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Wonder-Working Magician

<h1> THE WONDER-WORKING MAGICIAN </h1> <h2> By Pedro Calderon de la Barca </h2> TO THE MEMORY OF SHELLEY, WHOSE ADMIRATION FOR "THE LIGHT AND ODOUR OF THE FLOWERY AND STARRY AUTOS" IS THE HIGHEST TRIBUTE TO THE BEAUTY OF CALDERON'S POETRY, THIS DRAMA IS INSCRIBED. <hr /> PERSONS. CYPRIAN. THE DEMON. LELIUS, The Governor of Antioch's Son. FLORUS, friend of Lelius. MOSCON, Servant of Cyprian. CLARIN, Servant of Cyprian. THE GOVERNOR OF ANTIOCH. FABIUS, his Servant. LYSANDER, the reputed Father of Justina. JUSTINA. LIVIA, her Maid. A Servant. A Soldier. ATTENDANTS, Soldiers, People. <hr /> SCENE—Antioch and its environs. <h1> THE WONDER-WORKING MAGICIAN. </h1> <hr /> <h2> ACT THE FIRST. </h2> SCENE I. A WOOD NEAR ANTIOCH. Enter CYPPRIAN in a Student's gown, followed by CLARIN and MOSCON, as poor Scholars, carrying books. CYPRIAN. In the pleasant solitude Of this tranquil spot, this thicket Formed of interlacing boughs, Buds, and flowers, and shrubs commingled, You may leave me, leaving also, As my best companions, with me, (For I need none else) those books Which I bad you to bring hither From the house; for while, to-day, Antioch, the mighty city, Celebrates with such rejoicing The great temple newly finished Unto Jupiter, the bearing Thither, also, of his image Publicly, in grant procession, To its shrine to be uplifted;— I, escaping the confusion Of the streets and squares, have flitted Hitherward, to spend in study What of daylight yet may glimmer. Go, enjoy the festival, Go to Antioch and mingle In its various sports, returning When the sun descending sinketh To be buried in the waves, Which, beneath the dark clouds' fringes, Round the royal corse of gold, Shine like sepulchres of silver. Here you'll find me. MOSCON. Sir, although Most decidedly my wish is To behold the sports, yet I Cannot go without a whisper Of some few five thousand words, Which I'll give you in a jiffy. Can it be that on a day Of such free, such unrestricted Revelry, and mirth, and fun, You with your old books come hither To this country place, rejecting All the frolic of the city? CLARIN. Well, I think my master's right; For there's nothing more insipid Than a grand procession day, Half fandangos, priests, and fiddles. MOSCON. Clarin, from the first to last, All your life you've been a trickster, A smart temporizing toady, A bold flatterer, a trimmer, Since you praise the thoughts of others, And ne'er speak your own. CLARIN. The civil Way to tell a man he lies Is to say he's wrong:—you twig me, Now I think I speak my mind. CYPRIAN. Moscon, Clarin, both I bid ye Cease this silly altercation. It is ever thus betwixt ye, Puffed up with your little knowledge Each maintains his own opinion. Go, and (as I've said) here seek me When night falls, and with the thickness Of its shadows veils from view This most fair and wondrous system Of the universe. MOSCON. How comes it, That although you have admitted 'Tis not right to see the feast, Yet you go to see it? CLARIN. Simple Is the answer: no one follows The advice which he has given To another. MOSCON [aside]. To see Livia, Would the gods that I were winged. [Exit. CLARIN [aside]. If the honest truth were told Livia is the girl that gives me Something worth the living for. Even her very name has in it This assurance: 'Livia', yes, Minus 'a', I live for 'Livi'.* [Exit. [footnote] *This, of course, is a paraphrase of the original, which, perhaps, may be given as an explanation. "Ilega, 'Livia'. Al 'na', y se, Livia, 'liviana'." <hr /> SCENE II. CYPRIAN. Now I am alone, and may, If my mind can be so lifted, Study the great problem which Keeps my soul disturbed, bewilder'd, Since I read in Pliny's page The mysterious words there written. Which define a god; because It doth seem beyond the limits Of my intellect to find One who all these signs exhibits. This mysterious hidden truth Must I seek for. [Reads. <hr /> SCENE III. Enter the DEMON, in gala dress. CYPRIAN. DEMON [aside]. Though thou givest All thy thoughts to the research, Cyprian, thou must ever miss it, Since I'll hide it from thy mind. CYPRIAN. There's a rustling in this thicket. Who is there? who art thou? DEMON. Sir, A mere stranger, who has ridden All this morning up and down These dark groves, not knowing whither, Having lost my way, my horse, To the emerald that encircles, With a tapestry of green, These lone hills, I've loosed, it gives him At the same time food and rest. I'm to Antioch bound, on business Of importance, my companions I have parted from; through listless Lapse of thought (a thing that happens To the most of earthly pilgrims), I have lost my way, and lost Comrades, servants, and assistants. CYPRIAN. I am much surprised to learn That in view of the uplifted Towers of Antioch, you thus Lost your way. There's not a single Path that on this mountain side, More or less by feet imprinted, But doth lead unto its walls, As to its one central limit. By whatever path you take, You'll go right. DEMON. It is an instance Of that ignorance which in sight Even of truth the true goal misses. And as it appears not wise Thus to enter a strange city Unattended and unknown, Asking even my way, 'tis fitter That 'till night doth conquer day, Here while light doth last, to linger; By your dress and by these books Round you, like a learned circle Of wise friends, I see you are A great student, and the instinct Of my soul doth ever draw me Unto men to books addicted. CYPRIAN. Have you studied much? DEMON. Well, no; But I've knowledge quite sufficient Not to be deemed ignorant. CYPRIAN. Then, what sciences know you? DEMON. Many. CYPRIAN. Why, we cannot reach even one After years of studious vigil, And can you (what vanity!) Without study know so many? DEMON. Yes; for I am of a country Where the most exalted science Needs no study to be known. CYPRIAN. Would I were a happy inmate Of that country! Here our studies Prove our ignorance more. DEMON. No figment Is the fact that without study, I had the superb ambition For the first Professor's chair To compete, and thought to win it, Having very numerous votes. And although I failed, sufficient Glory is it to have tried. For not always to the winner Is the fame. If this you doubt, Name the subject of your study, And then let us argue on it; I not knowing your opinion, Even although it be the right, Shall the opposite view insist on. CYPRIAN. I am greatly gratified That you make this proposition. Here in Plinius is a passage Which much anxious thought doth give me How to understand, to know Who's the God of whom he has written. DEMON. 'Tis that passage which declares (Well I know the words) this dictum: "God is one supremest good, One pure essence, one existence, Self-sustained, all sight, all hands." CYPRIAN. Yes, 'tis true. DEMON. And what is in it So abstruse? CYPRIAN. I cannot find Such a god as Plinius figures. If he be the highest good, Then is Jupiter deficient In that attribute; we see him Acting like a mortal sinner Many a time,—this, Danae, This, Europa, too, doth witness. Can then, by the Highest Good, All whose actions, all whose instincts, Should be sacred and divine, Human frailty be committed? DEMON. These are fables which the learned First made use of, to exhibit Underneath the names of gods What in truth was but a hidden System of philosophy. CYPRIAN. This reply is not sufficient, Since such awe is due to God, None should dare to Him attribute, None should stain His name with sins, Though these sins should be fictitious. And considering well the case, If the highest good is figured By the gods, of course, they must Will what is the best and fittest; How, then, can some gods wish one thing, Some another? This we witness In the dubious responses Which are by their statues given. Here you cannot say I speak of Learned abstractions of the ideal. To two armies, if two shrines Promise give of being victors, One, of course, must lose the battle: The conclusion is so simple,— Need I say it? that two wills, Mutually antagonistic, Cannot lead unto one end. They being thus in opposition, One we must consider good, One as bad we must consider. But an evil will in God Would imply a contradiction: Then the highest good can dwell not Among gods who know division. DEMON. I deny your major, since These responses may be given, By the oracles, for ends Which our intellectual vision Cannot reach: 'tis providence. Thus more good may have arisen To the loser in that battle Than its gain could bring the winner. CYPRIAN. Granted; but that god ought not, For the gods are not malicious, To have promised victory;— It would have been quite sufficient, Without this most false assurance, The defeat to have permitted. Then if God must be all sight, Every god should see distinctly With clear vision to the end; Seeing THAT, he erred in fixing On a false conclusion; then Though the deity may with fitness Be divided into persons, Yet His essence must be single In the smallest circumstance. DEMON. It was needful for this business, That the oracle should rouse The two hosts alike. CYPRIAN. If fitting, There were genii that could rouse them (Good and bad, as they're distinguished By the learned), who are, in fact, Spirits who among us mingle, And who good and evil acts, Evil thoughts, suggest and whisper, A convincing argument For the immortal soul's existence: Of these ministers could God Have made use, nor thus exhibit He was capable of a lie To effect his ends? DEMON. Consider, That these seeming contradictions Cannot our firm faith diminish In the oneness of the gods, If in things of higher import They know naught of dissonance. Take man's wondrous frame, for instance, Surely that majestic structure Once conception doth exhibit. CYPRIAN. If man's maker then were one He some vantage must have given him O'er the others; and if they All are equal,—'tis admitted That they are so, from the fact Of their mutual opposition To each other,—when the thought Of creating man was hinted By one god, another could Say, "No, no, I do not wish it." Then if God must be all hands, Time might come when they would differ, One creating, one undoing, Ere the other's work was finished, Since the power of each was equal, But unequal were their wishes. Which of these two powers would conquer? DEMON. On impossible and false issues There can be no argument;— But your premises admitting, Say what then? CYPRIAN. That there must be One sole God, all hands, all vision, Good Supreme, supreme in grace, One who cannot err, omniscient, One the highest, none can equal, Not beginning, yet the Beginner, One pure essence, one sole substance, One wise worker, ozone sole willer;— And though He in one or two Or more persons be distinguished, Yet the sovereign Deity Must be one, sublime and single, The first cause of every cause, The first germ of all existence. DEMON. How can I deny so clear, [They rise. So conclusive a position? CYPRIAN. Do you feel it? DEMON. Who would not Feel to find another quicker In the rivalry of wit?— And though I am not deficient In an answer, I restrain it, Hearing steps approaching hither Through the wood; besides 'tis time I proceeded to the city. CYPRIAN. Go in peace. DEMON. Remain in peace.— [Aside. So involved in study IS he, That I now must wean him from it, Weaving round him the bewitchment Of rare beauty. Since I have leave To attempt my fires to kindle In Justina's breast, one stroke, Thus, two vengeances shall give me. [Exit. CYPRIAN. Never saw I such a man. But since still my people linger, I, the cause of so much doubt, Will now strive to reconsider. [He resumes his reading, without perceiving the approach of those who enter. <hr /> SCENE IV. Enter LELIUS and FLORUS.—CYPRIAN. LELIUS. Further let us not proceed; For these rocks, these boughs so thickly Interwoven, that the sun Cannot even find admittance, Shall be the sole witnesses Of our duel. FLORUS. Then, this instant Draw your sword; for here are deeds, If in words elsewhere we've striven. LELIUS. Yes, I know that in the field, While the tongue is mute, the glitter Of the sword speaks thus. [They fight. CYPRIAN. What's this? Hold, good Florus! Lelius, listen!— Here until your rage is calmed, Even unarmed I stand betwixt ye. LELIUS. Thus to interrupt my vengeance, Whence, O Cyprian, have you risen Like a spectre? FLORUS. A wild wood-god, Have you from these tree-trunks issued? <hr /> SCENE V. Enter MOSCON and CLARIN. MOSCON. Yonder, where we left our master, I hear sword-strokes; run, run quickly. CLARIN. Well, except to run away, I am anything but nimble;— Truly a retiring person. MOSCON and CLARIN. Sir.... CYPRIAN. No more: your gabble irks me.— How? What's this? Two noble friends, Who in blood, in birth, in lineage, Are to-day of Antioch all Its expectancy, the city's Eye of fashion, one the son Of the Governor, of the princely House Colalto, one the heir, Thus to peril, as of little Value, two such precious lives To their country and their kindred? LELIUS. Cyprian, although respect Which on many grounds I give thee, Holds my sword suspended thus In due deference for an instant,— To the scabbard's calm repose It hath got no power to win it. Thou of science knowest more, Than the duel, pretermitting This, that when two nobles meet In the field, no power can link them Friends again, save this, that one Must his life give as a victim. FLORUS. This I also say, and ask thee, With thy people, that thou quittest, Leaving us to end our quarrel Without any help or hindrance. CYPRIAN. Though it seems to you my calling Makes me know the laws but little Of the duel—that strict code Valour and vain pride have written, You are wrong, for I was born With the obligations fitting Rank like yours, to know in truth Infamy and honour's limits. The devotion to my studies Has my courage not diminished, For they oftentimes shake hands Arms and letters as though kinsmen. If to meet here in the field Was the quarrel's first condition, Having met and fought, its lies Calumny can never whisper. And the cause you thus can tell me Of the feud that brings you hither; For I promise, if, on hearing What to me is thus committed, I perceive that satisfaction Must on either side be given, Here to leave you both alone, Unobserved by any witness. LELIUS. Then on this condition solely, That you leave us, when the bitter Truth is told, to end our quarrel, I to tell the cause am willing. I a certain lady love, The same lady as his mistress Florus also loves; now see, How incompatible are our wishes!— Since betwixt two jealous nobles No mediation is admitted. FLORUS. I this lady love so much, That the sunlight I would hinder From beholding her sweet face. Since then all interposition Is in vain, pray stand aside, And our quarrel let us finish. CYPRIAN. Stay, for one more thing I'd know. Tell me this of your fair mistress, Is she possible to your hopes, Or impossible to your wishes?— LELIUS. Oh: she is so good and wise, That if even the sun enkindled Jealousy in the heart of Florus, It was jealousy pure and simple, Without cause, for even the sun Dare not look upon her visage. CYPRIAN. Would you marry with her, then? FLORUS. This is all my heart's ambition. CYPRIAN. And would you? LELIUS. Ah, would to heaven, I were destined for such blisses!— For although she's very poor, Virtue dowers her with its riches. CYPRIAN. If you both aspire to wed her, Is it not an act most wicked, Most unworthy, thus beforehand Her unspotted fame to injure? What will say the world, if one Of you two shall marry with her After having killed the other For her sake? The supposition Is not probable in fact, To imagine it is sufficient. I by no means say you should Each your chances try to win her At one time, for I would blush Such a craven proposition Came from me, because the lover Who could keep his jealousy hidden, Would condone even shame thereafter, Were the opportunity given; But I say that you should learn Which of you it is your mistress Gives the preference to, then.... LELIUS. Stay!— For it were an act too timid, Too faint-hearted thus to ask Of a lady such admission As the choosing him or me. For if me she chose, more fixed Is my call for satisfaction; For his fault has this addition, He loves one who loves but me. If to him the choice is given, This intensifies my anger All the more, that she, my mistress, Whom I love, should love another. Her selection could do little In the matter, which at last To our swords should be committed,— The accepted for his honour, The refused for his dismissal. FLORUS. I confess that I adopt Altogether that opinion, Still the privilege of selection May to ladies be permitted; So to-day I mean to ask her Of her father. 'Tis sufficient To have come here to the field, And my naked sword uplifted, (Specially as one is by Who the further fight resisteth,) For my honour;—so to sheathe, Lelius, my sword I'm willing. [Sheathes his sword. LELIUS. By your argument and action, Florus, you have half convinced me; I forego the remaining half— True or false, I thus act with you. [Sheathes his sword. I to-day will seek her father. CYPRIAN. On, of course, the supposition, That this lady you pay court to Suffers naught by the admission, Since you both have spoken proudly Of her virtue and her strictness, Tell me who she is; for I, Who am held throughout the city In esteem, would for you both Speak to her at first a little That she thus may be prepared When her father tells your wishes. LELIUS. You are right. CYPRIAN. Her name? FLORUS. Justina, Daughter of Lysander. CYPRIAN. Little, Now that I have heard her name, Seem the praises you have given her; She is virtuous as she's noble. Instantly I'll pay my visit. FLORUS [aside]. May heaven grant that in my favour Her cold heart be moved to pity! [Exit. LELIUS. Love, my hopes with laurels crown When they are to her submitted! [Exit. CYPRIAN. Further mischief or misfortune, Grant me, heaven, that I may hinder! [Exit. <hr /> SCENE VI. MOSCON, CLARIN. MOSCON. Has your worship heard our master Now is gone to pay a visit To Justina? CLARIN. Yes, my lord. But what matter if he didn't? MOSCON. Matter quite enough, your worship; He has no business there. CLARIN. Why, prithee? MOSCON. Why? because I die for Livia, Who is maid to this Justina, And I wouldn't have even the sun Get a glimpse of her through the window. CLARIN. Well, that's good; but, for a lady, To contend were worse than silly, Whom I mean to make my wife. MOSCON. Excellent, faith! the fancy tickles Quite my fancy. Let her say Who it is that annoys or nicks her To a nicety. Let's go see her, And she'll choose. CLARIN. A good idea!— Though I fear she'll pitch on you. MOSCON. Have you then that wise suspicion? CLARIN. Yes; for always these same Livias Choose the worst, th'ungrateful minxes.* [Exeunt. [footnote] *The 'asonante' versification in 'i-e', which has been kept up through these six scenes, ends here. The seventh scene commences in rhymed five-line stanzas, which change to the asonante in e-e, at the beginning of Lysander's long speech. <hr /> SCENE VII. A HALL IN THE HOUSE OF LYSANDER. Enter JUSTINA and LYSANDER. JUSTINA. Consolation, sir, is vain, After what I've seen to-day: The whole city, madly gay, Error-blinded and insane, Consecrating shrine and fane To an image, which I know, Cannot be a god, although Some demoniac power may pass, Making breathe the silent brass As a proof that it is so. LYSANDER. Fair Justina, thou indeed, Wert not who thou art, if thou Didst not weep as thou dost now, Didst not in thy pure heart bleed For what Christ's divinest creed Suffers on this sinful day. JUSTINA. Thus my lineage I display:— For thy child I could not be, Could I without weeping see This idolatrous display. LYSANDER. Ah, my good, my gentle maid! Thou art not my daughter, no, 'Twere too happy, if 'twere so. But, O God! what's this I've said?— My life's secret is betrayed! 'Twas my soul that spoke aloud. JUSTINA. What do you say, sir? LYSANDER. Oh! a crowd Of old thoughts my heart hath stirred. JUSTINA. Many times methought I heard What but now you have avowed, And yet never wished to hear, At the risk perchance of paining, A more accurate explaining Of your sorrow and my fear; But since now it doth appear Right that I should be possess'd Of the whole truth half confess'd, Let me say, though bold appearing,— Trust your secret to my hearing, Since it hath escaped your breast. LYSANDER. Ah! Justina, I have long Kept this secret from your ears, Fearing from your tender years That the telling might be wrong; But now seeing you are strong, Firm in thought, in action brave, Seeing too, that with this stave, I go creeping o'er the ground, Rapping with a hollow sound At the portals of the grave, Knowing that my time is brief, I would not here leave you, no, In your ignorance; I owe My own peace, too, this relief: Then attentive to my grief Let your pleasure list. JUSTINA. A fear Struggles in my breast. LYSANDER. Severe Is the test my duty pays. JUSTINA. From this most perplexing maze Oh, sir, rescue me. LYSANDER. Then hear. I, most beautiful Justina, Am Lysander.... This commencement With my name need not surprise you; For though known to you already, It is right, for all that follows, That it should be well remembered, Since of me you know no more Than what this my name presenteth. Yes, I am Lysander, son Of that city which on Seven Hills a hydra seems of stone, Since it seven proud heads erecteth; Of that city now the seat Of the mighty Roman empire, Cradle of Christ's wider realm,— Boon that Rome alone could merit. There of poor and humble parents I was born, if "poor" expresses Well their rank who left behind them Virtues, not vain earthly treasures. Both of them by birth were Christians, Joyful both to be descended From brave sires who with their blood Happily life's page had reddened, Terminating the dull scroll With death's bright emblazoned letters. In the Christian faith well grounded I grew up, and so well learnt it, That I would, in its defence, Even a thousand lives surrender. I was young still, when to Rome, In disguise and ill attended, Came our good Pope Alexander, Who then prudently directed The high apostolic see, Though its place there was not settled; For, as the despotic power Of the stern and cruel gentiles Satisfies its thirst with blood From the martyrs' veins that shed it, So must still the primitive church Keep concealed its sons and servants; Not that they decline to die, Not that martyrdom is dreaded But that rebel rage should not, At one stroke, one hour of vengeance, Triumph o'er the ruined church, So that no one should be left it Who could preach and teach the word, Who could catechise the gentile. Alexander being in Rome, I was secretly presented To him there, and from his hand Which was graciously extended, With his blessing I received Holy Orders, which the seraphs Well might envy me, since man Only such an honour merits. Alexander, as my mission, Unto Antioch then sent me, Where the law of Christ in secret I should preach. With glad contentment I obeyed, and at their mercy, Through so many nations wending, Came at length to Antioch; And when I, these hills ascending, Saw beneath me in the valley All its golden towers and temples, The sun failed me, and down sinking Drew with him the day, presenting For my solace a companion, And a substitute for his presence In the light of stars, a pledge That he'd soon return to bless me. With the sun I lost my way, And then wandering dejected Through the windings of the forest, Found me in the dim recesses Of a natural bower, wherein Even the numerous rays that trembled Downward from each living torch Could in noways find an entrance, For to black clouds turned the leaves That by day were green with freshness. Here arranging to await The new sun's reviving presence, Giving fancy that full scope, That wide range which it possesses, I in solitude indulged Many and many a deep reflection. Thus absorbed was I in thought When there came to me the echo Of a sigh half heard, for half To its owner retroverted. Then collecting in mine ear All my senses joined together, I again heard more distinctly That weak cry, that faint expression, That mute idiom of the sad, Since by it they're comprehended. From a woman came that groan To whose sigh so low and gentle Followed a man's deeper voice, Who thus speaking low addressed her: "Thou first stain of noblest blood By my hands this moment perish, Ere thou meetest with thy death 'Neath the hands of infamous headsmen."— Then the hapless woman said In a voice that sobbed and trembled, "Ah, lament for thine own blood, But for me do not lament thee!"— I attempted then to reach them, That the stroke might be prevented, But I could not, since the voices At that moment ceased and ended, And a horseman rode away 'Mong the tree-trunks undetected. Loadstone of my deep compassion Was that voice which still exerted All its failing powers to speak Amid groans and tears this sentence,— "Dying innocent and a Christian I a martyr's death may merit."— Following the polar-star Of the voice, I came directly Where the gloom revealed a woman, Though I could not well observe her, Who in life's despairing struggle, Hand to hand with death contended. Scarcely was I heard, when she Summoning up her strength addressed me,— "Blood-stained murderer mine, come back, Nor in this last hour desert me Of my life."—"I am," said I, "Only one whom chance hath sent here, Guided it may be by heaven, To assist you in this dreadful Hour of trial."—"Vain," she said, "Is the favour that your mercy Offers to my life, for see, Drop by drop the life-stream ebbeth, Let this hapless one enjoy it, Who it seems that heaven intendeth, Being born upon my grave, All my miseries should inherit."— So she died, and then I... <hr /> SCENE VIII. LIVIA, JUSTINA, and LYSANDER. Enter LIVIA. LIVIA. Sir, The same tradesman who so presses To be paid, comes here to seek you, By the magistrate attended. That you were not in, I told him: By that door you have an exit. JUSTINA. This untimely interruption By their coming, how it frets me! For upon your tragic story Life, soul, reason, all depended!— But retire, sir, lest the justice Should here meet you, if he enters. LYSANDER. Ah! with what indignities Poverty must be contented! [Exit. JUSTINA. They are coming here, no doubt, Outside I can hear some persons. LIVIA. No, they are not they. I see It is Cyprian. JUSTINA. How? what sendeth Cyprian here? <hr /> SCENE IX. Enter CYPRIAN, CLARIN, and MOSCON. CYPRIAN. A wish to serve you Is the sole cause of my presence. For on seeing the officials Issuing from your house, the friendship Which I owe unto Lysander Made me bold herein to enter; But to know ([Aside.] Disturbed, bewildered Am I.) if by chance ([Aside.] What gelid Frost is freezing up my veins!) I in any way could help you. ([Aside.] Ah, how badly have I spoken!— Fire not frost my blood possesses!) JUSTINA. May heaven guard you many years, Since in his more grave concernments, Thus you honour my dear father With your favours. CYPRIAN. I shall ever Be most gratified to serve you. ([Aside.] What disturbs me, what unnerves me?) JUSTINA. He is not just now at home. CYPRIAN. Thus then, lady, I can better Tell you what is the true cause That doth bring me here at present; For the cause that you have heard Is not that which wholly led me Here to see you. JUSTINA. Then, what is it? CYPRIAN. This, which craves your brief attention.— Fair Justina, beauty's shrine,* To whose human loveliness Nature, with a fond excess, Adds such marks of the divine, 'Tis your rest that doth incline Hither my desire to-day: But see what the tyrant sway Of despotic fate can do,— While I bring your rest to you, You from me take mine away. Lelius, of his passion proud, (Never less was love to blame!) Florus, burning with love's flame, (Ne'er could flame be more allowed!) Each of them by vows they vowed Sought to kill his friend for you: I for you disturbed the two, (Woe is me!) but see the end; While from death I saved my friend, You my own death give in lieu. Lest the scandal-monger's hum Should be buzzed about your name, Here to speak with you I came, (Would that I had never come!) That your choice might strike it dumb, Being the umpire in the cause, Being the judge in love's sweet laws;— But behold what I endure, While I their sick hearts may cure, Jealousy mine own heart gnaws. Lady, I proposed to be Their bold spokesman here, that you Might decide betwixt the two Which you would select (ah, me!) That I might (oh, misery!) Ask you of your father: vain This pretence. No more I'll feign:— For you see while I am speaking About them, my heart is seeking But a vent for its own pain. [footnote] * The five-lined rhymed stanza here recommences, and continues to the end of the scene. JUSTINA. Half in wonder and dismay At the vile address you make me, Reason, speech, alike forsake me, And I know not what to say. Never in the slightest way Have your clients had from me Encouragement for this embassy— Florus never—Lelius no:— Of the scorn that I can show Let then this a warning be. CYPRIAN. If I, knowing that you loved Some one else, would dare to seek Your regard, my love were weak, And could justly be reproved. But here seeing you stand unmoved, Like a rock mid raging seas, No extraneous miseries Make me say I love you now. 'Tis not for my friends I bow, So your warning hear with ease.— To Lelius what shall I say? JUSTINA. That he Well may trust the boding fears Of his love of many years. CYPRIAN. To Florus? JUSTINA. Not my face to see. CYPRIAN. And to myself? JUSTINA. Your love should be Not so bold. CYPRIAN. Though a god should woo? JUSTINA. Will a god do more for you Than for those I have denied? CYPRIAN. Yes. JUSTINA. Well then, I have replied To Lelius, Florus, and to you. [Exeunt JUSTINA and CYPRIAN at opposite sides. <hr /> SCENE X. CLARIN, MOSCON, and LIVIA. CLARIN. Livia, heigh! MOSCON. And Livia, ho!— List good lass. CLARIN. We're here, we two. LIVIA. Well, what WANT you, sir? and YOU, What do you want? CLARIN. We both would show, If perchance you do not know, That we love you to distraction. On a murderous transaction We came here, to kill each other:— So to put an end to the bother, Just choose one for satisfaction. LIVIA. Why the thing that you're demanding Is so great, it hath bereft me Of my wits. My grief hath left me Without sense or understanding. Choose but one! My heart expanding, Beats so hard a strait to shun! I one only! 'Tis for fun That you ask me so to do. For with heart enough for two, Why require that I choose one? CLARIN. Two at once would you have to woo? Would not two embarrass you, pray? LIVIA. No, we women have a way To dispose of them two by two. MOSCON. What's the way? do tell us, do;— What is it? speak. LIVIA. You put one out!— I would love them, do not doubt.... MOSCON. How? LIVIA. ALTERNATIVELY. CLARIN. Eh, What's ALTERNATIVELY? LIVIA. 'Tis to say, That I would love them day about. [Exit. MOSCON. Well, I choose to-day: good-bye. CLARIN. I, to-morrow, the better part. So I give it with all my heart. MOSCON. Livia, in fine, for whom I die, To-day love me, and to-day love I. Happy is he who so much can say. CLARIN. Hearken, my friend: you know my way. MOSCON. Why this speech? Does a threat lie in it? CLARIN. Mind, she is not yours a minute After the clock strikes twelve to-day. [Exeunt. <hr /> SCENE XI. THE STREET BEFORE LYSANDER'S HOUSE: NIGHT Enter FLORUS and LELIUS at opposite sides, not seeing each other. LELIUS [aside]. Scarcely has the darksome night O'er the brow of heaven extended* Its black veil, when I come hither To adore this sacred threshold; For although at Cyprian's prayer, I my sharp sword have suspended, I have not my love, for love Cannot be suspended ever. [footnote] *Asonante in e-e, to the end of the Act. FLORUS [aside]. Here the dawn will find me waiting:— Here, because 'tis force compels me To go hence, for I, elsewhere, Am away from my true centre. Would to love the day had come, And with it the dear, expected Answer Cyprian may bring me, Risking all upon that venture. LELIUS [aside]. I have surely in that window Heard a noise. FLORUS [aside]. Some sound descends here From that balcony. <hr /> SCENE XII. The Demon appears at a window in the house of LYSANDER. LELIUS [aside]. A figure Issues from it, whose dim presence I distinguish. FLORUS [aside]. Through the darkness I can there perceive some person. DEMON [aside]. For the many persecutions O'er Justina's head impending, Her pure honour to defame Thus I make a bold commencement. [He descends by a ladder. LELIUS [aside]. But, O woe! what's this I witness!— FLORUS [aside]. What do I see! Oh, wretched! wretched!— LELIUS [aside]. From the balcony to the ground The dark figure has descended. FLORUS [aside]. From her house a man comes forth!— Jealousy kill me not, preserve me, 'Till I discover who he is. LELIUS [aside]. I will try to intercept him And find out at once who thus Tastes the bliss I've lost for ever. [They advance with drawn swords to recognise the person who has descended. DEMON [aside]. Not alone Justina's fame Do I by this act discredit, But dissensions, perhaps murders, Thus provoke. Ope, earth's dark centre, And receive me, leaving here This confusion [He disappears between FLORUS and LELIUS, who meet together. <hr /> SCENE XIII. FLORUS and LELIUS. LELIUS. Sir, whoever You may be, it doth import me To know who you are directly; So at every risk I come here, On this resolute quest determined. Say who are you. FLORUS. If the accident Of my having been the observer Of your secret love, compels you To this valorous aggression, More than it can you concern Me to know, it doth concern me To know you; for to be curious Is far less than to be jealous. Yes, by Heaven! for who is master Of the house have I to learn here, Who it is at such an hour, By this balcony ascending, Gaineth that which I lose weeping At these gratings. LELIUS. This excelleth, Good, in faith, is it thus to dim The clear light of my resentment, By attributing to me That which solely your offence is!— Who you are I have to know, Death to give to him who has left me Dead with jealousy here, by coming From this balcony. FLORUS. How excessive How superfluous is this caution, Proving what it would dissemble! LELIUS. Vainly would the tongue untangle That which the keen sword can better Thus cut through. FLORUS. With it I answer. [They fight. LELIUS. In this way I'll know for certain Who is the admitted lover Of Justina. FLORUS. My intention Is the same. I'll die or know you. <hr /> SCENE XIV. Enter CYPRIAN, MOSCON, and CLARIN. CYPRIAN. Gentlemen, I pray you let me Interpose in this your quarrel, Since by accident I am present. FLORUS. You cannot oblige me more Than by letting the fight be ended. CYPRIAN. Florus? FLORUS. Yes, for sword in hand, I my name deny not ever To who asks. CYPRIAN. I'm at your side, Death to him who would offend you. LELIUS. You produce in me less fear, Both of you thus joined together, Than did he alone. CYPRIAN. What! Lelius? LELIUS. Yes. CYPRIAN. I am prevented [To Florus. Now from standing at your side, Since between you I present me. How is this? In one day twice Have I your disputes to settle!— LELIUS. Then this time will be the last, For we've settled them already; Since in knowing who is he Who Justina's heart possesses, Now no more my hope remaineth, Even the thought of it hath left me. If you have not to Justina Spoken yet, do not address her; This I ask you in the name Of my wrongs and my resentments, Having seen her secret favours Florus' happier fate deserveth. From this balcony I saw him, From my lost delight descending; And my heart is not so base As to meanly love, in presence Of such jealousies so well proved, Of disillusions, ah! so certain. [Exit. FLORUS. Stay. <hr /> SCENE XV. CYPRIAN. You must not follow him, [Aside. (Oh, this news with death o'erwhelms me!) Since if he who is the loser Of what you have gained, expressly Says he would forget it, you Should not try his patient temper. FLORUS. Both by you and him at once Has mine own been too well tested. Speak not now unto Justina About me; for though full vengeance I propose to take for being Thus supplanted and rejected, Every hope of her being mine Now has ceased, for shameful were it, In the face of such proved facts, To persist in my addresses. [Exit. <hr /> SCENE XVI. CYPRIAN, MOSCON, and CLARIN. CYPRIAN [aside]. What is this, O heavens! I hear? Can it be the two are jealous Of each other at one time? And I too of both together?— Doubtless from some strange delusion The two suffer, which I welcome With a sort of satisfaction, For to it I am indebted For the fact of their desisting From their suit and their pretension.— Moscon, have for me by morning A rich court-suit; sword and feathers, Clarin, be thy care; for love In a certain airy splendour Takes delight; for now no longer Books or studies give me pleasure;— Love they say doth murder mind, Learning dies when he is present. [Exeunt. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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