University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A STREET IN SEVILLE.
Valentine and Curio meeting.
CURIO.

Whither away so fast?

VALENTINE.

To the execution.

CURIO.

The execution! soft, pray take me with you.

VALENTINE.

Well, come along.

CURIO.

No, no, in thy meaning, I mean; murder, and trial, and
execution, all in a day—'tis something quick.

VALENTINE.

The King, it seems, had ordered that the sentence
should he pronounced, but not the hour of doom,
hoping, no doubt, out of this loophole to work some
escape for Don Carlos.

CURIO.

Well?

VALENTINE.

But the council did not disperse when the court
broke up, but still remained advising, and Lord Gomez,
the old childless lord, you know, together with Don
Arias, it seems, spake so strongly for the execution, that
it was universally decreed at sunset.

CURIO.

What said the King to this?

VALENTINE.

Unable to undo the strong resolve of the council, he
fell into a passion of sorrow and indignation; chid the
old lord from his presence like a storm, and banished his
bastard cousin to his castle in the Nevada. The court
leaves Seville to-morrow.

CURIO.

They're come for all the world like a thunder-cloud
over us. Would they had never come! I know not why,
but I think they are the cause of all this.

VALENTINE.

How so?

CURIO.

Heaven knows—I fancy it. How bore Don Carlos the
warning of his death?

VALENTINE.

Exceeding well. At first the natural fear of dissolution
which all flesh inherits made the colour run from his
cheeks and lips, but presently he seemed to embrace his
fate with a constant spirit, and commending himself to
the King's gracious remembrance, sent for his confessor.

CURIO.

O Valentine, he should have died in battle: the Moors,

and not an executioner, should have been the ending of
that gallant heart.

VALENTINE.

Come, I must go. Will you go with me?

CURIO.

Ay, to the saddest sight I think I ere shall look on.

[Exeunt.