Part 2
I:3:58 SOL. Why has he gone? Why did I bid him go? And let this jewel I so daring plucked Slip in the waves again? I’m sure there’s time To call him back, and say farewell once more. I’ll say farewell no more; it was a word Ever harsh music when the morrow brought Welcomes renewed of love, No more farewells. O when will he be mine! I cannot wait, I cannot tarry, now I know he loves me; Each hour, each instant that I see him not, Is usurpation of my right. O joy! Am I the same Solisa, that this morn Breathed forth her orison with humbler spirit Than the surrounding acolytes? Thou’st smiled, Sweet Virgin, on my prayers. Twice fifty tapers Shall burn before thy shrine. Guard over me O! mother of my soul, and let me prosper In my great enterprise! O hope! O love! O sharp remembrance of long baffled joy! Inspire me now.
## SCENE 4.
The KING; the INFANTA.
I:4:1 KING. I see my daughter?
I:4:2 SOL. Sir, your duteous child.
I:4:3 KING. Art thou indeed my child? I had some doubt I was a father.
I:4:4 SOL. These are bitter words.
I:4:5 KING. Even as thy conduct.
I:4:6 SOL. Then it would appear My conduct and my life are but the same.
I:4:7 KING. I thought thou wert the Infanta of Castille, Heir to our realm, the paragon of Spain The Princess for whose smiles crowned Christendom Sends forth its sceptred rivals. Is that bitter? Or bitter is it with such privilege, And standing on life’s vantage ground, to cross A nation’s hope, that on thy nice career Has gaged its heart?
I:4:8 SOL. Have I no heart to gage? A sacrificial virgin, must I bind My life to the altar, to redeem a state, Or heal some doomed People?
I:4:9 KING. Is it so? Is this an office alien to thy sex? Or what thy youth repudiates? We but ask What nature sanctions.
I:4:10 SOL. Nature sanctions Love; Your charter is more liberal. Let that pass. I am no stranger to my duty, sir, And read it thus. The blood that shares my sceptre Should be august as mine. A woman loses In love what she may gain in rank, who tops Her husband’s place; though throned, I would exchange An equal glance. His name should be a spell · To rally soldiers. Politic he should be; And skilled in climes and tongues; that stranger knights Should bruit on, high Castillian courtesies. Such chief might please a state?
I:4:11 KING. Fortunate realm!
I:4:12 SOL. And shall I own less niceness than my realm? No! I would have him handsome a god; Hyperion in his splendor, or the mien Of conquering Bacchus, one whose very step Should guide a limner, and whose common words Are caught by Troubadours to frame their songs! And O, my father, what if this bright prince Should I have a heart as tender as his soul Was high and peerless? If with this same heart He loved thy daughter?
I:4:13 KING. Close the airy page Of thy romance; such princes are not found Except in lays and legends! yet a man Who would become a throne, I found thee, girl; The princely Hungary.
I:4:14 SOL. A more princely fate, Than an unwilling wife, he did deserve.
I:4:15 KING. Yet wherefore didst thou pledge thy troth to him?
I:4:16 SOL. And wherefore do I smile when I should sigh? And wherefore do I feed when I would fast? And wherefore do I dance when I should pray? And wherefore do I live when I should die? Canst answer that, good Sir? O there are women The world deem mad, or worse, whose life but seems One vile caprice, a freakish thing of whims And restless nothingness; yet if we pierce The soul, may be we’ll touch some cause profound For what seems causeless. Early love despised, Or baffled, which is worse; a faith betrayed, For vanity or lucre; chill regards, Where to gain constant glances we have paid Some fearful forfeit: here are many springs, Unmarked by shallow eyes, and some, or all Of these, or none, may prompt my conduct now-- But I’ll not have thy prince.
I:4:17 KING. My, gentle child--
I:4:18 SOL. I am not gentle. I might have been once; But gentle thoughts and I have parted long; The cause of such partition thou shouldst know If memories were just.
I:4:19 KING. Harp not, I pray, On an old sorrow.
I:4:20 SOL. Old! he calls it old! The wound is green, and staunch it, or I die.
I:4:21 KING. Have I the skill?
I:4:22 SOL. Why! art thou not a King? Wherein consists the magic of a crown But in the bold achievement of a deed Would scare a clown to dream?
I:4:23 KING. I’d read thy thought.
I:4:24 SOL. Then have it; I would marry.
I:4:25 KING. It is well; It is my wish.
I:4:26 SOL. And unto such a prince As I’ve described withal. For though a prince Of Fancy’s realm alone, as thou dost deem, Yet doth he live indeed.
I:4:27 KING. To me unknown.
I:4:28 SOL. O! father mine, before thy reverend knees Ere this we twain have knelt.
I:4:29 KING. Forbear, my child; Or can it be my daughter doth not know He is no longer free?
I:4:30 SOL. The power that bound him, That bondage might dissolve? To holy church Thou hast given great alms?
I:4:31 KING. There’s more to gain thy wish, If more would gain it; but it cannot be, Even were he content.
I:4:32 SOL. He is content.
I:4:33 KING. Hah!
I:4:34 SOL. For he loves me still.
I:4:35 KING. I would do much To please thee. I’m prepared to bear the brunt Of Hungary’s ire; but do not urge, Solisa, Beyond capacity of sufferance My temper’s proof.
I:4:36 SOL. Alarcos is my husband, Or shall the sceptre from our line depart. Listen, ye saints of Spain, I’ll have his hand, Or by our faith, my fated womb shall be As barren as thy love, proud King.
I:4:37 KING. Thou’rt mad! Thou’rt mad!
I:4:38 SOL. Is he not mine? Thy very hand, Did it not consecrate our vows? What claim So sacred as my own?
I:4:39 KING. He did conspire--
I:4:40 SOL. ‘Tis false, thou know’st ‘tis false: against themselves Men do not plot: I would as soon believe My hand could hatch a treason ‘gainst my sight, As that Alarcos would conspire to seize A diadem I would myself have placed Upon his brow.
I:4:41 KING.
[taking her hand]
Nay, calmness. Say ‘tis true He was not guilty, say perchance he was not--
I:4:42 SOL. Perchance, O! vile perchance. Thou know’st full well, Because he did reject her loose desires And wanton overtures--
I:4:43 KING. Hush, hush, O hush!
I:4:44 SOL. The woman called my mother--
I:4:45 KING. Spare me, spare--
I:4:46 SOL. Who spared me? Did not I kneel, and vouch his faith, and bathe Thy hand with my quick tears, and clutch thy robe With frantic grasp? Spare, spare indeed? In faith Thou hast taught me to be merciful, thou hast,-- Thou and my mother!
I:4:47 KING. Ah! no more, no more! A crowned King cannot recall the past, And yet may glad the future. She thou namest, She was at least thy mother; but to me, Whate’er her deeds, for truly, there were times Some spirit did possess her, such as gleams Now in her daughter’s eye, she was a passion, A witching form that did inflame my life By a breath or glance. Thou art our child; the link That binds me to my race; thou host her place Within my shrined heart, where thou’rt the priest And others are unhallowed; for, indeed, Passion and time have so dried up my soul, And drained its generous juices, that I own No sympathy with man, and all his hopes To me are mockeries.
I:4:48 SOL. Ah! I see, my father, That thou will’st aid me!
I:4:49 KING. Thou canst aid thyself. Is there a law to let him from thy presence? His voice may reach thine ear; thy gracious glance May meet his graceful offices. Go to. Shall Hungary frown, if his right royal spouse Smile on the equal of her blood and state, Her gentle cousin?
I:4:50 SOL. And is this thine aid!
I:4:51 KING. What word has roughed the brow, but now confiding In a fond father’s love?
I:4:52 SOL. Alas! what word? What have I said? what done? that thou should’st deem I could do this, this, this, that is so foul, My baffled tongue deserts me. Thou should’st know me, Thou hast set spies on me. What! have they told thee I am a wanton? I do love this man As fits a virgin’s heart. Heaven sent such thoughts To be our solace. But to act a toy For his loose hours, or worse, to find him one Procured for mine, grateful for opportunities Contrived with decency, spared skillfully From claims more urgent; not to dare to show Before the world my homage; when he’s ill To be away, and only share his gay And lusty pillow; to be shut out from all That multitude of cares and charms that waits But on companionship; and then to feel These joys another shares, another hand These delicate rites performing, and thou’rt remembered, In the serener heaven of his bliss, But as the transient flash: this is not love; This is pollution.
I:4:53 KING. Daughter, I were pleased My cousin could a nearer claim prefer To my regard. Ay, girl, ‘twould please me well He were my son, thy husband; but what then? My pleasure and his conduct jar; his fate Baulks our desire. He’s married and has heirs.
I:4:54 SOL. Heirs, didst thou say heirs?
I:4:55 KING. What ails thee?
I:4:56 SOL. Heirs, heirs?
I:4:57 KING. Thou art very pale!
I:4:58 SOL. The faintness of the morn Clings to me still; I pray thee, father, grant Thy child one easy boon.
I:4:59 KING. She has to speak But what she wills.
I:4:60 SOL. Why, then, she would renounce Her heritage; yes, place our ancient crown On brows it may become. A veil more suits This feminine brain; in Huelgas’ cloistered shades I’ll find oblivion.
I:4:61 KING. Woe is me! The doom Falls on our house. I had this daughter left To lavish all my wealth on and my might. I’ve treasured for her; for her I have slain My thousands, conquered provinces, betrayed, Renewed, and broken faith. She was my joy; She has her mother’s eyes, and when she speaks Her voice is like Brunhalda’s. Cursed hour, That a wild fancy touched her brain to cross All my great hopes!
I:4:62 SOL. My father, my dear father, Thou call’dst me fondly, but some moments past, Thy gentle child. I call my saint to witness I would be such. To say I love this man Is shallow phrasing. Since man’s image first Flung its wild shadow on my virgin soul, It has borne no other reflex. I know well Thou deemest he was forgotten; this day’s passion Passed as unused confrontment, and so transient As it was turbulent. No, no, full oft, When thinking on him, I have been the same. Fruitless or barren, this same form is his, Or it is God’s. My father, my dear father, Remember he was mine, and thou didst pour Thy blessing on our heads! O God, O God! When I recall the passages of love That have ensued between me and this man, And with thy sanction, and then just bethink He is another’s, O it makes me mad. Talk not to me of sceptres: can she rule Whose mind is anarchy? King of Castille, Give me the heart that thou didst rob me of! The penal hour’s at hand. Thou didst destroy My love, and I will end thy line--thy line That is thy life.
I:4:63 KING. Solisa, I will do all A father can,--a father and a King.
I:4:64 SOL. Give me Alarcos!
I:4:65 KING. Hush, disturb me not; I’m in the throes of some imaginings A human voice might scare.
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
## ACT II
## SCENE 1
A Street in Burgos.
[Enter the COUNT OF SIDONIA and the COUNT OF LEON.]
II:1:1 SIDO. Is she not fair?
II:1:2 LEON. What then? She but fulfils Her office as a woman. For to be A woman and not fair, is, in my creed, To be a thing unsexed.
II:1:3 SIDO. Happy Alarcos! They say she was of Aquitaine, a daughter Of the De Foix. I would I had been banished.
II:1:4 LEON. Go and plot then. They cannot take your head, For that is gone.
II:1:5 SIDO. But banishment from Burgos Were worse than fifty deaths. O, my good Leon, Didst ever see, didst ever dream could be, Such dazzling beauty?
II:1:6 LEON. Dream! I never dream; Save when I’ve revelled over late, and then My visions are most villanous; but you, You dream when you’re awake.
II:1:7 SIDO. Wert ever, Leon, In pleasant Aquitaine?
II:1:8 LEON. O talk of Burgos; It is my only subject--matchless town, Where all I ask are patriarchal years To feel satiety like my sad friend.
II:1:9 SIDO. ‘Tis not satiety now makes me sad; So check thy mocking tongue, or cure my cares.
II:1:10 LEON. Absence cures love. Be off to Aquitaine.
II:1:11 SIDO. I chose a jester for my friend, and feel His value now.
II:1:12 LEON. You share the lover’s lot When you desire and you despair. What then? You know right well that woman is but one, Though she take many forms, and can confound The young with subtle aspects. Vanity Is her sole being. Make the myriad vows That passionate fancy prompts. At the next tourney Maintain her colours ‘gainst the two Castilles And Aragon to boot. You’ll have her!
II:1:13 SIDO. Why! This was the way I woo’d the haughty Lara, But I’ll not hold such passages approach The gentle lady of this morn.
II:1:14 LEON. Well, then, Try silence, only sighs and hasty glances Withdrawn as soon as met. Could’st thou but blush: But there’s no hope. In time our sighs become A sort of plaintive hint what hopeless rogues Our stars have made us. Would we had but met Earlier, yet still we hope she’ll spare a tear To one she met too late. Trust me she’ll spare it; She’ll save this sinner who reveres a saint. Pity or admiration gains them all. You’ll have her!
II:1:15 SIDO. Well, whate’er the course pursued, Be thou a prophet!
[Enter ORAN.]
II:1:16 ORAN. Stand, Senors, in God’s name.
II:1:17 LEON. Or the devil’s. Well, what do you want?
II:1:18 ORAN. Many things, but one Most principal.
II:1:19 SIDO. And that’s--
II:1:20 ORAN. A friend.
II:1:21 LEON. You’re right To seek one in the street, he’ll prove as true As any that you’re fostered with.
II:1:22 ORAN. In brief, I’m as you see a Moor; and I have slain One of our princes. Peace exists between Our kingdom and Castille; they track my steps. You’re young, you should be brave, generous you may be. I shall be impaled. Save me!
II:1:23 LEON. Frankly spoken. Will you turn Christian?
II:1:24 ORAN. Show me Christian acts, And they may prompt to Christian thoughts.
II:1:25 SIDO. Although The slain’s an infidel, thou art the same. The cause of this rash deed?
II:1:26 ORAN. I am a soldier, And my sword’s notched, sirs. This said Emir struck me. Before the people too, in the great square Of our chief place, Granada, and forsooth, Because I would not yield the way at mosque. His life has soothed my honour: if I die, I die content; but with your gracious aid I would live happy.
II:1:27 LEON. You love life?
II:1:28 ORAN. Most dearly.
II:1:29 LEON. Sensible Moor, although he be impaled For mobbing in a mosque. I like this fellow; His bearing suits my humour. He shall live To do more murders. Come, bold infidel, Follow to the Leon Palace; and, sir, prithee Don’t stab us in the back.
[Exeunt omnes.]
## SCENE 2
Chamber in the Palace of COUNT ALARCOS. At the back of the Scene the Curtains of a large Jalousie withdrawn.
[Enter COUNT ALARCOS.]
II:2:1 ALAR. ‘Tis circumstance makes conduct; life’s a ship, The sport of every wind. And yet men tack Against the adverse blast. How shall I steer, Who am the pilot of Necessity? But whether it be fair or foul, I know not; Sunny or terrible. Why let her wed him? What care I if the pageant’s weight may fall On Hungary’s ermined shoulders, if the spring Of all her life be mine? The tiar’d brow Alone makes not a King. Would that my wife Confessed a worldlier mood! Her recluse fancy Haunts still our castled bowers. Then civic air Inflame her thoughts! Teach her to vie and revel, Find sport in peerless robes, the pomp of feasts And ambling of a genet--
[A serenade is heard.]
Hah! that voice Should not be strange. A tribute to her charms. ‘Tis music sweeter to a spouse’s ear Than gallants dream of. Ay, she’ll find adorers. Or Burgos is right changed.
[Enter the COUNTESS.]
Listen, child.
[Again the serenade is heard.]
II:2:2 COUN. ‘Tis very sweet.
II:2:3 ALAR. It is inspired by thee.
II:2:4 COUN. Alarcos!
II:2:5 ALAR. Why dost look so grave? Nay, now, There’s not a dame in Burgos would not give Her jewels for such songs.
II:2:6 COUN. Inspired by me!
II:2:7 ALAR. And who so fit to fire a lover’s breast? He’s clearly captive.
II:2:8 COUN. O! thou knowest I love not Such jests, Alarcos.
II:2:9 ALAR. Jest! I do not jest. I am right proud the partner of my state Should count the chief of our Castillian knights Among her train.
II:2:10 COUN. I pray thee let me close These blinds.
II:2:11 ALAR. Poh, poh! what, baulk a serenade? ‘Twould be an outrage to the courtesies Of this great city. Faith! his voice is sweet.
II:2:12 COUN. Would that he had not sung! It is a sport In which I find no pastime.
II:2:13 ALAR. Marry, come, It gives me great delight. ‘Tis well for thee, On thy first entrance to our world, to find So high a follower.
II:2:14 COUN. Wherefore should I need His following?
II:2:15 ALAR. Nought’s more excellent for woman, Than to be fixed on as the cynosure Of one whom all do gaze on. ‘Tis a stamp Whose currency, not wealth, rank, blood, can match; These are raw ingots, till they are impressed With fashion’s picture.
II:2:16 COUN. Would I were once more Within our castle!
II:2:17 ALAR. Nursery days! The world Is now our home, and we must worldly be, Like its bold stirrers. I sup with the King. There is no feast, and yet to do me honour, Some chiefs will meet. I stand right well at Court, And with thine aid will stand e’en better.
II:2:18 COUN. Mine! I have no joy but in thy joy, no thought But for thy honour, and yet, how to aid Thee in these plans or hopes, indeed, Alarcos, Indeed, I am perplexed.
II:2:19 ALAR. Art not my wife? Is not this Burgos? And this pile, the palace Of my great fathers? They did raise these halls To be the symbols of their high estate, The fit and haught metropolis of all Their force and faction. Fill them, fill them, wife, With those who’ll serve me well. Make this the centre Of all that’s great in Burgos. Let it be The eye of the town, whereby we may perceive What passes in his heart: the clustering point Of all convergence. Here be troops of friends And ready instruments. Wear that sweet smile, That wins a partisan quicker than power; Speak in that tone gives each a special share In thy regard, and what is general Let all deem private. O! thou’lt play it rarely.
II:2:20 COUN. I would do all that may become thy wife.
II:2:21 ALAR. I know it, I know it. Thou art a treasure, Florimonde, And this same singer--thou hast not asked his name. Didst guess it? Ah! upon thy gentle cheek I see a smile.
II:2:22 COUN. My lord--indeed--
II:2:23 ALAR. Thou playest Thy game less like a novice than I deemed. Thou canst not say thou didst not catch the voice Of the Sidonia?
II:2:24 COUN. My good lord, indeed His voice to me is as unknown as mine Must be to him.
II:2:25 ALAR. Whose should the voice but his, Whose stricken sight left not thy face an instant, But gazed as if some new-born star had risen To light his way to paradise? I tell thee, Among my strict confederates I would count This same young noble. He is a paramount chief; Perchance his vassals might outnumber mine, Conjoined we’re adamant. No monarch’s breath Makes me again an exile. Florimonde, Smile on him; smiles cost nothing; should he judge They mean more than they say, why smile again; And what he deems affection, registered, Is but chaste Mockery. I must to the citadel. Sweet wife, good-night.
[Exit ALARCOS.]
II:2:26 COUN. O! misery, misery, misery! Must we do this? I fear there’s need we must, For he is wise in all things, and well learned In this same world that to my simple sense Seems very fearful. Why should men rejoice, They can escape from the pure breath of heaven And the sweet franchise of their natural will, To such a prison-house? To be confined In body and in soul; to breathe the air Of dark close streets, and never use one’s tongue But for some measured phrase that hath its bent Well gauged and chartered; to find ready smiles When one is sorrowful, or looks demure When one would laugh outright. Never to be Exact but when dissembling. Is this life? I dread this city. As I passed its gates My litter stumbled, and the children shrieked And clung unto my bosom. Pretty babes! I’ll go to them. O! there is innocence Even in Burgos.
[Exit COUNTESS.]
## SCENE 3
A Chamber in the Royal Palace. The INFANTA SOLISA alone.
II:3:1 SOL. I can but think my father will be just And see us righted. O ‘tis only honest, The hand that did this wrong should now supply The sovereign remedy, and balm the wound Itself inflicted. He is with him now; Would I were there, unseen, yet seeing all! But ah! no cunning arras could conceal This throbbing heart. I’ve sent my little Page, To mingle with the minions of the Court, And get me news. How he doth look, bow eat, What says he and what does, and all the haps Of this same night, that yet to me may bring A cloudless morrow. See, even now he comes.
[Enter the PAGE.]
Prithee what news? Now tell me all, my child, When thou’rt a knight, will I not work the scarf For thy first tourney! Prithee tell me all.
II:3:2 PAGE. O lady mine, the royal Seneschal He was so crabbed, I did scarcely deem I could have entered.
II:3:3 SOL. Cross-grained Seneschal! He shall repent of this, my pretty Page; But thou didst enters?
II:3:4 PAGE. I did so contrive.
II:3:5 SOL. Rare imp! And then?
II:3:6 PAGE. Well, as you told me, then I mingled with the Pages of the King. They’re not so very tall; I might have passed I think for one upon a holiday.
II:3:7 SOL. O thou shalt pass for better than a page But tell me, child, didst see my gallant Count?
II:3:8 PAGE. On the right hand--
II:3:9 SOL. Upon the King’s right hand?
II:3:10 PAGE. Upon the King’s right hand, and there were also--