Enter FRANCISCO with a casket. SCENE II.-A Street in Madrid. Enter CHISPA, followed by Musicians, with a bagpipe, guitars, and other instruments. Chispa. Abernuncio Satanas! and a plague on all lovers who ramble about at night, drinking the elements, instead of sleeping quietly in their beds. Every dead man to his cemetery, say I; and every friar to his monastery. Now, here's my master, Victorian, yesterday a cow. keeper, and to-day a gentleman; yesterday a student, and to-day a lover; and I must be up later than the nightingale, for as the abbot sings so must the sacristan respond. God grant he may soon be married, for then shall all this serenading cease. Ay, marry! marry! marry! Mother, what does marry mean? It means to spin, to bear children, and to weep, my daugh ter! And of a truth, there is something more in matrimony than the wedding-ring. (To the musicians.) And now, gentlemen, Pax vobiscum! as the ass said to the cabbages. Pray, walk this way; and don't hang down your heads. It is no disgrace to have an old father and a ragged shirt. Now, look you, you are gentlemen who lead the life of crickets; you enjoy hunger by day, and noise by night. Yet, I beseech you, for this once be not loud, but pathetic; for it is a serenade to a damsel in bed, and not to the Man in the Moon Your object is mot to arouse and terrify, but to soothe and bring lulling dreams. Therefore, each shall not play his instrument as if it were the only one in the universe, but gently, and with a certain modesty, according with the others. Pray, how may I call thy name, my friend? First Mus. Gerónimo Gil, at your service. Chispa. Every tub smells of the wine that is in it. Pray. Gerónimo, is not Saturday an unpleasant day with thee? First Mus Why so? Chispa. Because I have heard it said that Saturday is an unpleasant day with those who have but one shirt. Moreover, I have seen thee at the tavern, and if thou canst run as fast as thou canst drink, I should like to hunt hares with thee. What instrument is that? First Mus. An Aragonese bagpipe. Chispa. Pray, art thou related to the bagpiper of Bujalance, who asked a maravedi for playing, and ten for leaving off? First Mus. No, your honour. Chispa. I am glad of it. What other instru. ments have we? Second and Third Mus. We play the bandurria. -Chispa. A pleasing instrument. And thou? Chispa. I like it; it has a cheerful, soul-stir F ring sound, that soars up to my lady's window. like the song of a swallow. And you others? Other Mus. We are singers, please your honour Chispa. You are too many. Do you think we are going to sing mass in the cathedral of Córdova? Four men can make but little use of one shoe, and I see not how you can all sing in one song. But follow me along the garden wall. This is the way my master climbs to the lady's window. It is by the vicar's skirts that the devil climbs into the belfry. Come, follow me, and make no noise. [Exeunt SCENE III.-PRECIOSA'S Chamber. She stands at the open window. Prec. How slowly through the lilac-scented air Descends the tranquil moon! Like thistledown The vapoury clouds float in the peaceful sky! And sweetly from yon hollow vaults of shade The nighingales breathe out their souls in song. And hark! what songs of love, what squl-like sounds, Answer them from below! SERENADE. Stars of the summer night! My lady sleeps! Since yesterday I have no news from thee. Vict. Since yesterday I've been in Alcalá. Ere long the time will come, sweet Preciosa, When that dull distance shall no more divide us; And I no more shall scale thy wall by night To steal a kiss from thee, as I do now. Prec. An honest thief, to steal but what thou givest. Vict. And we shall sit together unmolested, And words of true love pass from tongue to tongue, As singing birds from one bough to another. Prec. That were a life indeed to make time envious! I knew that thou wouldst visit me to-night. I saw thee at the play. Vict. Sweet child of air! Never did I behold thee so attired And garmented in beauty as to-night! Ay, and so fair Pres. I heed them not: When thou art present, I see none but thee! Vict. There's nothing fair nor beautiful but takes Something from thee that makes it beautiful. Prec. And yet thou leavest me for those dusty books. Vict. Thou comest between me and those books too often! I see thy face in every thing I see! The paintings in the chapel wear thy looks, Tend ever on, and rest not on the Present. Prec. I have felt it so, but found no words to say it! I cannot reason; I can only feel! Thou art a scholar; and sometimes I think Is her affections, not her intellect! The intellect is finite, but the affections But not that I am worthy of that heaven. Loving more. Prec. I cannot love thee more; my heart is full. Pray do not go! Vict. I must away to Alcalà to-night. Think of me when I am away. Prec. Fear not! I have no thoughts that do not think of thee. Vict. (giving her a ring). And to remind thee of my love, take this: A serpent, emblem of Eternity; A ruby, say a drop of my heart's blood. Vict. What convent of barefooted Carmelites Taught thee so much theology? Prec. (Laying her hand upon his mouth.) Hush! hush! Good night! and may all holy angels guard thee! Vict. Good night! good night! thou art my guardian angel! I have no other saint than thou to pray to! (He descends by the balcony.) Prec. Take care and do not hurt thee. Art thon safe? Vict. (from the garden). Safe as my love for thee! But art thou safe? Others can climb a balcony by moonlight As well as I. Pray shut thy window close; I am jealous of the perfumed air of night That from this garden climbs to kiss thy lips. Prec. (throwing down her handkerchief) Thou silly child! Take this to blind thine eyes. It is my benison. And brings to me Vict. Sweet fragrance from thy lips, as the soft wind Wafts to the out-bound mariner the breath Of the beloved land he leaves behind. Prec. Make not thy voyage long, Vict. Shail sec me safe returned. To-morrow night Thou art the star To guide me to an anchorage. Good night! My beauteous star! night Prec. Good night. My star of love, good Wutchman (at a distance). Ave Maria Purissima! SCENE IV-An Inn on the road to Alcala. BALTASAR asleep on a bench. Enter CHISPA. Chispa. And here we are, half way to Alcala, between cocks and midnight. Body o' me! what an inn this is! The lights out, and the landlord asleep. Holá! ancient Baltasar. Bal. (waking.) Here I am. Chispa. Yes, there you are, like a one-eyed Alcade in a town without inhabitants. Bring a light and let me have supper. Bal. Where is your master? Chispa. Do not trouble yourself about him. We have stopped a moment to breathe our horses; and, if he chooses to walk up and down in the open air, looking into the sky as one who hears it rain, that does not satisfy my hunger, you know. But be quick, for I am in a hurry, and every man stretches his legs according to the length of his coverlet. What have we here? Bal. (setting a light on the table.) Stewed rab. bit. Chispa (eating) Conscience of Portalegre! Stewed kitten, you mean? Bal And a pitcher of Pedro Ximenes, with a roasted pear in it. Chispa (drinking). Ancient Baltasar, amigo! You know how to cry wine and sell vinegar. I tell you this is nothing but Vinto Tinto of La Mancha, with a tang of the swine-skin. Bal. I swear to you by Saint Simon and Judas, is is all as I say. Chispa. And I swear to you, by Saint Peter and Saint Paul, that it is no such thing. Moreover, your supper is like the hidalgo's dinner, very little meat, and a great deal of table-cloth.' Bar. Ha! ha! ha! Chispa. And more noise than nuts. Bal. Ha! ha! ha! You must have your joke, Master Chispa. But shall I not ask Don Victorian in to take a draught of the Pedro Ximenes? Chispa. No; you might as well say "Don'tyou-want-some?" to a dead man. Bal. Why does he go so often to Madrid? Chispa. For the same reason that he eats no supper. He is in love. Were you ever in love. Baltasar? Bal. I was never out it, good Chispa. It has been the torment of my life. Chispa. What, are you on fire, too, old haystack? Why we shall never be able to put you out. SCENE V.-VICTORIAN'S Chambers at Alcala. HYPOLITO asleep in an arm-chair. He awakes slowly. Hyp. I must have been asleep! ay, sound asieep! And it was all a dream. O sleep, sweet sleep! Ile plays and sings. Padre Francisco! Padre Fransisco! What do you want of Padre Francisco? Enter VICTORIAN. Vict. Padre Hypolito! Padre Hypolito? I am the greatest sinner that doth live. The same old tale I'll tell thee a story of my wedding-day." Those that remained, after the six were burned, Ay, the same. Нур. Vict. I know it. And I'm in love. Hyp. And therefore in Madrid when thon shouldst be In Alcalá. Vict. Oh, pardon me, my friend, And, if a word be spoken ere the time, With thy unseasonable jests! Pray, tell me, Not much. She lies asleep, And from her parted lips, her gentle breath Vict. Ay, indeed I would! Hyp. Thou art courageous. Has thon e'er reflected How much lies hidden in that word, now? I have thought, my dear Hypolito, What groups should we behold about the deathbed. Putting to shame the group of Niobe! Hyp. Ay, there it is! and if I were in love, Of love and anger, like the maid of Colchis, Whom thou, another faithless Argonaut, Having won that golden fleece, a woman's love, Desertest for this Glaucé, (Throws himself into the arm-chair which HYPOLITO has left, and lays a large book open upon his knees.) Must read, or sit in reveric and watch Oh, who shall give me, now that ye are gone, Or teach me where that wondrous mandrake grows, Whose magic root, torn from the earth with groans, At midnight hour, can scare the fiends away, From the barred visor of antiquity Reflected shines the eternal light of Truth, Of some poor, houseless, homeless, wandering bard, Who had but a night's lodgings for his pains. Which are the dreams of Love! Out of the heart Rises the bright ideal of those dreams, Here, as I sit at midnight and alone, With balmy lips breathe in her cars my name! ACT II. SCENE 1-PRECIOSA'S Chamber. Morning. PRECIOSOA and ANGELICA. Ang. I will. And may the blessed virgin guard yon. And all good angels! [Exit. Prec. May they guard thee too, And all the poor; for they have need of angels. Now bring me, dear Dolores, my busquina, My richest maja dress,-my dancing dress, And my most precious jewels! Make me look Fairer than night e'er saw me! I've a prize To win this day, worthy of Preciosa! Enter BELTRAN CRUZADO. Cruz. Ave Maria! Prec. O God! my evil genius! Prec. Why will you go so soon? Stay yet What seckest thou here to-day? The poor too often turn away unheard That will be heard in heaven. Pray tell me Ang. Angelica. That name Prec. Prec. Thank me by following it. Ang. My mother is alone. I dare not leave her. Prec. Some other time, then, when we meet again. You must not go away with words alone. Ang. again. I dance to-night,-perhaps for the last time. Prec. I gave thee yesterday: I have no more. Cruz. The gold of the Busné,-give me his gold! Prec. I gave thee last in charity to-day. It is the truth. child! Hast thou given gold away, and not to me? Not to thy father? To whom then? Prec. Who needs it more. Cruz. To one No one can need it more. Prec. Thou art not poor. What! 1, who lurk about Pree. Thou hast a stout heart and strong hands. Thou canst supply thy wants; what wouldst thou more? Cruz. The gold of the Busné! give me his gold! Prec. Beltran Cruzada! hear me once for all, I speak the truth. So long as I had gold, I gave it to thee freely, at all times, Cruz. And if I have not, Thou shalt no longer dwell here in rich cham bers. Wear silken dresses, feed on dainty food, I cannot breathe shut up within its gates! Cruz. Remember who I am, and who thou art! Be silent and obey! Yet one thing more. Prec. (with emotion.) Oh. I beseech thee; |