 | Beware of Smooth Water |  |
Scene III.
Alonso sitting.—Enter Torribio.Torr.
Oh, uncle!
Alon.
Well, what now?
Torr.
Oh, such a thing! I suspected it!
Alon.
Well, tell me.
Torr.
Such a thing!
Alon.
Speak, man.
Torr.
When we were searching the house for the man
cousin Clara told us of—
Alon.
Well?
Torr.
Passing by cousin Eugenia's room, I saw—I have
not breath to say it!
Alon.
Speak, sir.
Torr.
Those men in the house—those dandies about the
door—I know how they get in now—when I found in my
cousin's room—behind her very bed—
Alon.
Don Torribio!
Torr.
The very ladder they climb up by!
Alon.
A ladder?
Torr.
Ah, and a very strong one too, all of iron and cord.
Alon.
If this were true—
Torr.
Wait till I show it you, then.
[Exit.
Alon.
Not in vain did Mari Nuño warn me of her dangerous
disposition! If he have such a proof of her incontinence
how will he marry her?
Torr.
There, uncle, there it is, hoops, and steps, and all!
Alon.
This a ladder?
Torr.
Ah, that, if it were all let out, would scale the
tower of Babel, I believe.
Alon.
I can scarce control my rage. Fool! this is a
fardingale, not a ladder.
Torr.
A what-ingale?
Alon.
A fardingale, fool!
Torr.
Why, that's worse than the ladder!
Alon.
You will fairly drive me out of my senses! Go, sir,
directly, and put it back where you took it from, and for
Heaven's sake, no more of such folly!
[Exit.
Torr.
Well—to think of this! and my cousin that look'd
so nice too!
Voices
(within).
Coach there! coach!
Enter Mari Nuño.
Mari.
They are come back. I must get lights. Who's
this?
Torr.
Nobody.
Mari.
What are you doing with that fardingale; and
where did you get it?
Torr.
Nothing, and nowhere.
Mari.
Come, give it me at once, lest I give you the fellow
of the cuff I gave you before.
Torr.
For fear of which, take that upon your wrinkled
chaps.
(Strikes her, and calls out.)
Help! help! Murder!
murder! Help!
Alon.
What now?
Torr.
Mari Nuño there, only because I wish'd her good
night, laid violent hands on me.
Mari.
Oh the wretch! he wanted to make love to me—
and worse—declaring he would none of any who used such
a thing as this.
(Showing fardingale.)
Alon.
Let us hear no more of such folly. There is something
else to-day to tell of. Well,
(to his daughters,)
you have
seen this procession?
Eug.
Ay, sir; the greatest sight, I believe, that Spain has
seen since she was greatest of nations.
Alon.
I, who could not go myself, am to see it, you know,
in your recital.
Eug.
As best we can, sir.
Clara
(aside to Mari Nuño).
Have you seen Don Felix?
Mari
(aside).
Enough, he will be here. But when?
Clara.
When the story is done, and all weary are gone to
bed.
Mari.
Good.
[Exit; the rest sit down.
Clara.
Begin you then, Eugenia, I will chime in.
Eug.
This being the long-expected day
When our fair Spain and fairest Mariana
Should quicken longing hope to perfect joy,
Madrid awoke, and dress'd her squares and streets
In all their glory; through all which we pass'd
Up to the Prado, where the city's self,
In white and pearl array'd, by ancient usage,
Waited in person to receive the bride
By a triumphal arch that rose heaven-high,
The first of four all nam'd and hung about
With emblems of the four parts of the world,
(Each with a separate element distinct,)
Of which our sovereign lord was now to lay
The four crowns at his sovereign lady's feet.
Clara.
And this first arch was Europe; typified
By the wide Air, which temperatest she breathes,
And which again, for double cognizance,
Wore the imperial eagle for its crest;
With many another airy symbol more,
And living statues supplementary
Of Leon and Castile, each with its crown,
And Rome, the mistress of the faith of all.
Eug.
Here then, when done the customary rite
Of kissing hands and due obeisance,
Drum, trumpet, and artillery thundering,
With that yet lordliest salute of all,
A people's universal acclamation;
(And never in the world were subjects yet
So proud, and bow'd, and with so good a cause;)
Under a golden canopy she mov'd
Tow'rd San Geronimo, whose second arch,
Of no less altitude and magnificence,
Deckt with the sixty crowns of Asia,
Receiv'd her next, wearing for cognizance
Earth, of which Asia is the largest piece;
Which Earth again carried a lion's mane,
As proclamation of her noblest growth.
Clara.
Thence passing on, came to where Africa,
Her waste of arid desert embleming
By Fire, whose incarnation, the Sun,
Burn'd on this arch as in his house in heaven,
Bore record of the trophies two great Queens
Upon the torrid continent had won,
Who, one with holy policy at home,
The other in Granada by the sword,
Extirpated deadly Mahometism.
Eug.
Last, to the Holy Virgin dedicate,
From whose cathedral by the holy choir
Chaunted Te Deum, rose in splendid arch
America, wearing for her device
The silver image of the Ocean,
That roll'd the holy cross to the New World.
And so all pass'd to the Escurial,
In front of which, in two triumphal cars,
Two living statues were—one Mercury,
Who, as divine ambassador, thus far
Had brought the royal bride propitiously;
The other, Hymen, who took up the charge
Mercury left, and with unquenching torch,
While cannon, trumpet, choir, and people's voice
Thunder'd her praises, took the palfrey's rein,
Who gloried in the beauty that he bore,
And brought and left her at her palace door.
Well done, well done, both of you, in whose lively
antiphony I have seen it all as well as if I had been there.
Torr.
Well, for my part I neither wanted to see it nor
hear of it.
Alon.
No? why so, nephew?
Torr.
Lord, I've seen twice as good as that down in my
country many a time, all the boys and girls dancing, and
the mayor, and the priest, and—
Alon.
Peace, peace. Come, Brigida, light me to my room,
I am sleepy.
Eug.
And I; with sight-seeing, and sight-telling, I suppose.
(Aside.)
And with a heavy heart, alas!
[Exeunt Alonso, Eugenia, and Brigida.
Clara.
Will not you to bed too, sir?
Torr.
Not till I've had my supper, I promise you. Oh,
I don't care for all your sour looks, not I, nor your threats
of revenge neither.
Clara.
You don't?
Torr.
No, I defy you.
Clara.
Not if I were to prove to you that she you slighted
me for loves another?
Torr.
Oh, cousin Clara!
Clara.
Shall I prove it to you?
Torr.
Oh, if my ancestors could hear this, what would
they say?
Clara.
I don't know. But you may hear if you like what
she says to your rival.
Torr.
Ha!
Clara.
Go into this balcony, and you will hear her talking
to him in the street.
Torr.
I knew! I guess'd! the ladder!
(He goes into the balcony and she shuts him in.)
Clara.
There cool yourself in the night till I let you out.
And now to have you safe too.
(Locks Eugenia's door.)
And now, all safe, for the first time in my life Love and I
meet in fair field. Mari Nuño!
(Enter Mari.)
Where is
the Cavalier?
Mari.
Waiting in my chamber.
Clara.
Bring him. You understand it is all for Eugenia's
good?
Mari.
I understand.
[Exit, and returns with Felix.
Fel.
I fly, madam, to your feet.
(Kneels.)
Clara.
Rise, sir, 'tis about your letter I sent to you.
Alas, madam, all is worse than ever!
Clara.
What has happened?
Fel.
Not only did my two friends fall out with each
other, as I expected, but with me for the very good services
I was doing them; insulted me till I could withhold my
sword no longer; we went out to fight; were seen, pursued,
and disperst by the alguazils. I return'd home to await
them, but as yet know nothing more of them.
Clara.
Alas, sir, what do I not owe you for your care on
my behalf?
Fel.
More perhaps than you imagine.
Clara.
Tell me all at least, that I may at least know my
debt, if unable to repay it.
Fel.
Alas, I dare not say what is said in not saying.
Clara.
Said, and not said? I do not understand.
Fel.
I, alas, too well!
Clara.
Explain to me then, sir.
Fel.
No, madam. If what I feel is so much on my
friends' account, it is still more for their sakes that I keep
it unsaid.
Clara.
Hark! what noise is that? Mari Nuño, what is
the matter?
Enter Mari Nuño.
Mari.
Oh, madam, some one is getting over the garden
wall! Your father has heard the noise; and is got up with
his sword.
Clara.
If he should find you!
Fel.
He need not. This balcony—
Clara.
No, no!
Torribio
(within).
Thieves! Murder! Help!
(He opens the balcony; Torribio falls forward on him, push'd in by Juan with his sword drawn.)
All at once.
Torr.
Murder! Murder!
Juan
(to Felix).
Thou too here, traitor!
Fel.
(drawing his sword).
Who are these?
(Confusion, in which enter Alonso with drawn sword, Otañez, Brigida, &c.)
Alon.
Two! Torribio, to my side!
Fel.
Wait! wait! Let me explain.
Alon.
Don Felix!
Fel.
Listen to me, all of you, I say! I was sent for to
prevent, not to do, mischief, by Donna Eugenia herself—
Eug.
By me, sir!
Clara.
Hold, hold, Eugenia!
Eug.
I will not hold when my name is in question without
my—Sent for by me, sir!
Fel.
Not by you, madam; by Donna Eugenia,
(pointing to
Clara,)
to prevent—
Alon. and Eug.
Clara!
Torr.
Ah, 'twas she put me to freeze in the balcony, too.
Clara
(to Felix).
Sir, you come here to save another
from peril. Leave me not in it.
Fel.
I leave you, madam, who would lay down my life
for you! and all the rather if you are not Donna Eugenia.
Alon.
None but her father or her husband must do that.
Fel.
Then let me claim to do it as the latter.
(Kneels to
Clara.)
Alon.
But Clara?
Clara.
Sir, I am ready to obey my father—and my husband.
Eug.
And I, sir. And to prove my duty, let me marry
my cousin at once, and retire with him to the mountains.
Torr.
Marry me! No, indeed! No Capacities, and ladders,
and—what-d'ye-call-'ems—for me. I'll e'en go back as
I came, with my ancestors safe in my saddle-bags, I will.
Juan
(to Alonso).
Permit me, sir. I am Don Juan de
Mendoza; a name at least not unknown to you. I have
loved your daughter long; and might have had perchance
fovourable acceptation from her mother long ago, had not
you yourself been abroad at the time.
Alon.
I now remember to have heard something of the
kind. What say you, Eugenia?
Eug.
I am ready to obey my father—and my husband.
With which at last our comedy shall close,
Asking indulgence both of friends and foes.
Clara.
And ere we part our text for envoy give,—
Beware of all smooth waters while you live!
“A hoop of whalebone, used to spread out the petticoat to a wide circumference;”—Johnson; who one almost wonders did not spread out into a wider circumference of definition about the “poore verdingales,” that (according to Heywood)
------ “must lie in the streete,To have them no doore in the citye made meete.”
The Spanish name is “guarda infanta,” which puzzles Don Torribio, as to what his cousin had to do with infants. Our word was first (as Heywood writes) verdingale: which, as Johnson tells us, “much exercised the etymology of Skinner, who at last seems to determine that it is derived from vertu garde.” This, however, Johnson thinks does not at all get to the bottom of the etymology, which may, he says, be found in Dutch. Perhaps the old French petenlair was of the same kindred.
| Beware of Smooth Water | |