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 | Plays and Poems |  |
SCENE II.
A Room in Don Luis' house. Don Luis alone.Don Luis.
All the supply of gold Calaynos sent
At length has dwindled to a single coin—
Curse on my luck! the cards will never change.
By heaven! I swear, if ever I grow rich—
By some unthought of chance, unborn as yet—
I'll shun all gambling from that very hour.
But, being ruined, I must needs play on—
For what wise gamester ever stopped in loss?—
Hoping, by lucky change, to win all back
With double interest—fortune's usury.
'T is villanous! for me, a gentleman,
To be thus kenneled like a dangerous cur;
Shut up by day, to prowl abroad at night,
And forage scantly on my neighbor's fold
[Knocking.]
Who 's there?
Soto.
(Without.)
Unbar the door. 'T is I, my lord.
25
Don. L.
You, Soto? Pray, what brings you back so soon?
Soto.
Good news, my lord; up to your highest wish!
The wealthy friend, of whom you lately spoke,
Is in Seville, and seeking for your house.
Don L.
Why not conduct him hither, dull-brained dog?
Soto.
And mar your plot! No; I'm too old for that.
I threw him off the scent, and ran with speed
To warn you, señor, how to take the man.
You have not met your golden friend for years:
Mark my advantage,—I just quit his presence.
Lord! señor, here 's a man to talk about
Before one's breakfast! That 's my time of day:
Like a stopped clock, I point the self-same hour—
Just before breakfast! See my shivering hand
Upon this sinking button—mark the dial-plate!
Is there a clock in Spain that plainer says,
Just before breakfast? Ah! you flirt away:
I see my stomach does not gnaw your ribs.
Have you a bone hid?
Don L.
Pish! what of Calaynos?
Soto.
O wonders! miracles! He 's not content
To feed his servants as your common lords:
No, no—not he! His secretary says,
If they complain of hunger—note his way—
He simply drives a live ox down their throats,
Horns, tail, and all! There 's rural luxury!
There 's doing dinner on a royal scale!
That I call living!
26
Sirrah, shall I give
Your hungry ribs an outside dressing?
Soto.
Nay;
Your pounded meat is my aversion, señor.
But, O, this anaconda way of life—
This swallowing oxen with my appetite—
This blissful dream of always being full,
Squeezed out all baser matter from my brain.
Don L.
I'll beat your prating skull till you talk sense.
[Seizes Soto.]
Soto.
What, break the vessel of your own salvation!
Sink ship, chart, compass—
Don L.
Soto, now by heaven!—
[Strikes him.]
Soto.
I'm down, I yield; you have persuaded me.
Calaynos comes to aid our suffering virtue:
For, by some words his secretary dropped,
And by the outward bearing of the man,
I deem him one for noble actions fit—
A generous mind, above suspicion quite;
Yet with an eye that looks through outward things
Into the soul, if once aroused to doubt:
Therefore be wary.
Don L.
Fear me not, good Soto.
You 've shown a shrewdness that I dreamed not of.
Soto.
But above all, beware the man of ink—
A kind of humble friend to great Calaynos;
More of a worldly turn than is his master:
He might walk safely o'er the roughest path,
While his lord tripped by gazing at the stars.
You may betray the lord before his eyes,
But not the secretary, on my life.
[Knocking]
27
Heard you a knocking? To the window, quick!
Soto.
(Looking out.)
They 've come, the two, his lordship and the scribe;
Looking like hares before a tempting trap.
Shall I go down and let the conies in?
Don L.
Ay, quickly; shut your mouth, you grinning knave!
[Exit Soto.]
Now for another step in villany—
Pshaw, pshaw, no scruples! I have left the path
Which leads to good, so far from where I stand,
That all return is worse than hopeless now.
What if I should confess? Would he forgive?
No, he would shun me as a spotted lazar!
What tells me to confess?—Some mocking fiend,
That fain would snatch the prize within my grasp.
It cannot be; I was not formed for good;
To what fate orders I must needs submit;
The sin not mine, but His who framed me thus—
Not in my will, but in my nature lodged.
Formed as I am, I have no choice of fate;
But must achieve the purpose of my being.
Therefore away, ye cheating fantasies!
That would decoy me from the thing I 'd clutch,
Then leave me poor, and wickeder than ever.
He is a fool who acts not for himself;
A worse than fool, who chases airy virtue,
And gains but knocks and hatred for reward.
Yes, I will grasp the stable goods of life,
Nor care how foul the hand that does the deed.
Hark! they are coming. Actor, to thy part!
28
Oliver.
You here! and pray, my friend, how came you hither?
Soto.
This is our house; and there my master stands,
Doing his duty to your lord Calaynos.
The house is small, and scant of furniture;
But you'll find rich apartments in our hearts,
Where you may lodge until the walls decay.
Oli.
What, he your lord! You 're surely jesting me:
You made me think, but half an hour ago,
Your lord the chiefest villain in Seville;
Called him a common gamester; said he lived
By cheatery of all kinds and qualities!
But sure Don Luis is a worthy man,—
You, a deceiving trickster!
Soto.
So I said:
But I'm the greatest liar in Seville;
A bastard born, and therefore false by nature.
My family, sir, before me, all were liars;
'T is an infection that invades our blood;
For which I'm bound no more than is a king
For the bright crown that tops his stately brows—
Coming by course of nature, not desert!
I love to lie; 't is naught but romance-making,
Spoken, not writ—for I'm too poor to print.
I could tell tales would make Quevedo stare—
But not malicious ones; and if believed,
How proud am I, as proving truth to nature!
I was but practising my art on you.
See how you stare, what admiration show!
29
Yet have I done my lord no grain of harm,
Now all the lie is out. Poor, honest man!
Why, sir, his honesty brought on these straits.
Oli.
Cease, you mad dog! perchance you 're lying now.
Soto.
Not I; you here may trust me without fear;
Beneath this roof I do not dare to lie.
My standing here is most undoubted, señor;
So is my calling—
Don L.
Soto!
Soto.
As you must perceive.
[Retires.]
Oli.
I half suspect this fellow told the truth
When first we met. I do not like the looks
Of him he calls his master, yon Don Luis.
Then the unnatural boast about his lying.—
It may be so; for I have known some men
Who boast of crime, as if they spoke of virtue;
And hang their sins out as for ornament,
Merely to make the wondering audience stare.
The morbid wish to be observed of men
Makes heroes of our dying criminals,
And adds a goad to crime. But yet I'll watch;
This limping story does not satisfy.
[Retires.]
(Calaynos and Don Luis advance.)
Calaynos.
So, poor companion, thou art hunted down
By these base creditors; thy house besieged,
Thy actions spied, sweet liberty infringed;
God's very air thy troubled bosom breathes,
Shut up in this close mansion. Why not write,
30
And seek me out among my native hills,
Where I with open arms had welcomed thee?
Don L.
It was with fear that I disclosed my state,
Half doubting this return from even thee:
For we were sundered in the May of youth,
Nor since have held communion. Ah, I thought
Thou, like my other friends, hadst callous grown.
Cal.
How thou didst wrong me!
Don L.
Wronged thee, noble man!
Yes, I can ne'er forgive the thoughts I bore
'Gainst thee, and 'gainst the race of man entire.
For I have stood at bay before the world,
Facing the wolves that well-nigh pulled me down;
Until I deemed mankind a hungry pack,
Eager to suck their wounded brother's blood.
But thou hast come to purge me of my gall,
To heal my wounded heart, to dry my tears,
And plant within my soul a love for man,
Which, by Heaven's grace, wrong never shall uproot.
Cal.
Dost thou remember, Luis, when we sat
Remote from men, yet planned to mankind good?
What dreams we dreamed, what projects grave we formed,
To guide our lives when we to manhood came?
And thou wert ever first in these designs;
Formed broader projects, gave a greater scope
To thy sweet fancy, than thy backward friend:
And wast thou first to plan these goodly deeds,
Yet last to bear them out? Ah me! I fear
The sprouts of fancy most luxuriant shoot
In shallowest soils; and, when most forward seeming,
Oft-times but weak of root!
31
It so has seemed.
Calaynos, hadst thou borne what I have borne,
Thou wouldst not be so gracious to mankind.
Thou hast been nursed in wealth and luxury,
Thy every wish been father to the deed:
Thou, from o'erflowing means, hast freely given
That which it cost thee nothing to impart:
But I, through bad men's acts, have fallen from wealth,
Nor know one day if I may feed the next;
So that the coin which I a beggar give
A moment wavers 'twixt his need and mine.
Cal.
Luis, you know not of the years I 've spent,
In patient study and unwearying search,
To learn the wants of man. I have digged down
Into the very roots and springs of things:
All moral systems, all philosophies,
All that the poet or historian wrote,
All hints from lighter books, all common sayings,—
The current coin of wisdom 'mong mankind,—
Time-hallowed truths, and lies which seem like truths,
I have turned o'er, before my mental eye,
Seeking a guide to lead me on to good;
And find, the chiefest springs of happiness
Are faith in Heaven, and love to all mankind.
Don L.
This is a noble creed, above my reach—
A creed for one in ease and affluence;
Better in speculation than in deed.
Cal.
Not so; and thou shalt go, poor brain-sick man,
Far from these scenes, to heal thy wounded mind.
Beneath my roof thou shalt forget thy cares;
And time's soft plumes will brush thy tears away;
32
To bear thee safely through this faithless world.
Don L.
Thou art too good to one not worth thy love.
Cal.
Leave that to me. But of the creditors;
I long to stuff their hungry maws with gold.
Send for them quickly.
Don L.
Nay, I'll go myself.
A walk to me is a rare luxury.
Cal.
Well, then, we'll seek them.
Don L.
Nay, I'll bring them here.
Repose a while; I will return with speed.
[Exit hastily.]
Oli.
(Advancing.)
How fell Don Luis to such poverty?
Cal.
By the connivance of some common knaves,
Who gained his name to certain bonds and deeds
Of a vile tool of theirs, that played his friend.
Soto.
Two scurvy knaves, two knaves of clubs and spades,
Took the last real he could call his own.
[Aside.]
Oli.
(Drawing Calaynos away from Soto.)
This shows a lack of wisdom on his part.
Cal.
Nay, Oliver, it shows a trusting mind,
Pure from suspicion, a most guileless mind.
He is a man whose loving heart was bruised
By acts of one whom most of all he loved.
For this, I quite forgive his bitterness.
Oli.
A man like him, reared in a crafty town,
With his acuteness, was too easily caught
By a most shallow and most bare-faced trick.
Cal.
Suspect you aught? What, sir, you do suspect?
33
And I have grounds.
Cal.
Rash boy, restrain your tongue!
Or that might follow which you may repent.
I tell you he is pure as yon bright sun.
Knaves flourish and grow rich: look round you here;
Does this poor house show aught of prosperous crime?
If he were wealthy, or o'erblown with pride,
I 'd listen to the silly words you speak.
I knew him from a child; you catch a glance;
And yet you tell me, as a trader would,
This gold is counterfeit! These words of yours
Savor of cunning low, and not of wisdom.
Yet never seek to sprinkle in my ear
Your worldly gall! What I will do, I will!
Nor you, and all the world—
Oli.
My lord, my lord!
Cal.
Pardon me, Oliver; thy wish was good,
And towards my interest aimed, though shot awry.
Think not of what I said. Let us go in:
There is a couch; I would repose a while.
[Exeunt Calaynos and Oliver.]
Soto.
Lord! What an actor has my master grown!
It takes a gentleman to lie complete.
I'm but a blunderer to this mighty man,
Who lies by rule, is armed at every point,
Ready for each conjecture. 'T is a system
To which an humble man can ne'er attain.
I do not like that secretary's air:
He is too shrewd; and has a busy brain,
That ever seeks for plots and deep deceits
In all he looks at. For a rustic born,
34
What a poor, generous, trusting dolt his lord!
Here 's a fine subject for the Don to fleece!
Why, we'll grow rich on him, regain our state,
And flourish bravely, as we did of old.—
But I must warn Don Luis, once again,
To keep an eye upon the cunning scribe.
[Exit.]
| Plays and Poems | |