Don Luis.

I pitied her.

Lara. Her pride is humbled; and this very night

I mean to visit her.

Don J.

Lara. No music! no more music!

Don L.

It softens many hearts.

Lara.

Will you serenade her?

Why not music?

Not in the humour

Yes, try Don Dinero ;

She now is in. Music would madden her.

Don J. Try golden cymbals.

Don L.

A mighty wooer is your Don Dinero.

Lara. To tell the truth, then, I have bribed her maid. But, Caballeros, you dislike this wine.

A bumper and away! for the night wears.

A health to Preciosa!

All.

(They rise and drink.)

Preciosa!

Thou bright and flaming

Lara (holding up his empty glass).

minister of Love!

Thou wonderful magician! who hast stolen
My secret from me, and 'mid sighs of passion
Caught from my lips, with red and fiery tongue,
Her precious name! Oh, never more henceforth
Shall mortal lips press thine: and never more
A mortal name be whispered in thine ear

Go! keep my secret!

Don J.

(Drinks and dashes the goblet down. Scene closes.) Ite! missa est!

SCENE X. Street and garden wall. Night. Enter CRUZADO and BAR

THOLOME.

Cruz. This is the garden wall, and above it, yonder, is her house. The window in which thou seest the light is her window.

will not go in now.

Bart. Why not?

Cruz.

Because she is not at home.

But we

Bart. No matter; we can wait. But how is this? The gate is bolted. (Sound of guitars and voices in a neighbouring_street.) Hark! There comes her lover with his infernal serenade! Hark!

SONG.

Good night! Good night, beloved [37

I come to watch o'er thee!

To be near thee,-to be near thee,

Alone is peace for me.

Thine eyes are stars of morning,

Thy lips are crimson flowers!

Good night! Good night, beloved,
While I count the weary hours.

Cruz. They are not coming this way.

Bart. Wait, they begin again.

SONG (coming nearer).

Ah! thou moon that shinest
Argent-clear above!
All night long enlighten
My sweet lady-love!
Moon that shinest,

All night long enlighten!

Bart. Woe be to him, if he comes this way!
Cruz. Be quiet, they are passing down the street.

SONG. (dying away).

The nuns in the cloister
Sang to each other;

For so many sisters

Is there not one brother?

Ay, for the partridge, mother!

The cat has run away with the partridge!

Puss puss! puss!

Bart. Follow that! follow that! Come with me.

Puss! puss!

[Exeunt. On the opposite side enter the COUNT OF LARA and Gentlemen, with FRANCISCO.

Lara. The gate is fast. Over the wall, Francisco,
And draw the bolt. There, so, and so, and over.
Now, gentlemen, come in, and help me scale

Yon balcony How now? Her light still burns.
Move warily. Make fast the gate, Francisco.

[Exeunt. Re-enter CRUZADO and BARTHOLOME.

Bart. They went in at the gate.

Hark! I hear them in the

garden, (Tries the gate). Bolted again! Vive Cristo! Follow me over the wall.

[They climb the wall.

SCENE XI. PRECIOSA's bed-chamber. Midnight. She is sleeping in an arm-chair, in an undress. DOLORES watching her.

He comes! I hear his footsteps!

Dol.

Prec. Go tell them that I cannot dance to-night;

I am too ill! Look at me! See the fever

That burns upon my cheek! I must go hence,

1 am too weak to dance.

Signal from the garden.

Dol. (from the window). Who's there?

Voice (from below).

A friend.

Dol. I will undo the door. Wait till I come.

Prec. I must go hence. I pray you do not harm me! Shame! shame! to treat a feeble woman thus!

Be you but kind, I will do all things for you.

I'm ready now,-give me my castanets.

Where is Victorian? Oh, those hateful lamps!

They glare upon me like an evil eye.

I cannot stay. Hark! how they mock at me!
They hiss at me like serpents! Save me! save me!
[She wakes.

How late is it, Dolores ?

Dol.

Prec. We must be patient.

[She sleeps again.

Voice. Muera!

It is midnight.

Smooth this pillow for me.
Noise from the garden, and voices.

SCENE I. A Cross-road through a wood. In the back-ground a distant VICTORIAN and HYPOLITO, HYPOLITO plays and sings.

village spire.

Enemy

Of all that mankind may not rue!
Most untrue

To him who keeps most faith with thee.
Woe is me!

The falcon has the eyes of the dove.
Ah, Love!

Perjured, false, treacherous Love!

Vict. Yes, Love is ever busy with his shuttle,
Is ever weaving into life's dull warp

Bright, gorgeous flowers and scenes Arcadian;
Hanging our gloomy prison-house about

With tapestries, that make its walls dilate

In never-ending vistas of delight.

Hyp. Thinking to walk in those Arcadian pastures, Thou hast run thy noble head against the wall.

SONG. (continued.)

Thy deceits

Give us clearly to comprehend,
Whither tend

All thy pleasures, all thy sweets!
They are cheats,

Thorns below and flowers above.
Ah, Love?

Perjured, false, treacherous Love!

Vict. A very pretty song. I thank thee for it.

Hyp. It suits thy case.

Vict.

What wise man wrote it?

Indeed, I think it does.

Hyp.

Lopez Maldonado.

With much truth in it.

Vict. In truth, a pretty song.

Hyp.

I hope thou wilt profit by it; and in earnest
Try to forget this lady of thy love.

Vict. I will forget her! All dear recollections
Pressed in my heart, like flowers within a book,
Shall be torn out, and scattered to the winds!
I will forget her! But perhaps hereafter,
When she shall learn how heartless is the world,
A voice within her will repeat my name,
And she will say, "He was indeed my friend!"
Oh, would I were a soldier, not a scholar,
That the loud march, the deafening beat of drums,
The shattering blast of the brass-throated trumpet,
The din of arms, the onslaught and the storm,
And a swift death, might make me deaf for ever
To the upbraidings of this foolish heart!

Hyp. Then let that foolish heart upbraid no more!
To conquer love, one need but will to conquer.
Vict. Yet, good Hypolito, it is in vain

I throw into Oblivion's sea the sword

That pierces me; for, like Excalibar,

With gemmed and flashing hilt, it will not sink.
There rises from below a hand that grasps it,
And waves it in the air; and wailing voices
Are heard along the shore.

Нур.

And yet at last

Down sank Excalibar to rise no more.
This is not well. In truth, it vexes me.
Instead of whistling to the steeds of Time,

To make them jog on merrily with life's burden,
Like a dead weight thou hangest on the wheels.
Thou art too young, too full of lusty health,
To talk of dying.

Vict.

Yet I fain would die!

To go through life, unloving and unloved;

To feel that thirst and hunger of the soul

We cannot still; that longing, that wild impulse,
And struggle after something we have not,

And cannot have; the effort to be strong;

And, like the Spartan boy, to smile, and smile,
While secret wounds do bleed beneath our cloaks ;
All this the dead feel not,-the dead alone!
Would I were with them!

Нур.

We shall all be soon.

Vict. It cannot be too soon; for I am weary

Of the bewildering masquerade of Life,

Where strangers walk as friends, and friends as strangers; Where whispers overheard betray false hearts;

And through the mazes of the crowd we chase

Some form of loveliness, that smiles, and beckons,
And cheats us with fair words, only to leave us
A mockery and a jest ; maddened,-confused,-
Not knowing friend from foe.
Hyp.
Why seek to know?

Enjoy the merry shrove-tide of thy youth!
Take each fair mask for what it gives itself,
Nor strive to look beneath it.

I confess,

Vict.
That were the wiser part. But Hope no longer
Comforts my soul. I am a wretched man,
Much like a poor and shipwrecked mariner,
Who, struggling to climb up into the boat,
Has both his bruised and bleeding hands cut cff
And sinks again into the weltering sea,
Helpless and hopeless!

Hyp.

Yet thou shalt not perish.

The strength of thine own arm is thy salvation.
Above thy head, through rifted clouds, there shines
A glorious star. Be patient. Trust thy star!

[Sound of a village bell in the distance.]
Vict. Ave Maria! I hear the sacristan
Ringing the chimes from yonder village belfry!
A solemn sound, that echoes far and wide
Over the red roofs of the cottages,

And bids the labouring hind a-field, the shepherd
Guarding his flock, the lonely muleteer,

And all the crowd in village streets, stand still,

And breathe a prayer unto the blessed Virgin !
Hyp. Amen! amen! Not half a league from hence
The village lies.

Vict.

This path will lead us to it,

Over the wheat-fields, where the shadows sail
Across the running sea, now green, now blue,

And, like an idle mariner on the main,
Whistles the quail. Come, let us hasten on,

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Public square in the village of Guadarama. The Ave Maria still tolling. A crowd of villagers, with their hats in their hands, as if in prayer. In front a group of Gipsies. The bell rings a merrier peal. A Gipsy dance. Enter PANCHO, followed by PEDRO CRESPO.

Pancho. Make room, ye vagabonds and Gipsy thieves! Make room for the Alcalde and for me!

Pedro C. Keep silence all! I have an edict here

From our most gracious lord the King of Spain,

Jerusalem, and the Canary Islands,

Which I shall publish in the market-place.

Open your ears and listen!

Enter the PADRE CURA at the door of his cottage.

Padre Cura,

Good day! and, pray you, hear this edict read.

Padre C. Good day, and God be with you! Pray, what is it? Pedro P. An act of banishment against the Gipsies!

Pancho. Silence!

[Agitation and murmurs in the crowd.

Pedro P. (reads). "I hereby order and command,

That the Egyptian and Chaldean strangers,