University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

The Fields near Seville. Enter Don Luis and Don Miguel, meeting Calaynos, Don Lopez, and Oliver.
Don Lopez.
Stand here, my lord.

Calaynos.
Let there be no delay.

Don Miguel.
(To Don Luis.)
Stand here, my boy.

Don Luis.
(Aside.)
He 's ill; I'll kill him easily.

(Don Lopez and Don Miguel advance.)
Don Lop.
'T is a fine day, and this a glorious ground.

Don M.
Yes, for a fight with good old-fashioned blades.

Don Lop.
Excuse me, sir, but we must follow custom.

Don M.
Yes, afar off.—Here is Don Luis' skewer.

[Gives the sword.]
Don Lop.
(Measuring.)
'T is full an inch too long.—I sent the measure—
There 's no excuse—they cannot fight to-day.

Don M.
What cares a man against an inch or two?
Bah! on your forms! His grandsire, in his day,
Would draw his dagger 'gainst an ashen spear.

Don Lop.
I have a name, sir, among gentlemen,
Which I'll not hazard on so grave a thing.

Oliver.
(Advancing.)
Why pause you, gentlemen? My lord is ill,
And loses strength by standing such a time.

Don Lop.
Don Luis' blade is full an inch too long.

Oli.
The murderous coward! [Aside.]

[Goes to Calaynos and returns.]
Go on, gentlemen;
If 't is a foot too long, my lord cares not.

Don M.
Said like his grandsire:—there the old blood spoke!

Don Lop.
Well, as he wills; but I again protest—
You'll bear me witness, sir, before the world?

Don M.
Yes, yes. Stand here, my friend.

[To Don Luis.]
Don Lop.
Stand here, my lord.
[To Calaynos.]
Draws, sirs—advance—guard—

Don M.
God defend the right!

Don Lop.
Heavens! what queer phrases has this antique man!
[Aside.]
(Calaynos and Don Luis fight.)
My man fights well.

Don M.
He fights too much for blood:
He'll catch a wound.

Don Lop.
There 's his French trick—I knew it!

(Calaynos is wounded.)
Lopez and Miguel.
Hold, gentlemen!

Cal.
Stand back—beware Calaynos!

Don M.
Thus spoke his grandsire when his blood was up.

Don Lop.
Again!

(Calaynos is wounded.)
Lopez and Miguel.
Hold, gentlemen—forbear, forbear!

(They rush between.)
Don Lop.
Are you not satisfied?

Don Luis.
I am, for one.

Cal.
I came to die, or be that villain's death!—
Stand from between us; or, by heaven's great king,
I'll make a path across your carcasses!

Don Lop.
Well, well, go on—but this is bloody work!

(They fight: Calaynos disarms Don Luis.)
Cal.
Turn dog, and fly!

Don Luis.
Now while I 've legs to stand

Cal.
Down, down, and beg!

Don Luis.
No, never to a Moor!

Cal.
Ha, wretch! [Kills Don Luis.]


(Calaynos staggers and falls.)
Oli.
My lord, you 're wounded.

Cal.
Yes, to death.
Come nearer, son—I have short time to live.—
Why dost thou weep?

Oli.
O, why do I not die?

Cal.
Nay, live, dear Oliver, to think of us—
Of poor, poor Alda, and her buried lord:
Thou 'lt come at sun-down o'er the dewy grass,
And kneel beside us, and thou 'lt pray for her.
Was she not wronged?—but pure, but pure as heaven!

Oli.
Most pure, my lord.

Cal.
O bless thee, for those words!
Come close, my son: thou wert my only friend,
And next to Alda in my heart thou stoodst.
Wilt thou forgive me the harsh words I said,
For that false man—by Heaven's arm smote, not mine?

Oli.
O woe! O woe!—Nay, nay, 't was all my fault.

Cal.
Not so—come nearer. Thou wilt bury me
Next to dear Alda.—Now sweet death draws on:
I feel his icy breath upon my cheek—
The gates of knowledge lift to let me in—
Already, half the mystery of life
Rolls from my soul, like a divided veil!
The secrets of the universe unclose,
And I am filled with light!

Oli.
O, mighty soul!

Cal.
Stand from before me—give me air—I choke.
Next Alda—next my wife—wife—O!

[Dies.]
Oli.
The stony world may smile at broken hearts;
But there lies one cracked to the very core.
(Enter Servants, and group round the body.)
Tread softly—here is death!