If these white hairs forbade not such descent,)
That from this day, in pity to us all
Perhaps in gratitude you would repent
Your past excess ; yea, surfeited with that,
Would henceforth tame your headlong passions down
SCENE I THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 215
Into a quiet current. Help me, son,
Restore the shaken credit of our house,
And show let us both show that misery
Has taught us not in vain. Let us be friends
Henceforth ; no rivalry of love or hate
Between us ; each doing what in him lies
To make what may remain of life to each
Happy and honourable. On my part
I stake a father's love and tenderness ;
And will not you as freely on your side
Wager your filial obedience ?
Your father asks, implores you. Oh, consider
You may not always have a friend in need
To rescue you as now : nay, disappoint
His mercy and again provoke the laws
He now remits, that friend may turn to foe
And sacrifice the life he vainly spared.
Vic. There only wants, ' in saecula saeculorum,'
To finish off with.
Lope. Sir, I promise you
Amendment, that shall make the past a foil
To set the future off.
Enter MENDO.
Men. I come in time
To vouch fulfilment of so fair a vow.
Lope. Oh, sir
Men. I knew you on your road to me
Your errand too ; and thus much have forestall'd
Of needless courtesy.
Lope. Pray God, reward you
With such advancement in your prince's love
As envy, the court Hydra, shall not hiss,
216 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT n
But general love and acclamation
Write in gold letters in our history,
For ages and for ages. Sir, your hand !
Men. My heart, my heart, you shame me by your
thanks,
For service that the veriest churl had paid
For what you did me, Lope.
Why, I'm your debtor still. But now, enough !
I cannot steal more time from business ;
The King expects me.
Urr. I too must abroad.
Lope. Would I could wait on both but, as it is,
I think my father's self would waive his right,
In favour of our common benefactor.
Urr. Indeed, indeed, I do rejoice you should.
{Exit with BLANCA.
Men. And I, not knowing if your choice be right,
Know that I would not lose you for a moment,
So glad your presence makes me.
{Exit with LOPE.
Vic.' 1 Beatrice! Beatrice!
Beat. Well?
Vic. Think you not, now that our principals are
fairly out of the way, you owe me a kiss on my arrival ?
Beat. Ay, hot from the oven.
Vic. Ah Beatrice ! if you only knew what heart-
aches you've cost me.
Beat. You indeed, robbing and murdering, and I
don't know what beside, up in the mountains ! and
then my new madam that's come with you, Donna
Violante; with her fine Elvira, I know, sir, when
your master was courting his mistress, you
Vic. Now, my own Beatrice, if you could only know
1 Vicente's flirtation with the two Criadas, and its upshot, is
familial- to English play-goers in the comedy of ' The Wonder. '
SCENE I THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 217
what you are talking of as well as I, how little jealousy
could such a creature as that give you !
Beat. Well but why ?
Vic. Not a woman at all, neither maid nor mermaid
Why, didn't I catch her with all those fine locks of
hers clean off her head ?
Beat. Clean off her head ?
Vic. The woman's bald.
Beat. Bald ?
Vic. As my hand ! besides, all the fine white
chevaux-de-frise that ornaments her gums.
Beat. Well?
Vic. All sham.
Beat. What, my fine madam there false teeth ?
Vic. Oh, and half a dozen villainous things I could
tell you, did it become a gentleman to tell tales of
ladies. But see, here is master coming back.
Beat. Good-bye then, for the present, Vicente.
False teeth and a wig ! \Exit.
Enter DON LOPE.
Lope. Vicente, have you by any chance seen
Violante ?
Vic. Not that I know of, sir ; she may however
have passed without my knowing her.
Lope. Vicente still ! As if it were possible one
who had once seen such beauty could' ever forget it.
Vic. Why, sir, if her maid Elvira happened to be
by her side
Lope. Fool !
Vic. Pray is it impossible in the system of things
that the maid should be handsomer than the mistress ?
Lope. Oh could I but see her !
Vic. Take care, take care, sir. Beware of raising
218 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT n
the old devil and now we are but just out of the
frying-pan
Lope. Beware you, sir ! I tell you I ill liked my
father's lecture; do not you read me another. It
were best that no one crossed me, or by heaven !
But who comes here ?
Vic. Don Guillen de Azagra.
Enter DON GUILLEN.
Lope. What ?
Ask what reward you will of me, Vicente.
Don Guillen de Azagra back again !
GuiL And could not wait a moment, hearing you
Were also back, Don Lope, till I found you,
As well to give you welcome as receive it.
Lope. Our old affection asks for nothing less
On both sides. Oh, you are welcome !
Guil. Well can he come, who comes half dead
between
Dead hope and quickening passion !
Lope. How is that ?
Guil. Why, you remember how three years ago
I went to Naples to the wars there ?
Lope. Yes,
We parted, I remember, sadly enough
On both sides, in the Plaza del Aseo ;
Unconsciously divining the sad days
That were about to dawn on one of us.
Guil. Nay, upon both. I am no stranger, Lope,
To your misfortunes ; and Heaven knows I felt them !
But they are over, Heaven be thankt ! mine yet
Are sadly acting. You can help me now,
If not to conquer, to relieve them.
Lope. Ay,
SCENE i THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 219
And will strain every nerve for you. But first
Must hear your story.
Guil. Well I went to Naples,
Where, as you know, our King by force of arms
Was eager to revenge the shameful death
Of Norandino, whom the King of Naples
Had on the scaffold treacherously murder'd.
Of which, and Naples too, I say no more
Than this ; that, entering the city,
I saw a lady in whom the universe
Of beauty seem'd to centre ; as it might be
The sun's whole light into a single beam,
The heavenly dawn into one drop of dew,
Or the whole breathing spring into one rose.
You will believe I loved not without cause,
When you have heard the lady that I speak of
Is
Vic. Donna Violante
Lope. Knave and fool !
Vic. Why so, sir ! only for telling you I saw the lady
coming this way ; but, I suppose, seeing people here,
she has turned back.
Lope. Will you retire awhile, Don Guillen ? this
lady is my father's guest.
Guil. (aside]. Beside, she might be angry finding
me here. [Exit.
Lope. 'Fore Heaven, my mind misgave me it was
she he spoke of!
Vic. Well, you have got the weather-gage. Tackle
her now.
Enter VIOLANTE and ELVIRA.
Lope. Nay, lady, turn not back. What you, the
sun
I see by, to abridge my little day
220 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT n
By enviously returning to the west
As soon as risen, and prematurely drawing
The veil of night over the blush of dawn !
Oh, let me not believe I fright you now,
As yesterday I did, fair Violante,
Arm'd among savage rocks with savage men,
From whose rude company your eyes alone
Have charm'd me, and subdued for the first time
A fierce, unbridled will.
Viol. It were not strange,
Don Lope, if my bosom trembled still
With that first apparition. But in truth
I had not hesitated,
Had I not seen, or fancied, at your side
Another stranger.
Lope. Oh, a friend ; and one
Who spoke with me of you\ nay, who retired
Only for fear of drawing new disdain
Upon old love ; and left me here indeed,
To speak in his behalf.
Viol. Alas, Elvira,
Was't not Don Guillen?
Elv. Yes.
Viol. Don Lope plead
Another's, and Don Guillen's love !
(She is going.)
Lope. At least
Let me attend you to my mother's door.
Viol. Nay, stay, sir.
Lope. Stay ! and lose my life in losing
This happy opportunity !
Viol. Are life
And opportunity the same ?
Lope. So far,
That neither lost ever returns again.
SCENE i THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 221
Viol If you have aught to tell me, tell it here
Before I go.
Lope. Only to ask if you
Confess yourself no debtor to a heart
That long has sigh'd for you ?
Viol. You, sir, are then
Pleading another's cause ?
Lope. I might be shy
To plead in my own person a reserve
That love oft feels and pardons.
Viol. 'Tis in vain.
I will not own to an account of sighs
Drawn up against me without my consent ;
So tell your friend ; and tell him he mistakes
The way to payment making you, of all,
His agent in the cause.
Lope. Nay, nay, but wait.
Viol. No more Adieu ! [Exit.
Lope. She thought I only used
Another's suit as cover to my own,
And cunningly my seeming cunning turns
Against myself. But I will after her ;
If Don Guillen come back, tell him, Vicente,
I'll wait upon him straight. [Exit.
Vic. Madam Elvira !
Elv. Well, Monsieur Cut-throat ?
Vic. Well, you are not scared at my face now ?
Elv. I don't know that your face" remains as it
was.
Vic. Come, come, my queen, do me a little
favour.
Elv. Well, what is that ?
Vic. Just only die for love of me ; I always make
a point of never asking impossibilities of any woman.
Elv. Love is out of the question ! I perhaps
222 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT n
might like you, did I not know the lengths you go
with that monkey Beatrice.
Vic. With whom ?
Elv. I say with Beatrice. Bystanders see as
much, sir, as players.
Vic. I with Beatrice ! Lord ! lord ! if you only
knew half what I know, Elvira, you'd not be jealous
of her.
Elv. Why, what do you know of her ?
Vic. A woman who, could she breed at all, would
breed foxes and stoats a tolerable outside, but only,
only go near her Foh ! such a breath ! beside other
peculiarities I don't mention out of respect to the
sex. But this I tell you, one of those sparkling eyes
of hers is glass, and her right leg a wooden one.
Elv. Nonsense !
Vic. Only you look, and see if she don't limp on
one side, and squint on the other.
Don Guillen (entering at one side}. I can wait no
longer.
Don Lope (entering at the other). It is no use ; she
is shut up with my mother. Now for Don Guillen.
Elv. They are back.
Vic. We'll settle our little matter by and by.
Elv. Glass eyes and wooden legs ! \Exit.
Lope (To DON GUILLEN). Forgive my leaving
you so long ; I have been
Waiting on one who is my father's guest,
The lady Violante.
Guil. So sweet duty
Needs no excuse.
Lope. Now to pursue your story
Guil. Ah where did I leave off?
Lope. About the truce
Making at Naples, when you saw a lady
SCENE i THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 223
Guil. Ay, but I must remember one thing, Lope,
Most memorable of all. The ambassador
Empower'd to treat on our good King's behalf
Was Mendo de Torellas, whose great wisdom
And justice, both grown grey in state affairs,
Well fitted him for such authority ;
Which telling you, and telling you beside,
That when the treaty made, and he left Naples,
I left it too, still following in his wake
The track of a fair star who went with him
To Saragossa, to this very house
Telling you this, I tell you all tell who
My lady is his daughter Violante,
Before whose shrine my life and soul together
Are but poor offerings to consecrate.
Vic. (aside}. A pretty market we have brought
our pigs to !
Who'll bet upon the winner ?
Lope, (aside). Oh confusion !
But let us drain the cup at once. Don Guillen,
Your admiration and devotedness
Needed the addition of no name to point
Their object out. But tell me,
Ere I advise with you, how far your prayer
Is answer'd by your deity.
Guil. Alas !
Two words will tell
Lope. And those?
Guil. Love unreturn'd !
Or worse, return'd with hate.
Vic. (aside). Come, that looks better.
Guil. My love for her has now no hope, Don
Lope,
But in your love for me. She is your guest,
And I as such, beside my joy in you,
224 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT 11
May catch a ray of her may win you even
To plead for me in such another strain
As has not yet wearied her ears in vain ;
Or might you not ev'n now, as she returns,
Give her a letter from me ; lest if first
She see, or hear from others of my coming,
She may condemn my zeal for persecution,
And make it matter of renew'd disdain.
I'll write the letter now, and bring it you
Ere she be back. [Exit.
Vic. (to LOPE). Good-bye, sir.
Lope. Whither now,
Vicente ?
Vic. To the mountains I am sure
You'll soon be after me.
Lope. I understand
But stay awhile.
True, I love Violante, and resent
Don Guillen's rivalry : but he's my friend
Confides to me a passion myself own,
And cannot blame.
Wait we awhile, Vicente, and perhaps
A way will open through the labyrinth
Without our breaking through.
Vic. How glad I am
To see you take't so patiently? Now, sir,
Would you be ruled
Lope. What then ?
Vic. Why simply, sir,
Forget the lady but a few days' flame,
And then
Lope. Impossible !
Vic. What's to be done then ?
Lope. I know not But she comes.
SCENE I THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 225
Enter VIOLANTE.
Viol Still here, Don Lope !
Lope. Ah, what in nature will its centre leave,
Or, forced away, recoils not faster still ?
So rivers yearn along their murmuring beds
Until they reach the sea ; the pebble thrown
Ever so high, still faster falls to earth ;
Wind follows wind, and not a flame struck out
Of heavy wood or flint, but it aspires
Upward at once and to its proper sphere.
Viol. All good philosophy, could I but see
How to apply it here.
Lope. And yet, how easy !
Your beauty being that to which my soul
Ever flies fastest, and most slowly leaves.
Viol. Surely this sudden rapture scarce agrees
With what I heard before.
Lope. How, Violante ?
Viol. Have you not haply changed parts in the
farce,
And risen from second character to first ?
Lope. My second did not please you come what
will,
Casting feign'd speech and character aside,
I'll e'en speak for myself in my own person.
Listen to me Don Guillen
Guil. (listening at the side). Just a moment
To hear him plead my cause.
Lope. Following your beauty, as a flower the sun,
Has come from Italy to Arragon,
And, as my friend, by me entreats of you
To let him plead his suit.
Guil. Would I could stay
226 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT n
To hear the noble Lope plead my cause,
But summon'd hence [Exit.
Viol. Ill does your second part
Excuse your ill performance of the first ;
One failure might be pardon'd, but two such
Are scarce to be excused.
Lope. Oh, tell me then
Which chiefly needs apology !
Viol. I will.
First for your friend Don Guillen ; bid him cease
All compliment and courtship, knowing well
How all has been rejected hitherto,
And will hereafter, to the ruthless winds.
Lope. And on the second count my own ?
Viol. How easily
Out of his answer you may draw your own !
Lope. Alas !
Viol. For when the judge has to pronounce
Sentence on two defendants, like yourselves,
Whose charge is both alike, and bids the one
Report his condemnation to the other ;
Tis plain
Lope. That both must suffer ?
Viol Nay, if so
The judge had made one sentence serve for both.
Lope. Great heavens !
Gui/. (listening at the side). The man dismiss'd, I'll
hear the rest.
Viol. Oh, let it be enough to tell you now
The heart that once indeed was adamant,
Resisting all impression but at last
Ev'n adamant you know
Guil. Oh, she relents !
Lope. Oh, let me kiss those white hands for those
words !
SCENE i THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 227
Guil Excellent friend ! he could not plead more
warmly
Were 't for himself.
Lope. Oh for some little token
To vouch, when you have vanisht from my eyes,
That all was not a dream !
Viol, (giving him a rose). This rose, whose hue
Is of the same that should my cheek imbue ! \Exit.
Enter GUILLEN.
Guil. Oh how thrice welcome is my lady's favour,
Sent to me by the hand of such a friend !
How but in such an attitude as this
Dare I receive it? (Kneels.}
Lope. Rise, Don Guillen, rise :
Flowers are but fading favours that a breath
Can change and wither.
Guil. What mean you by this ?
Lope. Only that though the flower in my hands
Is fresh from Violante's, I must tell you
It must not pass to yours.
Guil. Did not I hear you
Pleading my cause ?
Lope. You might
Guil. And afterwards,
When I came back again, herself confess
That, marble as she had been to my vows,
She now relented tow'rd me !
Lope. If you did,
'T would much disprove the listener's adage.
Guil. How ?
Lope. You set your ears to such a lucky tune,
As took in all the words that made for you,
But not the rest that did complete the measure.
228 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT n
Guil. But did not Violante, when you urged her
In my behalf, say she relented ?
Lope. Yes.
Guil. To whom then ?
Lope. To myself.
Vic. The cat's unbagg'd !
Guil. To you !
Lope. To me.
Guil. Don Lope, you must see
That ev'n my friendship for you scarce can stomach
Such words or credit them.
Lope. Let him beware
Who doubts my words, stomach them as he can.
Guil. But 'tis a jest :
Bearing my happy fortune in your hands,
You only, as old love has leave to do,
Tantalize ere you give it me. Enough,
Give me the rose.
Lope. I cannot, being just
Given to me, and for me.
Guil. His it is
Whose right it is, and that is mine ; and I
Will have it.
Lope. If you can.
Guil. Then follow me,
Where (not in your own house) I may chastise
The friendship that must needs have play'd me false
One way or other. [Exit.
Lope. Lead the way then, sir.
Enter hurriedly DONNA BLANCA and VIOLANTE
from opposite sides.
Viol. Don Lope, what is this ?
Lope. Nothing, Violante.
SCENE I THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 229
Viol. I heard your angry voices in my room,
And could not help
Blan. And I too. O my son,
Scarce home with us, and all undone already !
Where are you going ?
Lope. No where ; nothing ; leave me.
VioJ. Tell me the quarrel Oh ! I dread to
hear. ,
Lope. What quarrel, lady ? let me go : your fears
Deceive you.
Blan. Lope, not an hour of peace
When you are here !
Lope. Nay, madam, why accuse me,
Before you know the cause?
Enter URREA.
Urr. How now ? disputing ?
Blanca and Violante too ? What is it ?
Blan. Oh, nothing ! (I must keep it from his
father.)
Nothing he quarrelFd with Vicente here,
And would have beat him and we interposed ;
Indeed, no more.
Vic. The blame is sure to fall
Upon my shoulders.
Urr. Is't not very strange,
Your disposition, Lope ? never at peace
With others or yourself.
Lope. 'Tis nothing, sir.
Vic. He quarrell'd with me, sir, about some
money
He thought he ought to have, and couldn't find
In his breeches' pocket.
Urr. Go, go get you gone, knave.
230 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT n
Vic. Always fair words from you at any rate.
(Aside.}
Urr. And for such trifles, Lope, you disturb
My house, affright your mother and her guest
With your mad passion.
Lope. I can only, sir,
Answer such charge by silence, and retire.
Now for Don Guillen. (Aside.) [Exit.
Blan. Oh let him not go !
Urr. Why not ? 'tis a good riddance. Violante,
You must excuse this most unseemly riot
Close to your chamber. My unruly son,
When his mad passion's roused, neither respects
Person or place.
Viol. Nay, sir, I pardon him.
And should, for I'm the cause ! (Aside)
Blan. Ah, wretched I,
Who by the very means I would prevent
His going forth, have oped the door to him.
(Noise within of swords, and the voices of
LOPE and GUILLEN fighting.)
Urr. What noise is that again ?
Enter ELVIRA.
Elv. 'Tis in the street.
Enter BEATRICE.
Beat. Oh, my young master fighting run, sir,
run !
Urr. And 'tis for this I've sacrificed myself!
SCENE I THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 231
Enter fighting LOPE and GUILLEN ; Gentlemen and
others trying to part them.
Urr. (going between them). Hold, Lope ! Hold,
Don Guillen !
Voices. Part them ! part them !
Guil. Traitor!
Lope. Traitor ! I say that he's the traitor
Whoever
Urr. Madman, can you not forbear
When your grey-headed father holds your sword !
Lope. And in so doing robs me of the honour
I never got from him.
Urr. Oh ! ruffian !
But if this graceless son will not respect
His father, my white hairs appeal to you,
Don Guillen.
Guil. And shall not appeal in vain
Out of respect, sir, for your age and name,
And for these gentlemen who interpose,
I shall refer the issue of this quarrel
To other time and place.
Lope. A good excuse
For fear to hide in.
Guil. Fear !
Urr. Madman ! again !
That the respect his rival shows to me
Should make my son despise him. By these heavens
This staif shall teach you better.
Lope. Strike me not !
Beware beware !
Urr. Why, art thou not ashamed
Lope. Yes, of respect for you that's fear of me.
232 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT n
Gui/. Whoever says or thinks what I have done
Is out of fear of you, I say
Urr. He lies !
I'll top your sentence for you.
Lope. Then take thou
The answer !
(Strikes URREA, who falls : confusion.}
A voice. What have you done ?
Another. Help, help !
Voices. After him, after him ! the parricide !
(LOPE rushes out and t}ie people after him}
Gut'/. I know not how to leave the poor old man
Come, let me help you, sir.
Urr. Parricide !
May outraged Heaven that has seen thy crime,
Witness my curse, and blast thee ! Every sword
That every pious hand against thee draws,
Caught up into the glittering elements,
Turn thunderbolt, (as every weapon shall
Drawn in God's cause,) and smite thee to the centre !
That sacrilegious hand which thou hast raised
Against this snow-white head how shall it show
Before Heaven's judgment bar ; yea, how can Heaven
Ev'n now behold this deed, nor quench its sun,
Veil its pure infinite blue with awful cloud,
And with a terrified eclipse of things
Confound the air you breathe, the light you see,
The ground you walk on !
Gut'/. Pray sir, compose yourself
Your cloak your staff
Urr. My staff! what use is that,
When it is steel that must avenge my wrong ?
Yet give it me fit instrument
Wherewith to chastise a rebellious child
Ay, and he did not use his sword on me,
SCENE i THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 233
Mark that, nor I on him give me my staff.
Alas, alas ! and I with no strength left
To wield it, only as I halt along,
Feeling about with it to find a grave,
And knocking at deaf earth to let me in. 1
GUI'/. Nay, calm yourself,
The population of the place is up
After the criminal.
Urr. And to what purpose ?
They cannot wipe away my shame by that.
Let the whole city turn its myriad eyes
Upon me, and behold a man disgraced
Disgraced by him to whom he gave a being.
I say, behold me all the wretched man
By his own flesh and blood insulted, and
On his own flesh and blood crying Revenge !
Revenge ! revenge ! revenge !
Not to the heavens only, nor to Him
Who sits in judgment there, do I appeal,
But to the powers of earth. Give me my hat,
I'll to the King forthwith.
Vic. Consider, sir;
Yoii would not enter in the palace gates
So suddenly, and in this plight ?
1 Como me podre vengar
Si aquel, que me ha de ayuda
A sustentarme, me advierte
Que armado en la terra dura *
Solo ha de irme aprovechando
De aldaba, con que ir llamando
A mi misma sepultura?
Ne deth, alas ! ne will not han my lif.
Thus walke I like a resteles caitif,
And on the ground, which is my modres gate,
I knocke with my staf erlich and late,
Aud say to hire, ' Leve mother, let me yn.'
CHAUCER'S Pardoner's Tale.
234 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT n
Urr. Why not,
Whose voice should over-leap the firmament,
And without any preparation enter
The palace-doors of God-
King Pedro ! King of Arragon ! Christian king !
Whom fools the Cruel call, and Just the wise,
I call on you, King Pedro l
King (entering with MENDO and Train). Who
calls the King ?
Urr. A wretch who, falling at your feet, implores
Your royal justice.
King. I remember you ;
Don Lope de Urrea, whose son I pardon'd.
What would you of me ?
Urr. That you would, my King,
Unpardon him you pardon'd ; draw on him
The disappointed sword of justice down.
That son my son if he indeed be mine
(Oh, Blanca, pure as the first blush of day,
Pardon me such a word !) has, after all
My pain and sacrifice in his behalf;
Has, in defiance of the laws of man
And God, and of that great commandment, which,
Though fourth on the two tables, yet comes first
After God's jealous honour is secured,
Has struck me struck his father in a fray
Wherein that father tried to save his life.
I have no vindication ; will have none,
But at your hands and by your laws ; unless,
1 The Biographic Universelle says it was Don Pedro of Castile
about whose cognomen there was some difference of opinion ; a
defence of him being written in 1648 by Count de Roca, am-
bassador from Spain to Venice, entitled, ' El Rey Don Pedro,
llamado el Cruel, el Justiciero, y el Necessitado, defendido.' It is
he, I suppose, figures in the ' Medico de su Honra.' He flourished
at the same time, however, with his namesake of Arragon.
ACT in THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 235
If you deny me that, I do appeal
Unto the King of kings to do me justice ;
Which I will have, that heaven and earth may know
How a bad son begets a ruthless sire !
King. Mendo !
Men. My liege.
King. I must again refer
This cause to you. (To URREA.) Where is your
son?
Urr. Fled! fled!
King (to MENDO). After him then, use all the
powers I own
To bring the wretch to justice. .See me not
Till that be done.
Men. I'll do my best, my liege.
King. I have it most at heart. In all the rolls
Of history, I know of no like quarrel :
And the first judgment on it shall be done
By the Fourth Pedro, King of Arragon.
[Exeunt severally.
ACT III
SCENE \.A Wild Place.
Enter MENDO and Officers of Justice armed.
ist Officer. Here, my lord, where the Ebro, swollen
with her mountain streams, runs swiftest, he will try
to escape.
Men. Hunt for him then, leaving neither rock
nor thicket unexplored. (They disperse.}
Oh, what a fate is mine,
Having to seek what most I dread to find,
236 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT in
Once thought the curse of jealousy alone !
The iron King will see my face no more
Unless I bring Don Lope to his feet :
Whom, on the other hand, the gratitude
And love I bear him fain would save from justice.
Oh, how
Enter some, fighting with DON LOPE.
Lope. I know I cannot save my life,
But I will sell it dear.
Men. Hold off! the King
Will have him taken, but not slain. And I,
If I can save him now, shall find a mean
To do it afterwards
Don Lope !
Lope. I should know that voice, the face
I cannot, blind with fury, dust, and blood.
Or was 't the echo of some inner voice,
Some far off thunder of the memory,
That moves me more than all these fellows' swords ?
Is it Don Mendo ?
Men. Who demands of you
Your sword, and that you yield in the King's name.
Lope. I yield ?
Men. Ay, sir, what can you do beside ?
Lope. Slaying be slain. And yet my heart relents
Before your voice ; and now I see your face
My eyes dissolve in tears. Why, how is this ?
What charm is on my sword ?
Men. Tis but the effect
And countenance of justice that inspires
Involuntary awe in the offender.
Lope. Not that. Delinquent as I am, I could,
With no more awe of justice than a mad dog,
SCENE II THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 237
Bite right and left among her officers ;
But 'tis yourself alone : to you alone
Do I submit myself; yield up my sword
Already running with your people's blood,
And at your feet
Men. Rise, Lope. Heaven knows
How gladly would your judge change place with you
The criminal ; far happier to endure
Your peril than my own anxiety.
But do not you despair, however stern
Tow'rds you I carry me before the world.
The King is so enraged
Lope. What, he has heard !
Men. Your father cried for vengeance at his feet.
Lope. Where is my sword?
Men. In vain. 'Tis in my hand.
Lope. Where somehow it affrights me as before
When giving you my dagger, it turn'd on me
With my own blood.
Mendo. Ho there !
Cover Don Lope's face, and carry him
To prison after me. (Aside.) Hark, in your ear,
Conduct him swiftly, and with all secrecy,
To my own house in by the private door,
Without his knowing whither,
And bid my people watch and wait on him.
I'll to the King Alas, what agony,
I know not what, grows on me more and more !
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. A Room in the Palace.
Enter KING.
King. Don Mendo comes not back, and must not
come,
238 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT ill
Till he have done his errand. I myself
Can have no rest till justice have her due.
A son to strike his father in my realm
Unawed, and then unpunisht !
But by great Heaven the law shall be avenged
So long as I shall reign in Arragon.
Don Mendo !
Enter MENDO.
Mendo. Let me kiss your Highness' hand.
King. Welcome, thou other Atlas of my realm,
Who sharest the weight with me. For I doubt
not,
Coming thus readily into my presence,
You bring Don Lope with you.
Men. Yes, my liege ;
Fast prisoner in my house, that none may see
Or talk with him.
King. Among your services
You have not done a better.
The crime is strange, 'tis fit the sentence on it
Be memorably just.
Men. Most true, my liege,
Who I am sure will not be warp'd away
By the side current of a first report,
But on the whole broad stream of evidence
Move to conclusion. I do know this charge
Is not so grave as was at first reported.
King. But is not thus much clear that a son
smote
His father ?
Men. Yes, my liege.
King. And can a charge
Be weightier ?
SCENE ii THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 239
Men. I confess the naked fact,
But 'tis the special cause and circumstance
That give the special colour to the crime.
King. I shall be glad to have my kingdom freed
From the dishonour of so foul a deed
By any extenuation.
Men. Then I think
Your Majesty shall find it here. 'Tis thus :
Don Lope, on what ground I do not know,
Fights with Don Guillen in the midst o' the fray,
Comes old Urrea, at the very point
When Guillen was about to give the lie
To his opponent which the old man, enraged
At such unseemly riot in his house,
Gives for him ; calls his son a fouler name
Than gentleman can bear, and in the scuffle
Receives a blow that in his son's blind rage
Was aim'd abroad in the first heat of passion
Throws himself at your feet, and calls for vengeance,
Which, as I hear, he now repents him of.
He's old and testy age's common fault
And, were not this enough to lame swift justice,
There's an old law in Arragon, my liege,
That in our courts father and son shall not
Be heard in evidence against each other ;
In which provision I would fain persuade you
Bury this quarrel.
King. And this seems jus"t to you ?
Men. It does, my liege.
King. Then not to me, Don Mendo,
Who will examine, sentence, and record,
Whether in such a scandal to the realm
The son be guilty of impiety,
Or the sire idle to accuse him of 't.
Therefore I charge you have Urrea too
240 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT in
From home to-night, and guarded close alone ;
It much imports the business.
Men. I will, my liege.
\Exeunt severally.
SCENE III. A Corridor in URREA'S House, with three
doors in front.
Enter from a side door VIOLANTE and ELVIRA.
Viol. Ask me no more, Elvira ; I cannot answer
when my thoughts are all locked up where Lope lies.
Elv. And know you where that is ? Nearer than
you think ; there, in my lord your father's room.
Viol. There ! Oh, could I but save him !
Elv. You can at least comfort him.
Viol. Something must be done. Either I will
save his life, Elvira, or die with him. Have you the
key?
Elv. I have one ; my lord has the master-key.
Viol. Yours will do, give it me. I am desperate,
Elvira, and in his danger drown my maiden shame ;
see him I will at least. Do you rest here and give
me a warning if a footstep come.
(She enters centre door.)
SCENE IV. An inner Chamber in URREA'S House.
LOPE discovered.
Lope. Whither then have they brought me ? Ah,
Violante,
Your beauty costs me dear ! And even now
I count the little I have yet to live
SCENE iv THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 241
Minute by minute, like one last sweet draught,
But for your sake. Nay, 'tis not life I care for,
But only Violante.
Violante (entering unseen). Oh, his face
Is bathed in his own blood ; he has been wounded.
Don Lope !
Lope. Who is it calls on a name
I thought all tongues had buried in its shame?
Viol. One who yet pities you.
Lope (turning and seeing her). Am I then dead,
And thou some living spirit come to meet me
Upon the threshold of another world ;
Or some dead image that my living brain
Draws from remembrance on the viewless air,
And gives the voice I love to ? Oh, being here,
Whatever thou may'st be, torment me not
By vanishing at once.
Viol. No spirit, Lope,
And no delusive image of the brain ;
But one who, wretched in your wretchedness,
And partner of the crime you suffer for,
All risk of shame and danger cast away,
Has come but hark ! I may have but a moment
The door I came by will be left unlockt
To-night, and you must fly.
Lope. Oh, I have heard
Of a fair flower of such strange quality,
It makes a wound where there was norfe before,
And heals what wound there was. Oh, Violante,
You who first made an unscathed heart to bleed,
Now save a desperate life !
Viol. And I have heard
Of two yet stranger flowers that, severally,
Each in its heart a deadly poison holds,
Which, if they join, turns to a sovereign balm.
242 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT in
And so with us, who in our bosoms bear
A passion which destroys us when apart,
But when together
Elvira (calling within). Madam ! madam ! your
father !
Viol. Farewell!
Lope. But you return ?
Viol. To set you free.
Lope. That as it may ; only return to me.
[Exit VIOLANTE, leaving LOPE.
SCENE V. Same as SCENE III.
ELVIRA waiting. Enter VIOLANTE from centre door.
Viol. Quick ! lock the door, Elvira, and away with
me on wings. My father must not find me here.
Elv. Nay, you need not be frightened, he has
gone to my lady Blanca's room by the way.
Viol. No matter, he must not find me ; I would
learn too what is stirring in the business.
Oh, would I ever drag my purpose through,
I must be desperate and cautious too. \Exit.
Elv. (locking the door). Well, that's all safe, and
now myself to hear what news is stirring.
Vicente (talking as he enters). In the devil's name
was there ever such a clutter made about a blow?
People all up in arms, and running here and there,
and up and down, and every where, as if the great
Tom of Velilla was a ringing.
Elv. Vicente ! what's the matter ?
Vic. Oh, a very great matter, Elvira. I am very
much put out indeed.
Elv. What about, and with whom?
SCENE v THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 243
Vic. With all the world, and my two masters, the
young and old one, especially.
Elv. But about what ?
Vic. With the young one for being so ready with
his fists, and the old one bawling out upon it to
heaven and earth, and then Madam Blanca, she must
join in the chorus too; and then your grand Don
Mendo there, with whom seizing's so much in season,
he has seized my master, and my master's father, and
Don Guillen, and clapt them all up in prison. Then
I've a quarrel with the King !
Elv. With the King ! You must be drunk, Vicente.
Vic. I only wish I was.
Elv. But what has the King done ?
Vic. Why let me be beaten at least fifty thousand
times, without caring a jot : and now forsooth, because
an old fellow gets a little push, his eyes flash axe and
gibbet. Then, Elvira, I'm very angry with you.
Elv. And why with me ?
Vic. Because, desperately in love with me as you
are, you never serenade me, nor write me a billet-
doux, nor ask me for a kiss of my fair hand.
Elv. Have I not told you, sir, I leave that all to
Beatrice ?
Vic. And have I not told you, Beatrice may go
hang for me ?
Elv. Oh, Vicente, could I believe you !
Vic. Come, give me a kiss on credit" of it ; in case
I lie, I'll pay you back.
Elv. Well, for this once.
Enter BEATRICE.
Beat. The saints be praised, I've found you at last !
Vic. Beatrice !
244 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT in
Elv. Well, what's the matter ?
Vic. You'll soon see.
Beat. Oh, pray proceed, proceed, good folks.
Never mind me : you've business don't interrupt it
I've seen quite enough, besides being quite in-
different who wears my cast-off shoes.
Elv. I beg to say, madam, I wear no shoes except
my own, and if I were reduced to other people's,
certainly should not choose those that are made for a
wooden leg.
Beat. A wooden leg? pray, madam, what has a
wooden leg to do with me ?
Elv. Oh, madam, I must refer you to your own
feelings.
Beat. I tell you, madam, these hands should tear
your hair up by the roots, if it had roots to tear.
Vic. Now for her turn.
Elv. Why, does she mean to insinuate my hair is
as false as that left eye of hers ?
Beat. Do you mean to insinuate my left eye is
false ?
Elv. Ay ; and say it to your teeth.
Beat. More, madam, than I ever could say to
yours, unless, indeed, you've paid, madam, for the set
you wear.
Elv. Have you the face to say my teeth are
false?
Beat. Have you the face to say my eye's of
glass ?
Elv. I'll teach you to say I wear a wig.
Beat. Would that my leg were wood just for the
occasion.
Vic. Ladies, ladies, first consider where we are.
Beat. Oh ho ! I think I begin to understand.
Elv. Oh, and so methinks do I.
SCENE vi THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 245
Beat. It is this wretch
Elv. This knave
Beat. This rascal
Elv. This vagabond
Beat. Has told all these lies.
Elv. Has done all this mischief.
I
(They set tipon and pinch him, etc.)
Vic. Ladies, ladies Mercy ! oh ! ladies ! just
listen !
Elv. Listen indeed ! If it were not that I hear
people coming
Vic. Heaven be praised for it !
Beat. We will defer the execution then And in
the mean while shall we two sign a treaty of peace ?
Elv. My hand to it Agreed !
Beat. Adieu !
Elv. Adieu !
[Exeunt BEATRICE and ELVIRA.
Vic. The devil that seized the swine sure has seized
you,
And all your pinches make me tenfold writhe
Because you never gave the king his tithe. [Exit.
SCENE VI. DONNA BLANCA'S Apartment :
it is dark.
.
Enter the KING disguised, and BLANCA following him.
Blan. Who is this man,
That in the gathering dusk enters our house,
Enmaskt and muffled thus? what is't you want?
To croak new evil in my ears ? for none
But ravens now come near us Such a silence
Is not the less ill-omen'd. Beatrice !
246 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT in
A light ! my blood runs cold Answer me, man,
What want you with me?
King. Let us be alone,
And I will tell you.
Blan. Leave us, Beatrice
I'll dare the worst And now reveal yourself.
King. Not till the door be lockt.
Blan. Help, help !
King. Be still.
Blan. What would you ? and who are you then ?
King (discovering himself). . The King !
Blan. The King !
King. Do you not know me ?
Blan. Yea, my liege,
Now the black cloud has fallen from the sun ;
But cannot guess why, at an hour like this,
And thus disguised Oh, let me know at once
Whether in mercy or new wrath you come
To this most wretched house !
King. In neither, Blanca ;
But in the execution of the trust
That Heaven has given to kings.
Blan. And how, my liege,
Fall I beneath your royal vigilance ?
King. You soon shall hear : but, Blanca, first take
breath,
And still your heart to its accustom'd tune,
For I must have you all yourself to answer
What I must ask of you. Listen to me.
Your son, in the full eye of God and man,
Has struck his father who as publicly
Has cried to me for vengeance such a feud
Coming at length to such unnatural close,
Men 'gin to turn suspicious eyes on you,
You, Blanca, so mixt up in such a cause
SCENE vi THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 247
As in the annals of all human crime
Is not recorded. Men begin to ask
Can these indeed be truly son and sire ?
This is the question, and to sift it home,
I am myself come hither to sift you
By my own mouth. Open your heart to me,
Relying on the honour of a king
That nothing you reveal to me to-night
Shall ever turn against your good repute.
We are alone, none to way-lay the words
That travel from your lips ; speak out at once ;
Or, by the heavens, Blanca,
Blan. Oh, my liege,
Not in one breath
Turn royal mercy into needless threat ;
Though it be true my bosom has so long
This secret kept close prisoner, and hop'd
To have it buried with me in my grave,
'Yet if I peril my own name and theirs
By such a silence, I'll not leave to rumour
Another hour's suspicion ; but reveal
To you, my liege, yea, and to heaven and earth,
My most disastrous story.
King. I attend.
Blan. My father, though of lineage high and clear
As the sun's self, was poor ; and knowing well
How in this world honour fares ill alone ;
Betroth'd the beauty of my earliest years
(The only dowry that I brought with me)
To Lope de Urrea, whose estate
Was to supply the much he miss'd of youth.
We married like December wed to May,
Or flower of earliest summer set in snow ;
Yet heaven witness that I honour'd, ay,
And loved him ; though with little cause of love,
248 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT in
And ever cold returns ; but I went on
Doing my duty toward him, hoping still
To have a son to fill the gaping void
That lay between us yea, I pray'd for one
So earnestly, that God, who has ordain'd
That we should ask at once for all and nothing
Of him who best knows what is best for us,
Denied me what I wrongly coveted.
Well, let me turn the leaf on which are written
The troubles of those ill-assorted years,
And to my tale. I had a younger sister,
Whom to console me in my wretched home,
I took 'to live with me of whose fair youth
A gentleman enamour'd Oh, my liege,
Ask not his name yet why should I conceal it,
Whose honour may not leave a single chink
For doubt to nestle in ? Sir, 'twas Don Mendo,
Your minister ; who, when his idle suit
Prosper'd not in my sister's ear, found means,
Feeing one of the household to his purpose,
To get admittance to her room by night ;
Where, swearing marriage soon should sanction love,
He went away the victor of an honour
That like a villain he had come to steal ;
Then, but a few weeks after, (so men quit
All obligation save of their desire,)
Married another, and growing great at court,
Went on your father's bidding into France
Ambassador, and from that hour to this
Knows not the tragic issue of his crime.
I, who perceived my sister's altered looks,
And how in mind and body she fared ill,
With menace and persuasion wrung from her
The secret I have told you, and of which
She bore within her bosom such a witness
SCENE vi THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 249
As doubly prey'd upon her life. Enough ;
She was my sister, why reproach her then,
And to no purpose now the deed was done ?
Only I wonder'd at mysterious Heaven,
Which her misfortune made to double mine,
Who had been pining for the very boon
That was her shame and sorrow ; till at last,
Out of the tangle of this double grief
I drew a thread to extricate us both,
By giving forth myself about to bear
The child whose birth my sister should conceal.
'Twas done the day came on I feign'd the pain
She felt, and on my bosom as my own
Cherish'd the crying infant she had borne,
And died in bearing for even so it was ;
I and another matron (who alone
Was partner in the plot)
Assigning other illness for her death.
This is my story, sir this is the crime,
Of which the guilt being wholly mine, be mine
The punishment ; I pleading on my knees
My love both to my husband and my sister
As some excuse. Pedro of Arragon,
Whom people call the Just, be just to me :
I do not ask for mercy, but for justice,
And that, whatever be my punishment,
It may be told of me, and put on record,
That, howsoever and with what design
I might deceive my husband and the world,
At least I have not shamed my birth and honour.
King (apart). Thus much at least is well; the
blackest part
Of this unnatural feud is washt away
By this confession, though it swell the list
Of knotted doubts that Justice must resolve;
250 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT in
As thus : Don Lope has reviled and struck
One whom himself and all the world believe
His father a belief that I am pledged
Not to disprove. Don Mendo has traduced
A noble lady to her death ; and Blanca
Contrived an ill imposture on her lord :
Two secret and one public misdemeanour,
To which I must adjudge due punishment.
Blanca, enough at present, you have done
Your duty ; Fare you well.
Blan. Heaven keep your Highness !
Don Mendo (knocking within). Open the door.
King. Who calls ?
Blan. I know not, sir.
King. Open it, then, but on your life reveal not
That I am here.
(KING hides, BLANCA opens the door.)
Blan. Who is it calls ?
Enter MENDO.
Men. I, Blanca.
Blan. Your errand ?
Men. Only, Blanca, to beseech you
Fear not, whatever you may hear or see
Against your son. His cause is in my hands,
His person in my keeping ; being so,
Who shall arraign my dealings with him ?
King (coming forth}. I.
Men. My liege, if you
King. Enough ; give me the key
Of Lope's prison.
Men. This it is, my liege :
Only
King. I know enough. Blanca, retire.
SCENE vii THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 251
Mendo, abide you here. To-night shall show
If I be worthy of my name or no. \Exit.
Men. What is the matter, Blanca?
Blan. Your misdeeds,
And mine, Don Mendo, which just Heaven now
Revenges with one blow on both of us.
After the King ! nor leave him till he swear
To spare my Lope, who, I swear to you,
Is not my son, but yours, and my poor Laura's !
Men. Merciful Heavens ! But I will save his life
Come what come may to me.
Blan. Away, away, then !
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE VII. Same as SCENE III.
Enter VIOLANTE and ELVIRA at a side door.
Elv. Consider, madam.
Viol. No!
Elv. But think
Viol. I tell you it must be done.
Elv. They will accuse your father.
Viol. Let them ; I tell you it must be done, and
noiv ; I ask'd you not for advice, but to obey me.
Unlock the koor.
Elv. Oh how I tremble ! Hark !
Viol. A moment ! They must not find him
passing out the attempt and not the deed con-
founding us. 1 Listen !
Elv. (listening at a side door). I can hear nothing
distinct, only a confused murmur of voices.
1 Y se queda su intencion
Sin su efecto descubierta.
2$2 THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW ACT in
Viol. Let rne hush! Hark! they are ap-
proaching !
Enter MENDO.
Men. Anguish, oh ! anguish !
Viol. My father !
Men. Ay, indeed,
And a most wretched one.
Viol. What is it, sir ?
Tell me at once.
Men. I know not. Oh, 'tis false !
I know too well, and you must know it too.
My daughter, the poor prisoner who lies there
Is my own son, not Blanca's, not Urrea's,
But my own son, your brother, Violante !
Viol. My brother !
Men. Ay, your brother, my own son,
Whom we must save !
Viol. Alas, sir, I was here
On the same errand, ere I knew but hark !
All's quiet now. (A groan within.)
Men. Listen ! What groan was that ?
Viol. My hand shakes so, I cannot
Lope (within). Mercy, O God !
Men. The key, the key ! but hark ! they call
again
At either door ; we must unlock.
(They unlock the side doors. Enter through one
BLANCA and BEATRICE, through the other
URREA and VICENTE.)
Urr. Don Mendo,
The King desires me from your mouth to learn
His sentence on my son.
SCENE vii THREE JUDGMENTS AT A BLOW 2^
Blan. Oh, Violante !
Men. From me ! from me ! to whom the King as
yet
Has not deliver'd it.
But what is this ? Oh, God !
(The centre door opens and DON LOPE is discovered,
garrotted, with a paper in his hand, and lights
at each side.)
Urr. A sight to turn
Rancour into remorse.
Men. In his cold hand
He holds a scroll, the sentence, it may be,
The King referr'd you to. Read it, Urrea ;
I cannot. Oh, my son, the chastisement
That I alone have merited has come
Upon us both, and doubled the remorse
That I must feel and stifle !
Urr. (reading). " He that reviles and strikes
whom he believes
His father, let him die for't ; and let those
Who have disgraced a noble name, or join'd
An ill imposture, see his doom ; and show
Three judgments summ'd up in a single blow."
THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA
255
DRAMATIS PERSONS
KING PHILIP II.
DON LOPE DE FIGUEROA.
DON ALVARO DE ATAIDE.
PEDRO CRESPO . . . a Farmer of Zalamea.
JUAN ..... his Son.
ISABEL .... his Daughter.
INES ..... his Niece.
, DON MENDO . . . a poor Hidalgo.
V.NuNO . . . his Servant.
/ REBOLLEDO . . .a Soldier.
.... his-Mis&ess. l\ v-. AtV
A SERGEANT, A NOTARY, SOLDIERS, LABOURERS,
CONSTABLES, ROYAL SUITE, etc.
(
256
THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA
ACT I
SCENE I. Country near Zalamea.
Enter REBOLLEDO, CHISPA, and Soldiers.
Reb. Confound, say I, these forced marches from
place to place, without halt or bait ; what say you,
friends ?
AIL Amen!
Reb. To be trailed over the country like a pack
of gipsies, after a little scrap of flag upon a pole,
eh?
ist Soldier. Rebolledo's off!
Reb. And that infernal drum which has at last
been good enough to stop a moment stunning us.
2nd Sold. Come, come, Rebolledo, don't storm :
we shall soon be at Zalamea.
Reb. And where will be the good of that if I'm
dead before I get there? And if not, 'twill only
be from bad to worse : for if we all reach the place
alive, as sure as death up comes Mr. Mayor to
persuade the Commissary we had better march on
to the next town. At first Mr. Commissary replies
very virtuously, * Impossible ! the men are fagged
257 s
jjL^"
258 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT i
to death.' But after a little pocket persuasion, then
it's all ' Gentlemen, I'm very sorry : but orders have
come for us to march forward, and immediately'
and away we have to trot, foot weary, dust be-
draggled, and starved as we arej Well, I swear if I
do get alive to Zalamea to-day, I'll not leave it on
this side o' sun -rise for love, lash, or money. It
won't be the first time in my life I've given 'em the
slip.
ist Sold. Nor the first time a poor fellow has had
the slip given him for doing so. And more likely
an ever now that Don Lope de Figueroa has taken
the command, a fine brave fellow they say, but a
devil of a Tartar, who'll have every inch of duty
done, or take the change out of his own son, without
waiting for trial either. 1
Reb. Listen to this now, gentlemen ! By Heaven,
I'll be beforehand with him.
2nd Sold. Come, come, a soldier shouldn't talk so.
Reb. I tell you it isn't for myself I care so much,
as for this poor little thing that follows me.
Chis. Signor Rebolledo, don't you fret about me ;
you know I was born with a beard on my heart
if not on my chin, if ever girl was ; and your fearing
for me is as bad as if I was afeard myself. Why,
when I came along with you I made up my mind
to hardship and danger for honour's sake ; else if
I'd wanted to live in clover, I never should have
left the Alderman who kept such a table as all
Aldermen don't, I promise you. Well, what's the
1 Don Lope de Figueroa, who figures also in the Amar despues
de la Muerte, was (says Mr. Ticknor) ' the commander under
whom Cervantes served in Italy, and probably in Portugal, when
he was in the Tercio de Fldndes, the Flanders Regiment, one
of the best bodies of troops in the armies of Philip II.,' and the
very one now advancing, with perhaps Cervantes in it, to Zalamea.
SCENE I THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 259
odds ? I chose to leave him and follow the drum,
and here I am, and if I don't flinch, why should
you?
Reb. 'Fore Heaven, you're the crown of woman-
kind !
Soldier*. So she is, so she is, Viva la Chispa !
Reb. And so she is, and one cheer more for her,
hurrah ! especially if she'll give us a song to lighten
the way.
Chis. The castanet shall answer for me.
Reb. I'll join in and do you, comrades, bear a
hand in the chorus.
Soldiers. Fire away !
Chispa sings.
Titiri tiri, inarching is weary,
Weary, weary, and long is the way :
Titiri tiri, hither, my deary,
What meat have you got for the soldier to-day ?
' Meat have I none, my merry men,'
Titiri tiri, then kill the old hen.
' Alas and a day ! the old hen is dead ! '
Then give us a cake from the oven instead,
Titiri titiri titiri tiri,
Give us a cake from the oven instead.
II.
Admiral, admiral, where have you been-a ?
* I've been fighting where the waves roar.'
Ensign, ensign, what have you seen-a ?
' Glory and honour and gunshot galore^
Fighting the Moors in column and line,
Poor fellows, they never hurt me or mine
Titiri titiri titiri tina '
1 fJ^ 5
260 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT i
ist Sold. Look, look, comrades what between
singing and grumbling we never noticed yonder
church among the trees.
Reb. Is that Zalamea?
Chis. Yes, that it is, I know the steeple. Hurrah !
we'll finish the song when we get into quarters, or
have another as good ; for you know I have 'em of
all sorts and sizes.
Reb. Halt a moment, here's the sergeant.
2nd Sold. And the captain too.
Enter Captain and Sergeant.
Capt. Good news, gentlemen, no more marching
for to-day at least ; we halt at Zalamea till Don Lope
joins with the rest of the regiment from Llerena. So
who knows but you may have a several days' rest
here?
Reb. and Solds. Huzzah for our captain !
Capt. Your quarters are ready, and the Com-
missary will give every one his billet on marching in.
Chis. (singing). Now then for
Titiri tiri, hither, my deary,
Heat the oven and kill the old hen.
\Exit with Soldiers.
Capt. Well, Mr. Sergeant, have you my billet ?
Serg. Yes, sir.
Capt. And where am I to put up ?
i/- Serg. With the richest man in Zalamea, a farmer,
as proud as Lucifer's heir-apparent.
Capt. Ah, the old story of an upstart.
Serg. However, sir, you have the best quarters
in the place, including his daughter, who is, they
say, the prettiest woman in Zalamea.
E ii THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 261
Capt. Pooh ! a pretty peasant ! splay hands and
feet.
Serg. Shame ! shame !
Capt. Isn't it true, puppy ?
Serg. What would a man on march have better
than a pretty country lass to toy with ?
Capt. Well, I never saw one I cared for, even
on march. I can't call a woman a woman unless
she's clean about the hands and fetlocks, and
otherwise well appointed a lady in short.
Serg. Well, any one for me who'll let me kiss
her. Come, sir, let us be going, for if you won't be
at her, I will.
Capt. Look, look, yonder !
Serg. Why, it must be Don Quixote himself with
his very Rosinante too, that Michel
writes of.
Capt. And his Sancho at his side. Well, carry
you my kit on before to quarters, and then come
and tell me when all's ready. \Exeunt.
SCENE II. Zalamea^ before CRESPO'S House.
Enter DON MENDO and NUNO.
Men. How's the gray horse?
Nun. You may as well call him the Dun ; so
screw'd he can't move a leg.
Men. Did you have him walk'd gently about ?
Nun. Walk'd about ! when it's corn he wants,
poor devil !
Men. And the dogs ?
Nun. Ah, now, they might do if you'd give them
the horse to eat.
262 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT I
Men. Enough, enough it has struck three.
gloves and tooth-pick.!
~Nuii. That sinecure tooth-pick !
Men. I tell you I would brain anybody who
insinuated to me I had not dined and on game
too. But tell me, Nuno, haven't the soldiers come
into Zalamea this afternoon ?
Nun. Yes, sir.
Men. What a nuisance for the commonalty who
have to quarter them !
Nun. But worse for those who haven't.
Men. What do you mean, sir?
Nun. I mean the squires. Ah, sir ; if the soldiers
aren't billeted on them, do you know why ?
Men. Well, why ?
Nun. For fear of being starved which would be
a bad job for the king's service.
Men. God rest my father's soul, says I, who left
me a pedigree and patent all blazon'd in gold and
azure, that exempts me from such impositions.
Nun. I wish he'd left you the gold in a more
available shape, however.
Men. Though indeed when I come to think of it,
I don't know if I owe him any thanks ; considering
that unless he had consented to beget me an Hidalgo
at once, I wouldn't have been born at all, for him or
any one.
Nun. Humph ! Could you have help'd it ?
Men. Easily.
Nun. How, sir?
Men. You must know that every one that is born
is the essence of the food his parents eat.
Nun. Oh ! Your parents did eat then, sir ? You
have not inherited that of them, at all events.
Men. Which forthwith converts itself into proper
SCENE ii THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 263
flesh and blood ergo, if my father had been an eater
of onions, for instance, he would have begotten me
with a strong breath ; on which I should have said
to him, * Hold, I must come of no such nastiness as
that, I promise you.'
Nun. Ah, now I see the old saying is true.
Men. What is that ?
Nun. That hunger sharpens wit.
Men. Knave, do you insinuate
Nun. I only know it is now three o'clock, and we
have neither of us yet had any thing but our own
spittle to chew.
Men. Perhaps so, but there are distinctions of
rank. An Hidalgo, sir, has no belly.
Nun. Oh Lord ! that I were an Hidalgo !
Men. Possibly; servants must learn moderation
in all things. J[But let me hear no more of the
matter ; we are under Isabel's window.
Nun. There again If you are so devoted an
admirer, why on earth, sir, don't you ask her in
marriage of her father? by doing which you would
kill two birds with one stone ; get yourself something
to eat, and his grandchildren squires.
Men. Hold your tongue, sir, it is impious. Am I,
an Hidalgo with such a pedigree, to demean myself
with a plebeian connexion just for money's sake ?
Nun. Well, I've always heard say a mean father-
in-law is best ; better stumble on a pebble than run
your head against a post. But, however, if you don't
mean marriage, sir, what do you mean ?
Men. And pray, sir, can't I dispose of her in a
convent in case I get tired of her ? But go directly,
and tell me if you can get a sight of her.
Nun. I'm afraid lest her father should get a sight
of me.
264 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT i
u8*^
Men. And what if he do, , being my man ? Go
and do as I bid you.
Nun. (after going to look). Come, sir, you owe
one meal at least now she's at the window with her
cousin.
Men. Go again, and tell her flnmothfng about her
window being another East, and she a second Sun
dawning from it in the afternoon. (ISABEL and INES
come to the window?)
Ines. For heaven's sake, cousin, let's stand here
and see the soldiers march in.
Isab. Not I, while that man is in the way, Ines ;
you know how I hate the sight of him.
Ines. With all his devotion to you !
Isab. I wish he would spare himself and me the
trouble.,
Ines. I think you are wrong to take it as an affront.
Isab. How would you have me take it ?
r nes. Why, as a compliment.
r sab. What, when I hate the man ?
Men. Ah ! 'pon the honour of an Hidalgo, (which
is a sacred oath,) I could have sworn that till this
moment the sun had not risen. But why should I
wonder ? when indeed a second Aurora
Isab. Signor Don Mendo, how often have I told
you not to waste your time playing these fool's antics
before my window day after day !
Men. If a pretty woman only knew, la ! how anger
improved its beauty ! her complexion needs no other
paint than indignation. Go on, go on, lovely one,
grow angrier, and lovelier still.
Isab. You shan't have even that consolation ;
x come, Ines. [Exit.
Ines. Beware of the portcullis, sir knight.
(Shuts down the blind in his face.)
SCENE ii THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 265
Men. Ines, beauty must be ever victorious, whether
advancing or in retreat.
Enter CRESPO.
Ores. That I can never go in or out of my house
without that squireen haunting it !
Nun. Pedro Crespo, sir !
Men. Oh ah let us turn another way; 'tis an
ill-conditioned fellow.
As he turns, enter JUAN.
Juan. That I never can come home but this ghost
of an Hidalgo is there to spoil my appetite.
Nun. His son, sir !
Men. He's worse. (Turning back.} Oh, Pedro
Crespo, good day, Crespo, good man,
',xit with NUNO.
Cres. Good day indeed ; I'll make it bad day one
of these days with you, if you don't take care. But
how now, Juanito, my boy ?
Juan. I was looking for you, sir, but could not
find you ; where have you been ?
Cres. To the barn, where high and dry,
The jolly sheaves of corn do lie,
Which the sun, arch-chemist old,
Turn'd from black earth into gold,
And the swinging flail one day
On the barn-floor shall assay,
Separating the pure ore
From the drossy chaff away.
This I've been about And now,
Juanito, what hast thou ?
Juan. Alas, sir, I can't answer in so good rhyme
266 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT I
or reason. I have been playing at fives, and lost
every bout.
Cres. What signifies if you paid?
Juan. But I could not, and have come to you for
the money.
Cres. Before I give it you, listen to me.
There are things two
Thou never must do ;
Swear to more than thou knowest,
Play for more than thou owest ;
And never mind cost,
So credit's not lost.
Juan. Good advice, sir, no doubt, that I shall lay
by for its own sake as well as for yours. Meanwhile,
I have also heard say,
Preach not to a beggar till
The beggar's empty hide you fill.
Cres. 'Fore Heaven, thou pay'st me in my own
coin. But
Enter Sergeant.
Serg. Pray, does one Pedro Crespo live hereabout ?
Cres. Have you any commands for him, if he
does?
Serg. Yes, to tell him of the arrival of Don Alvaro
de Ataide, captain of the troop that has just marcht
into Zalamea, and quartered upon him.
Cres. Say no more; my house and all I have is
ever at the service of the king, and of all who have
authority under him. If you will leave his things
here, I will see his room is got ready directly ; and
do you tell his Honour that, come when he will, he
shall find me and mine at his service.
Serg. Good he will be here directly. [Exit.
SCENE ii THE MAYOR CTF-gALAMEA 267
Juan. I wonder, father, that, rich as you are, you
still submit yourself to these nuisances.
Cres. Why, boy, how could I help them ?
Juan. You know ; by buying a patent of Gentility.
Cres. A patent of Gentility ! upon thy life now
dost think there'Va soul who doesn't know that I'm
no gentleman at all, but just a plain farmer ? Whafs
the use of my buying a patent of Gentility, if I can't
Buy the gentle blood along with it ! will any one
think me a bit more of a gentleman for buying fifty
patents ? Not a whit ; I should only prove I was
worth so many thousand royals, not that I had
gentle blood in my veins^which can't be bought at
any price. If a fellow's been bald ever so long, and
buys him a fine wig, and claps it on ; will his
neighbours think it is his own hair a bit the more ?
No, they will say, 'So and so has a fine wig; and,
what's more, he must have paid handsomely for it
too.' But they know his bald pate is safe under it
all the while. That's all he gets by it.
Juan. Nay, sir, he gets to look younger and
handsomer, and keeps off sun and cold.
Cres. Tut ! I'll have none of your wig honour at
any price. My grandfather was a farmer, so was my
father, so is yours, and so shall you be after him.
o, call your sister.
Enter ISABEL and INES.
Oh, here she is. Daughter, our gracious king (whose
life God save these thousand years !) is on his way
to be crowned at Lisbon ; thither the troops are
marching from all quarters, and among others that
fine veteran Flanders regiment, commanded by the
famous Don Lope de Figueroa, will march into
268 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT i
Zalamea, and be quartered here to-day ; some of the
soldiers in my house. Is it not as well you should
be out of the wayY
Isab. Sir, 'twas upon this very errand I came to
you, knowing what nonsense I shall have to hear if I
stay below. My cousin and I can go up to the garret,
and there keep so close, the very sun shall not know
of our whereabout.
Cres. That's my good girl. Juanito, you wait here
to receive them in case they come while I am out
looking after their entertainment.
Isab. Come, Ines.
Ines. Very well
Though I've heard in a song what folly 'twould be
To try keep in a loft what won't keep on the tree.
[Exeunt.
Enter Captain and Sergeant.
Serg. This is the house, sir.
Capt. Is my kit come ?
Serg. Yes, sir, and (aside) I'll be the first to take
an inventory of the pretty daughter. [Exit.
Juan. Welcome, sir, to our house ; we count it a
great honour to have such a cavalier as yourself for
a guest, I assure you. (Aside.) What a fine fellow !
what an air ! I long to try the uniform, somehow.
Capt. Thank you, my lad.
Juan. You must forgive our poor house, which we
devoutly wish was a palace for your sake. My
father is gone after your supper, sir ; may I go and
see that your chamber is got ready for you ?
Capt. Thank you, thank you.
Juan. Your servant, sir. [Exit.
SCENE ii THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 269
Enter Sergeant.
Capt. Well, sergeant, where's the
told me of?
Serg. Deuce, take me, sir, if I haven't been look-
ing everywhere in parlour, bed -room, kitchen, and
scullery, up-stairs and down-stairs, and can't find her
out.
Capt. Oh, no doubt the old fellow has hid her
away for fear of us.
Serg. Yes, I ask'd a serving wench, and she con-
fess'd her master had lock'd the girl up in the attic,
with strict orders not even to look out so long as we
were in the place.
Capt. Ah ! these clodpoles are all so jealous of
the service. And what is the upshot? Why, I,
who didn't care a pin to see her before, shall never
rest till I get at her now.
Serg. But how, without a blow-up ?
Capt. Let me see ; how shall we manage it ?
Serg. The more difficult the enterprise, the more
glory in success, you know, in love as in war.
Capt. I have it !
Serg. Well, sir?
Capt. You shall pretend but no, here comes one
will serve my turn better.
Enter REBOLLEDO and CHISPA.
Reb. (to CHISPA). There he is ; now if I can get
him into a good humour
Chis. Speak up then, like a man.
Reb. I wish I'd some of your courage ; but don't
270 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT i
you leave me while I tackle him. Please your
Honour
Copt, (to Sergeant). I tell you I've my eye on
Rebolledo to do him a good turn ; I like his spirit.
Serg. Ah, he's one of a thousand.
Reb. (aside}. Here's luck ! Please your Honour
Capt. Oh, Rebolledo Well, Rebolledo, what is
it?
Reb. You may know I am a gentleman who has,
by ill luck, lost all his estate; all that ever I had,
have, shall have, may have, or can have, through all
the conjugation of the verb * to have.' And I want
your Honour
Capt. Well?
Reb. To desire the ensign to appoint me roulette-
master to the regiment, so I may pay my liabilities
like a man of honour.
Capt. Quite right, quite right ; I will see it done.
Chis. Oh, brave captain ! Oh, if I only live to
hear them all call me Madam Roulette !
Reb. Shall I go at once and tell him ?
Capt. Wait. I want you first to help me in a little
plan I have.
Reb. Out with it, noble captain. Slow said slow
sped, you know.
Capt. You are a good fellow ; listen. I want to
get into that attic there, for a particular purpose.
Reb. And why s doesn't your Honour go up at
once?
Capt. I don't like to do it in a strange house
without an excuse. Now look here ; you and I will
pretend to quarrel ; I get angry and draw my
sword, and you run away up-stairs, and I after you,
to the attic, that's all ; I'll manage the rest.
Chis. Ah, we get on famously.
SCENE in THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 271
Reb. 1 understand. When are we to begin ?
Capt. Now directly.
Reb. Very good. (In a loud voiced) This is the
reward of my services a rascal, a pitiful scoundrel,
is preferred, when a man of honour a man who has
seen service
Chis. Halloa ! Rebolledo up ! All is not so well.
Reb. Who has led you to victory
Capt. This language to me, sir !
Reb. Yes, to you, who have so grossly insulted and
defrauded
Capt. Silence ! and think yourself lucky if I take
no further notice of your insolence.
Reb. If I restrain myself, it is only because you
are my captain, and as such but 'fore God, if my
cane were in my hand
Chis. (advancing). Hold ! Hold !
Capt. I'll show you, sir, how to talk to me in this
way. (Draws his sword.)
Reb. It is before your commission, not you, I
retreat.
Capt. That shan't save you, rascal !
(Pursues REBOLLEDO out.)
Chis. Oh, I shan't be Madam Roulette after all.
Murder ! murder ! \Exit, calling.
SCENE III. ISABEL'S Garret. ISABEL and INKS.
Isab. What noise is that on the stairs ?
Enter REBOLLEDO.
Reb. Sanctuary ! Sanctuary !
Isab. Who are you, sir ?
272 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT
Enter Captain.
Capt. Where is the rascal ?
Isab. A moment, sir ! This poor man has flown
to our feet for protection ; I appeal to you for it ;
and no man, and least of all an officer, will refuse
that to any woman.
Capt. I swear no other arm than that of beauty,
and beauty such as yours, could have withheld me.
(To REBOLLEDO.) You may thank the deity that
has saved you, rascal.
Isab. And I thank you, sir.
Capt. And yet ungratefully slay me with your eyes
in return for sparing him with my sword.
Isab. Oh, sir, do not mar the grace of a good deed
by poor compliment, and so make me less mindful
of the real thanks I owe you.
Capt. Wit and modesty kiss each other, as well
they may, in that lovely face. (Kneels.}
Isab. Heavens ! my father !
Enter CRESPO and JUAN with swords.
Cres. How is this, sir ? I am alarmed by cries of
murder in my house am told you have pursued a
poor man up to my daughter's room ; and, when I
get here expecting to find you killing a man, I find
you courting a woman.
Capt. We are all born subjects to some dominion
soldiers especially to beauty. My sword, though
justly raised against this man, as justly fell at this
lady's bidding.
Cres. No lady, sir, if you please; but a plain
peasant girl my daughter.
SCENE in THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 273
Juan (aside). All a trick to get at her. My blood
boils. (Aloud to Captain?) I think, sir, you might
have seen enough of my father's desire to serve you
to prevent your requiting him by such an affront as
this.
Ores. And, pray, who bid thee meddle, boy?
Affront ! what affront ? The soldier affronted his
captain ; and if the captain has spared him for thy
sister's sake, pray what hast thou to say against it ?
Capt. I think, young man, you had best consider
before you impute ill intention to an officer.
Juan. I know what I know.
Cres. What ! you will go on, will you ?
Capt. It is out of regard for you I do not chastise
him.
Cres. Wait a bit ; if that were wanting, 'twould be
from his father, not from you.
Juan. And, what's more, I wouldn't endure it from -. yy
any one but my father^
Capt. You would not ?
Juan. No ! death rather than such dishonour !
Capt. What, pray, is a clodpole^sjd
Juan, 'fhe same as a captain's no clodpole no
captain, I can tell you.
Capt. 'Fore Heaven, I must punish this insolence.
(About to strike him.)
Cres. You must do it through me, then.
Reb. Eyes right ! Don Lope ! >
Capt. Don Lope !
Enter DON LOPE.
Lope. How now? A riot the very first thing I
find on joining the regiment ? What is it all about ?
274 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT i
Capt. (aside). Awkward enough !
Cres. (aside). By the lord, the boy would have
held his own with the best of 'em.
Lope. Well ! No one answer me ? 'Fore God,
I'll pitch the whole house, men, women, and children,
out of windows, if you don't tell me at once. Here
have I had to trail up your accursed stairs, and then
no one will tell me what for.
Cres. Nothing, nothing at all, sir.
Lope. Nothing? that would be the worst excuse
of all : but swords aren't drawn for nothing ; come,
the truth ?
Capt. Well, the simple fact is this, Don Lope ; I
am quartered upon this house ; and one of my
soldiers
Lope. Well, sir, go on.
Capt. Insulted me so grossly I was obliged to
draw my sword on him. He ran up here where it
seems these two girls live ; and I, not knowing there
was any harm, after him ; at which these men, their
father or brother, or some such thing, take affront.
This is the whole business.
Lope. I am just come in time then to settle it.
First, who is the soldier that began it with an act of
insubordination ?
Reb. What, am I to pay the piper?
Isab. (pointing to Reb?). This, sir, was the man
who ran up first.
Lope. This ? handcuff him !
Reb. Me ! my lord ?
Capt. (aside to Reb.). Don't blab, I'll bear you
harmless.
Reb. Oh, I dare say, after being marcht off with
my hands behind me like a coward. Noble com-
mander, 'twas the captain's own doing ; he made me
SCENE in THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 275
pretend a quarrel, that he might get up here to see
the women.
Cres. I had some cause for quarrel, you see.
Lope. Not enough to peril the peace of the town
for. Halloa there ! beat all to quarters on pain of
death. And, to prevent further ill blood here, do
you (to the Captain) quarter yourself elsewhere till we
march. I'll stop here.
Capt. I shall of course obey you, sir.
Cres. (to ISABEL). Get you in. (Exeunt ISAB.
and INKS.) I really ought to thank you heartily for
coming just as you did, sir; else, I'd done for myself.
Lope. How so ?
Cres. I should have killed this popinjay.
Lope. What, sir, a captain in his Majesty's service ?
Cres. Ay, a general, if he insulted me.
Lope. I tell you, whoever lays his little ringer on
the humblest private in the regiment, I'll hang him.
Cres. And I tell you, whoever points his little
finger at my honour, I'll cut him down before hanging.
Lope. Know you not, you are bound by your
allegiance to submit ?
~~Cres. To all cosTof property, yes ; but of honour,
no, no, no ! My goods and chattels, ay, and my life
are the king's ; but my honour is my own soul's,
and that is God Almighty's !
Lope. 'Fore God, there's some truth in what you
say.
Cres. 'Fore God, there ought to be, for I've been
some years saying it.
Lope. Well, well. I've come a long way, and this
leg of mine (which I wish the devil who gave it
would carry away with him !) cries for rest.
Cres. And who prevents its taking some? the
same devil I suppose, who gave you your leg, gave
276 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT n
me a bed (which I don't want him to take away
again, however) on which your leg may lie if it
like.
Lope. But did the devil, when he was about it,
make your bed as well as give it ?
Cres. To be sure he did.
Lope. Then I'll unmake it Heaven knows I'm
weary enough.
Cres. Heaven rest you then.
Lope (aside}. Devil or saint alike he echoes me.
Cres. (aside}. I and Don Lope never shall agree.
ACT II
SCENE I. In Zalamea.
Enter DON MENDO and NUNO.
Men. Who told you all this ?
Nun. Ginesa, her wench.
Men. That, whether that riot in the house were
r bv accident or design, the captain has ended by
being really in love with Isabel.
Nun. So as he has as little of comfort in his
quarters as we of eatable in ours ever under her
window, sending her messages and tokens by a nasty
little soldier of his.
Men. Enough, enough of your poisoned news.
Nun. Especially on an empty stomach.
Men. Be serious, Nufio. And how does Isabel
answer him ?
Nun. As she does you. Bless you, she's meat for
your masters.
Men. Rascal ! This to me ! (Strikes him.)
!H
SCENE i THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 277
Nun. There ! two of my teeth you've knockt out, I
I believe : to be sure they weren't of much use in \
your service.
Men. By Heaven, I'll do so to that captain, if
Nun. Take care, he's coming, sir.
Men. (aside to NUNO). This duel shall be now
though night be advancing on before discretion
come to counsel milder means. Come, and help me
arm.
Nun. Lord bless me, sir, what arms have you
got except the coat over the door ?
Men. In my armoury I doubt not are some pieces
of my ancestors that will fit their descendant.
\Exeunt.
Enter Captain, Sergeant, and REBOLLEDO.
Capt. I tell you my love is not a fancy; but a
passion, a tempest, a volcano.
Serg. What a pity it is you ever set eyes on the
girl !
Capt. What answer did the servant give you ?
Serg. Nay, sir, I have told you.
* Capt. That a country wench should stand upon
^ her virtue as if she were a lady !
Serg. This sort of girls, captain, don't understand
gentlemen's ways. If a strapping Jout in their own ,
line of life courted them in their own way, they'd
hear and answer quick enough. Besides, you really
expect too much, that a decent woman should listen
after one day's courtship to a lover who is perhaps
to leave her to-morrow.
Capt. And to-day's sun setting !
Serg. Your own love too, but from one glance
Capt. Is not one spark enough for gunpowder ?
278 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT n
Serg. You too, who would have it no country girl
could be worth a day's courtship !
Capt. Alas, 'twas that was my ruin running
unawares upon a rock. I thought only to see a
splay-footed gawky, and found a goddess. Ah,
Rebolledo, could you but get me one more sight of
her!
Reb. Well, captain, you have done me one good
turn, and though you had like to run me into danger,
I don't mind venturing again for you.
Capt. But how ? how ?
Reb. Well, now, look here. We've a man in the
regiment with a fair voice, and my little Chispa no
one like her for a flash song. Let's serenade at the
girl's window; she must, in courtesy or curiosity,
look out ; and then
Capt. But Don Lope is there, and we mustn't
wake him.
Reb. Don Lope ? When does he ever get asleep
with that leg of his, poor fellow ? Besides, you can
mix along with us in disguise, so as at least you
won't come into question.
Capt. Well, there is but this chance, if it be but a
faint one ; for if we should march to-morrow !
come, let us set about it; it being, as you say,
between ourselves that I have any thing to do with
it. [Exeunt Captain and Sergeant.
Enter CHISPA.
Chis. He's got it, at any rate.
Reb. What's the matter now, Chispa ?
Chis. Oh, I mark'd his face for him.
Reb. What, a row ?
Chis. A fellow there who began to ask questions
SCENE ii THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 279
as to my fair play at roulette when I was all as fair
as day too I answered him with this. (Showing a
knife.} Well, he's gone to the barber's to get it
dressed.
Reb. You still stand kicking when I want to get
to the fair. I wanted you with your castanets, not
your knife.
Chis. Pooh ! one's as handy as the other. What's
up now?
Reb. Come with me to quarters ; I'll tell you as
we go along. \_Exeunt.
SCENE II. A trellis of Vines in CRESPO'S garden.
Enter CRESPO and DON LOPE.
Ores. Lay the table here. (To LOPE.) You'll
relish your supper here in the cool, sir. These hot
August days at least bring their cool nights by way
of excuse.
Lope. A mighty pleasant parlour this !
Ores. Oh, a little strip my daughter amuses her-
self with ; sit down, sir. In place of the fine voices
and instruments you are used to, you must put up
with only the breeze playing on the vine leaves in
concert with the little fountain yonder. Even the
birds (our only musicians) are gone to bed, and
wouldn't sing any the more if I were to wake them.
Come, sit down, sir, and try to ease that poor leg of
yours.
Lope. I wish to heaven I could.
Ores. Amen !
Lope. Well, I can at least bear it. Sit down,
Crespo.
280 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT n
Cres. Thank you, sir. (Hesitating.)
Lope. Sit down, sit down, pray.
Cres. Since you bid me then, you must excuse
my ill manners. (Sits.)
Lope. Humph ! Do you know, I am thinking,
Crespo, that yesterday's riot rather overset your good
ones.
Cres. Ay?
Lope. Why how else is it that you, whom I can
scarce get to sit down at all to-day, yesterday plump'd
yourself down at once, and in the big chair too ?
Cres. Simply because yesterday you didn't ask me.
To-day you are courteous, and I am shy.
Lope. Yesterday you were all thistle and hedgehog ;
to-day as soft as silk.
Cres. It is only because you yourself were so.
I alwavsanswer in the key Fmjjpoken toj yesterday
you were all out of tune, and so was I. It is my
principle to swear with the swearer, and pray with
the saint ; all things to all men. So much so as I
declare to you your bad leg kept me awake all night.
And, by the by, I wish, now we are about it, you
would tell me which of your legs it is that ails you :
for, not knowing, I was obliged to make sure by
swearing at both of mine : and one at a time is quite
enough.
Lope. Well, Pedro, you will perhaps think I have
some reason for my tetchiness, when I tell you that
for thirty years during which I have served in the
Flemish wars through summer's sun, and winter's
frost, and enemy's bullets, I have never known what
it is to be an hour without pain.
Cres. God give you patience to bear it !
Lope. Pish ! can't I give it myself?
Cres. Well, let him leave you alone then !
SCENE ii THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 281
Lope. Devil take patience !
Cres. Ah, let him ! he wants it ; only it's too good
a job for him.
Enter JUAN with Table, etc.
Juan. Supper, sir !
Lope. But what are my people about, not to see to
all this ?
Cres. Pardon my having been so bold to tell them
I and my family would wait upon you, so, as I hope,
you shall want for nothing.
Lope. On one condition then, that as you have no
fear of your company now, your daughter may join
us at supper.
Cres. Juan, bid your sister come directly.
\Exit JUAN.
Lope. My poor health may quiet all suspicion on
that score, I think.
Cres. Sir, if you were as lusty as I wish you, I
should have no fear. I bid my daughter keep above
/ while the regiment was here because of the nonsense
soldiers usually talk to girls. If all were gentlemen
like you, I should be the first to make her wait on
them.
Lope (aside). The cautious old fellow !
Enter JUAN, ISABEL, and INES.
Isab. (to CRESPO). Your pleasure, sir ?
Cres. It is Don Lope's, who honours you by bid-
ding you to sup with him.
Lope (aside}. What a fair creature ! Nay, 'tis I
that honour myself by the invitation.
282 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT n
Isab. Let me wait upon you.
Lope. Indeed no, unless waiting upon me mean
supping with me.
Cres. Sit down, sit down, girl, as Don Lope desires
you. [They sit at table. Guitar heard within.
Lope. Music too !
Cres. None of ours. It must be some of your
soldiers, Don Lope.
Lope. Ah, Crespo, the troubles and dangers of war
must have a little to sweeten them betimes. The
uniform sits very tight, and must be let out every
now and then.
Juan. Yet 'tis a fine life, sir.
Lope. Do you think you would like to follow it?
Juan. If I might at your Excellency's side.
SONG (within].
Ah for the red spring rose,
Down in the garden growing,
Fading as fast as it blows,
Who shall arrest its going ?
^ Peep from thy window and tell,
I \ Fairest of flowers, Isabel.
D'jpe (aside). Pebbles thrown up at the window
! But I'll say nothing, for all sakes. (Aloud.)
What foolery !
Cres. Boys ! Boys ! (Aside.) To call her very
name too ! If it weren't for Don Lope
^/ Juan (going). I'll teach them
Cres. Holloa, lad, whither away ?
^/Juan. To see for a dish
Cres. They'll see after that. Sit still where thou
art.
SCENE in THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 283
SONG (within).
Wither it would, but the bee
Over the blossom hovers,
And the sweet life ere it flee
With as sweet art recovers,
Sweetest at night in his cell,
Fairest of flowers, Isabel.
Isab. (aside}. How have I deserved this ?
Lope (knocking over his chair}. This is not to be
borne !
Cres. (upsetting the table). No more it is !
v/ Lope. I meant my leg.
vX Cres. And I mine.
./ 'Lope. I can eat no more, and will to bed.
Cres. Very good : so will I.
Lope. Good-night, good-night, to you all.
All. Good-night, sir.
^/ Lope (aside}. I'll see to them. \Exit.
y Cres. (aside}. I'll shut the girls up, and then look
after 'em. (Aloud.) Come, to bed. (To JUAN)
Holloa, lad, again ! This is the way to thy room, is
it not ? [Exeunt severally.
SCENE III. Outside CRESPO'S House.
"he Captain, Sergeant, REBOLLEEKD, CHISPA, etc.,
with guitars. At one corner, MENDO in old
armour, with NUNO, observing them. It is dark.
Men. (aside to NUNO). You see this ?
Nun. And hear it.
Men. I am bloodily minded to charge into them
at once, and disperse them into chaos; but I will
see if she is guilty of answering them by a sign.
284 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT n
Capt. No glance from the window yet !
Reb. Who'd stir for a sentimental love song ?
Come, Chispa, you can give us one that would make
her look out of the grave.
Chis. Here am I on my pedestal. Now for it.
(She sings.)
There once was a certain Sampayo
Of Andalusia the fair ;
A Major he was in the service,
And a very fine coat did he wear.
And one night, as to-night it might happen,
That as he was going his round,
With the Carlo half drunk in a tavern
Reb. Asonante to ' happen] you know.
Chis. Don't put me out, Rebolledo (Sings.)
With the Carlo half drunk in a tavern
His lovely Chillona he found.
CHORUS.
With the Carlo half drunk in a tavern
His lovely Chillona he found.
SECOND STANZA.
Now this Carlo, as chronicles tell us,
Although rather giv*n to strong drinks,
Was one of those terrible fellows
Is down on a man ere he winks.
And so while the Major all weeping
Upbraided his lady unkind,
The Carlo behind him came creeping
And laid on the Major behind.
CHORUS.
The Carlo, etc.
SCENE in THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 285
{During Chorus, DON LOPE and CRESPO have
entered at different sides with swords, and begin
to lay about them.}
Cres. What something in this way, \
perhaps ! > Together.
Lope. After this fashion, may-be ! J
(The soldiers are driven off}
Lope. Well, we're quit of them, except one. But
I'll soon settle him.
Cres. One still hanging about. Off with you ! \ ,,
Lope. Off with you, rascal! (They fight} By ^ ^
Heaven, he rights well !
Cres. By Heaven, a handy chap at his tool !
A\ Enter JUAN with sword and torch.
Juan. Where is Don Lope ?
Lope. Crespo !
Cres. Don Lope !
Lope. To be sure, didn't you say you were going
to bed ?
Cres. And didn't you ?
Lope. This was my quarrel, not yours.
Cres. Very well, and I come out to help you in it.
/ *
^' Re-enter Captain and Soldiers with swords.
ist Sold. We'll soon settle them.
Capt. Don Lope !
Lope. Yes, Don Lope. What is all this, sir ?
Capt. The soldiers were singing and playing in the
street, sir, doing no offence to any one, but were set
286 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT n
upon by some of the town's people, and I came to
stop the riot.
Lope. You have done well, Don Alvaro, I know
your prudence ; however, as there is a grudge on
both sides, I shall not visit the town's people this time
with further severity ; but, for the sake of all parties,
order the regiment to march from Zalamea to-morrow
nay, to-day, for it is now dawn. See to it, sir:
and let me hear of no such disgraceful riots hereafter.
Capt. I shall obey your orders, sir.
{Exit with soldiers, etc.
Cres. (aside). Don Lope is a fine fellow ! We shall
cog together after all.
Lope (to CRESPO and JUAN). You two keep with
me, and don't be found alone. {Exeunt.
Re-enter MENDO, and NUNO wounded.
Men. Tis only a scratch.
Nun. A scratch ? Well, I could well have spared
that.
Men. Ah, what is it compared to the wound in
my heart !
Nun. I would gladly exchange for all that.
Men. Well, he did lay upon your head handsomely,
didn't he ?
Nun. Ah, and on my tail too ; while you, under
that great shield of yours, (Drum.}
Men. Hark ! what's that ?
Nun. The soldiers' reveille. I heard say they were
to leave Zalamea to-day.
Men. I am glad of it, since they'll carry that
detestable captain off with them at all events.
{Exeunt.
SCENE iv THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 287
SCENE IV '.Outside Zalamea.
Enter Captain, Sergeant, REBOLLEDO, and
CHISPA.
Capt. March you on, Sergeant, with the troop.
I shall lie here till sun-down, and then steal back to
Zalamea for one last chance.
Serg. If you are resolved on this, sir, you had
/better do it well attended, for these bumpkins are
v dangerous, once affronted.
Reb. Where, however, (and you ought to tip me
for my news,) you have one worst enemy the less
Capt. Who's that ?
Reb. Isabel's brother. Don Lope and the lad
took a fancy to each other and have persuaded the
old father to let him go for a soldier ; and I have
only just met him as proud as a peacock, with all the
sinew of the swain and the spirit of the soldier already
about him.
Capt. All works well ; there is now only the old
father at home, who can easily be disposed of. It
only needs that he who brought me this good news
help me to use it.
Reb. Me do you mean, sir ? So I will, to the best
of my power.
Capt. Good ; you shall go with me.
Serg. But if Don Lope should happen on you ?
Capt. He is himself obliged to set off to Guadalupe
this evening, as the king is already on the road.
This I heard from himself when I went to take his
orders. Come with me, Sergeant, and settle about
the troops marching, and then for my own campaign.
{Exeunt Captain and Sergeant.
288 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT n
Chis. And what am I to do, Rebolledo, meanwhile ?
I shan't be safe alone with that fellow whose face I
sent to be stitcht by the barber.
Reb. Ah, how to manage about that? You
wouldn't dare go with us?
Chis. Not in petticoats ; but in the clothes of that
run-away stable boy ? I can step into them free of
v expense.
Reb. That's a brave girl.
Chis. (singing).
And now who shall say
The love of a soldier's wife lasts but a day ?
\Exeunt.
SCENE V. CRESPO'S Garden Porch.
DON LOPE, CRESPO, JUAN.
Lope. I have much to thank you for, Crespo, but
for nothing so much as for giving me your son for a
soldier. I do thank you for that with all my heart.
Cres. I am proud he should be your servant.
Lope. The king's ! the king's my friend. I took
a fancy to him from the first for his spirit and affec-
tion to the service.
Juan. And I will follow you to the world's end,
sir.
Cres. Though you must make allowance for his
awkwardness at first, sir, remembering he has only
had ploughmen for teachers, and plough and pitch-
forks for books.
Lope. He needs no apology. And now the sun's
heat abates towards his setting, I will be off.
Juan. I will see for the litter. \Exit.
SCENE v THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA
Enter ISABEL and INES.
Isab. You must not go, sir, without our adieu.
Lope. I would not have done so; nor without
asking pardon for much that is past, and even for
what I am now about to do. But remember, fair
Isabel, 'tis not the price of the gift, but the good will
of the giver makes its value. This brooch, though of
diamond, becomes poor in your hands, and yet I
would fain have you wear it in memory of Don Lope.
/Isab. I take it ill you should wish to repay us for
an entertainment
Lope. No, no, no repayment ; that were impossible
/ if I wished it. A free keepsake of regard.
Isab. As such I receive it then, sir. Ah, may I
make bold to commit my brother to your kindness ?
Lope. Indeed, indeed, you may rely on me.
Enter JUAN.
Juan. The litter is ready.
Lope. Adieu, then, all.
All. Adieu, adieu, sir.
Lope. Ha, Peter ! who, judging from our first meet-
ing, could have prophesied we should part such good
friends ?
Cres. I could, sir, had I but known
Lope (going). Well ?
Cres. That you were at once as good as crazy.
(Exit LOPE.) And now, Juan, before going, let me
give thee a word of advice in presence of thy sister and
cousin ; thou and thy horse will easily overtake Don
JLope, advice and all. By God's grace, boy, thou
/ comest of honourable if of humble stock ; bear both
290 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT n
0>
in mind, so as neither to be daunted from trying to
rise^nor pufifed/upso as to be sure to fall. How
J many have done away the memory of a defect by
carrying themselves modestly ; while others again
have gotten a blemish only by being too proud of
being born without one. There is a^juslJiumility
that will jmajntajii_ thine own dignity, and yet make
tHe^nsen7ible_tojn^Qy^^rjiBlrYat galls the proud spirit.
- ; Be courteous in thy manner, and liberal of thy purse ;
foTT:is tKe~rTand to the bonnet and in the pocket that
makes friends in this world ; of which to gain one
good, all the gold the sun breeds in India, or the
universal sea sucks down, were a cheap purchase.
,-ij Speak no evil of women ; I tell thee the meanest of
tFie'Vi deserves our respect ; for of women do we not
ah come ? r Quarrel with no one but wijji gnnrl r nng ^ ;
by the Lord, over and over again, when I see masters
and schools_jQjLarros among us, I say to myself, ' This
is jiot the thing we want at all, How to fight, but
fjffly * n fight? that is th^ lesson we want to learn.'
And I verily believe if but one master of the Why to
fight advertised among us he would carry off all the
scholars. Well enough You have not (as you
once said to me) my advice this time on an empty
stomach a fair outfit of clothes and money a good
horse and a good sword these, together with Don
Lope's countenance, and my blessing I trust in God
to live to see thee home again with honour and
advancement on thy back. My son, God bless thee !
' There And now go for I am beginning to play the
woman.
Juan. Your words will live in my heart, sir, so
long as it lives. (He kisses his father's ha?id.) Sister!
(He embraces her.)
Isab. Would I could hold you back in my arms !
SCENE v THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 291
fuan. Adieu, cousin !
Ines. I can't speak.
Cres. Be off, else I shall never let thee go and
my word is given !
Juan. God bless you all ! [Exit.
Isab. Oh, you never should have let him go, sir.
Crts. (aside). I shall do better now. (Aloud.)
Pooh, why, what the deuce could I have done with
him at home here all his life a lout a scape-grace
perhaps. Let him go serve his king.
Isab. Leaving us by night too !
Cres. Better than by day, child, at this season ^
Pooh ! (Aside.) I must hold up before them.
Isab. Come, sir, let us in.
Ines. No, no, cousin, e'en let us have a little fresh
air now the soldiers are gone.
Cres. True and here I may watch my Juan along
the white, white road. Let us sit. (They sit.)
Isab. Is not this the day, sir, when the Town -
Council elects its officers ?
Cres. Ay, indeed, in August so it is. And
indeed this very day.
(As they talk together, the Captain, Sergeant,
REBOLLEDO, and CHISPA steal in.)
Capt. (whispering). 'Tis she ! you know our plan ;
I seize her, and you look to the others.
Isab. What noise is that ?
Ines. Who are these ?
(The Captain seizes and carries 0jf ISABEL the
Sergeant and REBOLLEDO seize CRESPO.)
Isab. (within). My father ! My father !
Cres. Villains ! A sword ! A sword !
292 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT in
Reb. Kill him at once.
Serg. No, no.
Reb. We must carry him off with us then, or his
cries will rouse the town.
Exeunt, carrying CRESPO.
ACT III.
SCENE I. A Wood near Zalamea. It is dark.
Enter ISABEL.
Isab. Oh never, never might the light of day arise
and show me to myself in my shame ! Oh, fleeting
morning star, mightest thou never yield to the dawn
that even now presses on thy azure skirts ! And
thou, great Orb of all, do thou stay down in the cold
ocean foam ; let night for once advance her trembling
empire into thine ! For once assert thy voluntary
power to hear and pity human misery and prayer,
nor hasten up to proclaim the vilest deed that
Heaven, in revenge on man, has written on his guilty
annals ! Alas ! even as I speak, thou liftest thy
bright, inexorable face above the hills ! Oh ! horror !
'What shall I do? whither turn my tottering feet?
Back to my own home? and to my aged -father,
whose only joy it was to see his own spotless honour
spotlessly reflected in mine, which now And yet if
I return not, I leave calumny to make my inno-
cence accomplice in my own shame ! Oh that I had
stayed to be slain by Juan over my slaughtered
honour ! But I dared not meet his eyes even to
die by his hand. Alas! Hark! What is that
noise ?
SCENE ii THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 293
Crespo (within). Oh in pity slay me at once !
Isab. One calling for death like myself?
Cres. Whoever thou art
Isab. That voice ! {Exit.
SCENE II. Another place in the Wood. CRESPO
tied to a tree.
Enter to him ISABEL.
Isab. My father !
Cres. Isabel ! Unbind these cords, my child.
Isab. I dare not I dare not yet, lest you kill
before you hear my story and you must hear
that.
Cres. No more, no more ! Misery needs no
remembrancer.
Isab. It must be.
Cres. Alas! Alas!
Isab. Listen for the last time. You know how,
sitting last night under the shelter of those white
hairs in which my maiden youth had grown, those
wretches, x whose only law is forcep stole upon us.
He who had feigned that quarrel in our house, seizing
and tearing me from your bosom as a lamb from the
fold, carried me off; my own cries stifled, yours dying
away behind me, and yet ringing in niy ears like the
sound of a trumpet that has ceased ! till here, where
out of reach of pursuit, all dark the very moon
lost from heaven the wretch began with passionate i/*^
lies to excuse his violence by his love his love ! ' '
I implored, wept. threatened r all imain the villain
But my tongue will not utter what I must weep in
silence and ashes for ever ! Yet let these quivering
hands and heaving bosom, yea, the very tongue that
294 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT in
cannot speak,, speak loudliest ! Amid my shrieks,
entreaties, imprecations, the night began to wear away
and dawn to creep into the forest. I heard a rustling
in the leaves ; it was my brother who in the twi-
light understood all without a word drew the sword
you had but just given him they fought and I,
blind with terror, shame, and anguish, fled till till
at last I fell before your feet, my father, to tell you
my story before I__die ! And now I undo the cords
that keep your hands from my wretched life. So
it is done ! and I kneel before you your daughter
your disgrace and my own. Avenge us both ; and
revive your dead honour in the blood of her you gave
life to !
Cres. Rise, Isabel ; rise, my child. God has
chosen thus to temper the cup that prosperity might
else have made too sweet. It is thus he writes
instruction in our hearts : let us bow down in all
humility to receive it. Come, we will home, my
Isabel, lean on me. (Aside.) 'Fore Heaven, an' I
catch that captain ! (Aloud.) Come, my girl !
Courage ! so.
Voice (within). Crespo ! Peter Crespo !
Cres. Hark!
Voice. Peter ! Peter Crespo !
Cres. Who calls ?
Enter Notary.
Not. Peter Crespo ! Oh, here you are at last !
Cres. Well?
Not. Oh, I've had a rare chase. Come a largess
for my news ! The corporation have elected you
Mayor.
Cres. Me!
SCENE in THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 295
Not. Indeed. And already you are wanted in
your office. The king is expected almost directly
through the town ; and, beside that, the captain who
/ disturbed us all so yesterday has been brought back
wounded mortally, it is thought but no one knows
by whom.
Cres. (to himself}. And so when I was meditating
revenge, God himself puts the rod of justice into my
hands ! How shall I dare myself outrage the law
when I am made its keeper? (Aloud.} Well, sir, I
am very grateful to my fellow-townsmen for their
confidence.
Not. They are even now assembled at the town-
hall, to commit the wand to your hands ; and indeed,
as I said, want you instantly.
Cres. Come then.
Isab. Oh, my father !
Cres. Ay, who can now see that justice is done
you. Courage ! Come. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. A room in Zalamea.
Enter the Captain ivounded, and Sergeant.
Capt. It was but a scratch after all. Why on
earth bring me back to this confounded place ?
Serg. Who could have known it was but a scratch
till 'twas cured ? Would you have liked to be left to
bleed to death in the wood ?
Capt. Well, it is cured however : and now to get
clear away before the affair gets wind. Are the
others here ?
Serg. Yes, sir.
296 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT in
Capt. Let us be off then before these fellows
know \ else we shall have to fight for it.
Enter REBOLLEDO.
Reb. Oh, sir, the magistrates are coming !
Capt. Well, what's that to me ?
. Reb. I only say they are at the door.
Capt. All the better. It will be their duty to
prevent any riot the people might make if they knew
of our being here.
Reb. They know, and are humming about it through
the town.
Capt. I thought so. The magistrates must inter-
fere, and then refer the cause to a court martial,
where, though the affair is awkward, I shall manage
to come off.
Cres. (within). Shut the doors ; any soldier trying
to pass, cut him down !
Enter CRESPO, with the wand of office in his hand,
Constables, Notary, etc.
Capt. Who is it dares give such an order?
Cres. And why not ?
Ca ^' Cres p ! Well) sir - The stick y u are so
proud of has no jurisdiction over a soldier.
Cres. For the love of Heaven don't discompose
yourself, captain ; I am only come to have a few
words with you, and, if you please, alone.
Capt. Well then, (to soldiers, etc.) retire awhile.
Cres. (to his people.) And you but hark ye ;
remember my orders.
[Exeunt Notary, Constables, etc.
Cres. And now, sir, that I have used my authority
to make you listen, I will lay it by, and talk to you
SCENK in THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 297
as man to man. (He lays down the wand.} We are
alone, Don Alvaro, and can each of us vent what is
swelling in his bosom ; in mine at least, till it is like
to burst !
Capt. Well, sir?
Cres. Till last night (let me say it without offence)
I knew not, except perhaps my humble birth, a
single thing fortune had left me to desire. Of such
estate as no other farmer in the district ; honoured
and esteemed (as now appears) by my fellow-townsmen,
who neither envied^me my wfifl^N no 1 " tanntpH me
as an "upstart ; and this even in a little community,
whosp ngual[j not worst, fault it is lo canvass each
other's weaknesses. Jl had a daughter too -virtuously^ yl
and modestly brought up, thanks to her whom heaven
now holds ! Whether fair, let what has passed But
I will leave what I may to silence would to God I
could leave all, and I should not now be coming on
this errand to you ! But it may not be : you must
help time to redress a wound so great, as, in spite of
myself, makes cry a heart not used to overflow. I
must have redress. And how ? The injury is done
by you : I might easily revenge myself for so
public and shameful an outrage, but. I would have
r>nt rfiyFTiff*..! And s, looking about,
and considering the matter on all sides, I see but
one way which perhaps will not be amiss for either
of us. It is this. You shall forthwith take all my
substance, without reserve of a single farthing for
myself or my son, only what you choose to allow us ;
you shall even brand us on back or forehead, and
sell us like slaves or mules by way of adding to the
fortune I offer you all this, and what you will
beside, if only you will with it take my daughter to
wife, and restore the hojinin r y? 11 j^y^ rebbeji. You
298
THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA
ACT in
^
^ ,
will not surely eclipse your own in so doing ; your
children will still be your children if my grandchildren ;
and 'tis an old saying in Castile, you know, that,
"'Tis the horse redeems the saddle." This is what
I have to propose./ Behold, (he kneels,) upon my
knees I ask it upon my knees, and weeping such
tears as only a father's anguish melts from his frozen
locks ! And what is my demand ? But that you
should restore what you have robbed ; 5g fatal jbr us
to lose, so easy for you to restore; which I could
myself now wrest from you by the hand of the law,
but which I rather implore of you as a mercy on my
knees !
Capt. You have done at last ? Tiresome old
man ! You may think yourself lucky I do not add
your death, and that of your son, to what you call
your dishonour. 'Tis your daughter saves you both ;
let that be enough for all. As to the wrong you
talk of, if you would avenge it by force, I^iave little
to fear. As to your magistrate's stick there, it does
not reach my profession at all.
Cres. Once more I implore you
Capt. Have done have done !
Cres. Will not these tears
Capt. Who cares for the tears of a woman, a child,
or an old man ?
Cres. No pity ?
Capt. I tell you I spare your life, and your son's :
pity enough.
Cres. Upon my knees, asking back my own at
your hands that robbed me ?
Capt. Nonsense !
Cres. Who could extort it if I chose.
Capt. I tell you you could not.
Cres. There is no remedy then ?
SCENE in THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 299
Capt. Except silence, which I recommend you as
the best.
Cres. You are resolved ?
Capt. I am.
Cres. (rising and resuming his wand). Then, by
God, you shall pay for it ! Ho there !
Enter Constables, etc.
Capt. What are these fellows about ?
Cres. Take this captain to prison.
Capt. To prison ! you can't do it.
Cres. We'll see.
Capt. Am I a bona fide officer or not ?
Cres. And am I a straw magistrate or not ? Away
with him !
Capt. The king shall hear of this.
Cres. He shall doubt it not perhaps to-day;
and shall judge between us. By the by, you had
best deliver up your sword before you go.
Capt. My sword !
Cres. Under arrest, you know.
Capt. Well take it with due respect then.
Cres. Oh yes, and you too. Hark ye, (to Constable,
etc.} carry the captain with due respect to Bridewell;
and there with due respect clap on him a chain and
hfcnd-cuffs ; and not only him, but all that were with
him, (all with due respect,) respectfully taking care
they communicate not together. For I mean with
all clue respect to examine them on the business, and
if I get sufficient evidence, with the most infinite
respect of all, I'll wring you by the neck till you're
dead, by God !
Capt. Set a beggar on horseback !
\They carry him off.
300 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT in
Enter Notary and others with REBOLLEDO, and
CHISPA in boy's dress.
Not. This fellow and the page are all we could
get hold of. The other got off.
Cres. Ah, this is the rascal who sung. I'll make
him sing on t'other side of his mouth.
Reb. Why, is singing a crime, sir?
Cres. So little that I've an instrument shall make
you do it as you never did before. Will you
confess ?
Reb. What am I to confess ?
Cres. What passed last night.
/- Reb. Your daughter can tell you that better than I.
Cres. Villain, you shall die for it ! [Exit.
Chis. Deny all, Rebolledo, and you shall be the
hero of a ballad I'll sing.
Not. And you too were of the singing party ?
Chis. Ah, ah, and if I was, you can't put me to
the question.
Not. And why not, pray?
Chis. The law forbids you.
Not. Oh, indeed, the law ? How so, pray ?
Chis. Because I'm in the way ladies like to be
who love Rebolledo. \Exeunt, carried off, etc.
SCENE IV. A Room in CRESPO'S House.
Enter JUAN pursuing ISABEL with a dagger.
. Help, help, help ! [Exit.
. You must not live !
SCENE iv THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 301
Enter CRESPO, who arrests him.
/Cres. Hold ! What is this ?
/ Juan. My father ! To avenge our shame
Cres. Which is to be avenged by other means, and
not by you. How come you here ?
Juan. Sent back by Don Lope last night, to see
after some missing soldiers, on approaching the town
I heard some cries
Cres. And drew your sword on your officer, whom
you wounded, and are now under arrest from me for
doing it.
Juan. Father !
Cres. And Mayor of Zalamea. Within there !
Enter Constables.
Take him to prison.
Juan. Your own son, sir ?
Cres. Ay, sir, my c\^nj^\\\^r } jf h^ ttgnggyssf^^h** X
lajK-I am made guardian of,. Off with him ! (They
carry off JUAN.) So I shall keep him out of harm's
way at least. And now for a little rest. (He lays by
his wand.)
Lope (calling within}. Stop ! Stop !
Cres. Who's that calling without? Don Lope !
Enter LOPE.
Lope. Ay, Peter, and on a very confounded
business too. But at least I would not put up any
where but at your friendly house.
Cres. You are too good. But, indeed, what
makes you back, sir, so suddenly ?
Lope. A most disgraceful affair; the greatest insult to
302 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT in
the service ! One of my soldiers overtook me on the
road, flying at full speed, and told me Oh, the rascal !
Ores. Well, sir?
j xn^-M Lope. That some little pettifogging mayor of the
\j>lace had got hold of a captain in my regiment, and
put him in prison ! In prison ! 'Fore Heaven, I
never really felt this confounded leg of mine till
to-day, that it prevented me jumping on horseback at
once to punish this trumpery Jack -in -office as he
deserves. But here I am, and, by the Lord, I'll thrash
him within an inch of his life !
Ores. You will?
Lope. Will I !
Cres. But will he stand your thrashing ?
Lope. Stand it or not, he shall have it.
Cres. Besides, might your captain happen to
deserve what he met with ?
Lope. And, if he did, /am his judge, not a
. r trumpery mayor.
Cres. This mayor is an odd sort of customer to
deal with, I assure you.
Lope. Some obstinate clodpole, I suppose.
Cres. So obstinate, that if he's made up his mind
to hang your captain, he'll do it.
Lope. Will he ? I'll see to that. And if you wish
to see too, only tell me where I can find him.
Cres. Oh, close here.
Lope. You know him?
Cres. Very well, I believe.
Lope. And who is it?
Cres. Peter Crespo. (Takes his wand.)
Lope. By God, I suspected it.
Cres. By God, you were right.
Lope. Well, Crespo, what's said is said.
Cres. And, Don Lope, what's done is done.
SCENE iv THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 303
Lope. I tell you, I want my captain.
Cres. And I tell you, I've got him.
Lope. Do you know he is the king's officer?
Cres. Do you know he ravished my daughter ?
Lope. That you are out-stripping your authority in
meddling with him ?
Cres. Not more than he his in meddling with me.
Lope. Do you know my authority supersedes yours ?
Cres. Do you know I tried first to get him to do
me justice with no authority at all, but the offer of
all my estate ?
Lope. I^tell you, /'// settlejhe business for you.,
Cres. And I tell you I never leave to another what
I can do for myself.
Lope. I tell you once more and for all, I must
have my man.
Cres. And I tell you once more and for all, you
shall when you have cleared him of the depositions.
Lope. The depositions ! What are they ?
Cres. Oh, only a few sheets of parchment tagged to-
gether with the evidence of his own soldiers against him.
Lope. Pooh ! I'll go myself, and take him from the
prison.
Cres. Do, if you like an arquebuss ball through
your body.
Lope. I am accustomed to that. But I'll make
sure. Within there !
%
Enter Orderly.
Have the regiment to the market-place directly under
arms, I'll see if I'm to have my prisoner or not.
{Exit.
Cres. And I Hark ye !
it y whispering to a Constable.
304 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT in
SCENE V. Before the Prison in Zalamea.
A Street in the centre.
Enter on one side DON LOPE with Troops ; at the
other, before the Prison, Labourers, Constables,
etc. armed : and afterward, CRESPO.
Lope. Soldiers, there is the prison where your
captain lies. If he be not given up instantly at my
last asking, set fire to the prison ; and, if further
resistance be made, to the whole town.
Cres. Friends and fellow -townsmen, there is the
prison where lies a rascal capitally convicted
Lope. They grow stronger and stronger. Forward,
men, forward ! (As the Soldiers are about to advance,
trumpets and shouts of ' God save the King,' within.}
Lope. The king !
All. The king !
Enter KING PHILIP II. through centre Street, with
Train, etc. Shouting, Trumpets, etc.
King. What is all this?
Lope. 'Tis well your Majesty came so suddenly, or
you would have had one of your whole towns by way
of bonfire on your progress.
King. What has happened ?
Lope. The mayor of this place has had the
impudence to seize a captain in your Majesty's
service, clap him in prison, and refuses to surrender
him to me, his commander.
King. Where is this mayor ?
Cres. Here, so please your Majesty.
SCENE v THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 305
King. Well, Mr. Mayor, what have you to offer in
defence ?
Cres. These papers, my Liege : in which this
same captain is clearly proved guilty, on the evidence
of his own soldiers, of carrying off and violating a
maiden in a desolate place, and refusing her the
satisfaction of marriage though peaceably entreated
to it by her father with the endowment of all his
substance.
Lope. This same mayor, my Liege, is the girl's
father.
Cres. What has that to do with it? If another
man had come to me under like circumstances,
should I -not have done him like justice ? To be
sure. And therefore, why not do for my own
daughter what I should do for another's ? Besides,
I_Jbave just done jnsHrp_agfl.inst r^y nwn. son for
uspected of
straining it in my daughter's favour? But here is
the process ; let his Majesty see for himself if the
case be made out. The witnesses are at hand too ;
and if they^or any one can p^o^g I frpve suborned
any evidence, or ; any way acj^d-witk- partiality to_
myself, or malice to the captain^ let them come
forward, aii^Jet nvyTlife pay for it instead of his. ,
King (IM?I iiTTftft'w ita jiiijij '.i)_ ___ T ji( mil Iffiflln
charge is substantiated : and 'tis indeed a heavy one.
Is there any one here to deny these depositions?
(Silence.) But, be the crime proved, you have no
authority to judge or punish it. You must let the
prisoner go.
Cres. You must send for hirh then, please your
Majesty. In little towns like this, where public
officers are few, the deliberative is forced sometimes
to be the executive also.
306 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT in
King. What do you mean ?
Cres. Your Majesty will see. (The prison gates
open, and the Captain is seen within^ garrotted in a
chair.}
King. And you have dared, sir !
Cres. Your Majesty said the sentence was just ;
and what is well said cannot be ill done.
King. Could you not have left it for my imperial
Court to execute ?
Cres.
^
body with many hands;" if a thing" be to be^done.
jjr v- wj>at matter bylvrTich? Or what matter erring in
\" ifr the inch, if one be right in the ell ?
K/ King. At least you might have beheaded him, as
an officer and a gentleman.
Cres. Please your Majesty, we have so few
Hidalgos hereabout, that our executioner is out of
practice at beheading. And this, after all, depends
on the dead gentleman's taste ; if he don't complain,
I don't think any one else need for him.
King. Don Lope, the thing is done; and, if
unusually, not unjustly Come, order all your
soldiers away with me toward Portugal ; where I
must be with all despatch. For you (to CRESPO)
what is your name ?
Cres. Peter Crespo, please your Majesty.
King. Peter Crespo, then, I appoint you jDerpetual
Mayor of Zalamea. And so farewell.
[Exit with Train.
Cres. (kneeling). God save your Highness !
Lope. Friend Peter, his Highness came just in
time.
Cres. For your captain, do you mean ?
Lope. Come now confess, wouldn't it have been
better to have given up the prisoner, who, at my
SCENE v THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA 307
instance, would have married your daughter, saved
her reputation, and made her wife of an Hidalgo ?
Cres. Thank you, Don Lope, she has chosen to
enter a convent and be the bride of one who is no
respecter of Hidalgos.
Lope. Well, well, you will at least give me up the
other prisoners, I suppose ?
Cres. Bring them out. (JUAN, REBOLLEDO,
CHISPA, brought out.)
Lope. Your son too !
Cres. Yes, 'twas he wounded his captain, and I
must punish him.
Lope. Come, come, you have done enough at
least give him up to his commander.
Cres. Eh ? well, perhaps so : I'll leave his
punishment to you.
With which now this (true story ends
Pardon its many rrorsy friends.
Mr. Ticknor thinks Calderon took the hint of this play from
Lope de Vega's ' Wise Man at Home '; and he quotes (though
without noticing this coincidence) a reply of Lope's hero to
some one advising him to assume upon his wealth, that is much
of a piece with Crespo's answer to Juan on a like score in the
first act of this piece. Only that in Lope the answer is an
answer : which, as Juan says, in Calderon it is not ; so likely
to happen with a borrowed answer.
This is Mr. Ticknor's version from the older play :
%
He that was born to live in humble state
Makes but an awkward knight, do what you will.
My father means to die as he has lived,
The same plain collier that he always was ;
And I too must an honest ploughman die.
'Tis but a single step or up or down ;
For men there must be that will plough or dig,
And when the vase has once been filled, be sure
'Twill always savour of what first it held.
3 o8 THE MAYOR OF ZALAMEA ACT in sc. v
I must observe of the beginning of Act III., that in this
translation Isabel's speech is intentionally reduced to prose, not
only in measure of words, but in some degree of idea also. It
would have been far easier to make at least verse of almost the
most elevated and purely beautiful piece of Calderon's poetry I
know; a speech (the beginning of it) worthy of the Greek
Antigone, which, after two Acts of homely talk, Calderon has
put into his Labradora's mouth. This, admitting for all
culmination of passion, and Spanish passion, must excuse my
tempering it to the key in which (measure only kept) Calderon
himself sets out.
BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER
309
DRAMATIS PERSONS
DON ALONSO.
DONNA CLARA
DONNA EUGENIA
DON TORRIBIO
MARI NUNO-
BRIGIDA
DON FELIX \
DON JUAN V
DON PEDRO J
HERNANDO
his Daughters.
his Nephew.
his Servants
Gallants.
Don Felix's Servant.
310
BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER
ACT I
SCENE I. A Room in DON ALONSO'S House at
Madrid.
Enter ALONSO and OTANEZ, meeting.
Otan. My own dear master !
Alon. Welcome, good Otanez,
My old and trusty servant !
Otan. Have I lived
To see what I so long have longed to see,
My dear old master home again !
Alon. You could not
Long for't, Otanez, more than I myself.
What wonder, when my daughters, who, you know,
Are the two halves that make up my whole heart,
Silently called me home, and silently.
(For maiden duty still gagged filial love)
Out of the country shade where both have grown,
Urged me to draw the blossom of their youth
Where it might ripen in its proper day.
Otan. Indeed, indeed, sir. Oh that my dear lady
Were but alive to see this happy hour !
Alon. Nay, good Otanez, mar it not recalling
312 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT I
What, ever sleeping in the memory,
Needs but a word to waken into tears.
God have her in his keeping ! He best knows
How I have suffered since the king, my master,
Despatching me with charge to Mexico,
I parted from her ne'er to see her more ;
And now come back to find her gone for ever !
You know 'twas not the long and roaring seas
Frighted her for herself, but these two girls
For them she stayed and full of years and honour
Died, when God willed ! and I have hastened home
Well as I may, to take into my hands
The charge death slipped from hers.
Otan. Your own good self !
Though were there ever father, who could well
Have left that charge to others, it was you,
Your daughters so religiously brought up
In convent with their aunt at Alcala.
Well, you are come, and God be praised for it !
And, at your bidding, here are they, and I,
And good old Mari Nufio all come up
To meet you at Madrid. I could not wait
The coach's slower pace, but must spur on
To kiss my old master's hand.
Alon. Myself had gone
To meet them ; but despatches of the king's
Prevented me. They're well ?
Voices (within}. Make way there way !
Otan. And lovely as the dawn. And hark ! are here
To answer for themselves.
Enter CLARA, EUGENIA, MARI NUNO, as from travel.
Clara (kneeling). Sir, and my father by my daily
prayers
SCENE I BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 313
Heaven, won at last in suffering me to kiss
These honoured hands, leaves me no more to ask,
Than at these honoured feet to die,
With its eternal blessing afterward.
Eug. And I, my father, grateful as I am
To Heaven, for coming to your feet once more,
Have yet this more to ask to live with you
For many, many happy years to come !
Alon. Oh, not in vain did nature fix the heart
In the mid bosom, like a sun to move
Each circling arm with equal love around !
Come to them one to each and take from me
Your lives anew. God bless you !
Come, we are here together in Madrid,
And in the sphere where you were born to move.
This is the house that is to be your own
Until some happy lover calls you his ;
Till which I must be father, lover, husband,
In one. Brigida !
Enter BRIGIDA.
Brig. Sir?
Alon. My daughters' rooms
Are ready?
Brig. Ay, sir, as the sky itself
For the sun's coming.
Alon. Go and see them then,
And tell me how you like what I have bought,
And fitted up for your reception.
Clara. I thank you, sir, and bless this happy day,
Though leaving my loved convent far away.
Eug. (aside}. And I twice bless it, that no longer
hid
In a dull cell, I come to see Madrid.
\Exeunt CLARA and EUGENIA.
314 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT I
Marl Nuno. Now the young ladies, sir, have had
their turn,
Shall not I kiss your hand?
Alon. Oh, welcome too,
Good Mari Nuno ; who have been so long
A mother to them both. And, by the by,
Good Mari Nuno, now we are alone,
I'd hear from you, who know them both so well,
Their several characters and dispositions,
And not as 'twere, come blindfold to the charge
That Heaven has laid upon me.
Mari. You say well, sir.
Well, I might say at once, and truly too,
That nothing need be said in further praise
But that they are your daughters. But to pass,
Lest you should think I flatter,
From general to individual,
And to begin with the eldest, Donna Clara ;
Eldest in years and in discretion too,
Indeed the very pearl of prudence, sir,
And maidenly reserve ; her eyes still fixt
On earth in modesty, or heaven in prayer ;
As gentle as a lamb, almost as silent ;
And never known to say an angry word :
And, such her love of holy quietude,
Unless at your desire, would never leave
Her cloister and her missal. She's, in short,
An angel upon earth, whom to be near
And wait on, one would sell oneself a slave.
So much for her. Donna Eugenia,
Though unexceptionable in heart and head,
As, God forgive me, any child of yours
Must be, is different, not for me to say
Better or worse, but very different :
Of a quick spirit, loving no control ;
SCENE ii BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 315
Indeed, as forward as the other shy ;
Quick to retort, and sharply ; so to speak,
Might sometimes try the patience of a saint ;
Longing to leave a convent for the world,
To see and to be seen ; makes verses too ;
Would not object, I think, to have them made
(Or love, may be) to her you understand ;
Not that I mean to say
Alon. Enough, enough.
Thanks for your caution as your commendation :
How could I fortify against weak points
Unless I knew of them ? And, to this end,
Although Eugenia be the younger sister,
I'll see her married first ; husband and children
The best specific for superfluous youth :
And to say truth, good Mari, the very day
Of my arrival hither, I despatch'd
A letter to my elder brother's son,
Who still maintains our dwindled patrimony
Up in the mountains, which I would reclaim,
Or keep it rather in its lawful line,
By an alliance with a child of mine,
All falls out luckily. Eugenia
Wedded to him shall make herself secure,
And the two stems of Cuadradillos so
Unite and once more flourish, at a blow. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. A Room in DON FELIX'S House.
DON FELIX, and HERNANDO dressing him.
Hern. Such fine ladies, sir, come to be our
neighbours.
Pel. So they ought to be, such a noise as they
made in coming.
316 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT I
Hern. One of them already betrothed, however.
Fel. So let her, and married too, if she would only
let me sleep quiet. But what kind of folks are they ?
Hern. Oh, tip-top. Daughters of the rich old
Indian has bought the house and gardens opposite,
and who will give them all his wealth when they
marry, which they say he has brought them to
Madrid expressly to do.
Fel. But are they handsome?
Hern. I thought so, sir, as I saw them alighting.
Fel. Rich and handsome then ?
Hern. Yes, sir.
Fel. Two* good points in a woman, at all events,
of which I might profit, such opportunities as I have.
Hern. Have a care, sir for the old servant who
told me this, told me also that the papa is a stout
fiery old fellow, who'd stick the Great Turk himself
if he caught him trifling with his daughters.
Fel. That again is not so well ; for though I'm
not the Great Turk, I've no mind to share that part
of his fortune. But of the two girls, what said your
old servant? who, as such, I suppose told you all
that was amiss in them at least.
Hern. Well, you shall judge. One, the oldest, is
very discreet.
Fel. Ah, I told you so.
Hern. The other lively.
Fel. Come, that sounds better. One can tackle
her hand to hand, but the grave one one can only
take a long shot at with the eyes.
Hern. Whichever it be, I should like to see you
yourself hit one of these days, sir.
Fel. Me? The woman is not yet cast who will
do that. If I meddle with these it is only because
they lie so handy.
SCENE ii BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 317
Hern. And handsome as well as handy !
Fel. Pooh ! I wouldn't climb a wall to pluck the
finest fruit in the world. But hark ! some one's at
the door. See who 'tis.
Enter DON JUAN in travelling dress.
Juan. I, Felix, who seeing your door open, could
not but walk in without further ado.
Fel. You know that it and my heart are ever open
to you. Welcome, welcome, Don Juan ! all the
more welcome for being unexpected : for though I
had heard we might one day have you back, I did
not think to see you yet.
Juan. Why, the truth is I got my pardon sooner
than I expected.
Fel. Though not than I prayed for. But tell me
all about it
Juan. You know I was obliged to fly to Italy after
that unlucky duel. Well, there the great duke of
Terranova, who (as good luck would have it) was
then going ambassador to Hungary, took a fancy to
me, and carried me with him ; and, pleased with
what service I did him, interested himself in my
fortunes, and one good day, when I was least
expecting it, with his own hand put my pardon into
mine.
Fel. A pardon that never should have needed
asking, all of an unlucky quarrel at cards.
Juan. So you and the world suppose, Felix : but
in truth there was something more behind.
Fel. Ah?
Juan. Why the truth is, I was courting a fair lady,
and with fair hope of success, though she would not
confess it, urging that her father being away at the
3i8 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT I
time, her mother would not consent in his absence.
Suddenly I found I had a rival, and took occasion of
a casual dispute at cards to wipe out the score of
jealousy ; which I did with a vengeance to both of
us, he being killed on the spot, and I, forced to fly
the country, must, I doubt, ere this, have died out of
my lady's memory, where only I cared to live.
Fel. Ay, you know well enough that in Madrid
Oblivion lies in the very lap of Remembrance,
whether of love or loathing. I thank my stars I
never pinned my faith on woman yet.
Juan. Still the same sceptic?
Fel. Ay, they are fine things, but my own heart's
ease is finer still ; and if one party must be deceived,
I hold it right in self-defence it should not be I.
But come; that you may not infect me with your
faith, nor I you with my heresy, tell me about your
journey.
Juan. How could it be otherwise than a pleasant
one, such pageants as I had to entertain me by the
way?
Fel. Oh, you mean our royal master's nuptials ?
Juan. Ay !
Fel. I must hear all about them, Juan ; even now,
upon the spot.
Juan. Well then, you know at least, without my
telling you, how great a debt Germany has owed
us
Enter DON PEDRO hastily.
Fed. My dear Don Felix !
Fel. Don Pedro ! By my faith, my door must be
the door of heaven, I think ; for all the good keep
coming in by't. But how comes your University term
so soon over ?
SCENE ii BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 319
Fed. Alas, it's not over, but
Pel. Well?
Fed. I'll tell you.
Juan. If I be in your way
Fed. No, no, sir, if you are Felix's friend you
command my confidence. My story is easily told.
A lady I am courting in Alcala is suddenly come up
to Madrid, and I am come after her. And to escape
my father's wrath at playing truant, I must beg
sanctuary in your house awhile.
Pel. And this once will owe me thanks for your
entertainment, since I have Don Juan's company to
offer you.
Juan. Nay, 'tis I have to thank you for Don
Pedro's.
Pel. Only remember, both of you, that however
you may amuse one another, you are not to entertain
me with your several hearts and darts. Hernando, get
us something to eat ; and till it comes you shall set
off rationally at least, Juan, with the account of the
royal nuptials you were beginning just as Don Pedro
came in.
Jiian. On condition you afterwards recount to me
your rejoicings in Madrid meanwhile.
Pel. Agreed.
Fed. I come in happy time to hear you both.
Juan. You know, as I was saying, what a debt
Germany has owed us since our fair Maria
Her title of the Royal Child of Spain
Set in the crown of Hungary a debt
They only could repay us as they do,
Returning us one of the self-same stock,
So like herself in beauty and desert,
We seem but taking what we gave away.
If into Austria's royal hand we gave
320 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT
Our royal rose, she now returns us one
Sprung of the self-same stem, as fair, as sweet
In maiden graces ; and if double-dyed
In the imperial purple, yet so fresh,
She scarce has drunk the dawns of fourteen Aprils.
The marriage contract signed, the marriage self
Delayed, too long for loyal Spain's desire,
That like the bridegroom for her coming burned,
(But happiness were hardly happiness
Limped it not late,) till her defective years
Reached their due blossom Ah, happy defect,
That every unconditioned hour amends !
At last arose the day the day of days
When from her royal eyrie in the North
The imperial eaglet flew. Young Ferdinand,
King of Bohemia and Hungary
Elect, who not in vain Rome's holy hand
Awaits to bind the laurel round his brow,
As proxy for our king espoused her first,
And then, all lover-like, as far as Trent
Escorted her, with such an equipage
As when the lords and princes of three realms
Out-do each other in magnificence
Of gold and jewel, ransackt from the depths
Of earth and sea, to glitter in the eye
Of Him who sees and lights up all from heaven.
So, like a splendid star that trails her light
Far after her, she crossed fair Italy,
When Doria, Genoa's great Admiral,
Always so well-affected to our crown,
Took charge of her sea-conduct ; which awhile,
Till winds and seas were fair, she waited for
In Milan ; till, resolved on embarkation,
The sea, that could not daunt her with his rage,
Soon as her foot was on his yellow shore,
SCENE ii BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 321
CalPd up his Tritons and his Nereids
Who love and make a calm, to smooth his face
And still his heaving breast ; on whose blue flood
The golden galley in defiance burn'd,
Her crew in wedding pearl and silver drest ;
Her silken sail and cordage, fluttering
With myriad flags and streamers of all dye,
Sway'd like a hanging garden over-head,
Amid whose blossoms stood the royal bride,
A fairer Venus than did ever float
Over the seas to her dominions
Arm'd with the arrows of diviner love.
Then to the sound of trump and clarion
The royal galley, and with her forty more
That follow'd in her wake as on their queen,
Weigh 'd, shook out sail, and dipp'd all oars at once,
Making the flood clap hands in acclamation ;
And so with all their streamers, as 'twere spring
Floating away to other hemispheres,
Put out to sea ; and touching not the isles
That gem the midway deep not from distrust
Of friendly France in whose crown they are set,
And who (as mighty states contend in peace
With courtesies as with hard blows in war)
Swell'd the triumphal tide with pageantries
I may not stop to tell but borne upon,
And (as I think) bearing, fair wind and wave,
The moving city on its moving base
With sail and oar enter'd the Spanish Main,
Which, flashing emerald and diamond,
Leap'd round the golden prow that clove between,
And kiss'd the happy shore that first declined
To meet its mistress. Happy Denia,
That in her golden sand holds pearly-like
The first impression of that royal foot !
322 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT i
I will not tell let Felix, who was here,
And has new breath how, landed happily,
Our loyal Spain yea, with what double welcome
Received the niece and consort of our king,
Whom, one and both, and both in one, may Heaven
Bless with fair issue, and all happiness,
For years and years to come !
Enter HERNANDO.
Hern. Sir, sir !
Pel. Well?
Hern. Your two new neighbours just come to
the window.
Fel. Gentlemen, we must waive my story then, for
as the proverb goes, ' My Lady first.' (He looks out.}
By Heaven, they are divine !
Juan. Let me see. (Aside.) By Heaven, 'tis
she!
Ped. Come, it is my turn now. (Aside.) Eugenia !
I must keep it to myself.
Fel. I scarce know which is handsomest.
Juan. Humph ! both pretty girls enough.
Ped. Yes, very well.
Fel. Listen, gentlemen ; whether handsome, or
pretty, or very well, or all three, you must not stare
at them from my window so vehemently ; being the
daughters of a friend of mine, and only just come to
Madrid.
Juan (aside). That the first thing I should see
on returning to Madrid, is she for whose love I left
it!
Ped. (aside). That the first thing I see here is
what I came for the very purpose of seeing !
Hernando (entering). Table is served, sir.
SCENE in BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 323
Pel. To table, then. I know not how it is with
you, gentlemen, but for myself, my appetite is
stronger than my love.
Juan (aside to FELIX). You jest as usual ; but I
assure you it is one of those very ladies on whom my
fortune turns ! [Exit.
Fel. Adieu to one then.
Fed. All this is fun to you, Felix ; but believe me,
one of those ladies is she I have followed from
Alcala. [Exit.
Fel. Adieu to both then unless indeed you are
both of you in love with the same. But, thank God,
I that am in love with neither,
Need not plague myself for either.
The least expense of rhyme or care
That man can upon woman spare.
But they are very handsome nevertheless. [Exit.
SCENE III. An Apartment in DON ALONSO'S
House.
Enter CLARA and EUGENIA.
Clara. Is't not a pretty house, Eugenia,
And all about it ?
Eug. I dare say you think so.
Clara. But do not you then ?
Eug. No to me it seems
A sort of out-court and repository,
Fit but for old Hidalgos and Duennas,
Too stale and wither'd for the blooming world,
To wear away in.
Clara. I like its quietude ;
This pretty garden too.
324 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT i
Eug. A pretty thing
To come for to Madrid a pretty garden !
I tell you were it fuller of all flowers
Than is a Dutchman's in his tulip-time,
I want the lively street whose flowers are shops,
Carriages, soldiers, ladies, cavaliers,
Plenty of dust in summer, dirt in winter,
And where a woman sitting at her blind
Sees all that passes. Then this furniture !
Clara. Well surely velvet curtains, sofas, chairs,
Rich Indian carpets, beds of Damascene,
Chandeliers, gilded mirrors, pictures too
What would you have, Eugenia?
Eug. All very well,
But, after all, no marvellous result
Of ten years spent in golden India.
Why, one has heard how fine a thing it is
To be my Lord Mayor's daughter ; what must be,
Methought, to own a dowry from Peru !
And when you talk about the furniture,
Pictures, chairs, carpets, mirrors, and all that
The best of all is wanting.
Clara. What is that ?
Eug. Why, a coach, woman ! Heaven and earth,
a coach !
What use is all the money-bonds and gold
He has been boasting of in all his letters,
Unless, now come at last, he plays the part
We've heard so long rehearsing ?
Clara. Not to spare
Your father even, Eugenia ! For shame !
'Tis time to tie your roving tongue indeed.
Consider, too, we are not in the country,
Where tongue and eyes, Eugenia, may run wild
Without offence to uncensorious woods ;
SCENE in BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 325
But in a city, with its myriad eyes
Inquisitively turn'd to watch, and tongues
As free and more malicious than yours
To tell where honour's monument is wax,
And shame's of brass. I know, Eugenia,
High spirits are not in themselves a crime ;
But if to men they seem so ? that's the question.
For it is almost better to do ill
With a good outward grace than well without ;
Especially a woman ; most of all
One not yet married ; whose reputation
One breath of scandal, like a flake of snow,
May melt away ; one of those tenderest flowers
Whose leaves ev'n the warm breath of flattery
Withers as fast as envy's bitterest wind,
That surely follows short-lived summer praise.
Ev'n those who praise your beauty, grace, or wit,
Will be the first, if you presume on them,
To pull the idol down themselves set up,
Beginning with malicious whispers first,
Until they join the storm themselves have raised.
And most if one be given oneself to laugh
And to make laugh : the world will doubly yearn
To turn one's idle giggle into tears.
I say this all by way of warning, sister,
Now we are launcht upon this dangerous sea.
Consider of it.
Eug. ' Which that all may "do
May Heaven Come, Clara, if the sermon's done,
Pray finish it officially at once,
And let us out of church. These homilies
In favour of defunct proprieties,
Remind one of old ruff and armour worn
By Don Punctilio and Lady Etiquette
A hundred years ago, and past with them
326 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT i
And all their tedious ancestors for ever.
I am alive, young, handsome, witty, rich,
And come to town, and mean to have my fling,
Not caring what malicious people say,
If nothing true to say against my honour.
And so with all sail set, and steamers flying,
(A coach shall be my ship, and I will have it !)
I mean to glide along the glittering streets
And down the Prado, as I go along
Capturing what eyes and hearts I find by the way,
Heedless of every little breath of scandal
That such as you turn back affrighted by.
I'll know the saints' days better than the saints
Themselves ; the holidays and festivals
Better than over-done apprentices.
If a true lover comes whom I can like
As he loves me, I shall not turn away :
As for the rest who flutter round in love,
Not with myself, but with my father's wealth,
Or with themselves, or any thing but me,
You shall see, Clara, how I'll play with them,
Till, having kept them on my string awhile
For my own sport, I'll e'en turn them adrift
And let them go, the laugh all on my side.
And therefore when you see
Clara. How shall I dare
To see what even now I quake to hear !
Enter ALONSO.
Alon. Clara ! Eugenia !
Both. Sir?
Alon. Good news, good news, my girls ! What
think you ? My nephew, Don Torribio Cuadradillos,
my elder brother's elder son, head of our family and
SCENE in BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 327
inheritor of the estate, is coming to visit me ; will be
here indeed almost directly. What think you now ?
Eug. (aside). One might have thought, from such
a nourish of trumpets, the king was coming at least.
Alon. Mari Nuno !
Marl (entering). Sir?
Alon. Let a chamber be got ready for my nephew,
Don Torribio, directly. Brigida !
Brig, (entering}. Sir?
Alon. See that linen be taken up into Don
Torribio's room. Otanez, have dinner ready for my
nephew, Don Torribio, directly he arrives. And
you two, (to his daughters?) I expect you will pay him
all attention ; as head of the family, consider. Ay,
and if he should take a fancy to one of you I know
not he will but if he should, I say, whichever it be,
she will take precedence of her sister for ever.
(Aside.) This I throw out as a bait for Eugenia.
Eug. It must be Clara, then, sir, for she is oldest
you know.
Clara. Not in discretion and all wife-like qualities,
Eugenia.
Eug. Clara !
Alon. Hark ! in the court !
Don Torribio (speaking loud within). Hoy ! good
man there ! Can you tell me if my uncle lives
hereabout ?
Alon. 'Tis my nephew, surely ! >
Torr. (within). Why, fellow, I mean of course
Don Alonso who has two daughters, by the token
I'm to marry one of 'em.
Alon. 'Tis he ! I will go and receive him. \Exit.
Torr. (withi?i). Very well then. Hold my stirrup,
Lorenzo.
Eug. What a figure !
328 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT
Enter ALONSO and TORRIBIO.
Alon. My nephew, Don Torribio, giving thanks to
Heaven for your safe arrival at my house, I hasten to
welcome you as its head.
Torr. Ay, uncle, and a head taller, I promise you,
than almost any body in the parish.
Alon. Let me introduce your cousins to you, who
are so anxious for your acquaintance.
Torr. Ah, that's proper of 'em, isn't it ?
Both. Welcome, sir.
Alon. And how are you, nephew ?
Torr. Very tired, I promise you : for the way is
long and my horse a rough goer, so as I've lost
leather.
Alon. Sit down, and rest till they bring dinner.
Torr. Sitting an't the way to mend it. But,
however (Sits.) Nay, though I be head of the
house, I an't proud you can all of you sit down
too.
Clara (aside). Amiable humility !
Eug. (aside). No wonder the house is crazy if
this be its head !
Torr. Well, now I come to look at you, cousins, I
may say you are both of you handsome girls, indeed ;
which'll put me to some trouble.
Clara. How so, cousin ?
Torr. Why, didn't you ever hear that if you put
an ass between two bundles of hay, he'll die without
knowing which to begin on, eh ?
Alon. His father's pleasant humour !
Clara. A courteous comparison !
Eug. (aside). Which holds as far as the ass at
least.
SCENE in BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 329
Torr. Well, there's a remedy. I say, uncle, mustn't
cousins get a dispensation before they marry ?
Alon. Yes, nephew.
Torr. Well then, when you're about it, you can
get two dispensations, and I can marry both my
cousins. Aha ! Well, but, uncle, how are you ? I
had forgot to ask you that.
Alon. Quite well, in seeing you in my house at
last, and to reap, I trust, the fruits of all my travel.
Torr. Ah, you may say that. Oh, cousins, if you
could only see my pedigree and patent, in a crimson
velvet case ; and all my forefathers painted in a row
I have it in my saddle bags, and if you'll wait a
minute
Enter MARI NUNO.
Mart. Dinner's ready.
Torr. (looking at MARI). Lord a' mercy, uncle,
what's this ? something you brought from India,
belike ; does it speak ?
Alon. Nay, nephew, 'tis our Duenna.
Torr. A what ?
Alon. A Duenna.
Torr. A tame one ?
Alon. Come, come, she tells us dinner's ready.
Torr. Yes, if you believe her ; but I've heard say,
Duennas always lie. However, I'll go and see for
myself. [Exit.
Clara. What a cousin !
Eug. What a lover !
Mart. Foh ! I wonder how the watch came to
let the plague into the city ! Exit.
Alon. You are silent, both of you ?
Both. Not I, sir.
330 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT n
Alon. I understand you ; Don Torribio
Pleases you not Well, he's a little rough ;
But wait a little ; see what a town life
Will do for him ; all come up so at first,
The finest diamonds, you know, the roughest
Oh, I rejoice my ancestor's estate
Shall to my grandchildren revert again !
For this I tell you one, I care not which,
But one of you, shall marry Don Torribio :
And let not her your cousin does not choose,
For one more courtly think herself reserved ;
By Heaven she shall marry, if e'er marry,
One to the full as rough and country-like.
What, I to see my wealth, so hardly won,
Squander'd away by some fine town gallant,
In silks and satins ! see my son-in-law
Spend an estate upon a hat and feather !
I tell you I'll not have it. One of you
Must marry Don Torribio. \Exit.
Clara. I'll die first.
Eug. And I'll live an old maid which much is
worst.
ACT II.
SCENE I. A Room in DON FELIX'S House.
FELIX and HERNANDO ; to whom Enter JUAN.
Pel. Well, Juan, and how slept you ?
Juan. As one must
In your house, Felix ; had not such a thought
No house can quiet woke me long ere dawn.
Pel Indeed ! How so ?
SCENE I BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 331
Juan. Felix, the strangest thing
But now we are alone I'll tell you all.
Last night the very moment that I saw
That angel at the window, as at Heaven's gate
The fire that I myself had thought half dead
Under the ashes of so long an absence,
Sprung up anew into full blaze. Alas !
But one brief moment did she dawn on us,
Then set, to rise no more all the evening,
Watch as I would. But day is come again,
And as I think, Felix, the holiday
When our new Queen shall make her solemn entry
Into Madrid ; and she, my other Queen,
Will needs be up be up and out betimes ;
So I forestall the sun in looking for her,
And now will to the door beneath her window
Better to watch her rising.
But, as you love me, not a word of this
Breathe to Don Pedro. [Exit.
FeL And does he think
Because his memory of her is quick,
Hers is of him ? Aha !
Hern. Nay, if he like it,
; Oh, let him be deceived ! '
FeL 'Twas wisely said
By him who self-deception used to call
The cheapest and the dearest thing of all.
Ha ! here's the other swain ! and now-.to see
How he has prosper'd. I begin to think
My house is turn'd into a Lazar-house
Of crazy lovers.
Enter PEDRO.
Good day, Don Pedro.
332 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT n
Ped. As it needs must be
To one who hails it in your house, and opposite
My lady's ! Oh, you cannot think, my Felix,
With what a blessed conscience of all this
I woke this morning ! I can scarce believe 't.
Why, in your house, I shall have chance on chance,
Nay, certainty of seeing her to-day
Most certainly. But I'll go post myself
Before the door ; she will be out betimes
To mass.
Fel. Well, you will find Don Juan there.
Ped. Eh ? Well, so much the better, I can do 't
With less suspicion, nay, with none at all
If you will go with us. Only, Don Felix,
Breathe not a word to him about my love.
As he is going, re-enter JUAN.
Fel. Juan again ?
Juan. I only came to ask
What church we go to? (Aside to FELIX.) Let us
keep at home.
Fel. Don Pedro, what say you ?
Ped. Oh, where you please.
(Aside.) Stir not !
Fel. (aside). How easy to oblige two friends
Who ask the same, albeit with divers ends !
(Aloud.) What, are your worships both in love,
perhaps,
As Spanish cavaliers are bound to be,
And think I've nothing else to do, forsooth,
Than follow each upon his wildgoose chase ?
Forgetting I may take 't into my head
To fall in love myself perhaps with one,
Or both, of those fair ladies chance has brought
SCENE I BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 333
Before my windows. Now I think upon 't,
I am, or mean to be, in love with one ;
And, to decide with which, I'll e'en wait here
Till they both sally forth to church themselves.
So, gentlemen, would you my company,
I must not go with you, you stay with me.
Fed. Willingly.
Juan. Oh, most willingly ! (Aside to FELIX.) How
well
You managed it.
Fed. (aside to FELIX). Tis just as I could wish.
Fel. (aside). And just as I, if thereby I shall learn
Whether they love the same ; and, if the same,
Whether the one But come, come ! 'tis too late
For wary me to wear love's cap and bells.
Juan. Since we must do your bidding on this
score,
We'll e'en make you do ours upon another,
And make you tell us, as you promised both,
And owe to me what, when our Queen was landed,
You fine folks of Madrid did in her honour.
Fed. Ay, if you needs will fetter our free time,
Help us at least to pass it by the story
You had begun.
Fel. Well then, to pick it up
Where Juan left it for us, on the shore.
There, when our Queen was landed, as I hear,
The Countess Medellin, her Chamberlain,
Of the Cordona family, received her,
And the Lord Admiral on the king's part,
With pomp that needed no excuse of haste
And such a retinue (for who claims not
To be the kinsman, friend, or follower,
Of such a name ?) as I believe Castile
Was almost drain'd to follow in his wake.
334 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT n
Oh, noble house ! in whom the chivalry
Of courage, blameless worth, and loyalty,
Is nature's patent of inheritance
From generation to generation !
And so through ringing Spain, town after town,
And every town a triumph, on they pass'd.
Madrid meanwhile
Juan. Stop, stop ! They're coming out !
Fed. Where ! Let me see.
Juan. The servant only.
Pel. Nay,
They'll follow soon.
Juan. Till when, on with your story.
Pel. Madrid then, sharing in the general joy
Of her king's marriage, and with one whose mother
Herself had nurst though, as you said, half sick
Of hope deferr'd, had, at the loyal call,
That never fails in Spain, drawn to her heart
The life-blood of the realm's nobility
To do her honour ; not only when she came,
But, in anticipation of her coming,
With such prelusive pomps, as if you turn
Far up time's stream as history can go,
In hymeneals less august than these,
You shall find practised torched troop and masque,
With solemn and preliminary dance,
Epithalamium and sacrifice,
Invoking Hymen's blessing. So Madrid,
Breathing new Christian life in Pagan pomp,
With such epithalamium as all Spain
Raised up to Heaven, into swtet thunder tun'd
Beyond all science by a people's love,
Began her pageant. First, the nightly masque,
So fair as I have never seen the like,
Nor shall again ; nor which, unless you draw
SCENE i BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 335
On your imagination for the type
Of what I tell, can I depict to you ;
When, to the sound of trumpet and recorder,
The chiming poles of Spain and Germany
Beginning, drew the purple mountain down,
Glittering with veins of ore and silver trees,
All flower'd with plumes, and taper-stared above,
With monster and volcano breathing fire,
While to and fro torch-bearing maskers ran
Like meteors ; all so illuminating night,
That the succeeding sun hid pale in cloud,
And wept with envy, till he dawn'd at length
Upon the famous Amphitheatre,
Which, in its masonry out-doing all
That Rome of a like kind in ruin shows,
This day out-did itself,
In number, rank, and glory of spectators,
Magnificence of retinue, multitude,
Size, beauty, and courage, of the noble beasts
Who came to dye its yellow dust with blood ;
As each horn'd hero of the cloven hoof,
Broad-chested, and thick-neckt, and wrinkle-brow'd,
Rush'd roaring in, and tore the ground with 's
foot,
As saying, ' Lo ! this grave is yours or mine ! '
While that yet nobler beast, noblest of all,
Who knights the very knighthood that he carries,
Proud in submission to a nobler will,*
Spurn'd all his threats, and, touch'd by the light
spur,
His rider glittering like a god aloft,
Turn'd onset into death. Fight follow'd fight,
Till darkness came at last, sending Madrid
Already surfeited with joy, to dream
Of greater, not unanxious that the crown
336 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT n
And centre of the centre of the world
Should not fall short of less renowned cities
In splendour of so great a celebration ;
While too the hundreds of a hundred nations,
In wonder or in envy cramm'd her streets ;
Until her darling come at last, whose spouse
Shall lay his own two empires at her feet,
And crown her thrice ; as Niece, and Spouse, and
Queen.
Juan. A charming story, finisht just in time,
For look ! (They look out.)
Fel. That is the father, Don Alonso.
Juan. Indeed !
Fed. (aside). That's he then! But that strange
man with him,
Who's he ?
Hern. Oh, I can tell you that ;
His nephew, an Asturian gentleman,
Betroth'd to one of the daughters.
Juan (aside). Not to mine !
Ped. (aside). Not my Eugenia, or by Heaven
But we shall scarcely see them, Felix, here,
Wrapt in their mantles too.
Fel. And I would pay
My compliment to Don Alonso.
Juan. Come,
Let us go down with you into the street.
(Aside.) Oh love, that in her memory survive
One thought of me, not dead if scarce alive !
Ped. (aside.) Oh, may her bosom whisper her 'tis
still
Her eyes that draw me after where they will !
\Exeunt.
SCENE II BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 337
SCENE II. Street between the Houses of ALONSO
and FELIX.
ALONSO and TORRIBIO waiting.
Alon. If you really affect Eugenia, nephew
(aside) as I wished, I will communicate with her
after church, and if all be well (as I cannot doubt)
get a dispensation forthwith. But they are coming.
Enter from ALONSO'S door CLARA, EUGENIA in
mantles^ the latter with a handkerchief in her
hand ; MARI NUNO, BRIGIDA, and OTANEZ
behind ; and at the same time FELIX, JUAN, and
PEDRO opposite.
Clara. Cover your face, Eugenia. People in the
street.
Eug. Well, I'm not ashamed of it. (Aside.) Don
Pedro ! and Don Juan !
Eel. (whispers). Which is it, Don Juan ?
Juan. She with the handkerchief in her hand.
I'll go wait for her at the church. [Exit.
Fed. (to FELIX). That is she with the white ker-
chief in her hand. I'll follow them.
Eel. (aside}. The same, then !
Clara. Eugenia, lend me your handkerchief, it is
hot. (Takes the handkerchief and uncovers her face
towards FELIX.) And let us go, and do not you
look behind you.
Eel. And she I most admired.
\Exeunt CLARA, EUGENIA, etc.,
PEDRO after them.
338 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT n
Torr. Uncle, what are these fellows hanging about
our doors for ?
Alon. Nay, 'tis the public street, you know.
Torr. What, my cousins' street ?
Alon. To be sure.
Torr. I'll not suffer any one I don't like to hang
about it, however, and least of all these perfumery
puppies.
Alon. But if they happen to live here, nephew ?
Torr. Don't let 'em live here, then.
Alon. But if they own houses ?
Torr. They mustn't own houses, then.
Fel. Don Alonso, permit me to kiss your hand on
your arrival among us. I ought indeed first to have
waited upon you in your own house ; but this happy
chance makes me anticipate etiquette.
Torr. Coxcomb !
Alon. Thank you, sir ; had I known you intended
me such a favour, I should have anticipated your
anticipation by waiting upon you. Give me leave
to present to you my nephew, Don Torribio de
Cuadradillos, who will also be proud of your acquaint-
ance.
Torr. No such thing, I shan't at all.
Alon. Nephew, nephew !
Fel. I trust you are well, sir?
Torr. Oh, so, so, thank ye, for the matter of that,
neither well nor ill, but mixt-like. (ALONSO salutes
FELIX and exit with TORRIBIO.)
Fel. Now then, I know both face, and dress, and
name,
And that my rival friends both love the same ;
The same too that myself of the fair pair
Thought yester-eve the fairest of the fair :
Was 't not enough for my two friends that they
SCENE ii BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 339
Turn enemies must I too join the fray ?
Oh, how at once to reconcile all three,
Those two with one another, and with me !
Re-enter JUAN hastily.
Juan. On seeing me, my friend, her colour
chang'd :
She loves me still, Don Felix ! I am sure
She loves me ! Is not the face we know it is,
The tell-tale index of the heart within ?
Oh happiness ! at once within your house,
And next my lady's ! What is now to do
But catch the ball good fortune throws at us !
You know her father, you will visit him
Of course, and then and then what easier ?
Draw me in with you, or after you or perhaps
A letter first ay, and then afterward
But why so dumb ?
Fel. I scarce know how to answer.
Juan, you know I am too much your friend
To do you any spite ?
Juan. How could I dream it ?
Enter PEDRO hastily.
Fed. Oh, Felix, if my love
Fel. (aside). The other now !
He must be stopt. A moment, gentlemen,
Before you speak, and let me tell you first
A case of conscience you must solve for me.
You both have mighty matters, I doubt not,
To tell me, such a warm young gentlemen
Are never at a loss for in Madrid ;
But I may have my difficulties too.
(Aside.) The same will serve for both.
340 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT n
Fed. Well, let us hear.
Fel. Suppose some friend of yours, dear as you
will,
Loving your neighbour's daughter (such a case
Will do as well as any) ask'd of you
To smuggle him, his letters, or himself,
Into that neighbour's house, there secretly
To ply a stolen love ; what would you do ?
Ped. Do it of course !
Juan. Why not ?
Fel. Well, I would not.
Ped. But why ?
Fel. Because, however it turn'd out,
I must do ill ; if one friend's love succeeded
I had play'd traitor to the other still ;
If unsuccessful, not that cost alone,
But also, without counter-profiting,
Him whom I sacrificed so much to serve.
Ped. If that be your determination,
I have no more to say. [Exit.
Juan. Nor I : farewell ;
I must find other means. [Exit.
Fel. Of all the plagues,
For one with no love profit of his own
Thus to be pester'd with two lovers' pains !
And yet, what, after all, between the two
Between the three, perhaps, am I to do ?
Fore Heaven, I think 'twill be the only way
To get her to untie who drew the knot ;
No woman ever at a loss
To mend or mar a matter as she wills.
Yet 'tis an awkward thing to ask a lady,
' Pray, madam, which of these two sighing swains
' Do you like best ? or both ? or neither, madam ? '
Were not a letter best ? But then who take it ?
SCENE in BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 341
Since to commit her letter, would so far
Commit her honour to another's hands ?
By Heaven, I think I've nothing left to do,
But ev'n to write it, and to take it too ;
A ticklish business but may fair intent
And prudent conduct lead to good event ! \Exit.
SCENE III. An Apartment in DON ALONSO'S House.
Enter CLARA, EUGENIA, MARI NUNO, etc.
Clara. Here, take my mantle, Mari. Oh, I wish
we had a chaplain of our own in the house, not to go
abroad through the crowded streets !
Eug. And I, that church were a league of crowded
street off, and we obliged to go to it daily.
Mari. I agree with Senora Clara.
Brigida. And I with Senora Eugenia.
Mari. And why, pray ?
Brig. Oh, madam, I know who it is deals most
in sheep's eyes.
Enter DON ALONSO.
A Ion. (talking to himself as he enters\ How lucky
he should have pitcht on the very .one I wanted !
(Aloud.) Oh, Eugenia, I would speak with you.
Nay, retire not, Clara, for I want you to pardon me
for the very thing Eugenia is to thank me for.
Clara. A riddle, sir. I pardon you ?
Alon. Listen, both of you. Your cousin Don
Torribio has declared his love for Eugenia : and
though I could have wished to marry you, Clara, first,
and to the head of our house too, yet my regret at
342 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT n
your missing it is almost cancelled by the joy of your
sister's acceptance.
Clara. And so with me, believe me, sir. I am
well content to be slighted so long as she is happy :
which may she be with my cousin these thousand
years to come. (Aside.) Oh, providential rejection!
[Exit.
Torribio (peeping in). Ah ! what a wry face she
makes !
Alon. And you, Eugenia, what say you ?
Eug. (aside). Alas ! surprise on surprise !
(Aloud.) Nay, sir, you know, I hope, that I am
ever ready to obey you.
Alon. I looked for nothing else of you.
Torr. Nor I.
Alon, Your cousin is waiting your answer in his
chamber. I will tell him the good news, and bring
him to you. [Exit.
Eug. Only let him come ! Alas !
Torr. (entering). How lightly steps a favour'd
lover forth ! Give you joy, cousin.
Eug. The wretch !
Torr. Being selected by the head of your house.
Eug. Sir, one word, I wouldn't marry you if it
should cost me my life.
Torr. Ah, you are witty, cousin, I know.
Eug. Not to you, sir. And now especially, I
mean to tell you sober truth, and abide by it, so you
had better listen. I tell you once again, and once
for all, I wouldn't marry you to save my life !
Torr. Cousin ! After what I heard you tell your
father?
Eug. What I said then was out of duty to him ;
and what I now say is out of detestation of you.
Torr. I'll go and tell him this, I declare I will.
SCENE in BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 343
Eug. Do, and I'll deny it. But I mean it all the
same, and swear it.
Torr. Woman, am I not your cousin ?
Eug. Yes.
Torr. And head of the family ?
Eug. I dare say.
Torr. An Hidalgo?
Eug. Yes.
Torr. Young?
Eug. Yes.
Torr. Gallant?
Eug. Very.
Torr. And disposed to you ?
Eug. Very possibly.
Torr. What do you mean then ?
Eug. Whatever you choose, so long as you believe
I mean what I say. I'll never marry you. You
might be all you say, and fifty other things beside,
but I'll never marry any man without a capacity.
Torr. Capacity ! without a Capacity ! I who have
the family estate, and my ancestors painted in a row
on the patent in my saddle-bags ! I who
Enter ALONSO.
Alon. Well, nephew, here you are at last ; I've
been hunting every where to tell you the good news.
Torr. And what may that be, pray ?
Alon. That your cousin Eugenia cordially accepts
your offer, and
Torr. Oh, indeed, does she so ? I tell you she's
a very odd way of doing it then. Oh uncle, she has
said that to me I wouldn't say to my gelding.
Alon. To you ?
344 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT n
Torr. Ay, to me here on this spot just now.
Alon. But what ?
Torr. What ? why, that I had no Capacity ! But
I'll soon settle that ; I either have a Capacity or not
If I have, she lies ; if not, I desire you to buy me
one directly, whatever it may cost.
Alon. What infatuation !
Torr. What, it costs so much, does it? I don't
care, I'll not have it thrown in my teeth by her or any
woman ; and if you won't, I'll go and buy a Capacity,
and bring it back with me, let it cost ay, and weigh
what it will. Exit.
Alon. Nephew, nephew ! Stop him there !
Enter CLARA and EUGENIA.
Clara. What is the matter, sir ?
Alon. Oh, graceless girl, what have you been say-
ing to your cousin ?
Eug. I sir? Nothing.
Alon. Oh ! if you deceive me ! But I must first
stop his running after a Capacity ! \Exit.
Eug. What can I have done ?
Clara. Nay, attempt not dissimulation with me,
who know how you would risk even your advancement
for a sarcasm.
Eug. It was all for your sake, if I did, Clara.
Clara. For my sake ! oh, indeed, you think I can
have no lovers but what you reject? Poor little fool!
I could have enough if I chose to lay out for them
as some do ; but many will pluck at an apple who
will retire from a fortress.
Eug. Hark ! they are coming back ; I dare not
face them both as yet. {Exit.
SCENE in BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 345
Enter DON FELIX.
Fel. Permit me, madam
Clara. Who is this ?
Fel. One, madam,
Who dares to ask one word with you.
Clara. With me ?
Fel. Indeed with you.
Clara. You cannot, sir, mean me.
Fel. Once more, and once for all, with you
indeed ;
Let me presume to say so, knowing well
I say so in respect, not in presumption.
Eug. (peeping). Why, whom has my staid sister
got with her?
Clara. With me ! My very silence and surprise
Bid you retire at once.
Fel. Which I will do
When you will let this silence speak to you
With less offence perhaps than could my tongue.
(Offering her a letter?)
Eug. Oh, if he would but try if fort or apple !
Clara. A letter too ! for me !
Fel. And, madam, one
It most imports your honour you should read.
For, that being once in question, I make light
That my friends' lives, Don Juan and Don Pedro,
Are in the balance too.
Eug. Don Juan ! Don Pedro !
Clara. What, sir, is this to me, who neither know
Don Juan, nor Don Pedro, nor yourself?
Fel. Having then done my duty to my friends,
And (once again I say 't) to yourself, madam,
346 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT n
Albeit in vain I'll not offend you more
By my vain presence. (Going.)
Clara. Nay, a moment wait.
I must clear up this mystery. Indeed,
I would not be discourteous or ungrateful :
But ere I thank you for your courtesy,
Know you to whom you do it ?
Pel. To Donna Eugenia.
Clara. Well, sir ?
Eug. Oh, the hypocrite !
Fel. You are the lady ?
Clara. Enough give me the letter, and adieu.
Eug. I can forbear no longer. (Coming out.)
Sister, stop !
Oh ! what to do ! the letter
Clara. Well ?
Eug. I tell you
My father and my cousin are coming up,
And if they see
Clara. Well, if they see ? what then !
I wish them both to see and hear it all.
(Calling^ Sir! Father! Cousin! Otanez !
Alon. (within). Clara's voice ?
Fel. What to do now ?
Eug. Alas, to tell the truth,
When I but wish'd to lie !
Clara (calling). This way, sir, here !
Eug. Will you expose us both ? In here ! in
here ! [She hides FELIX behind arras.
Enter ALONSO, TORRIBIO, MARI NUNO,
OTANEZ, etc.
Alon. What is the matter ?
Clara. There is some one in the house, sir. A
SCENE in BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 347
man I saw him stealing along the corridor, towards
the garret.
Brigida. It must be a robber.
Alon. A robber ?
Mart. What more likely in a rich Indian's house ?
Alon. I'll search the house.
Torr. I'll lead the forlorn hope, though that garret
were Maestricht itself. Now, cousin, you shall see
if I've a Capacity or not.
[Exeunt ALONSO and the men.
Clara. Do you two watch in the passage. (Exeunt
MARI NUNO and BRIGIDA.) And now, sir, the door
is open, give me the letter and begone.
Pel. Adieu, madam, neglect not its advice.
Eug. Alas, alas, she has it !
Fel. She's all too fair ! come, honour, come, and
shame
False love from poaching upon friendship's game !
[Exit.
Re-enter ALONSO, etc.
Alon. We can see nothing of him, daughter.
Clara. Nay, sir, he probably made off when the
alarm was given. Take no more trouble.
Alon. Nay, we'll search the whole house.
Torr. What do you say to my Capacity now,
cousin ? [Exeunt ALONSO, TORRIBIO, etc.
Clara. You see, Eugenia, in what yo'ur enterprises
end. At the first crack, you faint and surrender. I
have done all this to show you the difference between
talking and doing. And now go ; I have got the
letter, and want to read it.
Eug. And so do I ! but
Clara. Go! I am mistress now. (Exit EUGENIA.)
May they not have written to me under cover of her
34 8 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT n
name ? let me see. (Reads.} ' Let not him offend
honour by the very means he takes to secure it ; at
least let his good intention excuse his ill seeming.
Don Juan, more than ever enamoured of you, hangs
about your doors ; Don Pedro follows every step you
take ; they are both in my house ; it is impossible
but the secret must soon escape both, who must then
refer their rivalry to the sword, and all to the scandal
of your name. You can, by simply disowning both,
secure their lives, your own reputation, and my peace
of mind as their friend and host. Adieu ! '
Oh what perplexing thoughts this little letter
Buzzes about my brain, both what it says,
And leaves unsaid ! oh, can it be for me ?
And is the quiet nun really belov'd
Under the cover of an idle flirt ?
Or is it but for her the vain, pert thing,
Who- thinks her eye slays all it looks upon?
If it be so, and she, not I, is lov'd,
I yet may be reveng'd
Eug. (entering). On whom ?
Clara. Eugenia !
This letter that has fallen to my hands,
But meant for you
Eug. Oh, I know all about it.
Clara. Know all about it ! know then that two
men
Are even now following your steps like dogs
To tear your reputation between them,
And then each other for that worthless sake,
And yet
Eug. A moment, you shall see at once
How easily I shall secure myself,
And them, and supersede your kind intentions.
Signor Don Pedro ! (Calls at the window.}
SCENE in BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 349
Clara. What are you about ?
Eug. Listen and you will hear.
Clara. You dare not do it !
Eug. My father's safely lockt up in his room,
(Thanks to the gout your false alarm has brought.)
My cousin gone to buy capacities,
And now's my time. (Calling at the window.}
Don Pedro ! Signer Don Pedro !
Fed. (coming below to the window).
He well may wait to have his name thrice call'd
When such a goddess
Eug. Listen, sir, to me.
It is because, I say, because this room,
Away from father's and duenna's ears,
Allows some harmless speech, it also bars
All nearer access than the ears and eyes
Of father or duenna both could do.
But, seeing harm of harmless trifling come,
I now entreat, implore, command you, sir,
To leave this window and my threshold clear,
Now and for ever !
Ped. Hear me
Eug. Pardon me,
I cannot.
Ped. But this once
Eug. If you persist
I must be rude.
Ped. Oh, how do worse than
Eug. (shutting the blinds down). Thus !
Clara. And to your other gallant ?
Eug. Why not think
If he were here, I'd do the same to him ?
Oh, Clara, be assured my levities
Are but the dust on youth's butterfly wing,
Though prudes and sinners too take fright at them ;
350 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT in
Like that benighted traveller, you know,
Who, frighted by a shallow brook that jump'd
And bubbled at his right, swerved to the left
And tumbled into one that lay quite still,
But deep enough to drown him for his pains.
{Exit.
Clara. What, did she hear what to myself I said ?
Or saw my colour change from white to red ?
Or only guess'd me waiting for the prey
Her idle chatter ought to fright away ?
If chance have done more than all prudence could,
Prudence at least may make occasion good.
And if these lovers by mistake should woo,
Why (by mistake) should I not listen too ?
And teach the teacher, to her proper cost,
Those waters are least deep that prattle most.
ACT III.
SCENE I. Room in ALONSO'S House.
CLARA and MARI NUNO.
Clara. It is so, indeed.
Mart. You know you can always rely on my old
love to you. But indeed I cannot but wonder at
your sister's forwardness.
Clara. Yes ; to think of two cavaliers after her at
once ! I look upon it as my duty to set all to right ;
to do this I must once more speak to him who
warned me of it ; and I want you to give him this
letter in her name, remember this will bring him
here to-night, and I shall undeceive him for ever.
But hark ! some one
SCENE i BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 351
TORRIBIO is about to enter.
Mart. 'Tis that wretch. Stay, sir, no man comes
in here.
Torr. Away, troublesome duenna.
Man. It's not decent, I tell you.
Torr. An't my cousin decent ; and an't I ?
Clara. What is the matter ?
Torr. This old woman won't let me come in.
Clara. She is right, unless my father be with you.
Torr. Oh, I understand
Those that are out
Still will pout.
Clara. Well, since she who is in, and may grin, is
not here, you have no business neither. For me,
what grudge I have against you, be assured I can
and will repay. Mari, remember. \Exit.
Mart. Hark ! some one at the door. \Exit.
Torr. By heaven and earth, I do begin suspect !
I say again I do begin suspect !
And valour rises with suspicion
I shall ere long be very terrible.
Ancestors ! Head of house ! Capacity !
For passing through the house let me not say it,
Till I have told my tongue it lies to say it
In passing through the passage, what saw I
Within Eugenia's room, behind her bed !
I saw (Re-enter MARI NUNO with a letter.}
Mari. A letter, madam, Where is she ?
Torr. Woman, she was, but is not. A letter too ?
Give it me.
Mari. You too !
Torr. Give it me, or dread
My dreadful vengeance on your wither'd head.
352 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT m
Mari. Leave hold of it.
Torr. I'll not ! The more you pull,
The more
Mari. Then take that on your empty skull !
(Deals him a blow, and calls.}
Help! Help!
Torr. You crying, when two teeth are out
Mari. ' As swelling prologues of Help ! murder !
murder !
Enter EUGENIA, CLARA, ALONSO, BRIGIDA, etc.
Alon. What is the matter now ?
Mari. Don Torribio, sir, because I wouldn't let
him have my young lady's letter, has laid violent
hands on me.
Torr. I?
All. Don Torribio !
Torr. I tell you
Alon. Indeed, nephew, your choleric jealousy
carries you too far. A respectable female in my
house !
Torr. I tell you that it is me who
Alon. I know enough make not the matter
worse by worse excuses. Give me the letter has
been the cause of such unseemly conduct.
Eug. (aside). If it should be from one of them !
Clara (aside to EUGENIA). Nothing I hope from
your gallants.
Alon. (reads). * My dear nieces, this being the day
of the Queen's public entry, I have engaged a balcony,
and will send my coach for you directly to come and
see it with me.' This, you see, nephew, is all your
suspicions amount to ! My cousin, Donna Violante,
SCENE i BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 353
inviting my daughters to witness this august ceremony !
If you still suspect; here, take it, and read it for
yourself.
Torr. (after looking at the letter}. I tell you what,
uncle, if they wait till I've read it, they'll not see the
sight at all.
Alon. Why so ?
Torr. Because I can't read.
Alon. That this should be !
Torr. But that's no matter neither. They can
teach me before they go.
Alon. What, when it's to-day? almost directly?
Torr. Can't it be put off?
Alon. 'Tis useless saying more. Daughters, such
a ceremony happens, perhaps, but once in a life;
you must see it. On with your mantles, whether
Don Torribio approve or not. I am lame, you see,
and must keep at home ; to hear about it all from
you on your return.
Clara. At your pleasure, sir.
Eug. Shall I stay with you, sir, while Clara
Alon. No, no. Both of you go.
Clara (aside to MARI, while putting on her mantle}.
Remember the letter !
Mari. Trust to me.
Eug. (aside). I wonder if they will be there !
\Exeunt all^but TORRIBIO.
Torr. Whether the Queen enter to-day,
To-morrow, or keep quite away,
Let those go see who have a mind ;
I am resolved to stay behind :
And now all gone, and coast quite clear,
Clear up the secret I suspect and fear. [Exit.
2 A
354 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT in
SCENE II. A Room in FELIX'S House.
FELIX and HERNANDO.
Hern. Not going to see the Entry, sir ?
Fel. What use going to a festival if one has no
spirits for it?
Hern. Humph, what makes you out of spirits ?
Fel. Why should you ask ?
Hern. Nay, then, you have already answer'd me.
You are in love.
Fel. I scarce know whether you are right or wrong,'
Hernando. I have indeed seen a lady whose very
beauty forbids all hope of my attaining it
Hern. How so, sir?
Fel. She who has enslaved Don Juan and Don
Pedro has fetter'd me, at last ! I should care little
for their rivalry, had not each made me keeper of his
love, so that Hark !
Mari Nuiio (within}. Don Felix !
Fel. Who is that ?
Hern. Some one calling you.
Mari (within). Senor Don Felix !
Fel. Well?
Mari (within). From Donna Eugenia !
[A letter is thrown in at the window.
Fel. From Eugenia ! (Reads.} ' Grateful to you
for your advice, I have already begun to follow it ;
but, in order to that, I must see you once again,
this evening ! Adieu ! ' Here's a dilemma ! For
if
Hern. Don Juan !
SCENE ii BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 355
Enter JUAN.
Juan (aside). What was that?
Pel. Don Juan back,
When such a festival
fitan. And you ? Oh, Felix,
I know not how to speak or hold my tongue !
Pel. A riddle ! How is that ?
Juan. Why, if I speak
I needs must anger you ; if not, myself.
Fel. I do not understand it yet.
Juan. Nor I ;
Yet if you give me leave (as leave they give
To children and to fools to say their mind)
I'll say mine.
Fel. Surely say it.
Juan. Tell me then
That letter I saw flying in at the window
As I came up, what was it ?
Fel. That of all
That you could ask, Juan, I cannot answer
Must not relying on our old regard
For fair construction.
Juan. I believe it, Felix:
Yet seeing that you first excused yourself
From helping on my suit, upon the score
Of other obligation ; and that now,
Ev'n now, but a few wretched minutes back,
Eugenia herself, in the public street,
Forbad me from her carriage angrily
From following her more What can I think
But that she loves another ? when besides,
Coming back suddenly, I hear her name
356 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT in
Whisper'd oh what so loud as an ill whisper !
By you, and see a letter too thrown in,
Which on my coming up confused you hide,
And will not say from whom I say, Don Felix,
What can I think ?
Pel. (aside}. And I, what can I do ?
Who, even if I may excuse myself,
Must needs embroil Don Pedro !
Juan. Answer me.
Fel. Have I not answer'd you sufficiently,
In saying that my old and well-tried love
Should well excuse my silence ?
Juan. I confess
Your love, old and well tried as you profess ;
And on that Very score ask of you, Felix,
What you would do if one as true and tried
In a like case seal'd up his lips to you.
Fel. Leave them unlockt in fullest confidence.
Juan. Alas ! how much, much easier to give
Than follow ev'n the counsel one implores !
Felix, in pity I entreat of you,
Show me that letter !
Fel. Gladly should you see it
If no one but myself were implicate.
Juan. There is then some one else ?
Fel. There is.
Juan. Who else ?
Fel. That's what I cannot tell you.
Juan. Dare not trust
A friend as true to you as you to him ?
Fel. In anything but this.
Juan. What can this do
But aggravate my worst suspicions ?
Fel. I cannot help it.
Juan, I must tell you then
SCENE ii BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 357
My friendship for you, Felix, may defer,
But not forgo, the reading of that letter.
Pel. I am sorry, sir, your friendship must abide
In ignorance till doomsday.
Juan. You'll not show it ?
Pel No, never.
Juan. Follow me, sir.
Pel. Where you please.
As they are going out, enter PEDRO.
Fed. How now? Don Juan and Felix quarrel-
ling?
Pel. Nay, only walking out.
Ped. What, walking out,
With hands upon your swords and inflam'd faces ?
You shall not go.
Hern. That's right, sir, keep them back,
They were about
Pel. Peace, rascal !
Ped. Friends may quarrel,
But surely not to such extremity
But that a third may piece the quarrel up
Without the sword. The cause of your dispute ?
Pel. I must be silent.
Juan. And so must not I ;
Who will not have it thought
That I forgot my manners as a guest
For any idle reason. You, Don Pedro,
Though lately known to me, are a gentleman,
And you shall hear my story.
Pel. Not a word,
Or else
Fed. Nay, Felix
358 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT in
Juan. I will speak it out !
Don Pedro, I confided to Don Felix,
My friend and host, the love I long have borne
For one with whom he could advance my suit,
And promised so to do it ; but instead,
Yea, under the very mask of doing it,
Has urged his own ; has even now received
A letter through that ready window thrown,
He dares not show me ; and to make all sure,
I heard him whispering as I came upstairs,
The very name of my Eugenia
Fed. Hold !
This is my quarrel.
He who pretends to love Eugenia
Must answer it to me.
Juan. Two rivals, then !
Pel. Two enemies grown out of two old friends
By the very means I used to keep them so !
Juan. Keep them, indeed !
Ped. When with base treachery
Juan. Hypocrisy
Ped. Under the name of friend
Juan. A pretty friend
Ped. You robb'd me
Juan (turning to PEDRO). You ! Dare you
Pretend
Ped. (to JUAN). Dare // Dare y0u, sir ?
Fel. Peace, I say,
And hear me speak !
Juan (to FELIX). The time is past for that.
Follow me, sir.
Ped. No, me.
Fel. One, or the other, or together both,
I'll either lead or follow, nothing loath !
\Exeunt wrangling.
SCENE in BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 359
SCENE III. ALONSO sitting.
Enter TORRIBIO.
Torr. Oh, uncle !
Alon. Well, what now?
Torr. Oh, such a thing ! I suspected it !
Alon. Well, tell me.
Torr. Such a thing !
Alon. Speak, man.
Torr. When we were searching the house for the
man cousin Clara told us of
Alon. Well?
Torr. Passing by cousin Eugenia's room, I saw
I have not breath to say it !
Alon. Speak, sir.
Torr. Those men in the house those dandies
about the door I know how they get in now when
I found in my cousin's room behind her very bed
Alon. Don Torribio !
Torr. The very ladder they climb up by !
Alon. A ladder ?
Torr. Ah, and a very strong one too, all of iron
and cord.
Alon. If this were true
Torr. Wait till I show it you, then. {Exit.
Alon. Not in vain did Mari Nuno* warn me of her
dangerous disposition ! If he have such a proof of
her incontinence how will he marry her?
Re-enter TORRIBIO with a fardingale.
Torr. There, uncle, there it is, hoops, and steps,
and all !
360 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT in
Alon, This a ladder ?
Torr. Ah, that, if it were all let out, would scale
the tower of Babel, I believe.
Alon. I can scarce control my rage. Fool ! this
is a fardingale, not a ladder.
Torr. A what-ingale ?
Alon. A fardingale, fool ! *
Torr. Why, that's worse than the ladder !
Alon. You will fairly drive me out of my senses !
Go, sir, directly, and put it back where you took it
from, and for Heaven's sake, no more of such folly !
[Exit.
Torr. Well to think of this ! and my cousin that
looked so nice too !
Voices (withiti). Coach there ! coach !
Enter MARI NUNO.
Mart. They are come back. I must get lights.
Who's this ?
Torr. Nobody.
Mari. What are you doing with that fardingale ;
and where did you get it ?
1 ' A hoop of whalebone, used to spread out the petticoat to a
wide circumference ; ' Johnson ; who one almost wonders did not
spread out into a wider circumference of definition about the
' poore verdingales,' that (according to Heywood)
' must lie in the streete,
To have them no doore in the citye made meete.'
The Spanish name is ' guarda infanta,' which puzzles Don
Torribio, as to what his cousin had to do with infants. Our word
was first (as Heywood writes) verdingale : which, as Johnson tells
us, ' much exercised the etymology of Skinner, who at last seems
to determine that it is derived from vertu garde. ' This, however,
Johnson thinks does not at all get to the bottom of the etymology,
which may, he says, be found in Dutch. Perhaps the old French
petenlair was of the same kindred.
SCENE in BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 361
Torr. Nothing, and nowhere.
Mart. Come, give it me at once, lest I give you
the fellow of the cuff I gave you before.
Torr. For fear of which, take that upon your
wrinkled chaps. (Strikes her, and calls out.) Help !
help ! Murder ! murder ! Help !
Enter ALONSO, CLARA, EUGENIA, etc. in mantles.
Alon. What now ?
Torr. Mari Nufio there, only because I wished her
good night, laid violent hands on me.
Mari. Oh the wretch ! he wanted to make love to
me and worse declaring he would none of any
who used such a thing as this. (Showing fardingale.)
Alon. Let us hear no more of such folly. There
is something else to-day to tell of. Well, (to his
daughters?) you have seen this procession?
Eug. Ay, sir; the greatest sight, I believe, that
Spain has seen since she was greatest of nations.
Alon. I, who could not go myself, am to see it,
you know, in your recital.
Eug. As best we can, sir.
Clara (aside to MARI NUNO). Have you seen
Don Felix ?
Mari (aside). Enough, he will be here. But
when?
Clara. When the story is done, and all weary are
gone to bed.
Mari. Good. \Exit ; the rest sit down.
Clara. Begin you then, Eugenia, I will chime
in.
Eug. This being the long-expected day
When our fair Spain and fairest Mariana
Should quicken longing hope to perfect joy,
362 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT in
Madrid awoke, and dress'd her squares and streets
In all their glory ; through all which we pass'd
Up to the Prado, where the city's self,
In white and pearl array'd, by ancient usage,
Waited in person to receive the bride
By a triumphal arch that rose heaven-high,
The first of four all named and hung about
With emblems of the four parts of the world,
(Each with a separate element distinct,)
Of which our sovereign lord was now to lay
The four crowns at his sovereign lady's feet.
Clara. And this first arch was Europe ; typified
By the wide Air, which temperatest she breathes,
And which again, for double cognizance,
Wore the imperial eagle for its crest ;
With many another airy symbol more,
And living statues supplementary
Of Leon and Castile, each with its crown,
Austria, the cradle of the royal bride,
And Rome, the mistress of the faith of all.
Eug. Here then, when done the customary rite
Of kissing hands and due obeisance,
Drum, trumpet, and artillery thundering,
With that yet lordliest salute of all,
A people's universal acclamation ;
(And never in the world were subjects yet
So proud, and bow'd, and with so good a cause ;)
Under a golden canopy she moved
Tow'rd San Geronimo, whose second arch,
Of no less altitude and magnificence,
Deckt with the sixty crowns of Asia,
Received her next, wearing for cognizance
Earth, of which Asia is the largest piece ;
Which Earth again carried a lion's mane,
As proclamation of her noblest growth.
SCENE in BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 363
Clara. Thence passing on, came to where Africa,
Her waste of arid desert embleming
By Fire, whose incarnation, the Sun,
Burn'd on this arch as in his house in heaven,
Bore record of the trophies two great Queens
Upon the torrid continent had won,
Who, one with holy policy at home,
The other in Granada by the sword,
Extirpated deadly Mahometism.
Eug. Last, to the Holy Virgin dedicate,
From whose cathedral by the holy choir
Chaunted Te Deum, rose in splendid arch
America, wearing for her device
The silver image of the Ocean,
That rolPd the holy cross to the New World.
And so all pass'd to the Escurial,
In front of which, in two triumphal cars,
Two living statues were one Mercury,
Who, as divine ambassador, thus far
Had brought the royal bride propitiously ;
The other, Hymen, who took up the charge
Mercury left, and with unquenching torch,
While cannon, trumpet, choir, and people's voice
Thunder'd her praises, took the palfrey's rein,
Who gloried in the beauty that he bore,
And brought and left her at her palace door.
Alon. Well done, well done, both of you, in whose
lively antiphony I have seen it all as wll as if I had
been there.
Torr. Well, for my part I neither wanted to see
it nor hear of it.
Alon. No ? why so, nephew ?
Torr. Lord, I've seen twice as good as that down
in my country many a time, all the boys and girls
dancing, and the mayor, and the priest, and
364 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT in
Alon. Peace, peace. Come, Brigida, light me to
my room, I am sleepy.
Eug. And I; with sight -seeing, and sight -telling,
I suppose. (Aside.) And with a heavy heart, alas !
[Exeunt ALONSO, EUGENIA, and BRIGIDA.
Clara. Will not you to bed too, sir?
Torr. Not till I've had my supper, I promise you.
Oh, I don't care for all your sour looks, not I, nor
your threats of revenge neither.
Clara. You don't ?
Torr. No, I defy you.
Clara. Not if I were to prove to you that she you
slighted me for loves another ?
Torr. Oh, cousin Clara!
Clara. Shall I prove it to you ?
Torr. Oh, if my ancestors could hear this, what
would they say ?
Clara. I don't know. But you may hear if you
like what she says to your rival.
Torr. Ha!
Clara. Go into this balcony, and you will hear her
talking to him in the street.
Torr. I knew ! I guessed ! the ladder !
(He goes into the balcony and she shuts him in.)
Clara. There cool yourself in the night till I let
you out. And now to have you safe too. (Locks
EUGENIA'S door.) And now, all safe, for the first
time in my life Love and I meet in fair field. Mari
Nuno ! (Enter MARL) Where is the Cavalier?
Mari. Waiting in my chamber.
Clara. Bring him. You understand it is all for
Eugenia's good?
Mari. I understand.
[Exit, and returns with FELIX.
Pel. I fly, madam, to your feet. (Kneels.)
SCENE in BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 365
Clara. Rise, sir, 'tis about your letter I sent to
you.
Pel. Alas, madam, all is worse than ever !
Clara. What has happened ?
Fel. Not only did my two friends fall out with
each other, as I expected, but with me for the very
good services I was doing them ; insulted me till I
could withhold my sword no longer ; we went out
to fight ; were seen, pursued, and disperst by the
alguazils. I returned home to await them, but as
yet know nothing more of them.
Clara. Alas, sir, what do I not owe you for your
care on my behalf?
Fel. More perhaps than you imagine.
Clara. Tell me all at least, that I may at least
know my debt, if unable to repay it.
Fel. Alas, I dare not say what is said in not
saying.
Clara. Said, and not said ? I do not understand.
Fel. I, alas, too well !
Clara. Explain to me then, sir.
Fel. No, madam. If what I feel is so much on
my friends' account, it is still more for their sakes
that I keep it unsaid.
Clara. Hark ! what noise is that ? Mari Nuno,
what is the matter ?
Enter MARI NUNO.
Mari. Oh, madam, some one is getting over the
garden wall ! Your father has heard the noise ; and
is got up with his sword.
Clara. If he should find you !
Fel. He need not. This balcony
Clara. No, no !
366 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER ACT in
Torribio (within). Thieves ! Murder ! Help !
(He opens the balcony ; TQRRIBIO fa//s fonvard
on him, pushed in by JUAN with his sword
drawn.)
Torr. Murder ! Murder !
Juan (to FELIX). Thou too here,
traitor !
Pel. (drawing his sword}. Who are
these ?
All at once.
(Confusion, in which enter ALONSO with
drawn sword, OTANEZ, BRIGIDA, etc.)
Alon. Two ! Torribio, to my side !
Pel. Wait ! wait ! Let me explain.
Alon. Don Felix !
Fel. Listen to me, all of you, I say ! I was sent
for to prevent, not to do, mischief, by Donna Eugenia
herself
Enter EUGENIA.
Eug. By me, sir !
Clara. Hold, hold, Eugenia !
Eug. I will not hold when my name is in question
without my Sent for by me, sir !
Fel. Not by you, madam; by Donna Eugenia,
(pointing to CLARA) to prevent
Alon. and Eug. Clara !
Torr. Ah, 'twas she put me to freeze in the
balcony, too.
Clara (to FELIX). Sir, you come here to save
another from peril. Leave me not in it.
Ftl. I leave you, madam, who would lay down
my life for you ! and all the rather if you are not
Donna Eugenia.
SCENE in BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER 367
Alon. None but her father or her husband must
do that.
FeL Then let me claim to do it as the latter.
(Kneels to CLARA.)
Alon. But Clara ?
Clara. Sir, I am ready to obey my father and
my husband.
Eug. And I, sir. And to prove my duty, let me
marry my cousin at once, and retire with him to the
mountains.
Torr. Marry me ! No, indeed ! No Capacities,
and ladders, and what-d'ye-call-'ems for me. I'll
e'en go back as I came, with my ancestors safe in my
saddle-bags, I will.
Juan (to ALONSO). Permit me, sir. I am Don
Juan de Mendoza ; a name at least not unknown to
you. I have loved your daughter long ; and might
have had perchance favourable acceptation from her
mother long ago, had not you yourself been abroad
at the time.
Alon. I now remember to have heard something
of the kind. What say you, Eugenia ?
Eug. I am ready to obey my father and my
husband.
With which at last our comedy shall close,
Asking indulgence both of friends and foes.
Clara. And ere we part our text for envoy give,
Beware of all smooth waters while you "live !
This Comedy seems an Occasional Piece, to celebrate the
marriage of Philip IV. with Anna Maria of Austria, and the
pageants that Calderon himself was summoned to devise and
manage. This marriage was in 1649 ; when Calderon, as old
as the century, was in his prime ; and I think the airy lightness
of the dialogue, the play of character, the easy intrigue, and
368 BEWARE OF SMOOTH WATER
the happily introduced wedding rhapsodies, make it one of the
most agreeable of his comedies.
As I purposely reduced the swell of Isabel's speech in the
last play, I must confess that the present version of these
wedding pageants, though not unauthorised by the original,
had perhaps better have been taken in a lighter tone to chime
in with so much common dialogue. But they were done first,
to see what could be made of them : and, as little dramatic
interest is concerned, are left as they were ; at least not the
less like so much in Calderon, where love and loyalty are
concerned ; and to be excused by the reader as speeches spouted
by boys on holiday occasions.
THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN
TAKEN FROM CALDERON'S
EL MAGICO PRODIGIOSO
369 2B
DRAMATIS PERSONS
AURELIO
LELIO .
FABIO .
FLORO .
LISANDRO
JUSTINA
LlVIA .
ClPRIANO
EUSEBIO ^
JULIAN j
LUCIFER
Viceroy of Antioch.
his Son.
a chief Officer in Antioch.
his Son.
an aged Christian,
his Daughter,
their Servant.
a Professor of Learning,
his Scholars.
. the Evil Spirit.
CITIZENS, SOLDIERS, etc.
370
THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN
ACT I
SCENE I. A retired Grove near Antioch.
Enter CIPRIANO, EUSEBIO, and JULIAN, with books.
Cipr. This is the place, this the sequester'd spot
Where, in the flower about and leaf above,
I find the shade and quiet that I love,
And oft resort to rest a wearied wing;
And here, good lads, leave me alone, but not
Lonely, companion'd with the books you bring :
That while the city from all open doors
Abroad her gaping population pours,
To swell the triumph of the pomp divine
That with procession, sacrifice, and song
Convoys her tutelary Zeus along
For installation in his splendid shrine ;
I, flying from the hubbub of the throng
That overflows her thoroughfares and streets,
And here but faintly touches and retreats,
In solitary meditation may
Discount at ease my summer holiday.
You to the city back, and take your fill
Of festival, and all that with the time's,
37i
372 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT i
And your own youth's, triumphant temper chimes ;
Leaving me here alone to mine ; until
Yon golden idol reaching overhead,
Dragg'd from his height, and bleeding out his fires
Along the threshold of the west, expires,
And drops into the sea's sepulchral lead.
Eusebio. Nay, sir, think once again, and go with us,
Or, if you will, without us ; only, go ;
Lest Antioch herself as well as we
Cry out upon a maim'd solemnity.
Julian. Oh, how I wish I had not brought the
books,
Which you have ever at command indeed,
Without them, all within them carry here
Garnered aloft
Euseb. In truth, if stay you will,
I scarcely care to go myself.
Cipr. Nay, nay,
Good lads, good boys, all thanks, and all the more,
If you but leave it simply as I say.
You have been somewhat over-tax'd of late,
And want some holiday.
Julian. Well, sir, and you ?
Cipr. Oh, I am of that tougher age and stuff
Whose relaxation is its work. Besides,
Think you the poor Professor needs no time
For solitary tillage of his brains,
Before such shrewd ingatherers as you
Come on him for their harvest unawares ?
Away, away ! and like good citizens
Help swell the general joy with two such faces
As such as mine would only help to cloud.
Euseb. Nay, sir
Cipr. But I say, Yea, sir ! and my scholars
By yea and nay as I would have them do.
SCENE i THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 373
Euseb. Well, then, farewell, sir.
Cipr. Farewell, both of you.
[Exeunt EUSEBIO and JULIAN.
Away with them, light heart and winged heel,
Soon leaving drowsy Pallas and her dull
Professor out of sight, and out of mind.
And yet not so perhaps ; and, were it so,
Why, better with the frolic herd forgetting
All in the youth and sunshine of the day
Than ruminating in the shade apart.
Well, each his way and humour ; some to lie
Like Nature's sickly children in her lap,
While all the stronger brethren are at play ;
When ev'n the mighty Mother's self would seem
Drest out in all her festival attire
In honour of the universal Sire
Whom Antioch as for her own to-day
Propitiates. Hark, the music ! Speed, good lads,
Or you will be too late. Ah, needless caution !
Ev'n now already half way down the hill,
Spurr'd by the very blood within their veins,
They catch up others, who catching from them
The fire they re-inflame, the flying troop
Consuming fast to distance in a cloud
Of dust themselves have kindled, whirls away
Wtfere the shrill music blown above the walls
Tells of the solemn work begun within,
Why, ev'n the shrieking pipe that pierces here,
Shows me enough of all the long procession
Of white-robed priest and chanting chorister,
The milkwhite victim crown'd, and high aloft
The chariot of the nodding deity,
Whose brazen eyes that, as their sockets see,
Stare at his loyal votaries. Ah, me !
Well, here too happier, if not wiser, those
374 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT i
Who, with the heart of unsuspicious youth,
Take up tradition from their fathers' hands
To pass it on to others in their turn ;
But leaving me behind them in the race
With less indeed than little appetite
For ceremonies, and to gods, like these,
That, let the rabble shout for as they please,
Another sort begin to shake their heads at,
And heaven to rumble with uneasily
As flinging out some antiquated gear.
So wide, since subtle Greece the pebble flung
Into the sleeping pool of superstition,
Its undulation spreads to other shores,
And saps at the foundation of our schools.
Why, this last Roman, Caius Plinius
Who drawing nature's growth and history
Down to her root and first cause What says he ?
Ev'n at the very threshold of his book
A definition laying, over which
The clumsy mimic idols of our shrines
Stumble and break to pieces oh, here it is
* Quapropter effigiem Dei formamque qu&rere,
Imbedllitatis humana reor*
' All visible effigies of God
But types of human imbecility.'
But what has Antioch to say to that,
Who at such cost of marble and of gold
Has built the very temple into which
She drags her tutelary Zeus to-day ?
Zeus veritable God, this effigy
Is none of him at all ! But then, alas !
This same Quapropter follows a premiss
That elbows out Zeus with his effigy.
For as I gather from his foreign word
Wherever, or Whatever, Deity
SCENE I THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 375
Si modo est alius if distinct at all
From universal Nature it must be
One all-informing, individual Whole,
All eye, all ear, all self, all sense, all soul
Whereas this Zeus of ours, though Chief indeed
Nay, because chief of other gods than he,
Comes from this Roman's hand no God at all !
This is a knotty question.
Lucifer (without). Nor while I
Tangle, for you, good doctor, to untie.
Cipr. What ! The poor bird scarce settled on the
bough,
Before the fowler after him ! How now ?
Who's there ?
Lucifer (entering habited as a Merchant). A
stranger ; therefore pardon him,
Who somehow parted from his company,
And lost in his own thoughts (a company
You know one cannot lose so easily)
Has lost his way to Antioch.
Cipr. Antioch !
Whose high white towers and temples ev'n from here
Challenge the sight, and scarce a random line
Traced by a wandering foot along the grass
But thither leads for centre.
Luc. The old story, ^\ fr
Of losing what one should have found on earthy /j | ^-K S
By staring after something in the clouds
Is it not so ?
Cipr. To-day too, when so many
Are flocking thither to the festival,
Whose current might have told and taken you
The way you wish'd to go.
Luc. To say the truth,
My lagging here behind as much I think
376 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT 1
From a distaste for that same festival
(Of which they told us as we came along)
As inadvertency my way of life
Busied enough, if not too much, with men
To care for them in crowd on holidays,
When business stands, and neither they nor I
Gaping about can profit one another ;
And therefore, by your leave but only so
I fain would linger in this quiet place
Till evening, under whose dusky cloak
I may creep unobserved to Antioch.
Cipr, (aside). Humane address, at least. And
why should I
Grudge him the quiet I myself desire ?
(Aloud) Nay, this is public ground for you, as me,
To use it at your pleasure.
Luc. Still with yours
Whom by your sober suit and composed looks,
And by this still society of books,
I take to be a scholar
Cipr. And if so ?
Luc. Ill brooking idle company.
Cipr. Perhaps ;
But that no wiser traveller need be
And, if I judge of you as you of me,
Though with no book hung out for sign before,
Perchance a scholar too.
Luc. If so, more read
In men than books, as travellers are wont.
But, if myself but little of a bookman,
Addicted much to scholars' company,
Of whom I meet with many on my travels,
And who, you know, themselves are living books.
Cipr. And you have travell'd much ?
Luc. Ay, little else,
SCENE I THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 377
One may say, since I came into the world
Than going up and down it : visiting
As many men and cities as Ulysses,
From first his leaving Troy without her crown,
Along the charmed coasts he pass'd, with all
The Polyphemes and Circes in the way,
Right to the Pillars where his ship went down.
Nay, and yet further, where the dark Phoenician
Digs the pale metal which the sun scarce deigns
With a slant glance to ripen in earth's veins :
Or back again so close beneath his own
Proper dominion, that the very mould
Beneath he kindles into proper gold,
And strikes a living Iris into stone.
Cipr. One place, however, where Ulysses was,
I think you have not been to where he saw
Those he left dead upon the field of Troy
Come one by one to lap the bowl of blood
Set for them in the fields of Asphodel.
Luc. Humph ! as to that, a voyage which if all
Must take, less need to brag of; or perchance
Ulysses, or his poet, apt to err
About the people and their doings there
But let the wonders in the world below
Be what they may ; enough in that above
For any sober curiosity,
Without one's diving down before one's time :
Not only countries now as long ago
Known, till'd, inhabited, and civilized ;
As Egypt, Greece, and Rome, with all their arts,
Trades, customs, polities, and history :
But deep in yet scarce navigated seas,
Countries uncouth, with their peculiar growths
Of vegetation or of life ; where men
Are savage as the soil they never till ;
378 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT I
Or never were, or were so long ago,
Their very story blotted from the page
Of earth they wrote it on ; unless perchance
From riot-running nature's overgrowth
Of swarming vegetation, peeps some scarce
Decypherable monument, which yet,
To those who find the key, perchance has told
Stories of men, more mighty men, of old,
Or of the gods themselves who walk'd the world
When with the dews of first creation wet.
Cipr. Oh knowledge from the fountain freshly
drawn
Without the tedious go-between of books !
But with fresh soul and senses unimpair'd
What from the pale reflexion of report
We catch at second hand, and much beside
That in our solitary cells we miss.
Luc. Ay, truly we that travel see strange things,
Though said to tell of stranger ; some of us,
Deceived ourselves, or seeking to deceive,
With prodigies and monsters which the world,
As wide and full of wonders as it is,
Never yet saw, I think, nor ever will :
Which yet your scholars use for clay and straw
Of which to build your mighty folios
For instance, this same bulky Roman here,
Whose leaf you turn'd, I doubt impatiently,
When my intrusion rustled in the leaves
Cipr. Hah ! But how knew you
Luc. Nay, if some stray words
Of old familiar Latin met my ear
As I stood hesitating.
Cipr. (holding up the book). This at least
You read then ?
Luc. One might say before 'twas written.
SCENE I THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 379
Cipr, But how so ?
Luc. Oh, this same sufficient Roman,
What is he but another of the many
Who having seen a little and heard more
That others pick'd as loosely up before,
Constructs his little bird's-nest universe
Of shreds and particles of false and true
Cemented with some thin philosophy,
All filch'd from others, as from him to be
By the next pilfering philosopher,
Till blown away before the rising wind
Of true discovery, or dropt to nothing
After succeeding seasons of neglect.
Cipr. (aside). A strange man this sharp wit and
biting word.
"(Aloud} Yet surely Man, after so many ages
Of patient observation of the world
He lives in, is entitled by the wit
Vouchsafed him by the Maker of the world
To draw into some comprehensive whole
The stray particulars.
Luc. Ay, and forsooth,
Not only the material world he lives in ;
But, having of this undigested heap
Composed a World, must make its Maker too,
Of abstract attributes, of each of which
Still more unsure than of the palpable,
Forthwith he draws to some consisterft One
The accumulated ignorance of each
In so compact a plausibility
As light to carry as it was to build.
Cipr. But, since (I know not how) you hit upon
The question I was trying when you came ;
And, spite of your disclaiming scholarship,
Seem versed in that which occupies the best
380 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT i
If Pliny blunder with his single God,
As in our twilight reason well he may,
Confess however that a Deity
Plural and self-discordant, as he says,
Is yet more like frail man's imagination,
Who, for his own necessities and lusts,
Splits up and mangles the Divine idea
To pieces, as he wants a piece of each ;
Not only gods for all the elements
Divided into land, and sea, and sky ;
But gods of health, wealth, love, and fortune ; nay,
Of war and murder, rape and robbery ;
Men of their own worse nature making gods
To serve the very vices that suggest them,
Which yet upon their fellow-men they visit
(Else were an end of human polity)
With chain and fi^e and banishment and death.
So that unless man made such gods as these,
Then are these gods worse than the man they made.
And for the attributes, which though indeed
You gibe at us for canvassing, yourself
Must grant as whether one or manifold,
Deity in its simplest definition
Must be at least eternal
Luc. Well ?
Cipr. Yet those
Who stuff Olympus are so little that,
That Zeus himself, the sovereign of all,
Barely escaped devouring at his birth
By his own father, who anticipated
And found some such hard measure for himself ;
And as for Zeus' own progeny some born
Of so much baser matter than his brain,
As from his eggs, which the all-mighty swan
Impregnated, and mortal Leda laid ;
SCENE i THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 381
And whose two chicken-deities once hatcht
Now live and die on each alternate day.
Luc. Ay, but if much of this be allegory
In which the wisdom of antiquity
Veils the pure Deity from eyes profane
Cipr. Deity taking arms against itself
Under Troy walls, wounding and wounded ay,
And, trailing heavenly ichor from their wounds,
So help'd by others from the field to one
Who knew the leech's art themselves did not.
Luc. Softly if not to swear to allegory,
Still less to all the poets sing of heaven,
High up Parnassus as they think to sit.
Cipr. But these same poets, therefore sacred call'd,
They are who these same allegories spin
Which time and fond tradition consecrate ;
What might have been of the divine within
So overgrown with folly and with sin
As but a spark of God would such impure
Assimilation with himself abjure,
Which yet with all the nostril that he may
Zeus snuffs from Antioch's sacrifice to-day.
Besides, beyond the reach of allegory
The gods themselves in their own oracles
Doubly themselves convict
As when they urge two nations on to war,
By promising the victory to each ;
Whereby on one side their omniscience
Suffers, as their all-goodness on the other.
Luc. What if such seeming contradictions aim
Where human understanding cannot reach ?
But granting for the sake of argument,
And for that only, what you now premise ;
What follows?
Cipr. Why, that if, as Pliny writes,
382 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT i
Deity by its very definition
Be one, eternal, absolute, all wise,
All good, omnipotent, all ear, all eyes,
Incapable of disintegration
If this be Deity indeed
Luc. Then what ?
Cipr. Simply that we in Antioch know him not.
Luc. Rash leap to necessary non-conclusion
From a premiss that quarrels with itself
More than the deity it would impugn ;
For if one God eternal and all wise,
Omnipotent to do as to devise,
Whence this disorder and discordance in
Not only this material universe,
That seems created only to be rack'd
By the rebellion of its elements,
In earthquake and tempestuous anarchy
But also in the human microcosm
You say created to reflect it all ?
For Deity, all goodness as all wise,
Why create man the thing of lust and lies
You say reflects himself in his false god ?
By modern oracle no more convicted
Of falsehood, than by that first oracle
Which first creation settled in man's heart.
No, if you must define, premise, conclude,
Away with all the coward squeamishness
That dares not face the universe it questions ;
Blinking the evil and antagonism
Into its very constitution breathed
By him who, but himself to quarrel with,
Quarrels as might the many with each other.
Or would you be yourself one with yourself,
Catch hold of such as Epicurus' skirt,
Who, desperately confounded this confusion
SCENE I THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 383
Of matter, spirit, good and evil, yea,
Godhead itself, into a universe
That is created, roll'd along, and ruled,
By no more wise direction than blind Chance.
Trouble yourself no more with disquisition
That by sad, slow, and unprogressive steps
Of wasted soul and body lead to nothing :
And only sure of life's short breath ing- while,
And knowing that the gods who threaten us
With after-vengeance of the very crimes
They revel in themselves, are nothing more
Than the mere coinage of our proper brain
To cheat us of our scanty pleasure here
With terror of a harsh account hereafter ;
Eat, drink, be merry ; crown yourselves with flowers
About as lasting as the heads they garland ;
And snatching what you can of life's poor feast,
When summon'd to depart, with no ill grace, A
Like a too greedy guest, cling to the table
Whither the generations that succeed
Press forward famish'd for their turn to feed.
Nay, or before your time self-surfeited,
Wait not for nature's signal to be gone,
But with the potion of the spotted weed,
That peradventure wild beside your door
For some such friendly purpose cheaply grows,
Anticipate too tardy nature's call :
Ev'n as one last great Roman of them all
Dismiss'd himself betimes into the sum
Of universe ; not nothing to become ;
For that can never cease that was before ;
But not that sad Lucretius any more.
Cipr. Oh, were it not that sometimes through the
dark,
That walls us all about, a random ray
384 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT i
Breaks in to tell one of a better day
Beyond
Enter LELIO and FLORO, as about to fight.
Lelio. Enough these branches that exclude the
sun
Defy all other inquisition.
No need of further way.
Floro. Nor further word \
Draw, sir, at once
Lelio. Nay, parry that yourself
Which waited not your summons to be drawn.
Cipr. Lelio, and Floro?
Floro. What, will the leaves blab ?
Lelio. And with their arms arrest a just revenge ?
Cipr. And well indeed may trees begin to talk,
When men as you go babbling.
Floro. Whoso speaks
And loves his life, hold back.
Lelio. I know the voice,
But dazzled with the darkness Cipriano ?
Cipr. Ay ; Cipriano, sure enough ; as you
Lelio and Floro.
Floro. Well, let that suffice,
And leave us as you find us.
Cipr. No, not yet
Floro. Not yet !
Lelio. Good Cipriano
Cipr. Till I know
How it has come to pass that two such friends,
Each of the noblest blood in Antioch,
Are here to shed it by each other's hands.
Lelio. Sudden surprise, and old respect for you,
SCENE i THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 385
Suspend my sword a moment, Cipriano,
That else
Floro. Stand back, stand back ! You are a scholar,
And better versed in logic than the laws
Of honour ; and perhaps have yet to learn
That when two noblemen have drawn the sword,
One only must return it to the sheath.
Lelio. 'Tis so indeed once more, stand off.
Cipr. And once more
Back, both of you, say I ; if of your lives
Regardless, not of mine, which thus, unarm'd,
I fling between your swords
Lelio, I look to you Floro, as ever
Somewhat hot-headed and thrasonical
Or do you hold with him the scholar's gown
Has smother'd all the native soldiery
That saucy so-call'd honour to itself
Alone mis-arrogates ? You are deceived :
I am like you by birth a gentleman,
Under like obligation to the laws
Of that true honour, which my books indeed
May help distinguish from its counterfeit,
But, older as I am, have yet not chilPd
From catching fire at any just affront
And let me tell you this too those same books,
Ancient and modern, tell of many a hand
That, turning most assiduously the leaf>
When the time came, could wield as well the sword.
I am unarm'd : but you, with all your swords,
I say you shall not turn them on each other
Till you have told me what the quarrel is ;
Which after hearing if I own for one
That honour may not settle with good word,
I pledge my own to leave it to the sword.
Now, Lelio !
2 C
386 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT i
Lelio. One answer does for both :
He loves where I love.
Flora. No I thus much more
He dares to love where I had loved before ;
Betrayed friendship adding to the score
Of upstart love.
Lelio. You hear him, Cipriano?
And after such a challenge
Cipr. Yet a moment.
As there are kinds of honour, so of love
And ladies
Lelio. Cipriano, Cipriano !
One friend my foe for daring love where I,
Let not another, daring doubt that he
Honours himself in so dishonouring me
Floro. Slanting your sharp divisions on a jewel
That if the sun turn'd all his beams upon
He could not find, or make, a flaw
Cipr. Nor I then,
With far less searching scrutiny than Phoebus
I am to understand then, such a fair
Jewel as either would in wedlock wear.
Floro. And rather die than let another dare.
Cipr. Enough, enough ! of Lelio's strange logic,
And Floro's more intelligible rant,
And back to sober metaphor. Which of you
Has this fair jewel turn'd her light upon ?
Floro (after a pause). Why, who would boast
Lelio. Indeed, how could she be
The very pearl of chastity she is,
Turn'd she her glances either left or right ?
Cipr. Which therefore each, as he obliquely steals,
Counts on as given him only
Floro. To have done
With metaphor and logic, what you will,
SCENE I THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 387
So as we fall to work ;
Or if you must have reason, this, I say,
Resolves itself to a short syllogism
Whether she give or we presume upon
If one of us devote himself to win her,
How dares another cross him ?
Cipr. But if she
Not only turn to neither, but still worse,
Or better, turn from both ?
Lelio. But love by long devotion may be won,
That only one should offer
Flora. And that one
Who first
Lelio. Who first !
Cipr. And all this while, forsooth,
The lady, of whose purity one test
Is her unblemisht unpublicity,
Is made a target for the common tongue
Of Antioch to shoot reproaches at
For stirring up two noblemen to blood.
From which she only can escape, forsooth,
By choosing one of two she cares not for
At once ; or else, to mend the matter, when
He comes to claim her by the other's blood.
Lelio. At least she will not hate him, live or dead,
Who staked his life upon her love.
Cipr. Small good
To him who lost the stake ; and he that won
Will she begin to love whom not before
For laying unloved blood upon her door ;
Or, if she ever loved at all, love more ?
Is this fair logic, or of one who knows " \\ . ^ o
No more of woman's honour than of man's ?
Come, come, no more of beating round the bush.
You know how I have known and loved you both,
388 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT I
As brothers say as sons upon the score
Of some few years and some few books read more
Though two such fiery fine young gentlemen,
Put up your swords and be good boys again,
Deferring to your ancient pedagogue ;
If cold by time and studies, as you say,
Then fitter for a go-between in love,
And warm at least in loyalty to you.
These jewels to take up the metaphor
Until you choose to drop it of yourselves,
These jewels have their caskets, I suppose
Kindred and circumstance, I mean
Lelio. Oh such
As by their honourable poverty
Do more than doubly set their jewel off !
Cipr. Ev'n so ? And may not one, who, you
agree,
Proof-cold against suspicion of the kind,
Be so far trusted, as, if not to see,
To hear, at least, of where, and how, enshrined ?
Floro. I know not what to answer. How say you ?
Lelio. Relying on your honour and tried love
Justina, daughter of the old Lisandro.
Cipr. I know them ; her if scarcely, yet how far
Your praises short of her perfections are ;
Him better, by some little service done
That rid him of a greater difficulty,
And would again unlock his door to me
And who knows also, if you both agree,
Her now closed lips ; if but a sigh between
May tell which way the maiden heart may lean ?
Floro. Again, what say you, Lelio ?
Lelio. I, for one,
Content with that decision.
Floro. Be it so.
SCENE i THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 389
Cipr. Why, after all, behold how luckily
You stumbled on this rock in honour's road,
That serves instead for Cupid's stepping-stone.
And when the knightly courage of you both
Was all at fault to hammer out the way,
Who knows but some duenna-doctor may ?
And will if but like reasonable men,
Not angry boys, you promise to keep sheathed
Your swords, while from her father or herself
I gather, from a single sigh perhaps,
To which, if either, unaware she turns ;
Provided, if to one, the other yield ;
But if to neither, both shall quit the field.
What say you both to this ?
Lelio. Ay I for one.
Flora. And I ; provided on the instant done.
Cipr. No better time than now, when, as I think,
The city, with her solemn uproar busy,
Shuts her we have to do with close within.
But you must come along with me, for fear
Your hands go feeling for your swords again
If left together : and besides to know
The verdict soon as spoken.
Lelio. Let us go. [Exeunt.
Lucifer (re-appearing). Ay, Cipriano, faster than
you think ;
For I will lend you wings to burn yourself
In the same taper they are singed withal.
By the quick feelers of iniquity
That from hell's mouth reach through this lower
world,
And tremble to the lightest touch of mischief,
Warn'd of an active spirit hereabout
Of the true God inquisitive, and restless
Under the false by which I rule the world,
390 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT I
Here am I come to test it for myself.
And lo ! two fools have put into my hand
The snare that, wanting most, I might have miss'd ;
That shall not him alone en-mesh, but her
Whom I have long and vainly from the ranks
Striv'n to seduce of Him, the woman-born,
Who is one day to bruise the serpent's head
So is it written ; but meanwhile my hour
On earth is not accomplisht, and I fain
Of this detested race would hinder all
From joining in the triumph of my fall
Whom I may hinder ; and of these, these twain ;
Each other by each other snaring ; yea,
Either at once the other's snare and prey.
Oh, my good doctor, you must doubt, you must,
And take no more the good old gods on trust ;
To Antioch then away ; but not so fast
But I shall be before you, starting last. [Exit.
SCENE II. A room in LISANDRO'S house.
Enter LISANDRO, JUSTINA, and LIVIA.
Justina. At length the day draws in.
Lisandro. And in with it
The impious acclamation that all day,
Block up our doors and windows as we may,
Insults our faith, and doubly threatens it.
Is all made fast, Justina ?
Just. All shall be, sir,
When I have seen you safely to your rest.
Lis. You know how edict after edict aim'd
By Rome against the little band of Christ
SCENE ii THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 391
And at a time like this, the people drunk
With idol-ecstasy
Just. Alas, alas !
Lis. Oh, gladly would I scatter these last drops
That now so scarcely creep along my veins,
And these thin locks that tremble o'er the grave,
In such a martyrdom as swept to heav'n
The holy Paul who planted, and all those
Who water'd here the true and only faith,
Were 't not for thee, for fear of thee, Justina,
Drawing you down at once into my doom,
Or leaving you behind, alone, to hide
From insult and suspicion worse than death
I dare not think of it. Make fast ; keep close ;
And then, God's will be done ! You know we lie
Under a double danger.
Just. How so, sir?
Lis. Aurelio and Fabio, both, you know,
So potent in the city, and but now
Arm'd with a freshly whetted sword of vengeance
Against the faith, but double-edged on us,
Should they but know, as know they must, their sons
Haunting the doors of this suspected house.
Just. Alas, alas !
That I should draw this danger on your head !
Which yet you know
Lis. I know, I know God knows,
My darling daughter ; but that chaste reserve
Serves but to quicken beauty with a charm
They find not in the wanton Venus here :
Drawn as they are by those withdrawing eyes
Irradiate from a mother's, into whose
The very eyes of the Redeemer look'd,
And whom I dare not haste to join in heav'n
At cost of leaving thee defenceless here.
392 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT 1
Just. Sufficient for the day ! And now the day
Is done. Come to your chamber lean on me
Livia and I will see that all is fast ;
And, that all seen to, ere we sleep ourselves,
Come to your bedside for your blessing. Hark !
Knocking ev'n now ! See to it, Livia.
(She leads out LISANDRO, and returns.}
Oh, well I got my father to his chamber !
What is it ?
Livia. One would see your father, madam.
Just. At such an hour ! He cannot, Livia ;
You know, the poor old man is gone to rest
Tell him
Livia. If not your father, then yourself,
On matter that he says concerns you both.
Just. Me too ! Oh surely neither of the twain
We both so dread ?
Livia. No, madam ; rather, one
I think that neither need have cause to fear,
Cipriano.
Just. Cipriano ! The great scholar,
Who did my father service, as I think,
And now may mean another ; and God knows
How much, or quickly, needed !
Livia. So he says.
Just. What shall I do ! Will not to-morrow
Cipriano (entering). Oh, lady,
You scarce can wonder more than I myself
At such a visit, and at such an hour,
Only let what I come to say excuse
The coming, and so much unmannerly.
Just. My father is withdrawn, sir, for the night,
Never more wanting rest ; I dare not rouse him,
And least of all with any troubled news.
Will not to-morrow
SCENE ii THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 393
Cipr. What I have to say
Best told to-night, at once ; and not the less
Since you alone, whom chiefly it concerns,
Are here to listen.
Just. I ! Well, sir, relying
On your grave reputation as a scholar,
And on your foregone favour to my father,
If I should dare to listen
Cipr. And alone ?
Just. Livia, leave us. [Exit LIVIA.
Cipr. Oh, lady oh, Justina
(Thus stammers the ambassador of love
In presence of its sovereign)
You must cannot but know how many eyes
Those eyes have wounded
Just. Nay, sir,
Cipr. Nay, but hear.
I do not come for idle compliment,
Nor on my own behalf; but in a cause
On which hang life and death as well as love.
Two of the noblest youths in Antioch,
Lelio and Floro Nay, but hear me out :
Mine, and till now almost from birth each other's
Inseparable friends, now deadly foes
For love of you
Just. Oh, sir !
Cipr. I have but now
Parted their swords in mortal quarrel cross'd.
Just. Oh, that was well.
Cipr. I think, for several sakes
Their own, their fathers', even Antioch's,
That would not lose one of so choice a pair ;
And, I am sure you think so, lady, yours,
So less than covetous of public talk,
And least of all at such a fearful cost.
394 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT i
Just. Oh, for all sakes all thanks !
Cipr. Yet little due
For what so lightly done, and it may be
So insufficiently ; this feud not stopt
Suspended only, on a single word
Which now at this unseasonable hour
I stand awaiting from the only lips
That can allay the quarrel they have raised.
Just. Alas, why force an answer from my lips
So long implied in silent disregard ?
Cipr. Yet, without which, like two fierce dogs, but
more
Exasperated by the holding back,
They will look for it in each other's blood.
Just. And think, poor men, to find their answer
there !
Oh, sir, you are the friend, the friend of both,
A famous scholar ; with authority
And eloquence to press your friendship home.
Surely in words such as you have at will
You can persuade them, for all sakes and yet
No matter mine perhaps but, as you say,
Their fathers', Antioch's, their own
Cipr. Alas !
I doubt you know not in your maiden calm
How fast all love and logic such as that
Burns stubble up before a flame like this.
Just, (aside}. And none in heaven to help them !
Cipr. All I can
But one condition hardly wringing out
Of peace, till my impartial embassy
Have ask'd on their behalf, which of the twain
How shall I least offend ? you least disdain.
Just. Disdain is not the word, sir ; oh, no, no !
I know and honour both as noblemen
SCENE ii THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 395
Of blood and station far above my own ;
And of so suitable accomplishments.
Oh, there are many twice as fair as I,
And of their own conditions, who, with half
My wooing, long ere this had worn the wreath
Tied with a father's blessing, and all Antioch
To follow them with Hymenaeal home.
Cipr. But if these fiery men, do what one will,
Will look no way but this ?
Just. Oh, but they will ;
Divert their eyes awhile, a little while,
Their hearts will follow ; such a sudden passion
Can but have struck a shallow root perhaps
Ere this had perish'd, had not rival pride
Between them blown it to this foolish height.
Cipr. Disdain is not the word then. Well, to
seek,
What still as wide as ever from assent
Could you but find it in your heart to feel
If but a hair's-breadth less say disesteem
For one than for another
Just. No, no, no !
Even to save their lives I could not say
What is not cannot nay, and if it could
And I could say that was that is not can not
How should that hair's-breadth less of hope to one
Weigh with the other to desist his suit,
Both furious as you tell me ?
Cipr. And both are :
But ev'n that single hair thrown in by you
Will turn the scale that else the sword must do.
Just. But surely mufct it not suffice for both
That they who drew the sword in groundless hope
Sheathe it in sure despair ? Despair ! Good God !
For a poor creature like myself, despair !
396 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT i
That men with souls to which a word like that
Lengthens to infinite significance,
Should pin it on a wretched woman's sleeve !
But as men talk I mean, so far as I
Can make them, as they say, despair of that
Of 'which, even for this world's happiness,
Despair is better hope of better things
Will not my saying and as solemnly
As what one best may vouch for ; that so far
As any hope of my poor liking goes,
Despair indeed they must why should not this
Allay their wrath, and let relapsing love
In his old channel all the clearer run
For this slight interjection in the current ?
Why should it not be so ?
Cipr. Alas, I know not :
For though as much they promised, yet I doubt
When each, however you reject him now,
Believes you might be won hereafter still,
Were not another to divide the field ;
Each upon each charging the exigence
He will not see lies in himself alone,
Might draw the scarcely sheathed sword at once ;
Or stifled hate under a hollow truce
Blaze out anew at some straw's provocation,
And I perhaps not by to put it out.
Just. What can, what can be done then ?
Cipr. Oh Justin a,
Pardon this iteration. Think once more,
Before your answer with its consequence
Travels upon my lip to destiny.
I know you more than maiden-wise reserved
To other importunities of love
Than those which ev'n the pure for pure confess ;
Yet no cold statue, which, however fair,
SCENE ii THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 397
Could not inflame so fierce a passion ; but
A breathing woman with a beating heart,
Already touch'd with pity, you confess,
For these devoted men you cannot love.
Well, then I will not hint at such a bower
As honourable wedlock would entwine
About your father's age and your own youth,
Which ev'n for him and much less for yourself
You would not purchase with an empty hand.
But yet, with no more of your heart within
Than what you now confess to pity pity,
For generous youth wearing itself away
In thankless adoration at your door,
Neglecting noble opportunities ;
Turning all love but yours to deadly hate
Sedate, and wise, and modestly resolved,
Can you be, lady, of yourself so sure
(And surely they will argue your disdain
As apt to yield as their devotion)
That, all beside so honourably faced,
You, who now look with pity, and perhaps
With gratitude, upon their blundering zeal,
May not be won to turn an eye less loath
On one of them, and blessing one, save both ?
Just. Alas ! I know it is impossible
Not if they wasted all their youth in sighs,
And even slavish importunities,
I could but pity pity all the more
That all the less what only they implore
To yield ; so great a gulf between us lies.
Cipr. What is the throne pre-occupied ?
Just. If so,
By one that Antioch dreams little of.
But it grows late : and if we spoke till dawn,
I have no more to say.
398 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT n
Cipr. Nor more will hear?
Just. Alas, sir, to what purpose ? When, all said,
Said too as you have said it
And I have but the same hard answer still ;
Unless to thank you once and once again,
And charge you with my thankless errand back,
But in such better terms,
As, if it cannot stop ill blood, at least
Shall stop blood-shedding 'tween these hapless men.
Cipr. And shall the poor ambassador who fail'd
In the behalf of those who sent him here,
Hereafter dare to tell you how he sped
In making peace between them ?
Just. Oh, do but that,
And what poor human prayer can win from Heaven,
You shall not be the poorer. So, good-night !
[Exit.
Cipr. Good -night, good -night! Oh Lelio and
Floro !
If ever friends well turn'd to deadly foes,
Wiser to fight than I to interpose. [Exit.
Lucifer (passing from behind}. The shaft has hit
the mark ; and by the care
Of hellish surgery shall fester there. [Exit.
ACT II
SCENE I. The sea-shore ; a storm raging.
Cipriano (cavalierly drest). Oh, mad, mad, mad
ambition ! to the skies
Lifting to drop me deep as Hades down !
What ! Cipriano what the once so wise
SCENE I THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 399
Cipriano quit his wonted exercise
Among the sober walks of old renown,
To fly at love to swell the wind with sighs
Vainer than learning doff the scholar's gown
For cap and feather, and such airy guise
In which triumphant love is wont to go,
But wins less acceptation in her eyes
The only eyes in which I cared to show
My heart beneath the borrow'd feather bleeding
Than in the sable suit of long ago,
When heart-whole for another's passion pleading.
She loves not Floro loves not Lelio,
Whose quarrel sets the city's throat agape,
And turns her reputation to reproof
With altercation of some dusky shape
Haunting the twilight underneath her roof
Which each believes the other : and, for me,
The guilty one of the distracted three,
She closest veils herself, or waves aloof
In scorn ; or in such self-abasement sweet
As sinks me deep and deeper at her feet,
Bids me return return for very shame
Back to my proper studies and good name,
Nor waste a life on one who, let me pine
To death, will never but in death be mine.
Oh, she says well Oh, heart of stone and ice
Unworthy of the single sacrifice
Of one true heart's devotion ! Oh divine
Creature, whom all the glory and the worth
That ever ravaged or redeem'd the earth
Were scanty worship offer'd at your shrine !
Oh Cipriano, master-fool of all
The fools that unto thee for wisdom call ;
Of supercilious Pallas first the mock,
And now blind Cupid's scorn, and laughing-stock ;
4 oo THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT n
Who in fantastic arrogance at odds
With the Pantheon of your people's gods
Ransack'd the heavens for one more pure and whole
To fill the empty temple of the soul,
Now caught by retribution in the mesh
Of one poor piece of perishable flesh
What baser demon of the pit would buy
With all your ruin'd aspirations ?
Lucifer {within). I !
Cipr. What ! The very winds and waters
Hear, and answer to the cry
She is deaf to ! Better thrown
On distracted nature's bosom
With some passion like my own
Torn and tortured : where the sun
In the elemental riot
Ere his daily reign half done,
Leaves half-quencht the tempest-drencht
Welkin scowling on the howling
Wilderness of waves that under
Slash of whirlwind, spur of lightning,
Roar of thunder, black'ning, whitening,
Fling them foaming on the shore
Let confusion reign and roar !
Lightnings, for your target take me !
Waves, upon the sharp rock break me,
Or into your monstrous hollow
Back regurgitating hurl ;
Let the mad tornado whirl me
To the furthest airy circle
Dissipated of the sky,
Or the gaping earth down-swallow
To the centre !
Lucifer (entering). By-and-bye.
Cipr. Hark again ! and in her monstrous
SCENE i THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 401
Labour, with a human cry
Nature yearning what portentous
Glomeration of the storm
Darkly cast in human form,
Has she bolted !
Luc. As among
Flashes of the lightning flung
Beside you, in its thunder now
Aptly listen'd
Cipr. ' What art thou ?
Luc. One of a realm, though dimly in your charts
Discern'd, so vast that as from out of it
As from a fountain all the nations flow,
Back they shall ebb again ; and sway'd by One
Who, without Oriental over-boast,
Because from him all kings their crowns derive,
Is rightfully saluted King of kings,
Whose reign is as his kingdom infinite,
Whose throne is heaven, and earth his footstool, and
Sun, moon, and stars his diadem and crown.
Who at the first disposal of his kingdom
And distribution into sea and land
Me, who for splendour of my birth and grand
Capacities above my fellows shone,
Star of the Morning, Lucifer, alone
Me he made captain of the host who stand
Clad as the morning star about his throne.
Enough for all ambition but my own ;
Who discontented with the all but all
Of chiefest subject of Omnipotence
Rebell'd against my Maker ; insolence
Avenged as soon as done on me and all
Who bolster'd up rebellion, by a fall
Far as from heaven to Hades. Madness, I know ;
But worse than madness whining to repent
2 D
402 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT n
Under a rod that never will relent.
Therefore about the land and sea I go
Arm'd with the very instrument of hate
That blasted me : lightnings anticipate
My coming, and the thunder rolls behind ;
Thus charter'd to enlarge among mankind,
And to recruit from human discontent
My ranks in spirit, not in number, spent.
Of whom, in spite of this brave gaberdine,
I recognize thee one : thee, by the line
Scarr'd on thy brow, though not so deep as mine ;
Thee by the hollow circles of those eyes
Where the volcano smoulders but not dies :
Whose fiery torrent running down has scarr'd
The cheek that time had not so deeply marr'd.
Do not I read thee rightly ?
Cipr, But too well ;
However come to read me
Luc. By the light
Of my own darkness reading yours how deep !
But not, as mine is, irretrievable :
Who from the fulness of my own perdition
Would, as I may, revenge myself on him
By turning to fruition your despair
What if I make you master at a blow,
Not only of the easy woman's heart
You now despair of as impregnable,
And waiting but my word to let you in,
But lord of nature's secret, and the lore
That shall not only with the knowledge, but
Possess you with the very power of him
You sought so far and vainly for before :
So far All-eyes, All-wise, Omnipotent
If not to fashion, able yet to shake
That which the other took such pains to make
SCENE i THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 403
As in the hubbub round us ; I who blurr'd
The spotless page of nature at a word
With darkness and confusion, will anon
Clear it, to write another marvel on.
By the word of power that binds
And loosens ; by the word that finds
Nature's heart through all her rinds,
Hearken, waters, fires, and winds ;
Having had your roar, once more
Down with you, or get you gone.
Cipr. With the clatter and confusion
Of the universe about me
Reeling all within, without me,
Dizzy, dazzled if delusion,
Waking, dreaming, seeing, seeming
Which I know not only, lo !
Like some mighty madden'd beast
Bellowing in full career
Of fury, by a sudden blow
Stunn'd, and in a moment stopt
All the roar, or into slow
Death-ward-drawing murmur, leaving
Scarce the fallen carcase heaving,
With the fallen carcase dropt.
Behold ! the word scarce fallen from his lips,
Swift almost as a human smile may chase
A frown from some conciliated face,
The world to concord from confusion slips :
The winds that blew the battle up dead slain,
Or with their tatter'd standards swept amain
From heaven ; the billows of the erected deep
RolPd with their crests into the foaming plain ;
While the scared earth begins abroad to peep
And smooth her ruffled locks, as from a rent
In the black centre of the firmament,
4 o 4 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT n
Revenging his unnatural eclipse,
The Lord of heaven from its ulterior blue
That widens round him as he pierces through
The folded darkness, from his sovereign height
Slays with a smile the dragon-gloom of night.
Luc. All you have heard and witness'd hitherto
But a foretaste to quicken appetite
For that substantial after-feast of power
That I shall set you down to take your fill of:
When not the fleeting elements alone
Of wind, and fire, and water, floating wrack,
But this same solid frame of earth and stone,
Yea, with the mountain loaded on her back,
Reluctantly, shall answer to your spell
From a more adamantine heart stone-cold
Than her's you curse for inaccessible.
What, you would prove it? Let the mountain
there
Step out for witness. Listen, and behold
Monster upshot of upheaving l
Earth, by fire and flood conceiving ;
Shapeless ark of refuge, whither,
When came deluge creeping round,
Man retreated to be drown'd
Now your granite anchor, fast
In creation's centre, cast,
Come with all your tackle cleaving
Down before the magic blast
Cipr. And the unwieldy vessel, lo !
Rib and deck of rock, and shroud
Of pine, top-gallanted with cloud,
All her forest-canvas squaring,
1 The Phenomena that follow, and are here supposed to be
magic illusions created in Cipriano's Eyes, are in the original
represented by theatrical Machinery.
SCENE I THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 405
Down the undulating woodland
As she flounders to and fro
All before her tearing, bearing
Down upon us
Luc. Anchor, ho !
Behold the ship in port ! And what if freighted
With but one jewel, worthy welcome more
Than ever full-fraught Argosy awaited,
At last descried by desperate eyes ashore ;
From the first moment of her topsail showing
Like a thin cobweb spun 'twixt sea and sky ;
Then momently before a full wind blowing
Into her full proportions, till athwart
The seas that bound beneath her, by and bye
She sweeps full sail into the cheering port
Strangest bark that ever plied
In despite of wind and tide,
At the captain's magic summons
Down your granite ribs divide,
And show the jewel hid inside.
Cipr. Justina !
Luc. Soft ! The leap that looks so easy
Yet needs a longer stride than you can master.
Cipr. Oh divine apparition, that I fain
Would all my life as in Elysium lose
Only by gazing after ; and thus soon
As rolling cloud across the long'd-for moon,
The impitiable rocks enclose again !
But was it she indeed ?
Luc. She that shall be,
And yours, by means that, bringing her to you,
Possess you of all nature, which in vain
You sigh'd for ere for nature's masterpiece.
And thus much, as I told you, only sent
As foretaste of that great accomplishment,
406 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT n
Which if you will but try for, you can reach
By means which, if I practise, I can teach.
Cipr. And at what cost ?
Luc. You that have flung so many years away
In learning and in love that came to nothing,
Think not to win the harvest in a day !
The God you search for works, you know, by means
(That your philosophers call second cause),
And we by means must underwork him
Cipr. Well !-
Luc. To comprehend, and, after, to constrain
Whose mysteries you will not count as vain
A year in this same mountain lock'd with me?
Cipr. Where she is ?
Luc. As I told you, where shall be
At least this mountain after a short labour
Has brought forth something better than a mouse ;
And what then after a whole year's gestation
Accomplish under our joint midwifery,
Under a bond by which you bind you mine
In fewer and no redder drops than needs
The leech of land or water when he bleeds ?
Let us about but first upon his base
The mountain we must study in replace,
That else might puzzle your geography.
Come, take your stand upon the deck with me,
Till with her precious cargo safe inside,
And all her forest-colours flying wide,
The mighty vessel put again to sea
What, are you ready ? Wondrous smack,
As without a turn or tack
Hither come, so thither back,
And let subside the ruffled deep
Of earth to her primaeval sleep.
How steadily her course the good ship trims,
ACT in THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 407
While Antioch far into the distance swims,
With all her follies bubbling in the wake ;
Her scholars that more hum than honey make :
Muses so chaste as never of their kind
Would breed, and Cupid deaf as well as blind :
For Cipriano, wearied with the toil
Of so long working on a thankless soil,
At last embarking upon magic seas
In a more wondrous Argo than of old,
Sets sails with me for such Hesperides
As glow with more than dragon-guarded gold.
{Exeunt.
ACT III
SCENE I. Before the mountain. CIPRIANO.
Cipriano. Now that at last in his eternal round
Hyperion, after skirting either pole,
Of his own race has set the flaming goal
In heaven of my probation under-ground :
Up from the mighty Titan with his feet
Touching the centre, and his forest-hair
Entangling with the stars ; whose middle womb
Of two self-buried lives has been the tomb ;
At last, my year's apprenticeship complete,
I rise to try my cunning, and as one
Arm'd in the dark who challenges the sun.
You heavens, for me your azure brows with cloud
Contract, or to your inmost depth unshroud :
Thou sapphire-floating counterpart below,
Obsequious of my moon-like magic flow :
For me you mountains fall, you valleys rise,
With all your brooks and fountains far withdrawn ;
4 o8 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT in
You forests shudder underneath my sighs ;
And whatsoever breathes in earth and skies ;
You birds that on the bough salute the dawn ;
And you wild creatures that through wood and glen
Do fly the hunter, or the hunter flies ;
Yea, man himself, most terrible to men ;
Troop to my word, about my footstep fawn ;
Yea, ev'n you spirits that by viewless springs
Move and perplex the tangled web of things,
Wherever in the darkest crypt you lurk
Of nature, nature to my purpose work ;
That not the dead material element,
But complicated with the life beyond
Up to pure spirit, shall my charm resent,
And take the motion of my magic wand ;
And, once more shaken on her ancient throne,
In me old nature a new master own.
Lucifer. But how is this, Cipriano, that misled
By hasty passion you affront the day
Ere master of the art of darkness ?
Cipr. Nay,
By that same blazing witness overhead
Standing in heaven to mark the time foretold,
Since first imprison'd in this mountain-hold
My magic so preluded with the dread
Preliminary kingdom of the dead,
That not alone the womb of general earth
Which Death has crowded thick with second birth,
But monuments with marble lips composed
To dream till doomsday, suddenly disclosed,
And woke their sleepers centuries too soon
To stare upon the old remember'd moon.
Wearied of darkness, I will see the day :
Sick of the dead, the living will assay :
And if the ghastly year I have gone through
SCENE I THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 409
Bear half its promised harvest, will requite
With a too warm good-morrow the long night
That one cold living heart consign'd me to.
Luc. Justina !
Cipr. Ay, Justina : now no more
Obsequiously sighing at the door
That never open'd, nor the heart of stone
On which so long I vainly broke my own ;
But of her soul and body, when and how
I will, I claim the forfeit here and now.
Luc. Enough : the hour is come ; do thou design
The earth with circle, pentagram, and trine ,
The wandering airs with incantation twine ;
While through her sleep-enchanted sense I shake
The virgin constancy I cannot break.
(Clouds roll before the mountain, hiding CIPRIANO.)
Thou nether realm of darkness and despair,
Whose fire-enthroned emperor am I ;
Where many-knotted till the word they lie,
Your subtlest spirits at the word untie,
And breathe them softly to this upper air ;
With subtle soft insinuation fair
Of foul result encompass and attaint
The chastity of the rebellious saint
Who dares the Spirit of this world defy.
Spirits that do shapeless float
In darkness as in light the mote,
At my summons straightway take
Likeness of the fairest make,
And, her sleeping sense about
Seal'd from all the world without,
Through the bolted eyelids creep;
Entheatre the walls of sleep
With an Eden where the sheen
410 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT in
Of the leaf and flower between
All is freshest, yet with Eve's
Apple peeping through the leaves ;
Through whose magic mazes may
Melancholy fancy stray
Till she lose herself, or into
Softer passion melt away :
While the scent-seducing rose
Gazing at her as she goes
With her turning as she turns,
Into her his passion burns ;
While the wind among the boughs
Whispers half-remember'd vows ;
Nightingale interpreters
Into their passion translate hers ;
And the murmurs of a stream
Down one current draw the dream.
While for hidden chorus, I
At her dreaming ear supply
Such a comment as her own
Heart to nature's shall atone :
Till the secret influence
Of the genial season even
Holy blood that sets to heaven
Draws into the lower sense ;
Till array'd in angel guise
Earthly memories surprise
Ev'n the virgin soul, and win
Holy pity's self to sin.
(The clouds roll away, and discover JUSTINA asleep
in her chamber?)
Lucifer (at her ear). Come forth, come forth,
Justina, come ; for scared
SCENE I THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 411
Winter is vanish'd, and victorious Spring
Has hung her garland on the boughs he bared :
Come forth ; there is a time for everything.
Justina (in her sleep). That was my father's voice
come, Livia
My mantle oh, not want it ? well then, come.
Luc. Ay, come abroad, Justina ; it is Spring ;
The world is not with sunshine and with leaf
Renew'd to be the tomb of ceaseless grief ;
Come forth : there is a time for everything.
Just. How strange it is
I think the garden never look'd so gay
As since my father died.
Luc. Ev'n so : for now,
Returning with the summer wind, the hours
Dipp'd in the sun re-dress the grave with flowers,
And make new wreaths for the survivor's brow ;
Whose spirit not to share were to refuse
The power that all creating, all renews
With self-diffusive warmth, that, with the sun's,
At this due season through creation runs,
Nor in the first creation more express'd
Than by the singing builder of the nest
That waves on this year's leaf, or by the rose
That underneath them in his glory glows ;
Life's fountain, flower, and crown ; without whose
giving
Life itself were not, nor, without, worth living.
Chorus of Voices. Life's fountain, flower, and
crown ; without whose giving
Life itself were not, nor, without, worth living.
Song.
Who that in his hour of glory
Walks the kingdom of the rose,
4 i2 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT in
And misapprehends the story
Which through all the garden blows ;
Which the southern air who brings
It touches, and the leafy strings
Lightly to the touch respond ;
And nightingale to nightingale
Answering a bough beyond
Chorus. Nightingale to nightingale
Answering a bough beyond.
Just. These serenaders singing their old songs
Under one's window
Luc. Ay, and if nature must decay or cease
Without it ; what of nature's masterpiece ?
Not in her outward lustre only, but
Ev'n in the soul within the jewel shut ;
What but a fruitless blossom ; or a lute
Without the hand to touch it music-mute :
Incense that will not rise to heaven unfired ;
By that same vernal spirit uninspired
That sends the blood up from the heart, and speaks
In the rekindled lustre of the cheeks ?
Chorus. Life's fountain, flower, and crown ; with-
out whose giving
Life itself were not, nor, without, worth living.
Song.
Lo the golden Girasole,
That to him by whom she burns,
Over heaven slowly, slowly,
As he travels ever turns ;
And beneath the wat'ry main
When he sinks, would follow fain,
Follow fain from west to east,
And then from east to west again.
Choi-us. Follow would from west to east,
And then from east to west again.
SCENE i THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 413
Just. He beckon'd us, and then again was gone ;
Oh look ! under the tree there, Livia
Where he sits reading scholar-like indeed !
With the ^ark hair that was so whitejupon
His shoulder but how deadly pale his~face !
And, statue-still-like, the quaint evergreen
Up and about him creeps, as one has seen
Round some old marble in a lonely place.
Luc. Ay, look on that for, as the story runs,
Ages ago, when all the world was young,
That ivy was a nymph of Latium,
Whose name was Hedera : so passing fair
That all who saw fell doting on her ; but
Herself so icy-cruel, that her heart
Froze dead all those her eyes had set on fire.
Whom the just God who walk'd that early world,
By right-revenging metamorphosis
Changed to a thing so abject-amorous,
She grovels on the ground to catch at any
Wither'd old trunk or sapling, in her way :
So little loved as loathed, for strangling those
Whom once her deadly-deathless arms enclose.
Song.
So for her who having lighted
In another heart the fire,
Then shall leave it unrequited ..
In its ashes to expire :
After her that sacrifice
Through the garden burns and cries ;
In the sultry breathing air :
In the flowers that turn and stare
' What has she to do among us,
Falsely wise and frozen fair?'
Luc. Listen, Justina, listen and beware.
4 i4 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT in
Just. Again ! That voice too ? But you know my
father
Is ill is in his chamber
How sultry 'tis the street is full and close
Let us get home why do they stare at us ?
And murmur something ' Cipriano ? Where
' Is Cipriano ? lost to us some say,
'And to himself, self-slain mad Where is he?'
Alas, alas, I know not
Luc. Come and see
Justina (waking). Mercy upon me ! Who is this ?
Luc. Justina, your good angel,
Who, moved by your relenting to the sighs
Of one who lost himself for your disdain,
Will lead you to the cavern where he lies
Subsisting on the memory of your eyes
Just. 'Twas all a dream !
Luc. That dreaming you fulfil.
Just. Oh, no, with all my waking soul renounce.
Luc. But, dreaming or awake, the soul is one,
And the deed purposed in Heaven's eyes is done.
Just. Oh Christ ! I cannot argue I can pray,'
Christ Jesus, oh, my Saviour, Jesu Christ !
Let not hell snatch away from Thee the soul
Thou gavest Thy life to save ! Livia ! Livia !
Enter LIVIA.
Where is my father ? where am I ? Oh, I know
In my own chamber and my father oh !
But, Livia, who was it that but now
Was here here in my very chamber
Livia. Madam ?
Just. You let none in ? oh, no ! I know it but
SCENE ii THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 415
Some one there was here now as I cried out
A dark, strange figure
Livia. My child, compose yourself ;
No one has come, or gone, since you were laid
In your noon-slumber. This was but a dream.
The air is heavy ; and the melancholy
You live alone with since your father's death
Just. A dream, a dream indeed oh Livia,
That leaves his pressure yet upon my arm
And that without the immediate help of God
I had not overcome Oh, but the soul,
The soul must be unsteady in the faith,
So to be shaken even by a dream.
Oh, were my father here ! But he's at rest
I know he is upon his Saviour's breast ;
And who knows ! may have carried up my cries
Ev'n to His ear upon whose breast he lies !
Give me my mantle, Livia ; I'll to the church ;
Where if but two or three are met in prayer
Together, He has promised to be there
And I shall find Him.
Livia. Oh, take care, take care !
You know the danger in broad daylight too
Or take me with you.
Just. And endanger two ?
Best serve us both by keeping close at home,
Praying for me as I will pray for you. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. Entrance to the mountain cavern.
CIPRIANO, in a magician's dress, with wand, etc.
What ! do the powers of earth, and air, and hell,
Against their upstart emperor rebel ?
416 THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN ACT m
Lo, in obedience to the rubric dark
The dusky cheek of earth with mystic mark
Of pentagram and circle I have lined,
And hung my fetters on the viewless wind,
And yet the star of stars, for whose ascent
I ransack all the lower firmament,
In unapparent darkness lags behind :
Whom once again with adjuration new
Of all the spirits whom these signs subdue,
Whether by land or water, night or day,
Whether awake or sleeping, yea or nay,
I summon now before me.
Enter slmvly a veiled Figure of JUSTINA.
The Figure. What dark spell
From the sequester'd sadness of my cell,
Through the still garden, through the giddy street,
And up the solitary mountain-side,
Leads me with sleep-involuntary feet ?
Cipr. 'Tis she, as yet though clouded ! oh divine
Justina !
The Figure. Cipriano !
Cipr. At last here,
In such a chamber where ev'n Phcebus fails
To pierce, and baffled breezes tell no tales,
At last, to crown the labour of a year
Of solitary toil and darkness here !
And at a price beside but none too dear
Oh year-long night well borne for such a day !
Oh soul, for one such sense well sold away !
Oh Now that makes for all the past amends,
Oh moment that eternal life transcends
To such a point of ecstasy, that just
SCENE ii THE MIGHTY MAGICIAN 417
About to reap the wishes that requite
All woes
The Figure (unveiling a skull and vanishing as it
speaks].
Behold, the World and its delight
Is dust and ashes, dust and ashes, dust
Cipr. (flinging down his wand). Lucifer ! Lucifer !
Lucifer !
Luc. My son !
Cipr. Quick ! With a word
Luc. How now ?
Cipr. With a word at once
With all your might
Luc. Well, what wi 
