Hyp. Thinking to walk in those Arcadian pastures Thou hast run thy noble head against the wall. All thy pleasures, all thy sweets! Thorns below and flowers above. Perjured, false, treacherous Love! Vict. A very pretty song. I thank thee for it. Hyp. It suits thy case. Viet. What wise man wrote it? Hup. Indeed, I think it does. Lopez Maldonado. With much truth in it Vict. In truth, a pretty song. Vict. I will forget her! All dear recollections That the loud march, the deafening beat of drums, Hyp. Then let that foolish heart upbraid no more! I throw into Oblivion's sea the sword That pierces me; for, like Excalibar, With gemmed and flashing hilt, it will not sink. Hyp. And yet at last Down sank Excalibar to rise no more. This is not well. In truth, it vexes me. To make them jog on merrily with life's burden, Vict. Yet I fain would die! Hyp. 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; Hyp. I confess, Vict. Hyp. [Sound of a village-bell in the distance.] Vict. Ave Maria! I hear the sacristan And bids the labouring hind a-field, the shepherd And all the crowd in village streets, stand still, And breathe a prayer unto the blessed Virgin! Vict. This path will lead us to it, Over the wheat fields, where the shadows sail Across the running sea, now green, now blue, Whistles the quail. Come, let us hasten on. [Exeunt. SCENE II-Public square in the village of Guadarrama. 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. Pan. Make room, ye vagabonds and Gipsy thieves! Make room for the Alcalde and for me! Cres. Keep silence all! I have an edict here Which I shall publish in the market-place. [Enter the PADRE CURA at the door of his cottage.] Padre Cura, Good day! and, pray you, hear this edict read. Padre. Good day, and God be with you. Pray, what is it? Pan. Silence! [Agitation and murmurs in the crowd.] Cres. [reads]. "I hereby order and command Pan. And if in seventy days you are not gone, Dead or alive I make you all my slaves. [The Gipsies go out in confusion, showing signs of fear and discontent. PANCHO follows.] Padre. A righteous law! A very righteous law! Pray you, sit down. Cres. I thank you heartily. [They sent themselves on a bench at the PADRE CURA's door. Sound of guitars heard at a distance, approaching during the dialogue which follows.] A very righteous judgment, as you say. Now tell me, Padre Cura,-you know all things, How came these Gipsies into Spain ? Padre. Never baptize their children, nor keep Lent, Cres. Good reasons, good, substantial reasons, all! They should be burnt, I see it plain enough,— Padre. [Enter VICTORIAN and HYPOLITO playing.] And pray, whom have we here? Cres. More vagrants! By Saint Lazarus, more vagrants! And, judging from your dress and reverend mien, Padre. [Touching the wooden spoon in his hat-band.] Padre [joyfully]. Ay, know it, and have worn it. [Exit. Cres. [aside]. Soup-eaters! by the mass! The worst of vagrants! And there's no law against them. Sir, your servant. Padre. Your servant, Pedro Crespo. Hyp. Padre Cura, From the first moment I beheld your face, ነፃ I said within myself, "This is the man! Vict. [aside]. What impudence! Hyp. As we approached, I said to my companion, "That is the Padre Cura; mark my words!" Meaning your grace. "The other man," said I, "Who sits so awkwardly upon the bench, Must be the sacristan." Padre. Ah! said you so? Why, that was Pedro Crespo, the alcalde! Hyp. Indeed! you much astonish me! His air Was not so full of dignity and grace As an alcalde's should be. Padre. That is true. He is out of humour with some vagrant Gipsies, Hyp. The Padre Cura will excuse our boldness, We crave a lodging for the night. I Padre. To speak with scholars; and Emollit mores, Hyp. 'Tis Óvid, is it not? Padre. No, Cicero. Hyp. Your Grace is right. You are the better scholar. But hang me if it is not! (aside.) Pass this way. [Exeunt. He was a very great man, was Cicero ! Pray you, go in, go in! no ceremony. SCENE III-A room in the PADRE CURA's house. Enter the PADRE and HYPOLITO. Padre. So then, Señor, you come from Alcalá, I am glad to hear it. It was there I studied. Hyp. And left behind an honoured name, no doubt. How may I call your Grace? Padre. Gerónimo De Santillana, at your Honour's service. Hyp. Descended from the Marquis Santillana ? From the distinguished poet? Padre. Not from the poet. Hyp. From the Marquis, Why, they were the same. Let me embrace you! O some lucky star Has brought Your me hither! Yet once more !-once more. name is ever green in Alcalá, And our professor, when we are unruly, Will shake his hoary head, and say, "Alas! It was not so in Santillana's time!" Padre. I did not think my name remembered there. Padre. Of what professor speak you? Hyp. Timoneda. ! Padre. I don't remember any Timoneda. |