University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—A STREET IN SEVILLE.
Enter Curio and Valentine.
CURIO.
Sir, for a ducat, it was as I tell you.

VALENTINE.
I was not far behind you, and I saw
Nothing of this.

CURIO.
He pushed his horse athwart Don Arias,
And ploughed him out o' the path, or I'm a Moor.

VALENTINE.
What said the King?

CURIO.
You know the King, God save him!
Was Carlos' school-day brother, and he seemed
So glad to bid him hail, that, for the time,
The favourite's balance kicked the beam.

VALENTINE.
Here comes the man: who is he walking with?

CURIO.
The grave old counsellor i' the mourning robe,
Whose son was killed in a broil at Saragossa:
So life and death, wisdom and vanity,
Still in this world go ambling side by side.
Save your good lordships!

Enter Gomez and Arias.
ARIAS.
Gentlemen, God save ye.

GOMEZ.
But, my lord, if it was as you do think,—
Or if you think it was as you do say,
How comes it that you took th' affront so kindly,
Who are nothing slack to let your blood boil o'er
On some occasions?

ARIAS.
Let it pass, my Lord;
I had my reasons.—Gentlemen, the King
Has bid me welcome you to his new court,
And challenge all with courteous kind defiance
To do him reason in mirth's glittering lists;
You are all bid, and will be welcome all,—
And if you chance to have fair wives or sisters,
You will be all the welcomer: the King,
At the good Lord Archbishop's entertained,
And there does purpose entertaining you.

CURIO.
We have our congé.

VALENTINE.
Fare you well, my Lord.

ARIAS.
Your slave, kind gentlemen.
[Exeunt Curio and Valentine.
Sweet Seville manners!
Did ye mark that drawl o' the leg in's bow?
He bowed, for all the world, as though his body
Took me for a pawnbroker, and meant to leave
His leg in pledge behind.

GOMEZ.
I did not note.

ARIAS.
You're something blind, I think,
You're lucky.

GOMEZ.
'Tis the twilight time of life with me,
And then, you know, all objects lose their outlines.

ARIAS.
'Tis very fit you should be blind; the fashion
In such a matter's not to be neglected,
And to see with your eyes were such a strangeness
As would make a most notorious monster of you.

GOMEZ.
I am much bound to time; but for all that,
Would rather ape than own such nice infirmities.
But pray, my lord, now that we are alone,
May I be bold again to ask you why,
Since you conceive Don Carlos hath aggrieved you,
You backed so readily and bore so christian-like
The wrong?

ARIAS.
Let those who stand upon the verge of power,
Whose edges are but slippery and unsafe,
Fear lest the summer wind should blow them off:
I hold the centre point o' the King's affection,
And nothing own the jealousy of fear,
Though something still a sense of injury.
They were dear school-fellows, once on a day,
And my royal cousin loves a new face dearly,
And his was old enough to be a new:
They had not met for some six years, I think;
But I am not in case to hang myself,
Though Carlos were ten times a better courtier.

GOMEZ.
I'm glad your Lordship's laid such good foundation
In the unsound and shifting sands of favour:
But, sir—and let it nothing move your anger
That I am bold to speak my mind to you,
But rather let my dignity of age
Stand peer with your more honourable station,—
You do not 'scape the touch of some reproof
For the means whereby you've rivetted yourself
To the King's love.

ARIAS.
Ha! what!—there was no witchcraft
I' the matter.

GOMEZ.
No, I believe, sir, none;
But something haply of too broad compliance
With the King's humours, which, and 'tis no sin,
Smack of his years.

ARIAS.
Now, Heaven save the mark!
I am his younger, worthy lord, by twice
Red autumn's birth-days, and your lordship knows
I reverence my elders: I protest
I always look to him for grave examples,
And nothing doubting, follow those he gives me.
Oh! my good lord, my innocence is wounded.

GOMEZ.
It hath a gash bigger than its whole body,
For I think as sorely wounded as it is
An inch of lint would swathe it round and round.
But, sir, if you did fairly gain that height
You hold i' the King's affection, at the least
You have not used it to such fruitful end,
For the people's weal, as you had opportunity,
And 'tis the common voice that you are rather
The prompter of his highness's too large pleasures,
The quick deviser of these full excesses,
Than a mere actor in the revel rout.

ARIAS.
Enough! enough for once; long homilies
Are hemlock to me. Used my power for good!
Now, by St. Anthony! I am the man,
Do keep the King in humour with ye all,
And 'cause I rather single out o' the fold
One sheep to throw the wolf, than let him harry
The trembling flock, they now cry out upon me!
They'd better let their King sleep in love's arms,
Than wake in those of war—taxes, exactions,
With all the drains through which princes are wont
To suck the people's blood and substance are unknown—
And save a dark eyed Donna, here and there.
The King levies no tribute on the mass,
Nor asks for other hostage of their loves.
By my troth, a godly King! Then, sir, for me,
I am the fellow at the chimney-corner,
Who keeps the fire alive that warms you all.

GOMEZ.
A very worthy, charitable office.

ARIAS.
No sinecure, o' my conscience! for the most part
My best reward are blistered fingers' ends;
And the people's gratitude right soothing salve.
He's in some things a very heathenish man
For a christian King, and hath no more respect
For what I hold the finest thing in nature,
A fair bald head, than for a smooth round turnip;
A very graceless youth—tho' I'm his cousin.
Oh! my Lord Gomez! I have seen his highness
Come champing out o' the council, muttering—
“That bald old fool.”

GOMEZ.
Of me!

ARIAS.
Your reverend lordship,
That bald old fool! Then step I in, d'ye see,
And fling the golden locks of some bright girl
Over your lordship's baldness—and your lordship
Remains in office, and the people profit
By your lordship's zeal and wisdom in their service.

GOMEZ.
A very useful, honourable employ!

ARIAS.
The people, as the muddy spawn is called,
Are villain slaves, that do not know their friends:
By my soul! I'll leave them to the tender mercies
Of my King cousin; they had better keep
His mistresses, than let him be their master—
But for this same morality you talk of,
I'll make good use on't, worthy lord, be sure.

Enter Page.
PAGE.
May it please you, noble sir, attend the King.

ARIAS.
I' the instant.
[Exit Page.
Now your lordship sees that I
Seek not the mountain, but the mountain me;
But I'll not fail to give his Majesty
The very essence of your homily.
Farewell, old honest lord—good Mumblesaws.

[Exeunt.