SCENE I.-The COUNT OF LARA'S Chambers. Night. The COUNT in his dressing-gown, smoking and conversing with DON CARLOS. Lara. You were not at the play to-night, Don How happened it? had engagements elsewhere, And Dona Serafina, and her cousins. There were three duels fought in the first act, ing, "Oh, I am dead!" a lover in a closet, night? to Lara. And never better. Every footstep fell As lightly as a sunbeam on the water. I think the girl extremely beautiful Don C. Almost beyond the privilege of wo man! Lara. How credulous you are! Why look you, friend, There's not a virtuous woman in Madrid, She is a gipsy girl. You forget Lara. And therefore wor The easier. Don C. Nay, not to be won at all! Is chastity. That is her only virtue. Lara. Lara. Yes; persuade me. Don C. No one so deaf as he who will not Enter FRANCISCO with a casket. Well, Francisco, What speed with Preciosa? Fran. None, my lord. 123 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 Cor She sends your jewels back, and bids me tell dova? Four men can make but little use of one you She is not to be purchased by your gold. Lara. Then I will try some other way to win her. Pray, dost thou know Victorian? Yes, my lord; I saw him buy A golden ring, that had a ruby in it. One so like it I could not choose between them. [Exeunt. 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 ; and every friar to his monastery. Now, here's my master, Victorian, yesterday a cowkeeper, 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 daughter! 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 not 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? Cispa. 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? Fourth Mus. ffe. Chispa. I like it; it has a cheerful, soul-stir, F shoe, and I see not how you can all sing in one song. But follow me along the garden wal. 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 stands at the open window. She Prec. How slowly through the lilac-scented air Descends the tranquil moon! Like thistle down The vapoury clouds float in the peaceful sky! been? Since yesterday I have no news from thee. Ere long the time will come, sweet Preciosa, Prec. An honest thief, to steal but what thou givest. Viet. And we shall sit together unmolested, And words of true love pass from tongue to tongue, As singing birds from one bongh 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! Vict. Ay, and so fair That I am jealous of all eyes that see thee, And wish that they were blind. 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, Prec. In good sooth, I dance with learned doctors of the schools To-morrow morning. Vict. And with whom, I pray? Prec. A grave and reverend Cardinal, and his Grace The Archbishop of Toledo. Vict. Is this? What mad jest 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! But thou hast language for all thoughts anā feelings. Thou art a scholar; and sometimes I think Woman Thou little sceptic! Is her affections, not her intellect! But not that I am worthy of that heaven. 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 gaardian angel! 1 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 thon safe? Obers 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. Vict. And brings to me 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. To-morrow night Shall see me safe returned. Thou art the star night Prec. Good night. Watchman (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 rabbit. Chispa (eating) Conscience of Portalegre! Stewed kitten, you mean? Bal And a pitcher of Pedro Ximenes, with a roasted pear in it. asicep! And it was all a dream. O sleep, sweet sleep! Open thy silent lips, sweet instrument! 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." Chispa (drinking). Ancient Baltasar, amigo! You know how to cry wine and sell vinegar. I tell Those that remained, after the six were burned, you this is nothing but Vinto Tinto of La Man-Being held more precious than the nine together. cha, 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. But listen to my tale. Dost thou remember I know it. Ay, the same. Thou knowest how her image haunted me Long after we returned to Alcalá. She's in Madrid. Пур. Vict. 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, She lies asleep, And from her parted lips, her gentle breath How much lies hidden in that word, now? I have thought, my dear Hypolito, 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. Of Preciosa when we meet again. Get thee to bed, and the magician, Sleep. Shall show her to thee, in his magic glass, In all her loveliness. Good night! Good night! [Exit. Vict. (Throws himself into the arm-chair which HYPOLITO has left, and lays a large book open upon his knees.) Must read, or sit in reverie 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 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, |