Keep Your Own Secret :: :: University of Virginia Library

I only stay to thank your Highness, (both as subject
and as servant,) for all the honour that you do us; may
Heaven so prolong your life that even oblivion herself—

Prince.

Nay, truce to compliment: your sister will not of
my company, unless under your proxy. So farewell. [Exit Felix.]

Is there a greater nuisance than to have such
windy nonsense stuff'd into one's ears, when delight is
vanished from the eyes!

Enter Arias.

But, Don Arias! You have seen Cesar?

Ar.

Yes, my lord; but ere I tell you about him, would
know how far this last interview with Donna Anna has advanced
your love.

Prince.
Oh Arias, Arias, my love for her
So blends with my solicitude for him,
I scarce can hold me clear between the two.
Yet let me tell you. In my sister's room,
Whither I went, you know, upon our parting,
I saw my lady like a sovereign rose
Among the common flowers; or, if you will,
A star among the roses; or the star
Of stars, the morning star: yea, say at once
The sun himself among the host of heaven!
My eyes and ears were rapt with her; her lips
Not fairer than the words that came from them.

At length she rose to go: like the ev'ning star
Went with the ev'ning; which, how short, say love
Who'd spin each golden moment to a year,
Which year would then seem than a moment less.

Ar.
Is then, my lord, this passion so deep fixt?

Prince.
Nay, but of one day's growth—

Ar.
I come in time then,
My lord, in one word, if you love Don Cesar,
Cease to love Donna Anna.

Prince.
Arias,
He who begins to hint at any danger
Is bound to tell it out—nothing, or all.
Why do you hesitate?

Ar.
Because, my lord,
But hinting this to you, I break the seal
Of secrecy to him.

Prince.
But it is broken;
And so—

Ar.
Oh, Cesar, pardon him who fails
His pledge to you to serve his Prince! My lord,
The cloud you long have seen on Cesar's brow,
Is not, as he would have you think it, born
Of bookish studies only, but a cloud,
All bright within, though dark to all without,
Of love for one he has for two long years
Silently worshipt.

Prince.
Donna Anna!

Ar.
Ay.

Prince.
Cesar loves Donna Anna! be it so—
I love him, as you say, and would forego
Much for his sake. But tell me, Arias,
Knows Anna of his passion?

Ar.
Yes, my lord,
And answers it with hers.

Prince.
Oh wretched fate!
Desperate ere jealous—jealous ere in love!
If Cesar but lov'd her, I could, methinks,
Have pardon'd, even have advanc'd his suit
By yielding up my own. But that she loves,
Blows rivalry into full blaze again.
And yet I will not be so poor a thing
To whine for what is now beyond my reach,
Nor must the princely blood of Parma
Run jealous of a subject's happiness.

They love each other then?

Ar.
I even now
Have seen a letter—

Prince.
Well?

Ar.
That Donna Anna
Has written him, and in such honey'd words—

Prince.
Why, is it not enough to know she loves him?
You told me so: my mind made up to that,
Why should a foolish letter fright it back?
And yet—yet, what last spark of mortal love
But must flame up before it dies for ever
To learn but what that foolish letter said!
Know you?

Ar.
I saw it.

Prince.
You saw it! and what said it?

Ar.
After a chaste confession of her love,
Bidding him be to-night under her lattice.

Prince.
Under her lattice, while his Prince is left
Abroad; they two to whisper love together,
While he gnaws hopeless jealousy alone.
But why, forsooth, am I to be the victim?
If I can quench my love for Cesar's sake,
Why not he his for me? Tell me, Don Arias,
Does Cesar know my passion?

Ar.
How should he,
You having told the secret but to me?

Prince.
By the same means that I know his.

Ar.
My lord,
My loyalty might well be spar'd that taunt.

Prince.
Ah, Arias, pardon me, I am put out,
But not with you, into whose faithful charge
I vest my love and honour confidently.
Enough, in what I am about to do
I mean no malice or ill play to Cesar:
'Tis but an idle curiosity:
And surely 'tis but fair, that if his Prince
Leave him the lists to triumph in at leisure,
I may at least look on the game he wins.
You shall keep close to him, and tell me all
That passes between him and her I love.

Ar.
But having taunted me with my first step
In your behalf, my lord—

Prince.
Nay, sir, my will
At once absolves and authorizes you,

For what is told and what remains to tell.

Ar.
But, sir—

Prince.
No more—

Ar.
I must obey your bidding,
But yet—

Prince.
I may divert my jealousy,
If not avenge it.

Ar.
Ah! what straits do those
Who cannot keep their counsel fall into!

Prince.
All say so, and all blab, like me and you!
Look where he comes; let us retire awhile.

[Prince and Arias retire.
Enter Cesar and Lazaro.
Ces.
O Phœbus, swift across the skies
Thy blazing carriage post away;
Oh, drag with thee benighted day,
And let the dawning night arise!
Another sun shall mount the throne
When thou art sunk beneath the sea;
From whose effulgence, as thine own,
The affrighted host of stars shall flee.

Laz.
A pretty deal about your cares
Does that same Phœbus care or know;
He has to mind his own affairs,
Whether you shake your head or no.
You talk of hastening on the day?
Why heaven's coachman is the Sun,
Who can't be put out of his way
For you, sir, or for any one.

Ces.
The Prince! and something in my bosom tells me
All is not well. My lord, though my repentance
Does not, I trust, lag far behind my fault,
I scarce had dar'd to approach your Highness' feet,
Had not my friend, Don Arias, been before
As harbinger of my apology.

Prince.
Cesar, indeed Don Arias has told me
The story of your sadness: and so well,
I feel it, and excuse it, as my own;
From like experience. I do not resent,
But would divert you from it. Books, my friend,
Truly are so seductive company,
We are apt to sit too long and late with them,
And drowse our minds in their society;

This must not be; the cause of the disease
Once known, the cure is easy; if 'tis books
Have hurt you, lay them by awhile, and try
Other society—less learn'd perhaps,
But cheerfuller—exchange the pent-up air
Of a close study for the breathing world.
Come, we'll begin to-night;
Visit in disguise (as I have wish'd to do)
The city, its taverns, theatres, and streets,
Where music, masque, and dancing may divert
Your melancholy: what say you to this?

Ces.
Oh, my kind lord, whose single word of pardon
Has turn'd all leaden grief to golden joy,
Made me another man, or, if you will,
The better self I was—

Prince.
Why this is well;
To-night together then—

Ces.
Yet pardon me.

Prince.
How now?

Ces.
It almost would revive my pain
That you should spend yourself upon a cure
Your mere forgiveness has already wrought.
Let this day's happiness suffice the day,
And its night also: 'twill be doubly sweet,
Unbought by your annoyance.

Prince.
Nay, my Cesar,
Fear not for that: after so long estrangement,
My pain would be the losing sight of you
On this first night of your recovery.
Lazaro!

Laz.
My lord?

Prince.
You too shall go with us.

Laz.
And not a trustier shall your Highness find
To guard your steps.

Prince.
What! you are valiant?

Laz.
As ever girded sword.

Prince.
Your weapon good too?

Laz.
He touches on the quick (aside)
. Yes, good enough,
My lord, for all my poor occasions.
Although when waiting on your Grace, indeed,
A sword like yours were better.

Prince.
You depreciate
Your own to enhance its value. Sharp is't?

Laz.
Ay,

Not a steel buckler but at the first blow
'Twould splinter it in two. (The sword I mean. Aside.
)

Prince.
Well temper'd?

Laz.
As you bid it.

Prince.
And the device
Inscrib'd upon it?

Laz.
“Thou shalt do no murder”—
Having no love for homicide, per se,
Save on occasion.

Prince.
Your description
Makes me desire to see that sword.

Laz.
My lord!

Prince.
Indeed it does. Show it me.

Laz.
Oh, my lord,
I have a vow.

Ces.
(aside).
Oh weariness!

Prince.
A vow?

Laz.
Ay, register'd in heaven!
Never to draw this weapon from her sheath
Except on mortal quarrel. If in such
Your Highness' service challenge her, why, then
She shall declare herself.

Ces.
I'm desperate!
But yet one effort more. My lord, you see
(You cannot fail) how your mere word of grace
Has of itself brighten'd me up again;
I do beseech you—

Prince.
Pardon me, my Cesar,
Rather I see the cloud that 'gins to break
Is not entirely gone; nay, will return
If you be left alone—which must not be:
If not for your sake, Cesar, yet for mine,
Who feel for your disquiet as my own;
And since our hearts are knit so close together,
Yours cannot suffer but mine straightway feels
A common pain; seek we a common cure.
To-night I shall expect you. Until then,
Farewell.

[Exit.
Ces.
Fortune! to see a fair occasion
So patiently pursued, so fairly won,
Lost at the very moment of success!
O Lazaro—what will my lady say!

Laz.
That I can't guess.

Ces.
What will she do!

Laz.
Oh that
Is answer'd far more easily. She'll stand
All night beside the window to no purpose.

Ces.
Why she must say my love was all pretence,
And her offended dignity vindicate,
Rejecting me for ever! Misery!

Laz.
Dear me, sir, what is now become of all
About, “Thou dawning night, benighted day.”
“Thou coachman sun!” etceteretera?

Ces.
Wilt thou be ever fool!

Laz.
If thou be not,
Listen—fool's bolts, they say, are quickly shot—
Who secrets have and cannot hold 'em,
Shall surely rue the day they told 'em.