Some pledge and keepsake of her higher nature, LARA. Yet Preciosa would have taken the gold. DON CARLOS (rising). I do not think so. 'Tis late. I must begone, for if I stay You will not be persuaded. LARA. Yes; persuade me. DON CARLOS. No one so deaf as he who will not hear! LARA. No one so blind as he who will not see! DON CARLOS. And so good night. I wish you pleasant dreams, LABA. [Exit. Greater faith! I have the greatest faith; for I believe That I shall be to-morrow; and thereafter Another, and another, and another, Chasing each other through her zodiac, As Taurus chases Aries. (Enter FRANCISCO with a casket.) Well, Francisco, What speed with Preciosa ? FRANCISCO. 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. FRANCISCO. Yes, my lord; I saw him at the jeweller's to-day. LARA. What was he doing there? FRANCISCO. I saw him buy A golden ring, that had a ruby in it. LARA. Was there another like it? FRANCISCO. One so like it I could not choose between them. 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 P Every tub smells of the wine that is in it. Pray, Gerónimo, is not Saturday an unpleasant day with thee? Why so? FIRST MUSICIAN. 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 MUSICIAN. An Aragonese bagpipe. CHISPA. Pray art thou related to the bagpiper of Bujalance, who asked a maravedí for playing, and ten for leaving off? No, your honour. FIRST MUSICIAN. CHISPA. I am glad of it. What other instruments have we? SECOND AND THIRD MUSICIANS. We play the bandurria. CHISPA. A pleasing instrument. And thou? The fife. FOURTH MUSICIAN. 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? OTHER MUSICIANS. 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. PRECIOSA. How slowly through the lilac-scented air (Enter VICTORIAN by the balcony.) VICTORIAN. Poor, little dove! Thou tremblest like a leaf! PRECIOSA. I am so frightened! 'Tis for thee I tremble! VICTORIAN. None, my love, but thou. PRECIOSA. 'Tis very dangerous; and when thou art gone VICTORIAN. Since yesterday I've been in Alcalá. Ere long the time will come, sweet Preciosa, PRECIOSA. An honest thief, to steal but what thou givest. VICTORIAN. And we shall sit together unmolested, And words of true love pass from tongue to tongue, As singing birds from one bough to another. PRECIOSA. That were a life indeed to make time envious ! VICTORIAN. Sweet child of air! Never did I behold thee so attired And garmented in beauty as to-night! What hast thou done to make thee look so fair? PRECIOSA. Am I not always fair? |