ACT II
Scene I.—In Zalamea.
Enter Don Mendo and Nuño.
Men. Who told you all this?
Nuñ. Ginesa, her wench.
Men. That, whether that riot in the house were by accident or design, the captain has ended by being really in love with Isabel.
Nuñ. So as he has as little of comfort in his quarters as we of eatable in ours—ever under her window, sending her messages and tokens by a nasty little soldier of his.
Men. Enough, enough of your poisoned news.
Nuñ. Especially on an empty stomach.
Men. Be serious, Nuño. And how does Isabel answer him?
Nuñ. As she does you. Bless you, she’s meat for your masters.
Men. Rascal! This to me! (Strikes him.)
Nuñ. There! two of my teeth you’ve knockt out, I believe: to be sure they weren’t of much use in your service.
Men. By Heaven, I’ll do so to that captain, if—
Nuñ. Take care, he’s coming, sir.
Men. (aside to Nuño). This duel shall be now—though night be advancing on—before discretion come to counsel milder means. Come, and help me arm.
Nuñ. Lord bless me, sir, what arms have you got except the coat over the door?
Men. In my armoury I doubt not are some pieces of my ancestors that will fit their descendant.
[Exeunt.
Enter Captain, Sergeant, and Rebolledo.
Capt. I tell you my love is not a fancy; but a passion, a tempest, a volcano.
Serg. What a pity it is you ever set eyes on the girl!
Capt. What answer did the servant give you?
Serg. Nay, sir, I have told you.
Capt. That a country wench should stand upon her virtue as if she were a lady!
Serg. This sort of girls, captain, don’t understand gentlemen’s ways. If a strapping lout in their own line of life courted them in their own way, they’d hear and answer quick enough. Besides, you really expect too much, that a decent woman should listen after one day’s courtship to a lover who is perhaps to leave her to-morrow.
Capt. And to-day’s sun setting!
Serg. Your own love too, but from one glance—
Capt. Is not one spark enough for gunpowder?
Serg. You too, who would have it no country girl could be worth a day’s courtship!
Capt. Alas, ’twas that was my ruin—running unawares upon a rock. I thought only to see a splay-footed gawky, and found a goddess. Ah, Rebolledo, could you but get me one more sight of her!
Reb. Well, captain, you have done me one good turn, and though you had like to run me into danger, I don’t mind venturing again for you.
Capt. But how? how?
Reb. Well, now, look here. We’ve a man in the regiment with a fair voice, and my little Chispa—no one like her for a flash song. Let’s serenade at the girl’s window; she must, in courtesy or curiosity, look out; and then—
Capt. But Don Lope is there, and we mustn’t wake him.
Reb. Don Lope? When does he ever get asleep with that leg of his, poor fellow? Besides, you can mix along with us in disguise, so as at least you won’t come into question.
Capt. Well, there is but this chance, if it be but a faint one; for if we should march to-morrow!—come, let us set about it; it being, as you say, between ourselves that I have any thing to do with it.
[Exeunt Captain and Sergeant.
Enter Chispa.
Chis. He’s got it, at any rate.
Reb. What’s the matter now, Chispa?
Chis. Oh, I mark’d his face for him.
Reb. What, a row?
Chis. A fellow there who began to ask questions as to my fair play at roulette—when I was all as fair as day too—I answered him with this. (Showing a knife.) Well, he’s gone to the barber’s to get it dressed.
Reb. You still stand kicking when I want to get to the fair. I wanted you with your castanets, not your knife.
Chis. Pooh! one’s as handy as the other. What’s up now?
Reb. Come with me to quarters; I’ll tell you as we go along.
[Exeunt.
Scene II.—A trellis of Vines in Crespo’s garden.
Enter Crespo and Don Lope.
Cres. Lay the table here. (To Lope.) You’ll relish your supper here in the cool, sir. These hot August days at least bring their cool nights by way of excuse.
Lope. A mighty pleasant parlour this!
Cres. Oh, a little strip my daughter amuses herself with; sit down, sir. In place of the fine voices and instruments you are used to, you must put up with only the breeze playing on the vine leaves in concert with the little fountain yonder. Even the birds (our only musicians) are gone to bed, and wouldn’t sing any the more if I were to wake them. Come, sit down, sir, and try to ease that poor leg of yours.
Lope. I wish to heaven I could.
Cres. Amen!
Lope. Well, I can at least bear it. Sit down, Crespo.
Cres. Thank you, sir. (Hesitating.)
Lope. Sit down, sit down, pray.
Cres. Since you bid me then, you must excuse my ill manners. (Sits.)
Lope. Humph! Do you know, I am thinking, Crespo, that yesterday’s riot rather overset your good ones.
Cres. Ay?
Lope. Why how else is it that you, whom I can scarce get to sit down at all to-day, yesterday plump’d yourself down at once, and in the big chair too?
Cres. Simply because yesterday you didn’t ask me. To-day you are courteous, and I am shy.
Lope. Yesterday you were all thistle and hedgehog; to-day as soft as silk.
Cres. It is only because you yourself were so. I always answer in the key I’m spoken to; yesterday you were all out of tune, and so was I. It is my principle to swear with the swearer, and pray with the saint; all things to all men. So much so as I declare to you your bad leg kept me awake all night. And, by the by, I wish, now we are about it, you would tell me which of your legs it is that ails you: for, not knowing, I was obliged to make sure by swearing at both of mine: and one at a time is quite enough.
Lope. Well, Pedro, you will perhaps think I have some reason for my tetchiness, when I tell you that for thirty years during which I have served in the Flemish wars through summer’s sun, and winter’s frost, and enemy’s bullets, I have never known what it is to be an hour without pain.
Cres. God give you patience to bear it!
Lope. Pish! can’t I give it myself?
Cres. Well, let him leave you alone then!
Lope. Devil take patience!
Cres. Ah, let him! he wants it; only it’s too good a job for him.
Enter Juan with Table, etc.
Juan. Supper, sir!
Lope. But what are my people about, not to see to all this?
Cres. Pardon my having been so bold to tell them I and my family would wait upon you, so, as I hope, you shall want for nothing.
Lope. On one condition then, that as you have no fear of your company now, your daughter may join us at supper.
Cres. Juan, bid your sister come directly.
[Exit Juan.
Lope. My poor health may quiet all suspicion on that score, I think.
Cres. Sir, if you were as lusty as I wish you, I should have no fear. I bid my daughter keep above while the regiment was here because of the nonsense soldiers usually talk to girls. If all were gentlemen like you, I should be the first to make her wait on them.
Lope (aside). The cautious old fellow!
Enter Juan, Isabel, and Ines.
Isab. (to Crespo). Your pleasure, sir?
Cres. It is Don Lope’s, who honours you by bidding you to sup with him.
Lope (aside). What a fair creature!—Nay, ’tis I that honour myself by the invitation.
Isab. Let me wait upon you.
Lope. Indeed no, unless waiting upon me mean supping with me.
Cres. Sit down, sit down, girl, as Don Lope desires you.
[They sit at table. Guitar heard within.
Lope. Music too!
Cres. None of ours. It must be some of your soldiers, Don Lope.
Lope. Ah, Crespo, the troubles and dangers of war must have a little to sweeten them betimes. The uniform sits very tight, and must be let out every now and then.
Juan. Yet ’tis a fine life, sir.
Lope. Do you think you would like to follow it?
Juan. If I might at your Excellency’s side.
Song (within).
Ah for the red spring rose,
Down in the garden growing,
Fading as fast as it blows,
Who shall arrest its going?
Peep from thy window and tell,
Fairest of flowers, Isabel.
Lope (aside). Pebbles thrown up at the window too! But I’ll say nothing, for all sakes. (Aloud.) What foolery!
Cres. Boys! Boys! (Aside.) To call her very name too! If it weren’t for Don Lope—
Juan (going). I’ll teach them—
Cres. Holloa, lad, whither away?
Juan. To see for a dish—
Cres. They’ll see after that. Sit still where thou art.
Song (within).
Wither it would, but the bee
Over the blossom hovers,
And the sweet life ere it flee
With as sweet art recovers,
Sweetest at night in his cell,
Fairest of flowers, Isabel.
Isab. (aside). How have I deserved this?
Lope (knocking over his chair). This is not to be borne!
Cres. (upsetting the table). No more it is!
Lope. I meant my leg.
Cres. And I mine.
Lope. I can eat no more, and will to bed.
Cres. Very good: so will I.
Lope. Good-night, good-night, to you all.
All. Good-night, sir.
Lope (aside). I’ll see to them.
[Exit.
Cres. (aside). I’ll shut the girls up, and then look after ’em. (Aloud.) Come, to bed. (To Juan) Holloa, lad, again! This is the way to thy room, is it not?
[Exeunt severally.
Scene III.—Outside Crespo’s House.
The Captain, Sergeant, Rebolledo, Chispa, etc., with guitars. At one corner, Mendo in old armour, with Nuño, observing them. It is dark.
Men. (aside to Nuño). You see this?
Nuñ. And hear it.
Men. I am bloodily minded to charge into them at once, and disperse them into chaos; but I will see if she is guilty of answering them by a sign.
Capt. No glance from the window yet!
Reb. Who’d stir for a sentimental love song? Come, Chispa, you can give us one that would make her look out of the grave.
Chis. Here am I on my pedestal. Now for it. (She sings.)
There once was a certain Sampayo
Of Andalusia the fair;
A Major he was in the service,
And a very fine coat did he wear.
And one night, as to-night it might happen,
That as he was going his round,
With the Garlo half drunk in a tavern—
Reb. Asonante to ‘happen’ you know.
Chis. Don’t put me out, Rebolledo—— (Sings.)
With the Garlo half drunk in a tavern
His lovely Chillona he found.
Chorus.
With the Garlo half drunk in a tavern
His lovely Chillona he found.
Second Stanza.
Now this Garlo, as chronicles tell us,
Although rather giv’n to strong drinks,
Was one of those terrible fellows
Is down on a man ere he winks.
And so while the Major all weeping
Upbraided his lady unkind,
The Garlo behind him came creeping
And laid on the Major behind.
Chorus.
The Garlo, etc.
(During Chorus, Don Lope and Crespo have entered at different sides with swords, and begin to lay about them.)
Cres. What something in this way, perhaps! Lope. After this fashion, may-be! | } Together. |
(The soldiers are driven off.)
Lope. Well, we’re quit of them, except one. But I’ll soon settle him.
Cres. One still hanging about. Off with you!
Lope. Off with you, rascal! (They fight.) By Heaven, he fights well!
Cres. By Heaven, a handy chap at his tool!
Enter Juan with sword and torch.
Juan. Where is Don Lope?
Lope. Crespo!
Cres. Don Lope!
Lope. To be sure, didn’t you say you were going to bed?
Cres. And didn’t you?
Lope. This was my quarrel, not yours.
Cres. Very well, and I come out to help you in it.
Re-enter Captain and Soldiers with swords.
1st Sold. We’ll soon settle them.
Capt. Don Lope!
Lope. Yes, Don Lope. What is all this, sir?
Capt. The soldiers were singing and playing in the street, sir, doing no offence to any one, but were set upon by some of the town’s people, and I came to stop the riot.
Lope. You have done well, Don Alvaro, I know your prudence; however, as there is a grudge on both sides, I shall not visit the town’s people this time with further severity; but, for the sake of all parties, order the regiment to march from Zalamea to-morrow—nay, to-day, for it is now dawn. See to it, sir: and let me hear of no such disgraceful riots hereafter.
Capt. I shall obey your orders, sir.
[Exit with soldiers, etc.
Cres. (aside). Don Lope is a fine fellow! we shall cog together after all.
Lope (to Crespo and Juan). You two keep with me, and don’t be found alone.
[Exeunt.
Re-enter Mendo, and Nuño wounded.
Men. ’Tis only a scratch.
Nuñ. A scratch? Well, I could well have spared that.
Men. Ah, what is it compared to the wound in my heart!
Nuñ. I would gladly exchange for all that.
Men. Well, he did lay upon your head handsomely, didn’t he?
Nuñ. Ah, and on my tail too; while you, under that great shield of yours,—
(Drum.)
Men. Hark! what’s that?
Nuñ. The soldiers’ reveille. I heard say they were to leave Zalamea to-day.
Men. I am glad of it, since they’ll carry that detestable captain off with them at all events.
[Exeunt.
Scene IV.—Outside Zalamea.
Enter Captain, Sergeant, Rebolledo, and Chispa.
Capt. March you on, Sergeant, with the troop. I shall lie here till sun-down, and then steal back to Zalamea for one last chance.
Serg. If you are resolved on this, sir, you had better do it well attended, for these bumpkins are dangerous, once affronted.
Reb. Where, however, (and you ought to tip me for my news,) you have one worst enemy the less.
Capt. Who’s that?
Reb. Isabel’s brother. Don Lope and the lad took a fancy to each other and have persuaded the old father to let him go for a soldier; and I have only just met him as proud as a peacock, with all the sinew of the swain and the spirit of the soldier already about him.
Capt. All works well; there is now only the old father at home, who can easily be disposed of. It only needs that he who brought me this good news help me to use it.
Reb. Me do you mean, sir? So I will, to the best of my power.
Capt. Good; you shall go with me.
Serg. But if Don Lope should happen on you?
Capt. He is himself obliged to set off to Guadalupe this evening, as the king is already on the road. This I heard from himself when I went to take his orders. Come with me, Sergeant, and settle about the troops marching, and then for my own campaign.
[Exeunt Captain and Sergeant.
Chis. And what am I to do, Rebolledo, meanwhile? I shan’t be safe alone with that fellow whose face I sent to be stitcht by the barber.
Reb. Ah, how to manage about that? You wouldn’t dare go with us?
Chis. Not in petticoats; but in the clothes of that run-away stable boy? I can step into them free of expense.
Reb. That’s a brave girl.
Chis. (singing).
And now who shall say
The love of a soldier’s wife lasts but a day?
[Exeunt.
Scene V.—Crespo’s Garden Porch.
Don Lope, Crespo, Juan.
Lope. I have much to thank you for, Crespo, but for nothing so much as for giving me your son for a soldier. I do thank you for that with all my heart.
Cres. I am proud he should be your servant.
Lope. The king’s! the king’s—my friend. I took a fancy to him from the first for his spirit and affection to the service.
Juan. And I will follow you to the world’s end, ] sir.
Cres. Though you must make allowance for his awkwardness at first, sir, remembering he has only had ploughmen for teachers, and plough and pitchforks for books.
Lope. He needs no apology. And now the sun’s heat abates towards his setting, I will be off.
Juan. I will see for the litter.
[Exit.
Enter Isabel and Ines.
Isab. You must not go, sir, without our adieu.
Lope. I would not have done so; nor without asking pardon for much that is past, and even for what I am now about to do. But remember, fair Isabel, ’tis not the price of the gift, but the good will of the giver makes its value. This brooch, though of diamond, becomes poor in your hands, and yet I would fain have you wear it in memory of Don Lope.
Isab. I take it ill you should wish to repay us for an entertainment—
Lope. No, no, no repayment; that were impossible if I wished it. A free keepsake of regard.
Isab. As such I receive it then, sir. Ah, may I make bold to commit my brother to your kindness?
Lope. Indeed, indeed, you may rely on me.
Enter Juan.
Juan. The litter is ready.
Lope. Adieu, then, all.
All. Adieu, adieu, sir.
Lope. Ha, Peter! who, judging from our first meeting, could have prophesied we should part such good friends?
Cres. I could, sir, had I but known—
Lope (going). Well?
Cres. That you were at once as good as crazy. (Exit Lope.) And now, Juan, before going, let me give thee a word of advice in presence of thy sister and cousin; thou and thy horse will easily overtake Don Lope, advice and all. By God’s grace, boy, thou comest of honourable if of humble stock; bear both in mind, so as neither to be daunted from trying to rise, nor puffed up so as to be sure to fall. How many have done away the memory of a defect by carrying themselves modestly; while others again have gotten a blemish only by being too proud of being born without one. There is a just humility that will maintain thine own dignity, and yet make thee insensible to many a rub that galls the proud spirit. Be courteous in thy manner, and liberal of thy purse; for ’tis the hand to the bonnet and in the pocket that makes friends in this world; of which to gain one good, all the gold the sun breeds in India, or the universal sea sucks down, were a cheap purchase. Speak no evil of women; I tell thee the meanest of them deserves our respect; for of women do we not all come? Quarrel with no one but with good cause; by the Lord, over and over again, when I see masters and schools of arms among us, I say to myself, ‘This is not the thing we want at all, How to fight, but Why to fight? that is the lesson we want to learn.’ And I verily believe if but one master of the Why to fight advertised among us he would carry off all the scholars. Well—enough—You have not (as you once said to me) my advice this time on an empty stomach—a fair outfit of clothes and money—a good horse—and a good sword—these, together with Don Lope’s countenance, and my blessing—I trust in God to live to see thee home again with honour and advancement on thy back. My son, God bless thee! There—And now go—for I am beginning to play the woman.
Juan. Your words will live in my heart, sir, so long as it lives. (He kisses his father’s hand.) Sister! (He embraces her.)
Isab. Would I could hold you back in my arms!
Juan. Adieu, cousin!
Ines. I can’t speak.
Cres. Be off, else I shall never let thee go—and my word is given!
Juan. God bless you all!
[Exit.
Isab. Oh, you never should have let him go, sir.
Cres. (aside). I shall do better now. (Aloud.) Pooh, why, what the deuce could I have done with him at home here all his life—a lout—a scape-grace perhaps. Let him go serve his king.
Isab. Leaving us by night too!
Cres. Better than by day, child, at this season—Pooh!—— (Aside.) I must hold up before them.
Isab. Come, sir, let us in.
Ines. No, no, cousin, e’en let us have a little fresh air now the soldiers are gone.
Cres. True—and here I may watch my Juan along the white, white road. Let us sit.
(They sit.)
Isab. Is not this the day, sir, when the Town Council elects its officers?
Cres. Ay, indeed, in August—so it is. And indeed this very day.
(As they talk together, the Captain, Sergeant, Rebolledo, and Chispa steal in.)
Capt. (whispering). ’Tis she! you know our plan; I seize her, and you look to the others.
Isab. What noise is that?
Ines. Who are these?
(The Captain seizes and carries off Isabel—the Sergeant and Rebolledo seize Crespo.)
Isab. (within). My father! My father!
Cres. Villains! A sword! A sword!
Reb. Kill him at once.
Serg. No, no.
Reb. We must carry him off with us then, or his cries will rouse the town.
[Exeunt, carrying Crespo.