The Wonder-Working Magician, Pedro Calderón de la Barca [finding audrey .TXT] 📗

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.


* * * * *


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.


* * * * *


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