SCENE I.-The COUNT OF LARA'S chambers. Night. The COUNT Lara. I had engagements elsewhere. Why, all the town and court. A Don C. What was the play? Lara. It was a dull affair; One of those comedies in which you see, As Lope says, the history of the world Brought down from Genesis to the Day of Judgment. Three gentlemen receiving deadly wounds, Laying their hands upon their hearts, and saying, A Doña Inez with a black mantilla, Followed at twilight by an unknown lover, I think the girl extremely beautiful. Don C. Almost beyond the privilege of woman! I saw her in the Prada yesterday. Her step was royal,-queen-like,-—and As beautiful as a saint's in Paradise. her face Lara. May not a saint fall from her Paradise, And be no more a saint? Don C. Why do you ask? Lara. Because I have heard it said this angel fell, And, though she is a virgin outwardly, Within she is a sinner; like those panels Of doors and altar-pieces the old monks Don C. You do her wrong; indeed, you do her wrong! She is as virtuous as she is fair. Lara. How credulous you are! Why, look you, friend, There's not a virtuous woman in Madrid, In this whole city! And would you persuade me A model for her virtue? Don C. She is a Gipsy girl. Lara. The easier. You forget And therefore won Don C. Nay, not to be won at all! The only virtue that a Gipsy prizes Is chastity. That is her only virtue. Dearer than life she holds it. I remember • La cólera de un Español sentado no se templa. sino le representan en dos horas hasta el final juicio desde el Génesis." -Lope de Vega. A Gipsy woman, a vile, shameless bawd, Lara. Don C. It proves a nobleman may be repulsed Don C. 'Tis late. I must begone, for if I stay Lara. Yes; persuade me. Don C. No one so deaf as he who will not hear! Lara. No one so blind as he who will not see! Don C. And so good night, I wish you pleasant dreams, And greater faith in woman. Lara. Greater faith! I have the greatest faith; for I believe Victorian is her lover. I believe That I shall be to-morrow; and thereafter Chasing each other through her zodiac, As Taurus chases Aries.. (Enter FRANCISCO with a casket.) What speed with Preciosa? Fran. None, my lord. She sends your jewels back, and bids me tell 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? Fran. I saw him at the jeweller's to-day. Yes, my lord; A golden ring that had a ruby in it. I could not choose between them. I saw him buy One so like it [Exit. Lara. It is well. To-morrow morning bring that ring to me. Do not forget. Now light me to my bed. [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 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 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 upon 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, friend? First Mus. Gerónimo Gil, at your service. Chispa. Every tub smells of the wine that is in it. nimo, is not Saturday an unpleasant day with thee? First Mus. Why so? Pray, Gero 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 maravedí for playing, and ten for leaving off? First Mus. No, your honour. What other instruments have we? Second and Third Mus. We play the bandurria. Chispa. I am glad of it. Chispa. A pleasing instrument. Fourth Mus. The fife. And thou? Chispa. I like it; it has a cheerful, soul-stirring sound, that soars up to my lady's window like the song of a swallow. And you others? "Digo, Señora, respondió Sancho, lo que tengo dicho, que de los azotes abernuncio. Abernuncio, habeis de decir, Sancho, y no como decis, dijo el Duque."-Don Quixote, Part II., chap. 35. Other Mus. We are the singers, please your honour. Chispa. You are too many. Do you think we are going to sing mass in the cathedral of Cordova? 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. That 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 Stars of the summer night! Far in yon azure deeps, Hide, hide your golden light! My lady sleeps! Moon of the summer night! Serenade. Far down yon western steeps, Sink, sink in silver light! She sleeps! My lady sleeps! Sleeps! Wind of the summer night! My lady sleeps! Dreams of the summer night! Watch! while in slumbers light (Enter VICTORIAN by the balcony.) Vict. Poor little dove! Thou tremblest like a leaf! Vict. None, my love, but thou. Thus stealthily by night. Where hast thou been? Vict. Since yesterday I've been in Alcalà. Ere long the time will come, sweet Preciosa, Prec. An honest thief, to steal but what thou givest. 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! |