The Star of Seville A Drama. In Five Acts |
 | 1. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 2. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 3. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. | SCENE IV. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 4. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
 | The Star of Seville |  |
SCENE IV.
—A ROOM IN THE ANCHOR INN.Hyacinth, Curio, Valentine, and others, at Supper Various tables surrounded with Revellers.
OMNES.
Ha! ha! ha! ha!
HYACINTH.
Excellent! excellent! though I made the jest myself!
Now we will have a song—ahem!
Like the moping dove
Are all too sad for me,
But the light that lies
In merry eyes,
A laughing love give me!
Enter Vasco and others, leading Carlos.
CURIO.
Ha! here is company,—Vasco.
VALENTINE.
What hath kept thee?
HYACINTH.
Is the man dead or drunk?
VASCO.
Neither, neither; here, give me a cup of wine.
CARLOS
—(drinks.)
Another—another—ha! ha! ha! ha!—another, to
drown the fire in my brain!
CURIO.
Sit down, sir; you seem better.
CARLOS.
Better! what need of better? I am well—what ails
me, think you?—tush, tush, men are not maids to
faint away for the heart-ache. More wine—more—
give me more wine,—a health—a health to the devil,
the king of kings!
HYACINTH.
Why that's a merry blade: I like a fellow that takes
his liquor kindly.
All is not right with him; this is a strange passion.
CARLOS.
Well, sir, what d'ye see in my eyes? you peruse me
as though for all the world you meant to learn me.
VASCO.
Indeed, my lord, not I! Come, gentlemen, Don
Carlos seems well disposed to honour us awhile.
CARLOS.
Ay, till the yellow sun-light flames in the sky; for
what was the night made, think ye, but to drink and to
forget the cursed day?—A health. Give me some
wine!
PAGE.
Sir, your glass is full.
CARLOS
—(drinks.)
Now give me some!—'tis empty—ha! thou ill scholar
—thou canst spell bravely. Heed me not, gentlemen.
I'll sit here apart at this table,—think not of me,
good gentlemen. Get thee home, imp;—dost hear me?
go home!
PAGE.
I will, my lord.
[Exit Page.
VALENTINE.
This is a strange, humorous fancy, to come here
among us and spoil sport, with his gaunt visage.
CURIO.
Mayhap he hath quarrell'd with his mistress—they're
to be married to-morrow.
HYACINTH.
To-day, for it is day—a baby-day of two hours old.
we will be melodious. Senor Valentine, you've a sweet
pipe, I've heard.
CURIO.
For all the world like a nightingale in the quinsey.
VALENTINE
sings.
The goblet wears its joyous hue;
In the goblet drown your woes—
With the goblet meet your foes,
There is no friend so staunch beside.
Drink to me—I drink to you!
The goblet wears its joyous hue;
With the goblet laugh at tears—
With the goblet jest at fears—
With wine the world may be defied.
Drink to me—I drink to you!
HYACINTH.
“There is no mistress half so true;” that were wisdom,
though an heathen should say it.
VASCO.
You have travelled, Cousin Hyacinth?
I have, Cousin Vasco.
CURIO.
Whither, may't please you, sir?
HYACINTH.
O, why I have gone hopping about the world, picking
up crumbs of wisdom here and there; but I have
more studied men than things, and women more than
either men or things.
VALENTINE.
And the epitome of your observation is—
HYACINTH.
That your Italian loves you for love's-sake, your
Frenchwoman for your tongue's-sake, your German for
your great-grandfather's sake, and your Englishwoman
for your purse's-sake.
VASCO.
And our Spanish girls?
HYACINTH.
O, for God's-sake, and to be charitable.
VALENTINE.
The English—they live with their heads under
water, do they not?
HYACINTH.
Yea, for the most part under aqua-vitæ. Gentlemen,
drink, we will call for more wine.
VASCO.
The room is very hot.
HYACINTH.
Ay, me—
The heat would not so much matter an' it would
stand still. I have heard the world did turn round, but
never marked it till now.
HYACINTH.
Ay, me!
VALENTINE.
Humph! 'tis not the room, nor the world either—
hiccup!—doth turn—'tis thou goest flisking hi—hiccup
—hither and thither—how like thou art—hiccup—
to a fly!
HYACINTH.
Ay, me!—my heart grows soft.—O, my dear friends!
my most loving friends! my kind cousin—and ye,
sweet gentlemen—'tis an evil thing and a sore to be
cleft in the heart.
VASCO.
What now! are you so wounded?
HYACINTH.
There is a lady weeping in Segovia, I do think, at
this hour—lo mine eyes take the hint of her sorrow.
—O my dear friend! my gentle kinsman, to that fair
lady am I contracted.
(Chorus of gentlemen at another table.)
“And she was mine and thine,
That lady so frail and fine.”
HYACINTH.
'Tis false—ye lie in your throats! She is mine own
betrothed bride—and purer than—
Ditch-water—hiccup—
HYACINTH.
Now then, a health!—a health to the fair bride!
CARLOS.
(Starting up.)
Ay, ay, to the bride, all swathed in
mourning weeds—to the bloody-handed bridegroom!—a
health—a health to the fairest maid in Seville—in Spain
—in all the world—Estrella, the star;—drink on your
knees as I drink, sirs, to the fair Star of Seville.
(They
all drink.)
Good night, kind gentlemen—a merry
waking to you all.
(He rushes out.)
HYACINTH.
That's a pleasant youth, my Vasco!—O my Pollux,
I will be thy Castor.
VASCO.
Heaven send you be not my death! Pray clasp not
my throat so close.
HYACINTH.
I am lamentable in my soul, my brother.
(Curio and Valentine sing and dance together.)
“Ho, ho, with a hip, ho, ho—
Down with the heel, and up with the toe.”
HYACINTH.
Yea, I will dance and defy the devil.
VASCO.
Come, come—leave your teetotum reel—ho, hostess!
—where be our men—what, hostess, ho!
(Enter the
Send hither our men—we must towards home
—'tis daylight.
HYACINTH.
Ho, ho, with a—
VASCO.
Come, come, gentlemen—'tis time we leave the house
—'tis early morning.
VALENTINE.
Curio, come then with me—we'll to the house you
wot of.
CURIO.
We will—we will. Thou hast ta'en my hat.
VALENTINE.
Ta'en in thy teeth—I'm no rubbish vender.
CURIO.
I say thou hast stolen my hat—it had a feather
once.
VASCO.
'Tis dangling here behind you.
CURIO.
Valentine, you're an honest man—I forgive thee!
HYACINTH.
Kinsman, dear—I will take thine arm. Come, shall
we dance a fandango?
VASCO.
The fiend fly away with you!—leave dancing, and
come home.
Enter Sancho, and other Men-servants.
VASCO.
Sancho, take thy master.
O Vasco, my soul is exceeding heavy. I could
weep—yea, I do weep; lo! spite of these breeches,
mine eyes gush over for the fair Amadalinda. Ho, ho,
with a hip ho, ho—
VASCO.
Come, come.
HYACINTH.
Ho, ho—out, alas;—hip, ay me—good night, gentlemen.
How you pull me, cousin!—let me embrace my
friends. Good night, sweet gentlemen.
(He embraces them all over and over again.)
VASCO.
A plague on your slobbering!
HYACINTH.
Vamos! ho—ho—hip—ho—ho—
(Exeunt Vasco and Sancho, leading Hyacinth, followed by Curio and Valentine arm-in-arm; manent chorus of gentlemen, who sing the following
Chorus.
“What, though the morn
Looks keen and cold,
Like a bitter scold,
Her spite we scorn,
With a hey down, down, my bully boys bold!”
| The Star of Seville | |