University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Medina Sidonia. Before the Gates of the Castle. Sentinels on duty. The morning drum is heard, and the ceremony of relieving guard passes; then enter, from the Castle, Coronel and Cañedo. The Sentinels salute them.
Coronel.
The saints relieve me from my governorship!
My honors hang about me like wide clothes
Upon a shrunken body; I scarce move
Without some awkward stumble, plainly showing
My great unfitness for my great command.
I'll never make a courtier. Look, Cañedo,
How do these silken slops become a frame
Worn gaunt in armor? Does this feathered cap
Droop o'er the ugly line my helmet fretted
Round my bald forehead? Can this chain and key
Cover my gashes? Or this slender staff
Bear the huge weight of my uncourtly limp
Through bows and cringes? Bah! I spat at fortune
When I forsook the wars.

Cañedo.
Despite thy “bah,”
One sees the wolf's teeth grinning plain enough
Through the sheep's fleece.

Cor.
Ay, there 's the curse of it!
But yesterday I had a boon to ask,—
I vow I asked it in my smoothest phrase,—
When, to my horror, Doña Leonor
Laughed in my face, and said, in her mild way,
“Out with your dagger, Coronel! The act
Would fit the voice.”

Cañ.
And thou?

Cor.
And I! I ran—
Broke through her maidens, like a hurricane
Through the rose-gardens of Granada—ran
To find a mandolin, and pitch my voice
Down to its finest note. Pray, hear me now,
In the sharp treble of my lady's page:
“Par Dieu,”—they say that 's French,—“I've found a band,
A pretty band of silk—par Dieu! I have;
And I have vowed to Mary and Saint James
To bind it on its ravishing abode,
Or die in treasuring it—par Dieu! I have!”
Which means, in simple speaking, I have found
A wench's garter, and would tie it on.
Fie! fie! it turns my stomach inside out,
To hear their lady-talk.

Cañ.
Such blows on hand,
While we are rusting here without a rub!
Moors flying pell-mell—Don Alfonso's spears
Combing their horse-tails out upon the wind—
Gibraltar's garrison with all its eyes
Fixed upon Africa, as on a goal—
The plague afoot too—Heaven at work with man—
Why death must caper like a harlequin!

Cor.
Ay, how I long to have my iron out!
Cañedo, just hold still, and be my Moor,
Until I break this stick across thy sconce.

[Breaks his wand over Cañedo's head.]
Cañ.
Thou dost not strike with the old force.

Cor.
I fear it.
Did I not hurt thee?

Cañ.
Not a whit.

Cor.
That's sad!
Had I my great Toledo, thou shouldst dance.

Cañ.
But had I mine?—

Cor.
What then?

Cañ.
I'd dance thee to
Much the same music.

Cor.
If thy sword agreed,
In length or temper, with that tongue of thine,
The Cid would shoulder over in his tomb,
To give thee room beside him.

Cañ.
Hold thy prate,
Or I may choke thee with thy governor's chain!

Cor.
Not till I 'd thumped thy mazzard with its key.

Cañ.
Saint Jago! but I'll teach thee—

Cor.
All thou know'st,
And after dub me fool.

Cañ.
Here 's sharper wit.

[Drawing.]
Cor.
It draws as sharp reply.

[Drawing.]
Cañ.
Now keep thy ward.

First Sentinel.
Good gentlemen!

[Advancing.]
Second Sentinel.
Keep back! the blood they shed
I'll catch in a tailor's thimble.

Cañ.
Art thou ready?

Cor.
For what?

Cañ.
To have thy throat cut.

Cor.
As thou art.

First S.
Are they not brave?

Second S.
Ay, as twin lions, boy:
They live to wrangle; they'll ne'er die for it.

(Coronel and Cañedo fight.)
Cor.
Cañedo, hist! look there.

[Drops his sword.]
Cañ.
Where?

Cor.
O'er the hill.

Cañ.
I am no hawk. What seest thou?

Cor.
An armed band
Topping the hill—a mass of moving steel—
The fore-guard of an army, if I know
A bodkin from a sword. Ho! ho! Cañedo,
Throw up thy cap! Gibraltar has been won,
And here comes King Alfonso with the spoils!
Turn out the guard, and saddle my dun horse;
I'll meet our sovereign on the way. Ho, there!
Shake out the yellow silk of old Castile!
Run to the outer wall, and make it blaze
With our bright hauberks and our lifted spears,
Until the very stones appear on fire,
While our bold trumpets ring in heaven's glad ear,
Its soldier has returned with victory!

[Drums. Exit Guard.]
Cañ.
Hast thou the plague?

Cor.
Ever, when thou art near.
Thou ugly budget of mortality,
Throw up thy cap! or, by the saints, I'll make
Thy cap and thee a fixture in the air,
By hanging thee for treason!

Cañ.
Well, hurra!
[Throwing up his cap.]
Behold thy sign in heaven,—an empty cap,
As thine is always.

Cor.
Hum! thy hair-patch fills it
With anything but wit. Go take the news
Of yonder march—for I'm in desperate haste—
To Doña Leonor.

Cañ.
I see thy drift:
Thou wouldst evade thy duties, governor.
O, fie! do courtesy by deputy?

Cor.
Now, my dear friend—

Cañ.
I'll face the devil first!
I hate a woman.

Cor.
They are quits with thee.
She may discover it as best she can.
I'll not be jeered at. There shall be no more
“Out with your dagger, Coronel,” to please
All the best dames of love within the land.
And yet I fear—

Cañ.
By Jupiter, thou 'rt right!
A peasant's honest drudge takes rank with me
Before the wanton of an emperor.

Cor.
Go in to thy command, and man the walls:
I'll mount, and gallop forth to meet the king.

[Exeunt severally.]