Certainty for a Doubt, A - Act Second
ACT SECOND
A DELANTADO. The dearest thing in this our martial life
That thirst for glory grants to mortal man
Is love of country, set above the strife
By happy victory in fortune's span.
To issue from the sea, misfortune rife,
Or to one's friends recount the scope and plan
Of bondage, these things can never be the same
As hanging banners in the halls of fame.
We have outworn a barren, luckless age
Thanks to the fair La Cava, since the time
Of Roderick, and enemies engage
In our own house, the mistress slave and mime.
Today Granada flaunts that heritage,
Stubborn and firm, although the pride sublime
Of the base African sinks to the plain.
A S OLDIER. Meeting in your Christian valor check and rein.
K ING. Now at your trumpet's sounding I have come,
Leader and Adelantado, as one led,
To take the lead with you.
A DELANTADO. Sire, well come!
You light my arms like morning.
K ING. You instead
Merit my arms.
A DELANTADO. By my love favored some,
You favor mine and take the lead and head.
For humblest services of mean estate
By great love of the master are made great.
Proud thought Aliatar, proud thought the Moor,
O generous Prince, he boldly should return
Laden with tribute to Granada's door,
As was his wont to please a monarch stern;
Beyond the loss of all his treasure's store
He lost a thousand men, and his heart-burn
Was no whit less for that than for his gold,
Reft from Spain with rapine manifold.
For since the day of that great victory
In which upon his horse, with scarlet sword,
The patron of all Spain was seen, and she
Was bound to keep eternal watch and ward,
No greater glory shines in memory
Than when at Dinadamar, following hard
Into Granada on the African,
Rode in triumphant the Castilian van.
K ING. Adelantado, what in rank or praise
Such deeds deserve, it beggars me to say;
Deign to accept in place of other bays
The reward I offer, so my debt I pay.
You have an heir and daughter. Your last days
I will exalt through her, give me my way,
Before I ride out through wide Seville's gate,
And join your line with mine in Castile state.
Yet of my largess I reserve a part
To bestow favor on your gentle niece,
Well-born and beautiful and pure of heart;
So now, thou Christian Mars, to rest and peace.
A DELANTADO. Mighty in battle and the conflict's smart
So high Heaven lifts your standards when they cease
It scarce contains for all its starry scroll,
Your solitary name from pole to pole.
K ING. Master, these victories add zest and savor
To the pursuit of love.
M ASTER. Merit indeed
You would impute to them as more excuse
For your caprice.
K ING. I cannot blame my sight
For playing false, should she become my wife.
M ASTER. You have not erred so you would wed in Spain.
K ING. Master, what house can boast more dignity
Or blazon nobler arms? My ancestors,
And those who ruled before, married in Spain,
And found here lineage of equal worth,
Mating the valor of their ancient lines.
Then what have I to fear? Or who shall blame me?
Where else turn for a model?
M ASTER. You'll marry then
K ING. To-day I seek her out.
M ASTER. Why not, in fine,
Upon excuse of visiting her father?
K ING. Master, what shall I do? I can hold back
And bear no more. More than this present honor
The Adelantado has deserved of me,
And she deserves it too.
M ASTER. Am I obliged
To love the cousin?
K ING. If you are a man
Of flesh and blood — as so they say — you will;
If none, no.
M ASTER. I do not think 'twill kill me.
K ING. But do not love her upon my account;
No love is love that does not plume itself
And swell and burn like this great love of mine.
I humbly beg and tremble, suffer, die,
Yet persevere, and glory though she slay me!
Don E NRIQUE. What? Are you weary of rebuking me?
R AMIRO. You resign yourself to evil.
Don E NRIQUE. How evil?
R AMIRO. You return to Seville.
Don E NRIQUE. Well, what could I do?
Die then?
R AMIRO. Had we not better push along
And prosecute our journey?
Don E NRIQUE. Journey, yes,
Or wandering madness, as should love leap out
Like the bold highwayman upon my back,
The traveller?
R AMIRO. A gentleman recede
From what he once has promised? Never!
Don E NRIQUE. Ramiro,
I pall in resolution; I can no more.
R AMIRO. What will you do now you are back in Seville?
Don E NRIQUE. I see no man my love can trust; all, all
Betray me.
R AMIRO. Teodora. . . . No! ... She's a woman!
I have no faith, though, in her privacy.
Don E NRIQUE. You're wrong. Women can keep a secret close
Better than men.
R AMIRO. A name they have not won
Upon the field of honor.
Don E NRIQUE. I pledged the King
To go forth banished — he is my liege and lord;
I never told him that I would not love.
I break my banishment. What have I done?
I but incur the self-same penalty
A second time to-day. This was my pledge:
Never never not to love Juana.
R AMIRO. Senor, the window of your Teodora.
Soft! Shall I call?
Don E NRIQUE. Pray do.
J USTA. Who knocks? Who's there?
R AMIRO. My queen, two friends forgotten.
J USTA. Two who?
R AMIRO. Two unworthy travellers from far Castile,
Returning home post-haste to Seville, banished.
J USTA. So help me God, Ramiro!
R AMIRO. Marvellous penetration!
T EODORA. Who's there?
J USTA. Two men. I marvel more the more I see them.
T EODORA. At the window.
Great heavens! It is the Count?
Don E NRIQUE. Peace, Teodora;
You know my fortune's ebb?
T EODORA. I know you love
The self-same woman that the King seeks out;
I know your life ...
Don E NRIQUE. Too late to mourn my life!
What news in the city since my banishment?
T EODORA. You are forgotten.
R AMIRO. No news that from a woman.
T EODORA. Who would not change a dukedom for a crown?
Don E NRIQUE. Ah, Teodora! Let jealousy not speak
Although you harbor it.
T EODORA. So sprightly, Count,
After your absence?
Don E NRIQUE. But can absence be
AnDonly last one day?
R AMIRO. She ought to know;
If she says so it can. She understands.
T EODORA. First hear the truth; — the passion of the King
Is bruited through the city. This I know —
Juana's hand is the object of his suit;
And by report he wishes her for wife.
I cannot tell whether or not she loves him;
Passion like his might kindle hearts of ice.
If you have any cognizance of love
A king of such great worth, so hot in suit,
So brave, so gallant and so bold to boot,
In presence were a strong competitor,
But how much more in absence?
Don E NRIQUE. And therefore
You tell me that she loves him?
T EODORA. Reason says so,
And knowledge of the subject.
Don E NRIQUE. Oh fickle woman,
How changeable art thou!
T EODORA. In this, alas,
I do not know that there is any change!
R AMIRO. And why not rather call it enterprise,
As seen by this example?
T EODORA. What woman ever could be so remiss
As not to choose the best?
Don E NRIQUE. A woman who could love!
T EODORA. Alas, Enrique! The whole world is built
And governeDon this plan.
Don E NRIQUE. Not where virtue reigns!
T EODORA. Search through the world and go where'er you will
From topmost height down to the lowest, still
You'll have your virtue for your pains.
R AMIRO. You will;
Unless the rule one sole exception gains
In woman.
Don E NRIQUE. Though you be one, I'll trust you yet;
And here remain your guest.
T EODORA. So great a lord
Will find our poor accommodations small.
Don E NRIQUE. They are the best I have.
T EODORA. Enter and honor
My humble house.
Don E NRIQUE. Never have cause to say
I am ungrateful.
J USTA. At the window. What? Are you not coming?
R AMIRO. Yes, tenderly.
J USTA. Why, what's the matter, man?
R AMIRO. Certain debility ...
J USTA. Is't possible?
R AMIRO. My wandering's to blame.
J USTA. Posting too fast?
R AMIRO. And you might blame the women.
J USTA. Women? Why?
R AMIRO. Luring and tormenting till we die!
A DELANTADO. Although I had this matter from the King
I fail to understand. What is its meaning?
D OÑA J UANA. Ah! It is an enigma too to me.
A DELANTADO. I believe he purposes to give your hand
To one of his two brothers.
D OÑA I NÉS. You return
In such a humble mood to greet the King,
Although your deeds have bound him in your debt,
That modesty forbids that you should see
What clearly you must see, and so offends
Your valor both and judgment.
A DELANTADO. What would you have me believe? Never imply
The King would marry.
D OÑA I NÉS. Why should he not
When you possess so rich a jewel?
A DELANTADO. So be it!
Though well he might, should he not seek a wife
In foreign lands, marry in Spain though King,
And in my flesh and blood, I will not believe it;
Because if afterward it should fall out
That it was not to be, chagrin, Ines,
Would far outweigh the pleasure that I had.
What man I am you know; for many years
I have seen service both in peace and war,
And I have held the offices of trust
That were most honorable in all Castile;
But till the doubts which now I hold are fled
I can but wish you both in heart and head
Employment fitting, modest and genteel.
D OÑA J UANA. Better, Ines, my father should not know
The purpose of the King.
D OÑA I NÉS. But for what reason?
D OÑA J UANA. From his long absence on the far frontier
I would not have him draw an inference
Unjust to my clear honor.
D OÑA I NÉS. In your heart
You love Enrique?
D OÑA J UANA. Love, which will not stay,
Cools in desire, not through forgetfulness,
But rather that I shall not see him more
In all my life.
D OÑA I NÉS. It is the fate of woman.
You will do better, learning to forget;
And love will prosper more in opportunity
With one of nobler bearing, worth and judgment.
D OÑA J UANA. I loved Enrique only. Had the King
After our marriage informed him of our troth,
I still had loved Enrique, not the King;
But since the King knows all and exiles him,
What choice is left to me?
D OÑA I NÉS. It is the hand
Of fortune. With Enrique you had been poor
And humble always, as is the law of love.
But with the King, what greater largess ask?
D OÑA J UANA. You move me, cousin. Should I stand firm
And leave Enrique, then I might forget,
Ridding myself of this infatuation.
Desire attends on possibility;
Arriving at impossibility
It passes from the mind. The King is King.
Were he no more than King, what love so strong
But he would undermine? What heart of stone
But he would soften? He is much more than King.
Small wonder then that gallant, brave and learned,
Graceful of carriage both afoot and horse,
When suddenly he burst upon my sight
Upon St. John's eve, straight it seemed to me
Disloyalty not to love him.
D OÑA I NÉS. In every way
He measures better than the Count.
D OÑA J UANA. He does?
D OÑA I NÉS. Why, doesn't he?
D OÑA J UANA. Well, Cousin, from to-day
Long live the King!
D OÑA I NÉS. And live a thousand years
And may they end your mad infatuation,
Persisted in so long. You choose the King,
And since you leave Enrique — now, O cousin,
Oh, hear my prayer, since you will be his wife,
Kept secret long and hidden for your sake
In the presence of your love!
D OÑA J UANA. You love Enrique?
D OÑA I NÉS. The most that's possible in mortal thought.
Juana, I never dared declare myself;
I would not give you pain. A thousand times
My eyes had spoken, but I said: " Look not!
The Count is hers, your cousin's and your lady's!
Respect but do not love him. She loves you. "
Yet they, intractable to all restraint,
GazeDon him tenderly, and boldly flew
Clear signals of their love. You found me sad
And asked the cause; or else you found me weeping;
Or silent else, in equal bitterness of soul;
You saw I lacked the heart to robe myself,
Fearful to face the simplest ceremonies,
AnDonly you, dear cousin, could submit
To bear with me in patience — know the cause:
You flaunted in my face Enrique's love.
Then dead with jealousy, I prayed to heaven
Ever, ever to cut off your loves — an end
Fulfilled at last, swollen to my desire,
And yet no wrong to you! Oh, now, Juana,
Since now you love and truly hold the King,
Beg of him now Enrique's hand for me,
Enrique now is mine!
D OÑA J UANA. Cousin, to fear
The future of my loving with the Count
Is not to say I have forgot him wholly.
Mine was a flame which burned but yesterday
And still some heat is left. Oh, silly fool,
So to declare yourself and not to ask
Whether or not I could give you to Enrique
And feel no pang of jealousy! Oh, blind,
To be so ignorant as not to know
This is the very fuel to kindle jealousy
Into quick love again — for such is woman!
Oh, if I ever should love Enrique
On you the blame be, if indeed be blame!
Had you not wit enough to watch and wait
Upon my humor? Loving but yesterday
How was it possible so soon to change,
Forgetting him to-day? To praise the King
Was the first step of love and not the last.
It is too much to ask that my desire
In one brief hour of absence should forget
Love like Enrique's. My heart goes out to him
Absent as present. Know if it lay in me
Ever to love the King, I lose the power,
Seeing you burn with envy to enjoy
The thing which I have loved. Forego the pains
To love him; I shall surely know the time
When I can tell you Enrique is forgotten.
D OÑA I NÉS. In March the modern tiller of the fields
Sets out the orange in the peaceful day,
Seeing that from the fish the sun makes way
To his high station which the summer yields.
But soon the biting winter comes and wields
Again destruction on the early May,
And all his proud, fantastic, green array
Strips from the boughs, their nakedness that shields.
Oh, too weak hope! Was this to be your case?
For when I set you out (as how not do?)
Full in the sun of change, hot on your face,
Instead of the expected spring, on you
Rushed back the winter harsh and biting too,
And doomed me hopeless, death, to thy embrace!
R AMIRO. Who's here will buy the contents of this box?
May fortune favor my mad bravery,
My show of notable effrontery.
D OÑA I NÉS. What's this? How man? You push into the house?
R AMIRO. I have a thousand things you'll buy of me
From Flanders, France and sunny Italy.
First ...
D OÑA I NÉS. By the Lord!
R AMIRO. What's that? Don't look at me!
D OÑA I NÉS. Ramiro!
R AMIRO. You, Ines? Celestial queen!
Is't safe to begin to talk?
D OÑA I NÉS. No! Not a word!
But how did you get in?
R AMIRO. I bear with me
To beautiful Juana from the Count,
Who is my master ...
D OÑA I NÉS. Quick, man! Talk faster!
R AMIRO. This letter.
D OÑA I NÉS. Give it to me! I'll let her have it.
R AMIRO. Is it impossible to talk with her?
D OÑA I NÉS. With her? You'll not get in a word!
You're dead
If she so much as learns you're in the house.
R AMIRO. How does the King get on?
D OÑA I NÉS. He perseveres
And has great expectations.
R AMIRO. She lets him in?
D OÑA I NÉS. Of course she does.
R AMIRO. Of course?
D OÑA I NÉS. What did you think?
R AMIRO. We only left but yesterday, and now —
In one day can there be such change?
D OÑA I NÉS. Why not?
Oh, let the victor reign!
R AMIRO. Pity all lovers.
Hell fire consume the women!
D OÑA I NÉS. Why stop with women?
R AMIRO. You understand me; that is all I ask.
D OÑA I NÉS. Enrique absent, what was she to do?
R AMIRO. Burn up with love; and she has done it too.
Alas, poor Count! Why every step he took
He'd say to me: " What is she doing now,
Think you, Ramiro, my divine Juana?
Perchance she may be talking with Ines.
Perchance she weeps? " — " Of course she does, " I'd say,
As big a fool as he. I thought so too.
" Ramiro, " next he'd cry out suddenly —
" Who now will drink those drops of liquid pearl
The stars her eyes distil upon her cheeks
To bathe and temper this great fire of love? " —
Oh speedy and oh gracious tempering
By swift surrender to my lord the King!
D O├æA I N├ëS. But listen, fool! Go — and you be silent too.
Have you forgotten in whose house you are?
R AMIRO. Then give me back my letter if I go;
She shall not have it.
D OÑA I NÉS. Go without a word!
Who knows but writing may have some effect
On her distemper? For distant friends, we see,
Converse by it, exchanging their complaints.
R AMIRO. I cannot see her?
D OÑA I NÉS. Not before to-morrow.
She's writing to the King.
R AMIRO. The King? So soon?
D OÑA I NÉS. Such things have happened.
R AMIRO. Now would to God I say
Those ivory fingers — ivory to the Count —
Would turn to solid stone, the ink to blood,
Her pen into a dagger in her hand,
Her paper ...
D OÑA I NÉS. Leave her her paper; you tire yourself.
The King is a right worthy gentleman;
If he were not, enough he is the King.
My cousin tells me he outstrips the Count,
Splendid in figure mounteDon his horse,
And notable in carriage on the ground.
However, as I said, return to-morrow.
R AMIRO. To-morrow? Let me turn, if I return,
Modest with arrogance and vain conceit;
Rich, with the lining of an arrant fool;
A suitor without hope, a champion
Who never met a single enemy,
An elder bent in years with no grey hairs,
A slave to envy and although enslaved
Be envied utterly; a singer be
And have no voice, a dancer without feet;
A gamester unacquainted with good luck,
A married man who is the talk of town,
Or, let me turn — and be this turn my last —
Into a woman (God knows some get them up
To look the part) if I return to-morrow!
D OÑA I NÉS. How well my plans succeed! See fortune pass
And range her on my side. Come, love, take heart!
Open and read the letter. We shall see
What says Enrique to his chosen lady.
M ASTER. Stand unobserved.
K ING. Coming privily.
M ASTER. Here is her cousin, Sire, reading a paper...
K ING. Keep close. May we not share this secret, lady?
D OÑA I NÉS. Your Majesty, you take me off my guard.
You keep a better watch indeed than I
Upon this house.
K ING. But do not hide the letter.
D OÑA I NÉS. I would reveal it to my King and Master,
Who is the glory and the sun of Spain,
If he will give me leave.
K ING. To M ENDO. Away, I say!
Empty the room! — You, Master, wait without.
D OÑA I NÉS. Senor, because your grandeur is supreme,
With which your piety and wit keep pace
In equal company, I humbly crave
My remedy of you for my complaint,
Which in this letter you may better read
And in more vivid words than I can tell.
K ING. You wish me then to read it?
D OÑA I NÉS. Do, Senor.
The story of my heart is there set down,
And it stares ever at my reputation.
K ING. The hand's the Count's.
D OÑA I NÉS. It is, Senor.
K ING. Then listen
D OÑA I NÉS. Love, stay the wheel of fortune!
I stake my soul!
K ING. " To-day I have returned to Seville, for anxiety to see you has brought me from Cordoba. I am hidden until night shall give me opportunity. Wait, lady, by the door at which we are accustomed to meet and speak, for you will either be my wife, or else I shall lose my life. "
Most strange coincidence! Enrique then
Never has loved Juana!
D OÑA I NÉS. He served me when
For the first time he came to Seville, Sire,
Brought from Castile upon your royal desire.
K ING. What's that you say?
D OÑA I NÉS. The truth.
K ING. Now praises be!
For to assure its truth my jealousy
Would up and give the crown I wear to you
And were it true, all high heaven looks down on too.
D OÑA I NÉS. Senor, the Count adores me, as you see
By this his letter.
K ING. Hopes that rise in me,
Make gala day at this new transformation!
Oh idle lover's fears, vain expectation!
Enrique loves you? Why then upon the day
Or night else of St. John, did you not say
It was for you he hid behind those boughs?
D OÑA I NÉS. Because Juana craved him as her spouse,
And set herself to cross me. It was just
I should not offer to betray her trust,
Rather love on in secret, and so meet.
Thus I was silent and the Count discreet,
Desirous of my honor. So to-night,
Whence he is prudently retired from sight
He comes, as this his letter says, to see me.
Oh if, my liege, you would in honor free me
From my despite, approve your judgment just,
Rewarding with the greatest boon your trust.
Marry me to Enrique, Sire, you must!
The Count, though loving me, yet in no wise
Would love me as his wife, and yet he dies
For love. he comes to-night, as here you read.
Marry him, Sire, by force, for you have need,
And be assured beyond betrayal yet.
K ING. I owe the Adelantado now a debt
Beyond all payment, and greater would requite.
Then let Enrique come, and here to-night
I give to him your hand!
D OÑA I NÉS. Heaven hear and see!
K ING. Victory, my love, and good-bye jealousy!
D OÑA J UANA. Your Majesty is welcome many times.
Welcome, my lord and master!
K ING. Such happiness
Might well subdue a stouter heart than mine.
A moment since, I was distrustful of you.
D OÑA J UANA. The Master had apprised me of this honor.
K ING. Already, lady, jealousy puts off
Unreason of suspicion that it had.
This letter in my hand is from my brother.
D OÑA J UANA. My heart will make a holiday to-day
At such glad tidings.
K ING. He writes from Cordoba
D OÑA J UANA. But is he well?
K ING. He is.
D OÑA J UANA. Love bids me dare
But my respect says no.
K ING. I'll play with her.
Lady, be my companion now in joy
Since shadow of suspicion is removed.
The Count here writes forthwith how he repents
The idle aspirations that he had,
Cherished so fondly, whence his long exile.
He asks my pardon and requests beside
That I award his hand by my own choice
And love him henceforth as a loyal brother,
Ruling as King by my authority.
I could not take a wiser step straightway
To heal my jealousy, wherefore I seek
A wife for Don Enrique. All my acts
Henceforth with you are done or else ill done;
So take we counsel who the maid shall be.
We both should do him honor. Lend me aid;
Surely you know by sight or by report
Some woman who deserves him.
D OÑA J UANA. One, my lord,
That were of right not little fortunate.
And since Your Majesty has given me place
In your high councils, whereof that special one
Devoted to our state sums up the flower
Of our nobility, since now you ask
Where find a woman worthy of the Count,
I answer there, there only — it is I.
Sire, give me to your brother; his desire
In ardor equals mine, as you have proved
By this your questioning. Were it not so,
And in his heart were he not true to me,
You never then had spoken as you have,
Nor asked my counsel. Honor the Adelantado;
This is the way, Your Majesty — and grant
With the same hand what I have craved so long.
I come to him unblinded by your love;
No glamor dazzles me. I cannot be —
Pardon, my liege — more happy than with him
Nor else rest satisfied.
K ING. What does this mean?
D OÑA I NÉS. Senor, I know.
K ING. And what I wished to know
Was if she loved Enrique!
D OÑA I NÉS. She doubts your love.
K ING. That cannot be the cause. For were it so
Before this eager choosing of the Count
She had reproached me for my want of faith
And feeble loyalty. Now I say well
Never again come such awakening!
Oh undeception, how should you be kind
In the affairs of love? Each undeception
Breeds a deception greater still. Away
And seek her out! And never let her know
I sensed the words she spake nor heard reply,
For I will later bring to perfect head
The scope and process of my royal disdain.
Tell her I have no mind to comprehend
That she should credit me with such surrender.
Tell her I would not give her to the Count
Because my love could never brook restraint —
My passion flaming, how was she to hate?
Tell her if this be jealousy of me
Then like the blue sky I love her jealously;
If love exists where jealousy must be,
She shall have love for I have jealousy.
Tell her whatever else you think beside
Or conjure up, defensive of my honor.
D OÑA I NÉS. Women cannot dissimulate in love.
I go to tell her she never must believe
That you could give her living to the Count,
Because you love her in your own desire.
And, Sire, to-night remember — grant my hand.
K ING. I pledge my word, or rather let me die
Since I have been so blind.
D OÑA I NÉS. And show this letter to Enrique.
K ING. Perforce
I do what you desire.
D OÑA I NÉS. I have no choice
But alternate in equal hope and fear.
K ING. With what just reason to their expectation
Men give the name of flower, to indicate
Its brief unfolding is the flower's estate,
Within whose leaves lies seed of alteration!
Bright lustrous pearls, Aurora's decoration,
The glistering brow of morn illuminate,
Clear beauties that the night would emulate,
Their burning ardor cooled to moderation!
I sowed broadcast, because the virgin soil
Gave promise of love's harvest in rich store;
Oh mad illusion of my jealous toil!
What use to sow mad passion as before,
When disillusion breaks on the turmoil
Trees, branches, leaves, flowers and fruit to blast and score?
Don E NRIQUE. What news abroad?
R AMIRO. Exactly what you hear.
Don E NRIQUE. God bless us!
R AMIRO. Bless and find a halter.
Don E NRIQUE. So?
Juana loves the King?
R AMIRO. She loves the King
Or to express it in the passive voice,
The King is loved by Dona Juana.
Don E NRIQUE. Enough!
When you set out to do me any service,
In some such way you must endear yourself!
Tell me her answer straight, and cease this torment,
Nor give me lingering death of endless talk
As is your wont, Ramiro.
R AMIRO. Foolish love
Blinds your best judgment. I have not seen Juana,
I only saw Ines; so certify
That it was she who told me the whole story
Out of sheer pity for you.
Don E NRIQUE. Pest on Ines!
R AMIRO. Add three Ineses more. Pest on them all!
Don E NRIQUE. She is deceiving you.
R AMIRO. Deceiving me?
Either, Senor, I do not follow you,
Or else you do not follow me. Take care!
Be prudent, sir. Don't be a fool, beware!
The wise man is afraid.
Don E NRIQUE. Juana, too? —
The King —
R AMIRO. For God's sake, sir! What mean you, man?
I shall go mad ...
Don E NRIQUE. Can women stoop so low?
R AMIRO. They can, Senor, for kings are mighty men.
Don E NRIQUE. I say they are not women.
R AMIRO. Of course they are.
Don E NRIQUE. Treacherously vain!
R AMIRO. To judge by what they show.
Don E NRIQUE. Be silent, fool! You'll be the death of me.
R AMIRO. Am I to blame?
Don E NRIQUE. Droop, hope, and change your hue!
Enamel all your green and budding leaves
With the pale naked blue of jealousy,
Or the black mourning of my early death!
R AMIRO. None of this naked blue, for heaven's sake!
Keep on your leaves; don't poetize like this,
Let's find some better way.
Don E NRIQUE. Do you know any?
R AMIRO. Two, three, twenty.
Don E NRIQUE. One only and be quick!
R AMIRO. A quick one?
Don E NRIQUE. Yes, Ramiro, yes.
R AMIRO. Take horse
And ride away!
Don E NRIQUE. You are a beast that says so.
This is the beast's and not the better way.
R AMIRO. No man will ever owe his father more
Than he does a good well-saddled horse. Post-haste
It gets him out of a thousand fearful perils;
Though I myself had rather owe them nothing,
Because, by way of a back compliment,
They've made me many times a hardened man.
Don E NRIQUE. O Juana! Is it possible you too
With such hard treatment cruelly can repay
My tender love? Ah me! Had I not fled ...
Oh God! ...
R AMIRO. The devil you say? San Blas!
Don E NRIQUE. I die! I die!
R AMIRO. Of what?
Don E NRIQUE. Of love.
R AMIRO. And I don't wonder either,
Because, to tell the truth, the other day,
Handing a little something to a maid
In a dark corner of the dressing room,
As say some pins, I saw her opposite ...
But shall I tell you how?
Don E NRIQUE. Friend, do; do, brother!
Pitying turn and heal my malady.
R AMIRO. Ah, who can heal the mind? Alas, Senor!
But there that lady stood, Aurora like,
Dawning and shedding light upon the sun,
Although she had the rays she had from him.
Her hair was curled, and curled quite naturally;
The heavenly sky, her goldsmith, had done well
In selling her such tresses; and her eyes —
Give me no stars — the term is vulgar now;
So many starry eyes offend the taste —
But rather say they rightly seemed to be
Two little paradises, two heavens of love,
In which the soul might suffer as in glory.
Don E NRIQUE. What do you say? Might suffer as in glory?
R AMIRO. Why not? For contradictions such as these
Are what endear the fitful course of love.
But let me next proceed to paint her brows,
Teeming with a population of short hairs
Like divine canopies to both her eyes.
I'll not compare them to the rainbows though,
Appearing in the sky; because rainbows
Do not have hair, nor do they ever arch
The eyes that men would love; though it may be
The sun and moon are eyes, yet if they are
They are so different in shape and size
The heavens would look twisted if they showed
Both at one time upon their smiling face.
Say would you have me paint her mouth?
Don E NRIQUE. But can you?
R AMIRO. Apelles never dreamed nor nature knew
How to perfect a full-blown rose in snow.
In awful wonder at her pearly teeth
Heaven has draped them with a canopy
Of red carnation flowers.
Don E NRIQUE. This is too much.
No more! I die!
R AMIRO. The Portuguese did well.
To call the thing a mouthful. On my soul,
It would convert desire into a jelly!
Don E NRIQUE. I take it that you would divert my mind
So that I may forget my sad misfortunes.
R AMIRO. I would. My rustic genius would do this.
Know, Count, I am in love —
Don E NRIQUE. You too? With what?
Harness our horses on the very spot!
When I return from grovelling at your feet,
O angel of perdition, offering up
A thousand pledged favors to your love,
To your inconstancy, your fickleness,
Your lasting pleasure and my sudden death,
Post-haste I hie me to Castile!
R AMIRO. Senor, forego this visit if you may.
There is great risk you both may be exposed,
Or else you meet contemptuous response
To your desires, whereby your jealousy
Will be augmented, and you reply in sort
To add to our misfortune.
Don E NRIQUE. No, Ramiro,
I cannot forego to look upon Juana.
Give me my shield; and bring a coat of mail.
R AMIRO. O thou brave lover!
Don E NRIQUE. She deserves it all,
For if in truth she leaves me for the King,
She hits a better mark and has aimed well.
My brother is more excellent than I.
Then die Enrique and let the victor reign!
K ING. I tell you he returns in deep regret
At giving me such pain, although to keep
Her secret for Ines.
M ASTER. Case stranger yet!
You say he loves Ines?
K ING. And so to reap
Her favor haunts her street, while she is set
To achieve their marriage, at which chance I leap
God knows, assuring mine; the match is wise
And I have learned where his election lies.
Go, Mendo, seek her; tell her as from me
That she stand ready waiting at the door.
M ENDO. I say that you are here?
K ING. Do, secretly.
M ASTER. Enrique, Sire, was Ines' servitor?
K ING. I do assure you, Master, it was he;
AnDon the issue stake my life.
M ASTER. Adore
Juana, Sire; her beauty fills your mind.
K ING. And she shall be the crown of womankind.
O love, what would you? See her? Then away
And see her. Enrique stays, there's naught to fear.
What will they think to greet me? Why delay,
Desire, when the expected goal is near?
Possession falls to us in this affray
Nor uses of extremities appear.
Master, stand close; and should the Count presume,
Detain him till I come to seal his doom.
M ASTER. Seeing me first, he will not stay.
K ING. Call out.
My love constrains me, I die in my desire.
R AMIRO. Was ever lover loved like such a lout?
Don E NRIQUE. That let my danger witness, charactered in fire.
R AMIRO. I tread this street with dread lest the stones shout.
Don E NRIQUE. Juana, what? Am I forgot? Faint heart, expire!
Oh witchery of love! I cannot believe
My happiness is lost beyond reprieve.
M ASTER. It is Enrique and his servant too.
Best call the King; prudence will not permit
Disclosure to provoke his flight.
Don E NRIQUE. 'Tis true
I have advantaged little by my wit.
You grated window bars, not even you
Could hold my love secure! I am sore hit.
Have pity on me, for when hearts are stone
The forged iron for shame has tender grown.
R AMIRO. You grated window bars, now how the devil
Can you make trouble always like the poor?
You get me in, where to get out on the level,
I'd best run home to mother and stay sure!
These are no chicken fears in which I revel
For I have been a captain, killed a Moor;
But match me with a King in amorous battle,
'Twould send Achilles skulking to his rattle!
Don E NRIQUE. Divine Juana, beloved of my eyes!
Why have you cut my life in its first flower?
R AMIRO. Great God! What rascal in this dwelling lies?
And what the devil does he at this hour?
Am I to measure the overwhelming size
Of the King's sword, which, when he exerts his power,
Extends beyond the kingdom and fights God?
K ING. No force can move her and no threat can prod.
Don E NRIQUE. Someone comes. Best muffle up. Stand by and wait —
If it should be the King!
R AMIRO. They're coming out.
But oh the fool, I say, who'd rashly buy
An annuity dependent on my life!
K ING. It is the Master.
Master, has Enrique come?
Ines stands ready warned. God helping us
We marry him to-day, be it by force.
And I have seen the beautiful Juana
Who thereat took offense right foolishly
Because I came to greet her. Now I know
She loves the Count, and mourns both night and day,
Weeping his absence and his banishment.
But how, man? Speak! Why do you not reply,
Don Tello, Master, brother?
R AMIRO. He's warmer now,
Next time he'll hit him.
K ING. Who are you? Speak! Reply!
Don E NRIQUE. Your Majesty need marvel not, nor fear
That I do not reply.
K ING. It is Enrique?
Don E NRIQUE. I hardly know if I would own that name
Because it gives you so much pain. By force
You wish to marry me upon the spot.
K ING. Only to satisfy your own desire
Which you have written plainly to Ines.
I know this hand.
Don E NRIQUE. I only wrote Juana.
Dona Ines, if she contrives such tricks
Against your favor, be she who she may,
But ill fulfils the noble obligation
Inherent in her birth.
K ING. How can you then
Break banishment since you have pledged your word?
Don E NRIQUE. I never promised that I would not love her;
And know it is conformable to love
The banished should return and secretly
Perform accustomed services by night
Of fealty to their ladies. If by day
I had returned, full in the gaze of Seville,
I grant you I had blundered and done wrong
And acted shamefully. But when by night
The banished man returns for his own ends
He does not break a proper banishment
Unless the deed he does itself be ill.
He still respects the lord who banished him,
For night is a strange mixture at the best,
A medley both of good and evil things.
K ING. Shall Justice meet such scant respect as this?
What then the King?
Don E NRIQUE. The King is Justice, Sire.
K ING. How dare you cross and fall upon me here?
Don E NRIQUE. Senor, to fall upon a King by night
And cross, is such an unaccustomed thing
I cannot once recall in all my life
To have met with an example.
K ING. Am I the King?
Don E NRIQUE. Your Majesty, you are my lord and master.
K ING. Yield yourself prisoner.
Don E NRIQUE. In gratitude
You have confined me in a thousand chains;
And yet it is not meet by your own hand
In proper person you should stoop to take me.
For kings — much more where the offense is small —
Never take prisoners personally.
And pardon, Sire — I see that you draw near
And make to grasp your sword.
K ING. Give me your sword.
Don E NRIQUE. Then have it sheathed, never in other way.
K ING. You are a traitor.
Don E NRIQUE. And I am your brother;
Although my mother never was a queen,
My father was your father.
K ING. Enrique, hold!
Do not attempt to play upon my heart.
Turn back and face me.
Don E NRIQUE. I cannot, O Senor!
I would not have you grimly looking down
And find no sword within these willing hands
And weakness in my eye.
K ING. Can such things be?
M ASTER. But what is done? How now?
M ENDO. What's wrong, Senor?
K ING. Mendo, bear off this sword.
M ENDO. A combat, Sire?
K ING. Go on before and learn in proper season.
Heaven, send malediction on these doors,
Or malediction on my dire misfortune!
For well I know the fault is not in them.
A DELANTADO. The dearest thing in this our martial life
That thirst for glory grants to mortal man
Is love of country, set above the strife
By happy victory in fortune's span.
To issue from the sea, misfortune rife,
Or to one's friends recount the scope and plan
Of bondage, these things can never be the same
As hanging banners in the halls of fame.
We have outworn a barren, luckless age
Thanks to the fair La Cava, since the time
Of Roderick, and enemies engage
In our own house, the mistress slave and mime.
Today Granada flaunts that heritage,
Stubborn and firm, although the pride sublime
Of the base African sinks to the plain.
A S OLDIER. Meeting in your Christian valor check and rein.
K ING. Now at your trumpet's sounding I have come,
Leader and Adelantado, as one led,
To take the lead with you.
A DELANTADO. Sire, well come!
You light my arms like morning.
K ING. You instead
Merit my arms.
A DELANTADO. By my love favored some,
You favor mine and take the lead and head.
For humblest services of mean estate
By great love of the master are made great.
Proud thought Aliatar, proud thought the Moor,
O generous Prince, he boldly should return
Laden with tribute to Granada's door,
As was his wont to please a monarch stern;
Beyond the loss of all his treasure's store
He lost a thousand men, and his heart-burn
Was no whit less for that than for his gold,
Reft from Spain with rapine manifold.
For since the day of that great victory
In which upon his horse, with scarlet sword,
The patron of all Spain was seen, and she
Was bound to keep eternal watch and ward,
No greater glory shines in memory
Than when at Dinadamar, following hard
Into Granada on the African,
Rode in triumphant the Castilian van.
K ING. Adelantado, what in rank or praise
Such deeds deserve, it beggars me to say;
Deign to accept in place of other bays
The reward I offer, so my debt I pay.
You have an heir and daughter. Your last days
I will exalt through her, give me my way,
Before I ride out through wide Seville's gate,
And join your line with mine in Castile state.
Yet of my largess I reserve a part
To bestow favor on your gentle niece,
Well-born and beautiful and pure of heart;
So now, thou Christian Mars, to rest and peace.
A DELANTADO. Mighty in battle and the conflict's smart
So high Heaven lifts your standards when they cease
It scarce contains for all its starry scroll,
Your solitary name from pole to pole.
K ING. Master, these victories add zest and savor
To the pursuit of love.
M ASTER. Merit indeed
You would impute to them as more excuse
For your caprice.
K ING. I cannot blame my sight
For playing false, should she become my wife.
M ASTER. You have not erred so you would wed in Spain.
K ING. Master, what house can boast more dignity
Or blazon nobler arms? My ancestors,
And those who ruled before, married in Spain,
And found here lineage of equal worth,
Mating the valor of their ancient lines.
Then what have I to fear? Or who shall blame me?
Where else turn for a model?
M ASTER. You'll marry then
K ING. To-day I seek her out.
M ASTER. Why not, in fine,
Upon excuse of visiting her father?
K ING. Master, what shall I do? I can hold back
And bear no more. More than this present honor
The Adelantado has deserved of me,
And she deserves it too.
M ASTER. Am I obliged
To love the cousin?
K ING. If you are a man
Of flesh and blood — as so they say — you will;
If none, no.
M ASTER. I do not think 'twill kill me.
K ING. But do not love her upon my account;
No love is love that does not plume itself
And swell and burn like this great love of mine.
I humbly beg and tremble, suffer, die,
Yet persevere, and glory though she slay me!
Don E NRIQUE. What? Are you weary of rebuking me?
R AMIRO. You resign yourself to evil.
Don E NRIQUE. How evil?
R AMIRO. You return to Seville.
Don E NRIQUE. Well, what could I do?
Die then?
R AMIRO. Had we not better push along
And prosecute our journey?
Don E NRIQUE. Journey, yes,
Or wandering madness, as should love leap out
Like the bold highwayman upon my back,
The traveller?
R AMIRO. A gentleman recede
From what he once has promised? Never!
Don E NRIQUE. Ramiro,
I pall in resolution; I can no more.
R AMIRO. What will you do now you are back in Seville?
Don E NRIQUE. I see no man my love can trust; all, all
Betray me.
R AMIRO. Teodora. . . . No! ... She's a woman!
I have no faith, though, in her privacy.
Don E NRIQUE. You're wrong. Women can keep a secret close
Better than men.
R AMIRO. A name they have not won
Upon the field of honor.
Don E NRIQUE. I pledged the King
To go forth banished — he is my liege and lord;
I never told him that I would not love.
I break my banishment. What have I done?
I but incur the self-same penalty
A second time to-day. This was my pledge:
Never never not to love Juana.
R AMIRO. Senor, the window of your Teodora.
Soft! Shall I call?
Don E NRIQUE. Pray do.
J USTA. Who knocks? Who's there?
R AMIRO. My queen, two friends forgotten.
J USTA. Two who?
R AMIRO. Two unworthy travellers from far Castile,
Returning home post-haste to Seville, banished.
J USTA. So help me God, Ramiro!
R AMIRO. Marvellous penetration!
T EODORA. Who's there?
J USTA. Two men. I marvel more the more I see them.
T EODORA. At the window.
Great heavens! It is the Count?
Don E NRIQUE. Peace, Teodora;
You know my fortune's ebb?
T EODORA. I know you love
The self-same woman that the King seeks out;
I know your life ...
Don E NRIQUE. Too late to mourn my life!
What news in the city since my banishment?
T EODORA. You are forgotten.
R AMIRO. No news that from a woman.
T EODORA. Who would not change a dukedom for a crown?
Don E NRIQUE. Ah, Teodora! Let jealousy not speak
Although you harbor it.
T EODORA. So sprightly, Count,
After your absence?
Don E NRIQUE. But can absence be
AnDonly last one day?
R AMIRO. She ought to know;
If she says so it can. She understands.
T EODORA. First hear the truth; — the passion of the King
Is bruited through the city. This I know —
Juana's hand is the object of his suit;
And by report he wishes her for wife.
I cannot tell whether or not she loves him;
Passion like his might kindle hearts of ice.
If you have any cognizance of love
A king of such great worth, so hot in suit,
So brave, so gallant and so bold to boot,
In presence were a strong competitor,
But how much more in absence?
Don E NRIQUE. And therefore
You tell me that she loves him?
T EODORA. Reason says so,
And knowledge of the subject.
Don E NRIQUE. Oh fickle woman,
How changeable art thou!
T EODORA. In this, alas,
I do not know that there is any change!
R AMIRO. And why not rather call it enterprise,
As seen by this example?
T EODORA. What woman ever could be so remiss
As not to choose the best?
Don E NRIQUE. A woman who could love!
T EODORA. Alas, Enrique! The whole world is built
And governeDon this plan.
Don E NRIQUE. Not where virtue reigns!
T EODORA. Search through the world and go where'er you will
From topmost height down to the lowest, still
You'll have your virtue for your pains.
R AMIRO. You will;
Unless the rule one sole exception gains
In woman.
Don E NRIQUE. Though you be one, I'll trust you yet;
And here remain your guest.
T EODORA. So great a lord
Will find our poor accommodations small.
Don E NRIQUE. They are the best I have.
T EODORA. Enter and honor
My humble house.
Don E NRIQUE. Never have cause to say
I am ungrateful.
J USTA. At the window. What? Are you not coming?
R AMIRO. Yes, tenderly.
J USTA. Why, what's the matter, man?
R AMIRO. Certain debility ...
J USTA. Is't possible?
R AMIRO. My wandering's to blame.
J USTA. Posting too fast?
R AMIRO. And you might blame the women.
J USTA. Women? Why?
R AMIRO. Luring and tormenting till we die!
A DELANTADO. Although I had this matter from the King
I fail to understand. What is its meaning?
D OÑA J UANA. Ah! It is an enigma too to me.
A DELANTADO. I believe he purposes to give your hand
To one of his two brothers.
D OÑA I NÉS. You return
In such a humble mood to greet the King,
Although your deeds have bound him in your debt,
That modesty forbids that you should see
What clearly you must see, and so offends
Your valor both and judgment.
A DELANTADO. What would you have me believe? Never imply
The King would marry.
D OÑA I NÉS. Why should he not
When you possess so rich a jewel?
A DELANTADO. So be it!
Though well he might, should he not seek a wife
In foreign lands, marry in Spain though King,
And in my flesh and blood, I will not believe it;
Because if afterward it should fall out
That it was not to be, chagrin, Ines,
Would far outweigh the pleasure that I had.
What man I am you know; for many years
I have seen service both in peace and war,
And I have held the offices of trust
That were most honorable in all Castile;
But till the doubts which now I hold are fled
I can but wish you both in heart and head
Employment fitting, modest and genteel.
D OÑA J UANA. Better, Ines, my father should not know
The purpose of the King.
D OÑA I NÉS. But for what reason?
D OÑA J UANA. From his long absence on the far frontier
I would not have him draw an inference
Unjust to my clear honor.
D OÑA I NÉS. In your heart
You love Enrique?
D OÑA J UANA. Love, which will not stay,
Cools in desire, not through forgetfulness,
But rather that I shall not see him more
In all my life.
D OÑA I NÉS. It is the fate of woman.
You will do better, learning to forget;
And love will prosper more in opportunity
With one of nobler bearing, worth and judgment.
D OÑA J UANA. I loved Enrique only. Had the King
After our marriage informed him of our troth,
I still had loved Enrique, not the King;
But since the King knows all and exiles him,
What choice is left to me?
D OÑA I NÉS. It is the hand
Of fortune. With Enrique you had been poor
And humble always, as is the law of love.
But with the King, what greater largess ask?
D OÑA J UANA. You move me, cousin. Should I stand firm
And leave Enrique, then I might forget,
Ridding myself of this infatuation.
Desire attends on possibility;
Arriving at impossibility
It passes from the mind. The King is King.
Were he no more than King, what love so strong
But he would undermine? What heart of stone
But he would soften? He is much more than King.
Small wonder then that gallant, brave and learned,
Graceful of carriage both afoot and horse,
When suddenly he burst upon my sight
Upon St. John's eve, straight it seemed to me
Disloyalty not to love him.
D OÑA I NÉS. In every way
He measures better than the Count.
D OÑA J UANA. He does?
D OÑA I NÉS. Why, doesn't he?
D OÑA J UANA. Well, Cousin, from to-day
Long live the King!
D OÑA I NÉS. And live a thousand years
And may they end your mad infatuation,
Persisted in so long. You choose the King,
And since you leave Enrique — now, O cousin,
Oh, hear my prayer, since you will be his wife,
Kept secret long and hidden for your sake
In the presence of your love!
D OÑA J UANA. You love Enrique?
D OÑA I NÉS. The most that's possible in mortal thought.
Juana, I never dared declare myself;
I would not give you pain. A thousand times
My eyes had spoken, but I said: " Look not!
The Count is hers, your cousin's and your lady's!
Respect but do not love him. She loves you. "
Yet they, intractable to all restraint,
GazeDon him tenderly, and boldly flew
Clear signals of their love. You found me sad
And asked the cause; or else you found me weeping;
Or silent else, in equal bitterness of soul;
You saw I lacked the heart to robe myself,
Fearful to face the simplest ceremonies,
AnDonly you, dear cousin, could submit
To bear with me in patience — know the cause:
You flaunted in my face Enrique's love.
Then dead with jealousy, I prayed to heaven
Ever, ever to cut off your loves — an end
Fulfilled at last, swollen to my desire,
And yet no wrong to you! Oh, now, Juana,
Since now you love and truly hold the King,
Beg of him now Enrique's hand for me,
Enrique now is mine!
D OÑA J UANA. Cousin, to fear
The future of my loving with the Count
Is not to say I have forgot him wholly.
Mine was a flame which burned but yesterday
And still some heat is left. Oh, silly fool,
So to declare yourself and not to ask
Whether or not I could give you to Enrique
And feel no pang of jealousy! Oh, blind,
To be so ignorant as not to know
This is the very fuel to kindle jealousy
Into quick love again — for such is woman!
Oh, if I ever should love Enrique
On you the blame be, if indeed be blame!
Had you not wit enough to watch and wait
Upon my humor? Loving but yesterday
How was it possible so soon to change,
Forgetting him to-day? To praise the King
Was the first step of love and not the last.
It is too much to ask that my desire
In one brief hour of absence should forget
Love like Enrique's. My heart goes out to him
Absent as present. Know if it lay in me
Ever to love the King, I lose the power,
Seeing you burn with envy to enjoy
The thing which I have loved. Forego the pains
To love him; I shall surely know the time
When I can tell you Enrique is forgotten.
D OÑA I NÉS. In March the modern tiller of the fields
Sets out the orange in the peaceful day,
Seeing that from the fish the sun makes way
To his high station which the summer yields.
But soon the biting winter comes and wields
Again destruction on the early May,
And all his proud, fantastic, green array
Strips from the boughs, their nakedness that shields.
Oh, too weak hope! Was this to be your case?
For when I set you out (as how not do?)
Full in the sun of change, hot on your face,
Instead of the expected spring, on you
Rushed back the winter harsh and biting too,
And doomed me hopeless, death, to thy embrace!
R AMIRO. Who's here will buy the contents of this box?
May fortune favor my mad bravery,
My show of notable effrontery.
D OÑA I NÉS. What's this? How man? You push into the house?
R AMIRO. I have a thousand things you'll buy of me
From Flanders, France and sunny Italy.
First ...
D OÑA I NÉS. By the Lord!
R AMIRO. What's that? Don't look at me!
D OÑA I NÉS. Ramiro!
R AMIRO. You, Ines? Celestial queen!
Is't safe to begin to talk?
D OÑA I NÉS. No! Not a word!
But how did you get in?
R AMIRO. I bear with me
To beautiful Juana from the Count,
Who is my master ...
D OÑA I NÉS. Quick, man! Talk faster!
R AMIRO. This letter.
D OÑA I NÉS. Give it to me! I'll let her have it.
R AMIRO. Is it impossible to talk with her?
D OÑA I NÉS. With her? You'll not get in a word!
You're dead
If she so much as learns you're in the house.
R AMIRO. How does the King get on?
D OÑA I NÉS. He perseveres
And has great expectations.
R AMIRO. She lets him in?
D OÑA I NÉS. Of course she does.
R AMIRO. Of course?
D OÑA I NÉS. What did you think?
R AMIRO. We only left but yesterday, and now —
In one day can there be such change?
D OÑA I NÉS. Why not?
Oh, let the victor reign!
R AMIRO. Pity all lovers.
Hell fire consume the women!
D OÑA I NÉS. Why stop with women?
R AMIRO. You understand me; that is all I ask.
D OÑA I NÉS. Enrique absent, what was she to do?
R AMIRO. Burn up with love; and she has done it too.
Alas, poor Count! Why every step he took
He'd say to me: " What is she doing now,
Think you, Ramiro, my divine Juana?
Perchance she may be talking with Ines.
Perchance she weeps? " — " Of course she does, " I'd say,
As big a fool as he. I thought so too.
" Ramiro, " next he'd cry out suddenly —
" Who now will drink those drops of liquid pearl
The stars her eyes distil upon her cheeks
To bathe and temper this great fire of love? " —
Oh speedy and oh gracious tempering
By swift surrender to my lord the King!
D O├æA I N├ëS. But listen, fool! Go — and you be silent too.
Have you forgotten in whose house you are?
R AMIRO. Then give me back my letter if I go;
She shall not have it.
D OÑA I NÉS. Go without a word!
Who knows but writing may have some effect
On her distemper? For distant friends, we see,
Converse by it, exchanging their complaints.
R AMIRO. I cannot see her?
D OÑA I NÉS. Not before to-morrow.
She's writing to the King.
R AMIRO. The King? So soon?
D OÑA I NÉS. Such things have happened.
R AMIRO. Now would to God I say
Those ivory fingers — ivory to the Count —
Would turn to solid stone, the ink to blood,
Her pen into a dagger in her hand,
Her paper ...
D OÑA I NÉS. Leave her her paper; you tire yourself.
The King is a right worthy gentleman;
If he were not, enough he is the King.
My cousin tells me he outstrips the Count,
Splendid in figure mounteDon his horse,
And notable in carriage on the ground.
However, as I said, return to-morrow.
R AMIRO. To-morrow? Let me turn, if I return,
Modest with arrogance and vain conceit;
Rich, with the lining of an arrant fool;
A suitor without hope, a champion
Who never met a single enemy,
An elder bent in years with no grey hairs,
A slave to envy and although enslaved
Be envied utterly; a singer be
And have no voice, a dancer without feet;
A gamester unacquainted with good luck,
A married man who is the talk of town,
Or, let me turn — and be this turn my last —
Into a woman (God knows some get them up
To look the part) if I return to-morrow!
D OÑA I NÉS. How well my plans succeed! See fortune pass
And range her on my side. Come, love, take heart!
Open and read the letter. We shall see
What says Enrique to his chosen lady.
M ASTER. Stand unobserved.
K ING. Coming privily.
M ASTER. Here is her cousin, Sire, reading a paper...
K ING. Keep close. May we not share this secret, lady?
D OÑA I NÉS. Your Majesty, you take me off my guard.
You keep a better watch indeed than I
Upon this house.
K ING. But do not hide the letter.
D OÑA I NÉS. I would reveal it to my King and Master,
Who is the glory and the sun of Spain,
If he will give me leave.
K ING. To M ENDO. Away, I say!
Empty the room! — You, Master, wait without.
D OÑA I NÉS. Senor, because your grandeur is supreme,
With which your piety and wit keep pace
In equal company, I humbly crave
My remedy of you for my complaint,
Which in this letter you may better read
And in more vivid words than I can tell.
K ING. You wish me then to read it?
D OÑA I NÉS. Do, Senor.
The story of my heart is there set down,
And it stares ever at my reputation.
K ING. The hand's the Count's.
D OÑA I NÉS. It is, Senor.
K ING. Then listen
D OÑA I NÉS. Love, stay the wheel of fortune!
I stake my soul!
K ING. " To-day I have returned to Seville, for anxiety to see you has brought me from Cordoba. I am hidden until night shall give me opportunity. Wait, lady, by the door at which we are accustomed to meet and speak, for you will either be my wife, or else I shall lose my life. "
Most strange coincidence! Enrique then
Never has loved Juana!
D OÑA I NÉS. He served me when
For the first time he came to Seville, Sire,
Brought from Castile upon your royal desire.
K ING. What's that you say?
D OÑA I NÉS. The truth.
K ING. Now praises be!
For to assure its truth my jealousy
Would up and give the crown I wear to you
And were it true, all high heaven looks down on too.
D OÑA I NÉS. Senor, the Count adores me, as you see
By this his letter.
K ING. Hopes that rise in me,
Make gala day at this new transformation!
Oh idle lover's fears, vain expectation!
Enrique loves you? Why then upon the day
Or night else of St. John, did you not say
It was for you he hid behind those boughs?
D OÑA I NÉS. Because Juana craved him as her spouse,
And set herself to cross me. It was just
I should not offer to betray her trust,
Rather love on in secret, and so meet.
Thus I was silent and the Count discreet,
Desirous of my honor. So to-night,
Whence he is prudently retired from sight
He comes, as this his letter says, to see me.
Oh if, my liege, you would in honor free me
From my despite, approve your judgment just,
Rewarding with the greatest boon your trust.
Marry me to Enrique, Sire, you must!
The Count, though loving me, yet in no wise
Would love me as his wife, and yet he dies
For love. he comes to-night, as here you read.
Marry him, Sire, by force, for you have need,
And be assured beyond betrayal yet.
K ING. I owe the Adelantado now a debt
Beyond all payment, and greater would requite.
Then let Enrique come, and here to-night
I give to him your hand!
D OÑA I NÉS. Heaven hear and see!
K ING. Victory, my love, and good-bye jealousy!
D OÑA J UANA. Your Majesty is welcome many times.
Welcome, my lord and master!
K ING. Such happiness
Might well subdue a stouter heart than mine.
A moment since, I was distrustful of you.
D OÑA J UANA. The Master had apprised me of this honor.
K ING. Already, lady, jealousy puts off
Unreason of suspicion that it had.
This letter in my hand is from my brother.
D OÑA J UANA. My heart will make a holiday to-day
At such glad tidings.
K ING. He writes from Cordoba
D OÑA J UANA. But is he well?
K ING. He is.
D OÑA J UANA. Love bids me dare
But my respect says no.
K ING. I'll play with her.
Lady, be my companion now in joy
Since shadow of suspicion is removed.
The Count here writes forthwith how he repents
The idle aspirations that he had,
Cherished so fondly, whence his long exile.
He asks my pardon and requests beside
That I award his hand by my own choice
And love him henceforth as a loyal brother,
Ruling as King by my authority.
I could not take a wiser step straightway
To heal my jealousy, wherefore I seek
A wife for Don Enrique. All my acts
Henceforth with you are done or else ill done;
So take we counsel who the maid shall be.
We both should do him honor. Lend me aid;
Surely you know by sight or by report
Some woman who deserves him.
D OÑA J UANA. One, my lord,
That were of right not little fortunate.
And since Your Majesty has given me place
In your high councils, whereof that special one
Devoted to our state sums up the flower
Of our nobility, since now you ask
Where find a woman worthy of the Count,
I answer there, there only — it is I.
Sire, give me to your brother; his desire
In ardor equals mine, as you have proved
By this your questioning. Were it not so,
And in his heart were he not true to me,
You never then had spoken as you have,
Nor asked my counsel. Honor the Adelantado;
This is the way, Your Majesty — and grant
With the same hand what I have craved so long.
I come to him unblinded by your love;
No glamor dazzles me. I cannot be —
Pardon, my liege — more happy than with him
Nor else rest satisfied.
K ING. What does this mean?
D OÑA I NÉS. Senor, I know.
K ING. And what I wished to know
Was if she loved Enrique!
D OÑA I NÉS. She doubts your love.
K ING. That cannot be the cause. For were it so
Before this eager choosing of the Count
She had reproached me for my want of faith
And feeble loyalty. Now I say well
Never again come such awakening!
Oh undeception, how should you be kind
In the affairs of love? Each undeception
Breeds a deception greater still. Away
And seek her out! And never let her know
I sensed the words she spake nor heard reply,
For I will later bring to perfect head
The scope and process of my royal disdain.
Tell her I have no mind to comprehend
That she should credit me with such surrender.
Tell her I would not give her to the Count
Because my love could never brook restraint —
My passion flaming, how was she to hate?
Tell her if this be jealousy of me
Then like the blue sky I love her jealously;
If love exists where jealousy must be,
She shall have love for I have jealousy.
Tell her whatever else you think beside
Or conjure up, defensive of my honor.
D OÑA I NÉS. Women cannot dissimulate in love.
I go to tell her she never must believe
That you could give her living to the Count,
Because you love her in your own desire.
And, Sire, to-night remember — grant my hand.
K ING. I pledge my word, or rather let me die
Since I have been so blind.
D OÑA I NÉS. And show this letter to Enrique.
K ING. Perforce
I do what you desire.
D OÑA I NÉS. I have no choice
But alternate in equal hope and fear.
K ING. With what just reason to their expectation
Men give the name of flower, to indicate
Its brief unfolding is the flower's estate,
Within whose leaves lies seed of alteration!
Bright lustrous pearls, Aurora's decoration,
The glistering brow of morn illuminate,
Clear beauties that the night would emulate,
Their burning ardor cooled to moderation!
I sowed broadcast, because the virgin soil
Gave promise of love's harvest in rich store;
Oh mad illusion of my jealous toil!
What use to sow mad passion as before,
When disillusion breaks on the turmoil
Trees, branches, leaves, flowers and fruit to blast and score?
Don E NRIQUE. What news abroad?
R AMIRO. Exactly what you hear.
Don E NRIQUE. God bless us!
R AMIRO. Bless and find a halter.
Don E NRIQUE. So?
Juana loves the King?
R AMIRO. She loves the King
Or to express it in the passive voice,
The King is loved by Dona Juana.
Don E NRIQUE. Enough!
When you set out to do me any service,
In some such way you must endear yourself!
Tell me her answer straight, and cease this torment,
Nor give me lingering death of endless talk
As is your wont, Ramiro.
R AMIRO. Foolish love
Blinds your best judgment. I have not seen Juana,
I only saw Ines; so certify
That it was she who told me the whole story
Out of sheer pity for you.
Don E NRIQUE. Pest on Ines!
R AMIRO. Add three Ineses more. Pest on them all!
Don E NRIQUE. She is deceiving you.
R AMIRO. Deceiving me?
Either, Senor, I do not follow you,
Or else you do not follow me. Take care!
Be prudent, sir. Don't be a fool, beware!
The wise man is afraid.
Don E NRIQUE. Juana, too? —
The King —
R AMIRO. For God's sake, sir! What mean you, man?
I shall go mad ...
Don E NRIQUE. Can women stoop so low?
R AMIRO. They can, Senor, for kings are mighty men.
Don E NRIQUE. I say they are not women.
R AMIRO. Of course they are.
Don E NRIQUE. Treacherously vain!
R AMIRO. To judge by what they show.
Don E NRIQUE. Be silent, fool! You'll be the death of me.
R AMIRO. Am I to blame?
Don E NRIQUE. Droop, hope, and change your hue!
Enamel all your green and budding leaves
With the pale naked blue of jealousy,
Or the black mourning of my early death!
R AMIRO. None of this naked blue, for heaven's sake!
Keep on your leaves; don't poetize like this,
Let's find some better way.
Don E NRIQUE. Do you know any?
R AMIRO. Two, three, twenty.
Don E NRIQUE. One only and be quick!
R AMIRO. A quick one?
Don E NRIQUE. Yes, Ramiro, yes.
R AMIRO. Take horse
And ride away!
Don E NRIQUE. You are a beast that says so.
This is the beast's and not the better way.
R AMIRO. No man will ever owe his father more
Than he does a good well-saddled horse. Post-haste
It gets him out of a thousand fearful perils;
Though I myself had rather owe them nothing,
Because, by way of a back compliment,
They've made me many times a hardened man.
Don E NRIQUE. O Juana! Is it possible you too
With such hard treatment cruelly can repay
My tender love? Ah me! Had I not fled ...
Oh God! ...
R AMIRO. The devil you say? San Blas!
Don E NRIQUE. I die! I die!
R AMIRO. Of what?
Don E NRIQUE. Of love.
R AMIRO. And I don't wonder either,
Because, to tell the truth, the other day,
Handing a little something to a maid
In a dark corner of the dressing room,
As say some pins, I saw her opposite ...
But shall I tell you how?
Don E NRIQUE. Friend, do; do, brother!
Pitying turn and heal my malady.
R AMIRO. Ah, who can heal the mind? Alas, Senor!
But there that lady stood, Aurora like,
Dawning and shedding light upon the sun,
Although she had the rays she had from him.
Her hair was curled, and curled quite naturally;
The heavenly sky, her goldsmith, had done well
In selling her such tresses; and her eyes —
Give me no stars — the term is vulgar now;
So many starry eyes offend the taste —
But rather say they rightly seemed to be
Two little paradises, two heavens of love,
In which the soul might suffer as in glory.
Don E NRIQUE. What do you say? Might suffer as in glory?
R AMIRO. Why not? For contradictions such as these
Are what endear the fitful course of love.
But let me next proceed to paint her brows,
Teeming with a population of short hairs
Like divine canopies to both her eyes.
I'll not compare them to the rainbows though,
Appearing in the sky; because rainbows
Do not have hair, nor do they ever arch
The eyes that men would love; though it may be
The sun and moon are eyes, yet if they are
They are so different in shape and size
The heavens would look twisted if they showed
Both at one time upon their smiling face.
Say would you have me paint her mouth?
Don E NRIQUE. But can you?
R AMIRO. Apelles never dreamed nor nature knew
How to perfect a full-blown rose in snow.
In awful wonder at her pearly teeth
Heaven has draped them with a canopy
Of red carnation flowers.
Don E NRIQUE. This is too much.
No more! I die!
R AMIRO. The Portuguese did well.
To call the thing a mouthful. On my soul,
It would convert desire into a jelly!
Don E NRIQUE. I take it that you would divert my mind
So that I may forget my sad misfortunes.
R AMIRO. I would. My rustic genius would do this.
Know, Count, I am in love —
Don E NRIQUE. You too? With what?
Harness our horses on the very spot!
When I return from grovelling at your feet,
O angel of perdition, offering up
A thousand pledged favors to your love,
To your inconstancy, your fickleness,
Your lasting pleasure and my sudden death,
Post-haste I hie me to Castile!
R AMIRO. Senor, forego this visit if you may.
There is great risk you both may be exposed,
Or else you meet contemptuous response
To your desires, whereby your jealousy
Will be augmented, and you reply in sort
To add to our misfortune.
Don E NRIQUE. No, Ramiro,
I cannot forego to look upon Juana.
Give me my shield; and bring a coat of mail.
R AMIRO. O thou brave lover!
Don E NRIQUE. She deserves it all,
For if in truth she leaves me for the King,
She hits a better mark and has aimed well.
My brother is more excellent than I.
Then die Enrique and let the victor reign!
K ING. I tell you he returns in deep regret
At giving me such pain, although to keep
Her secret for Ines.
M ASTER. Case stranger yet!
You say he loves Ines?
K ING. And so to reap
Her favor haunts her street, while she is set
To achieve their marriage, at which chance I leap
God knows, assuring mine; the match is wise
And I have learned where his election lies.
Go, Mendo, seek her; tell her as from me
That she stand ready waiting at the door.
M ENDO. I say that you are here?
K ING. Do, secretly.
M ASTER. Enrique, Sire, was Ines' servitor?
K ING. I do assure you, Master, it was he;
AnDon the issue stake my life.
M ASTER. Adore
Juana, Sire; her beauty fills your mind.
K ING. And she shall be the crown of womankind.
O love, what would you? See her? Then away
And see her. Enrique stays, there's naught to fear.
What will they think to greet me? Why delay,
Desire, when the expected goal is near?
Possession falls to us in this affray
Nor uses of extremities appear.
Master, stand close; and should the Count presume,
Detain him till I come to seal his doom.
M ASTER. Seeing me first, he will not stay.
K ING. Call out.
My love constrains me, I die in my desire.
R AMIRO. Was ever lover loved like such a lout?
Don E NRIQUE. That let my danger witness, charactered in fire.
R AMIRO. I tread this street with dread lest the stones shout.
Don E NRIQUE. Juana, what? Am I forgot? Faint heart, expire!
Oh witchery of love! I cannot believe
My happiness is lost beyond reprieve.
M ASTER. It is Enrique and his servant too.
Best call the King; prudence will not permit
Disclosure to provoke his flight.
Don E NRIQUE. 'Tis true
I have advantaged little by my wit.
You grated window bars, not even you
Could hold my love secure! I am sore hit.
Have pity on me, for when hearts are stone
The forged iron for shame has tender grown.
R AMIRO. You grated window bars, now how the devil
Can you make trouble always like the poor?
You get me in, where to get out on the level,
I'd best run home to mother and stay sure!
These are no chicken fears in which I revel
For I have been a captain, killed a Moor;
But match me with a King in amorous battle,
'Twould send Achilles skulking to his rattle!
Don E NRIQUE. Divine Juana, beloved of my eyes!
Why have you cut my life in its first flower?
R AMIRO. Great God! What rascal in this dwelling lies?
And what the devil does he at this hour?
Am I to measure the overwhelming size
Of the King's sword, which, when he exerts his power,
Extends beyond the kingdom and fights God?
K ING. No force can move her and no threat can prod.
Don E NRIQUE. Someone comes. Best muffle up. Stand by and wait —
If it should be the King!
R AMIRO. They're coming out.
But oh the fool, I say, who'd rashly buy
An annuity dependent on my life!
K ING. It is the Master.
Master, has Enrique come?
Ines stands ready warned. God helping us
We marry him to-day, be it by force.
And I have seen the beautiful Juana
Who thereat took offense right foolishly
Because I came to greet her. Now I know
She loves the Count, and mourns both night and day,
Weeping his absence and his banishment.
But how, man? Speak! Why do you not reply,
Don Tello, Master, brother?
R AMIRO. He's warmer now,
Next time he'll hit him.
K ING. Who are you? Speak! Reply!
Don E NRIQUE. Your Majesty need marvel not, nor fear
That I do not reply.
K ING. It is Enrique?
Don E NRIQUE. I hardly know if I would own that name
Because it gives you so much pain. By force
You wish to marry me upon the spot.
K ING. Only to satisfy your own desire
Which you have written plainly to Ines.
I know this hand.
Don E NRIQUE. I only wrote Juana.
Dona Ines, if she contrives such tricks
Against your favor, be she who she may,
But ill fulfils the noble obligation
Inherent in her birth.
K ING. How can you then
Break banishment since you have pledged your word?
Don E NRIQUE. I never promised that I would not love her;
And know it is conformable to love
The banished should return and secretly
Perform accustomed services by night
Of fealty to their ladies. If by day
I had returned, full in the gaze of Seville,
I grant you I had blundered and done wrong
And acted shamefully. But when by night
The banished man returns for his own ends
He does not break a proper banishment
Unless the deed he does itself be ill.
He still respects the lord who banished him,
For night is a strange mixture at the best,
A medley both of good and evil things.
K ING. Shall Justice meet such scant respect as this?
What then the King?
Don E NRIQUE. The King is Justice, Sire.
K ING. How dare you cross and fall upon me here?
Don E NRIQUE. Senor, to fall upon a King by night
And cross, is such an unaccustomed thing
I cannot once recall in all my life
To have met with an example.
K ING. Am I the King?
Don E NRIQUE. Your Majesty, you are my lord and master.
K ING. Yield yourself prisoner.
Don E NRIQUE. In gratitude
You have confined me in a thousand chains;
And yet it is not meet by your own hand
In proper person you should stoop to take me.
For kings — much more where the offense is small —
Never take prisoners personally.
And pardon, Sire — I see that you draw near
And make to grasp your sword.
K ING. Give me your sword.
Don E NRIQUE. Then have it sheathed, never in other way.
K ING. You are a traitor.
Don E NRIQUE. And I am your brother;
Although my mother never was a queen,
My father was your father.
K ING. Enrique, hold!
Do not attempt to play upon my heart.
Turn back and face me.
Don E NRIQUE. I cannot, O Senor!
I would not have you grimly looking down
And find no sword within these willing hands
And weakness in my eye.
K ING. Can such things be?
M ASTER. But what is done? How now?
M ENDO. What's wrong, Senor?
K ING. Mendo, bear off this sword.
M ENDO. A combat, Sire?
K ING. Go on before and learn in proper season.
Heaven, send malediction on these doors,
Or malediction on my dire misfortune!
For well I know the fault is not in them.
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