I am too ill! Look at me! See the fever That burns upon my cheek! I must go hence. (Signal from the garden.) DOLORES (from the window).-Who's there? VOICE (from below). DOLORES.-I will undo the door. A friend. Wait till I come. PRECIOSA. I must go hence. I pray you do not harm me! Shame to treat a feeble woman thus ! Be you but kind, I will do all things for you. I cannot stay. Hark! how they mock at me! How late is it, Dolores? DOLORES. It is midnight. Smooth this PRECIOSA. We must be patient. pillow for me. (She sleeps again. Noise from the garden, and voices.) ACT III. SCENE I-A cross road through a wood. In the background a distant village spire. VICTORIAN and HYPOLITO, ¡as travelling students, with guitars, sitting under the trees. HYPOLITO plays and sings. SONG. Ah, Love! Perjured, false, treacherous Love! Of all that mankind may not rue! To him who keeps most faith with thee. The falcon has the eyes of the dove. Perjured, false, treacherous Love! VICTORIAN.-Yes, Love is ever busy with his shuttle, Is ever weaving into life's dull warp Bright, gorgeous flowers, and scenes Arcadian ; Hanging our gloomy prison-house about With tapestries, that make its walls dilate In never-ending vistas of delight, 1lYPOLITO.-Thinking to walk in those Arcadian pastures, Thou hast run thy noble head against the wall. Ah, Love! Perjured, false, treacherous Love! VICTORIAN.-A very pretty song. I thank thee for it. HYPOLITO. It suits thy case. What wise man wrote it? HYPOLITO. Indeed I think it does. Lopez Maldonado. VICTORIAN.-In truth, a pretty song. HYPOLITO. With much truth in it. I hope thou wilt profit by it; and in earnest VICTORIAN.—I will forget her! All dear recollec tions Pressed in my heart, like flowers within a book, friend!" A voice within her will repeat my name, The shattering blast of the brass-throated trumpet, The din of arms, the onslaught and the storm, And a swift death, might make me deaf for ever To the upbraidings of this foolish heart! HYPOLITO. Then let that foolish heart upbraid no more! To conquer love, one need but will to conquer. VICTORIAN.-Yet, good Hypolito, it is in vain I throw into Oblivion's sea the sword That pierces me; for, like Excalibar, With gemmed and flashing hilt, it will not sink. And yet at last Like a dead-weight thou hangest on the wheels. Yet I fain would die! And struggle after something we have not, All this the dead feel not,-the dead alone! HYPOLITO. We shall all be soon. VICTORIAN.-It cannot be too soon; for I am weary Of the bewildering masquerade of Life, Where strangers walk as friends, and friends as strangers; Where whispers overheard betray false hearts; And cheats us with fair words, only to leave us HYPOLITO. Why seek to know? I confess HYPOLITO. Yet thou shalt not perish. The strength of thine own arm is thy salvation. shines A glorious star. Be patient. Trust thy star. (Sound of a village bell in the distance.) VICTORIAN.-Ave Maria! I hear the sacristan Ringing the chimes from yonder village belfry A solemn sound, that echoes far and wide Over the red roofs of the cottages, And bids the labouring hind a-field, the shepherd Guarding his flock, the lonely muleteer, And all the crowd in village streets, stand still, And breathe a prayer unto the blessed Virgin! HYPOLITO.-Amen! amen! Not half a league from hence The village lies. VICTORIAN. This path will lead us to it, Over the wheat fields, where the shadows sail Across the running sea, now green, now blue, And, like an idle mariner on the main, Whistles the quail. Come, let us hasten on. SCENE II. [Exeunt. (Public square in the village of Guadarrama. The Ave Maria still tolling. A crowd of villagers, with their hats in their hunds, as if in prayer. In front, a group of Gipsies. The bell rings a merrier peal. A Gipsy dance. Enter PANCHO, followed by PEDRO CRESPO.) PANCHO. Make room, ye vagabonds and Gipsy thieves! Make room for the Alcalde and for me! PEDRO CRESPO.-Keep silence all! I have an edict here From our most gracious lord, the King of Jerusalem, and the Canary Islands, |