 | The Secret in Words |  |
166
ACT II.
SCENE I.
—THE PARK AND GARDENS.Enter FREDERICK and FABIO, in travelling dresses, and HENRY.
Henry.
Frederick, I cannot persuade me,
That the letter of the duchess
Had a more mysterious meaning
Than what it appears to be;
Namely, but a courteous answer
To the one I lately brought:—
And she merely sent you with it
For the adventitious honour
That the bearer might impart;
Thinking doubtless it were proper,
I, the duke's relation seeming,
That her messenger should equal
His in point of birth and rank.
Do not fear that she suspecteth
Who I am: and so the best
Plan for you is, thus pretending
That from Mantua you come
With this letter, which I give you.
She will never dream or doubt,
Seeing here my hand and signet,
But that there you must have been.
FREDERICK.
Though I recognise with clearness
All these reasons, and your letter
Leaves no doubt upon the subject
That your person is unknown;
167
My departure yester-evening,
When a lady had appointed
Secretly to speak with me;
That same lady then declaring
That her highness had discovered,
How or when she could not tell me,
All about that trysting-time,—
When I feel her reputation
Stands in peril every moment;
All these thoughts must leave me, Henry,
Some remaining grounds of grief.
HENRY.
'Tis a subject that requireth
Greater leisure: take the letter,
Let us kill the first suspicion,
And the second soon shall die,
Almost of itself; the letter,
Frederick, take, and so adieu.
FREDERICK.
Will you not approach the palace?—
HENRY.
Surely yes; if it in all things
Is the country of my soul,
It its very sphere and centre,
Every instant that it liveth
Out of it, it lives in pain.
Exit.
FABIO.
Must a man of honour bear this?
FREDERICK.
What do you complain of, Fabio?
168
I complain, my lord, of naught;
Merely ask a calculation
Of the time I thee have served:
If for every hour you gave me
What you give me for a year,
I declare to God, another
Hour I would not wish to serve.
FREDERICK.
Why?
FABIO.
Because my luckless noddle
Is turned topsy-turvy thinking,
And there's not enough of money
Up and down the world, to pay
Any servant who must think of
All the bedlam things you say.
FREDERICK.
How prove this?
FABIO.
Just in this way:
Fabio! I am dying, Fabio;
This is my last living day,—
Hope and life shall die together;
Shall I order then your hearse?
I inquire, and you replying,
Answer—No, I shall not die,
For the night that is approaching
Shall be glorious day to me:—
I am very glad to hear it:—
Fabio!—Master! I must go
169
Ready-saddled—it is done:—
Now I shall not go, but bring them,—
Mount on one; I do: how far
Have we gone? A league: then homeward,
Turn about: and so we turn;
Let us seek at once our dwelling;
Mind you follow not my steps;—
And a thousand contradictions,
Little secrets without end,
Which the devil could not fathom.
For, in fine, I do not like
Any master who thus deals in,
Without being Pope or Pontiff,
Cases rightly called “reserved.”
FREDERICK.
Silence; for her highness cometh.
Mind, remember what I said;
That by no means you discover
How nor you nor I were absent
Out of Parma all last night.
FABIO.
Oh! of course:—now I am dying
[Aside.
To reveal it to Flerida,
For three simple reasons: first,
To regale my tongue a little;
Secondly, for vengeance' sake;
Thirdly, to oblige her highness.
Exit.
170
SCENE II.
—ANOTHER PART OF THE GARDENS.Enter FLERIDA and LAURA.
FLERIDA.
So, dear Laura, no one ventured
Down to seek the peaceful region
Of the garden?
LAURA.
Say, how oft
Do you wish that I should tell thee?
FLERIDA.
This once only.
LAURA.
Then believe me,
That within its beauteous limits
I remained until the morn,
Laughing at my strict obedience,
Turned its laughter into tears,—
Scattering pearls o'er all its roses,
Still the garden no one sought:
So that for your wild suspicions,
Save myself, perhaps, Señora,
No one now can give thee grounds.
FLERIDA.
Yes they can, because 'twere easy,
Laura .....
LAURA.
What?
171
Even for that lady
To discover Frederick's absence
On a sudden call of duty,
Which prevented her from going
To the garden through the night;
But at least this consolation
I have gained, that I prevented
Once, at least, their conversation,
And the meeting they had hoped.
LAURA.
That is clear:—thou little dreamest
[Aside.
That thy foolish, jealous nature
Has been like a magic girdle,
Binding those thou wouldst divide.
Enter FREDERICK and FABIO.
FREDERICK.
Let me kiss your hand, Señora.
FLERIDA.
Why with such swift expedition
Have you hastened homeward, Frederick?
FREDERICK.
The desire I had to serve thee
Would not let me travel slower.
FABIO.
Yes, Señora; and to Mantua
As it's but a league .....
FREDERICK.
What say you?
FABIO.
Oh! I meant to say a dozen.
172
Do you bring his grace's answer?
FREDERICK.
Could I hither come without it?
FABIO,
aside.
Well, I never heard such lying
Done with such a cool assurance.
FREDERICK.
This, Señora, is the letter.
[Presents it.
FLERIDA,
aside.
Yes, 'tis his, my vengeance miss'd not.
FABIO,
aside to FREDERICK.
Who wrote this?
FREDERICK.
The duke of Mantua.
FABIO.
Even me you would bamboozle?
FLERIDA.
How have you been yourself?
FREDERICK.
So happy,
In the respectful love I bear thee,
So rejoiced is my obedience
To be ever in thy service,
That I vow to thee, Señora,
Never night appear'd more pleasant.
173
aside.
I believe so: though he striveth
To dissemble thus, he cannot
Quite succeed.
LAURA,
aside.
The sly expression
Of his face conveys two meanings.
FLERIDA
reads.
“For the honours and attentions
Which your grace has paid to Henry,
And to me, by your despatching
Even your secretary hither,
I, indeed, feel so indebted,
That my soul becometh bankrupt,
Knowing it is wholly powerless
To repay, with aught sufficient,
One or other obligation;
More than this, when I bethink me
How my soul is sweetly prisoned
In a servitude .....”
Resumes.
No further:—
This is of another matter;—
I am pleased extremely, Frederick,
At your diligent demeanour
In this business.
FREDERICK.
And, Señora,
I am proud at so succeeding.
FLERIDA.
You are weary: rest a little:—
After that, return: despatches
Of importance wait my signing.
174
First permit me, ere I leave you,
To present Señora Laura
With this letter in your presence,
For as I would scarcely venture,
Through respect, to address the lady,
So 'twere wrong in me to give it
At a time that might offend thee.
Gives Laura a letter.
FLERIDA.
Whose is this?
FREDERICK.
Indeed, I know not.
From the chambers of the duchess,
Mother of the duke, a lady
Came and gave it me; I fancy,
Some old friend or near relation.
FABIO,
aside.
Listening to these lies doth make me
Dull and stupid as a donkey.
LAURA.
Yes, Señora, the hand-writing
Now I see is Madame Celia's.
With your leave, I shall withdraw
For a little while to read it,—
'Till I get beyond her eye-sight,
[Aside.
I shall move half dead with terror.
FREDERICK,
aside to LAURA.
Read it quickly.
LAURA,
to him.
I shall do so.
[Exit.
175
Go with God.
FREDERICK.
For endless ages
Live! and may the bright sun count them!
Exit.
FLERIDA.
How contented, oh! how happy
Do I feel that I prevented
This love-meeting; for, though many
Doubts remain behind, yet also
Vigilance remains to teach me
How to mar all future meetings.
FABIO,
aside.
If the future prove like this one,
You, for certain, have great reason
To be proud of your manœuvres.
FLERIDA.
Fabio!
FABIO.
Madam, I have waited
To speak with you: 'till he left you
I have linger'd here, pretending
To be looking at these frescoes.
FLERIDA.
Tell me, if, upon the journey,
He seemed grieved at his departure.
FABIO.
What departure?
FLERIDA.
Yester-evening's.
176
Do you then, my lady, fancy
That he went from this last evening?
FLERIDA.
Why, of course, he must have done so,
Otherwise how could he bring me,
Not alone the duke's sealed answer,
But his autograph—his letter,
Every line his own hand-writing?
FABIO.
How, I know not:—we departed,
Went about a league's short distance,
And came back again.
FLERIDA.
What say you?
FABIO.
Truth the clearest, most undoubted,
Or there's none on earth; he left me
At his rooms, with strict injunctions
Not to budge an inch beyond them,
When he went to meet his sweet-heart.
FLERIDA.
Oh! it cannot be: unsay it.
FABIO.
Then 'twas she who came to meet him.
FLERIDA.
Quick! and tell me what remaineth.
FABIO.
He came home at morning, giving
Many joyful demonstrations
Of a very kind reception.
177
Your audacious tongue is lying.
FABIO.
Lies are duels; two must make them.
FLERIDA.
Who then sent he with the letter?
FABIO.
No one.
FLERIDA.
How obtain the answer?
FABIO.
Why, what difficulty is there?
Since a man who has a demon
Ever bringing notes and billets,
Can with equal ease compel him
Fetch and carry longer letters;—
Certainly some strange familiar
He must have: this proposition
Proves I do not lie.
FLERIDA.
However,
Still I hold that you are lying.
FABIO.
No; I vow to God, my lady,
This is true, and true as gospel,
That he did not leave this city,
But the whole night spent in speaking
With his mistress.
178
Peace, and leave me.
Laura cometh, I am anxious
To find out, that I may free me
From the doubts that round me thicken,
What this letter is he brought her.
FABIO,
aside.
Well, God help thee for a duchess,
In the anxious search you're making
To find out who is the lady
Frederick woos; and he, by Heaven!
Is so slow to understand her!—
Ah! with me if she would act so,
I would see it in a moment.
Exit.
Enter LAURA.
LAURA,
aside.
Now that I have read the cipher,
I return to see the duchess,
That she may have no suspicion
Of the cause of my retirement.
FLERIDA.
Laura, what has Celia written
In her letter?
LAURA.
Oh! a thousand
Silly, foolish things, Señora.
This is it, if you would read it:—
I will give her the enclosure,
[Aside.
Which was placed there for deception,
Having first removed the cipher.
179
Laura, no, I will not read it;
All I wish is that you clearly
Understand my cause of trouble.
Yesterday, as I have told you,
I discovered that a lady
Had presumed to write to Frederick,
And appoint an hour to meet him
Late last night.
LAURA.
'Tis so, Señora.
FLERIDA.
First, my motive was this outrage
On decorum: then a feeling,
Partly curious, partly anxious,
To find out this unknown lady,
Made me order his departure,
And your vigil in the garden.
Hear now what a spy has told me,
One whose place is ever near him,
That last night (ah me! the torture!)
Frederick went not forth from Parma,
But remained the whole night speaking
With his mistress in the garden.
LAURA.
Was there ever heard such boldness?
Did he name the lady?
FLERIDA.
No.
LAURA.
Then, Señora, do not trust him;
For, supposing he deceived you
180
To what end would he deceive me
Also with the one he brought me?
FLERIDA.
Are you certain that this letter
Is your cousin's?
LAURA.
I am certain.
FLERIDA.
Then he must some other person
Have despatched for both the letters,
Who has baffled my informant.
LAURA.
Yes, no doubt.
FLERIDA.
But still remaineth
One more doubt. You spent the night-time
In the garden, and no lady
To the trellised grate descended;
Thus 'tis certain, if the story
Of this man be true, how Frederick
Spent the whole night till the morning
With his mistress, that she is not
Any one within the palace.
LAURA.
Do not doubt it; it is easy
To believe she's of the city.
FLERIDA.
Still I'll make a thousand efforts,
Each surpassing each in daring,
To find out who is this lady.
181
Why concern yourself, Señora?
FLERIDA.
Ask not such a foolish question.
Laura, since to thee confiding,
Since confessing to thy bosom
The affliction that I suffer,—
What imports it, if he know not?
For my pride is so excessive—
So extreme my haughty nature—
That I cannot let him wound them,
Even though he know them not.
Exit.
LAURA.
'Tis essential to apprise him
Of these curious overwatchings—
Of these jealous-eyed espials;
But, ah me! the very reason
That I give him to be cautious
Will reveal to him the secret
Of Flerida's jealous heart;—
And it is no prudent action
To inform the firmest lover
That another loves him well;
For the humblest heart is tainted
So with vanity's sweet poison,
That what once it thought a favour,
Soon a thankless debt becomes:—
Still it is of less importance,
Than that he should know not (Heaven!)
Of the spies that clog his footsteps,
And the dangers that surround:
To advise him, I am anxious
Now to make a re-perusal
182
Which I should remember well.
She conceals the letter which she has been holding, and takes out another, which she reads.
“When you ever wish, Señora,
By your voice of aught to warn me,
You will make, at the beginning,
With your handkerchief a sign,
That I thus may be attentive;—
Then upon whatever matter
You would speak, the words that open
Lines that pauses follow quickly,
Will be meant for me alone,
And the rest for those about us;—
Then by joining in succession
All these first words, one by one,
I can know what you would tell me;
And the same course you will follow
When I make the sign in turn.”
[Resumes.
The plan is easy and ingenious;
But a difficulty seemeth
In effecting such a junction
As will make the separate senses
Clear to us, and to the others.
Not to err, again I'll read it.
Reads to herself.
Enter LISARDO.
LISARDO,
aside.
So absorb'd and so attentive,
Laura looks upon a letter,
That although, 'tis true, no feeling
Of a vile suspicious kind,
Based on jealousy, could make me
Fail in that respect I owe her,
Yet a foolish, curious longing
183
Of a letter so attractive.
Would that I could read that paper
From this spot, unseen by her!
LAURA.
Who is there?
LISARDO.
'Tis I.
LAURA,
aside.
O sorrow!
LISARDO.
Why this trouble? this confusion? ......
LAURA.
Neither troubled nor confused .......
LISARDO.
Why, that crumpled paper shows it,
And your rising blush betrays.
LAURA.
Better read these indications,
Crumpled letter—rising bloom—
You will see they do not follow
As the consequence of grief,
But the plain effects of insult,
Which you thus by your suspicious
Want of confidence inflict;
You a traitor! you a secret
Spy upon my simplest act!—
Guilt's best remedy is ever
[Aside.
Thus to thunder in complaint.
184
Laura, I do not distrust thee,
And that thou mayst know how strong,
How confiding is the feeling
That my heart preserves for thee,
Fearing naught of what thou'rt hiding,
I shall let my tongue demand
What that paper is.
LAURA.
A paper
Which in little floating fragments
I shall give unto the air;
For, to such a foolish question—
Idle as the wind—'tis right
That the wind should give the answer.
Tears it.
LISARDO.
From the wind I shall regain it,
Since you give it to the wind.
LAURA.
Never! though quite unimportant
Your attempt to join them so;
Still my reputation needeth
That my anger should chastise
All these base and vile suspicions
Which you dare to show to me.
LISARDO.
But .....
LAURA.
Behold! the wind has ta'en them:
As my husband you are not,
You have no right to presume thus.
185
As thy cousin, and thy lover,
Though, alas! not yet thy husband,
I must reunite the fragments
Of this serpent of evasion,
That in every scattered letter
Deadly venom still doth hold.
LAURA.
Do not so; for this, Lisardo,
Which you call a bloody serpent,
Is a snake beneath my feet.
LISARDO.
Though amid the flowers I perish,
I will stoop and gather.
LAURA.
No.
LISARDO.
Let me, Laura,
LAURA.
Hold! Ungrateful.
Enter at one side ARNESTO, and at the other FLERIDA: a little after, FREDERICK and FABIO.
ARNESTO.
What is all this noise, Lisardo?
FLERIDA.
Laura, what is all this outcry?
LISARDO.
It is nothing.
186
Nay, your highness,
It is much: now, love, assist me!
Aside.
ARNESTO.
Wilt thou speak thus?
[To Lisardo.
FLERIDA.
Wilt thou quarrel?
[To Laura.
ARNESTO.
With thy cousin?
FLERIDA.
Thy betrothed?
ARNESTO.
Say, Lisardo, what has happened?
FLERIDA.
Laura, what has passed between you?
LISARDO.
It is nothing that I know of.
LAURA.
It is much: you know, Señora,
That you left me here this instant
Reading Madam Celia's letter.
FLERIDA.
Yes.
LAURA.
And being thus employed, I
Was insulted by Lisardo,
Who, with insolent presumption,
187
And, that you may know the reason,
Kind Señora, prithee listen—
Listen, also, thou my father,
And the friends who have come with thee:
For to me it is important
All the world should know the secret
That I carry in my bosom.
Takes out her handkerchief.
FREDERICK.
Tell me what has happened, Fabio.
FABIO.
I don't know: [aside]
since I am certain
It is not about the matter
That I mentioned to the duchess,
It doth give me little trouble.
FREDERICK.
Since I see she gives the signal
[Aside.
Let me pay her strict attention—
Joining the first words she utters.
ARNESTO.
Speak, my daughter. What delays you?
FLERIDA.
Laura, end your hesitation.
LAURA.
Flerida—whom kind Heaven above
Has—given alike both wit and beauty:
Already—is my humble duty
Known—to thee by years of love.
FLERIDA.
'Tis true; but why this trembling tone?
Why, now, remind me of it, pray?
188
aside.
The first four words expressly say,
“Flerida has already known.”
LAURA.
That—my heart must this avow!—
You did not—think to hear this sighing
Go from—out my lips, relying
Here—on thy protection now.
ARNESTO.
Enough, enough, why shed a tear?
The simplest word will do instead.
FREDERICK,
aside.
Again the words have plainly said,
“That you did not go from here.”
LAURA.
And that—from you should come this strife!
You met—me here, Lisardo: Why
Your lady—thus insult? for I,
Dear—Love be praised! am not thy wife.
LISARDO.
It is yourself that wronged the near
Affection that should bind us two.
FLERIDA,
to Laura.
Do you proceed:—be silent you.
[To Lisardo.
FREDERICK,
aside.
“And that you met your lady dear.”
LAURA.
For which—unkind discourtesy,
Her—heart must feel, who meant no wrong,
Jealousy—undisguised and strong
Is shown—thus openly by thee.
189
The letter you perused alone,
Did you not tear when I came near it?
ARNESTO.
Perfectly right she did to tear it.
FREDERICK,
aside.
“For which her jealousy is shown.”
LAURA.
Remember—what my anger vows,
That—I will die ere wed with thee:
You—my father insist that he
Name me not—his affianced spouse.
ARNESTO,
to Lisardo.
From the disgrace in which you have got,
How will you free yourself?
LISARDO.
Heart-broken
Am I.
ARNESTO.
Be silent.
FREDERICK,
aside.
She has spoken,
“Remember that you name me not.”
LAURA.
Because—what tyrant spouse were he,
The man—even now in courtship's hour,
Who lives—'neath jealousy's dark power?
With thee—what would the after be?
190
My error was my jealousy;
Then, lovely Laura, pray forgive.
ARNESTO,
to Lisardo.
The worst excuse that you could give.
FREDERICK,
aside.
“For the man who lives with thee.”
LAURA.
Is—this poor apology
Your greatest—grief for being rude?
Enemy—of all that's good,
Meet me—henceforth an enemy;
To-night—avoid my averted sight:
At—morn, my usual smile thou'lt miss;
The same—dark cloud that shadows this
Spot—on thy hopes shall ne'er grow bright.
Exit.
ARNESTO.
The punishment that thou hast got
You have deserved; I'm wroth with thee.
Exit.
FREDERICK,
aside.
“Is your greatest enemy:—
Meet me to-night at the same spot.”.
FLERIDA.
It, Lisardo, ill became you
Thus to treat fair Laura so;
But as I the reason know,
I must not too strictly blame you:—
He would tear away the mask,
[Aside.
191
I, a more unhappy being,
Jealous am, but dare not ask!
[Exit.
FABIO,
aside.
Well, thank God! I feel much bolder,
Since Flerida left this spot,
For my master now cannot
Learn from her the news I told her.
LISARDO.
Heaven protect me! 'tis exceeding
All I ever heard or knew!
Frederick, let me know, if you
Think, because I found her reading,
And but asked to see the letter,
That it could so much offend her?
Vex her father too, and render
Even Flerida little better?
Say, if it is known to thee,
What could cause the great excess
Of her indignation?
FREDERICK.
Yes,
For the cause is clear to me;
Laura is with you offended
For your want of confidence.
LISARDO.
Ah! my foolish want of sense!
Ah! my hope, how soon thou'rt ended!
Exit.
FREDERICK,
aside.
Ah! how mine has taken flight!
FABIO,
aside.
I have nothing now to dread.
192
aside.
Let me join what she has said,
If I can remember right;
For which purpose I will seek,
O my planet! to restrict your
Influence; and by her picture,
Think I hear her sweet lips speak.
Takes out a portrait.
Beauteous image, loved so well,
What you said but now, repeat.
FABIO,
aside.
Ah! a picture!—well, 'tis sweet
To have something new to tell.
FREDERICK,
aside.
“Flerida has already known
That you did not go from here,
And that you met your lady dear,
For which her jealousy is shown;—
Remember that you name me not;
Because the man who lives with thee
Is your greatest enemy:
Meet me to-night at the same spot.”
To Fabio.
By Heaven! thou traitor, most abhorred,
'Tis thou my secret that hast sold,—
'Tis thou, O villain, that hast told
I did not go away!
[Strikes him.
FABIO.
My lord,
What sudden fit of anger now
Has seized upon you, that you so
Severely treat me?
193
Well I know
The reason, traitor.
FABIO.
Then avow
The reason of it first of all:
Did you not enter here with me
The best of friends? What testimony
Could you meet with in this hall,
Speaking to neither young or old?—
Who maligned me? let me hear.
FREDERICK.
Villain, since I entered here,
I found out that you have told
How I did not go last night,
And that I met my mistress too.
FABIO.
Heard it here, you say?
FREDERICK.
I do.
FABIO.
Think now, master ......
FREDERICK.
By this light
I'll chastise you, for your profit.
FABIO.
Tell me, which of the ladies said it?
FREDERICK.
Her you told may have the credit,
For 'twas she who told me of it.
194
I told no one:—Death is bliss
[Aside.
Compared to telling truth, I feel.
FREDERICK.
Well, by Heaven! beneath my steel
You die this instant.
[Draws his sword.
Enter HENRY.
HENRY.
What means this?
FREDERICK.
It means that I a wretch would kill.
FABIO.
Ah! hold, Señor!
HENRY.
My friend, reflect;
This is the palace, recollect.
FREDERICK.
Let me the villain's vile blood spill.
HENRY
to Fabio.
Fly!
FABIO.
Like a deer before the chase,
Since you so kindly ope the way;
This happens almost every day:—
Well! what a tattler is her grace!
Aside, and exit.
HENRY.
Why do you seem so discomposed?
What has affected your condition?
195
The perilous and strange position
This villain's conduct hath imposed:—
Flerida, Henry, has come by
The knowledge that I did not go.
HENRY.
Who has informed her?
FREDERICK.
None did know
Except this servant, you, and I.
HENRY.
Has she expressed it?
FREDERICK.
She? ah! no;
If wroth, she is too wise to show it,
And seems as if she did not know it.
HENRY.
Perhaps whoever told you so
Invented it.
FREDERICK.
No, no, for she
Is frightened for her own dear sake.
HENRY.
Perhaps there may be some mistake.
FREDERICK.
Alas! I know it cannot be.
And so, I see no way, in sooth,
To make amends for my transgression,
Than to make a clear confession
And avow the simple truth.
196
Although in that case I would prove
The guiltier of the two, be sure
To make thy mind again secure;
I might such desperate means approve,
If indeed it were the true
And certain means to gain that end.
FREDERICK.
In such a trouble, say, my friend,
What would you think the best to do?
HENRY.
I would be silent, till the affair
Took clearer shape, and then act so:—
For she knows, or does not know.
If she know it, and her fair
Discretion glides the matter over,
Were it right in you to go,
And what she wish'd not to know,
By your own tongue thus discover?—
If she know it not, 'twill be
Doubly wrong to me and you,
That what she from no one knew
She should strangely learn from thee.—
Were I thou, I would at first
Flatter Fabio, as yet
He may be faithful:—do not let
Revenge provoke him:—at the worst
Give him not new grounds to go
With complainings to her grace;
Lest, perforce, in such a case
She must speak and act.
FREDERICK.
Although
Still I feel a strong objection,
197
I will be advised by you,
Not to err through my election:
Fabio at once I'll trace,
I shall talk with fair Flerida,
Till she speaks she ne'er shall read a
Trace of guilt upon my face.
[Exit.
HENRY.
I, the heir of his confusion,
All the doubts he held, inherit,
For, although his person leaves me,
All his griefs remain behind:—
I came here to see Flerida,
Thinking then that my ambition
(Woe is me!) could not aspire to
Any greater good than this:—
Now one day pursues another,
And I, still disguised, continue
At her court, in constant danger
Of thus outraging her pride;
Since there may be many persons
Here who recognise my person,
And I thus may make my secret
Worship seem a fool's offence;
Since, if firstly my intention
Was to act a part, and follow
Up the false with truer issues,
Why delay to do so now?
Enter FLERIDA.
FLERIDA,
aside.
Once again, O tyrant passion!
Once again, with blind attraction
Wilt thou draw me ......? Hush! 'tis Henry.
HENRY.
Noblest lady, I impart
To these listening flowers and fountains,
198
Love's complainings.
FLERIDA.
And for what?
HENRY.
For at seeing thee, Señora,
Beauteous goddess of this flower-world—
Deity of this sweet place,—
Killing like the sun with radiance,
And with glances, like love's darts,—
I exclaimed, To-day you need not
Squander, Love, your ammunition:
If one beam alone can conquer,
If one dart can all suffice,
Why, O tyrant Love, employ thus
Such a host of darts and beams?
FLERIDA.
This discourse awakens, Henry,
Two surprises, which are these:
First, that you should so address me;
Secondly, that I should hear.
Leave my presence: if his highness
Sent you to my court, it was
Not that you should act the traitor
Unto him as well as me.
HENRY.
Nor to him, nor you, Señora,
Do I think that I am one,
Since it is the duke who feeleth
Everything that I have said.
FLERIDA.
Marriages by means of proxy
Oft the world has seen, I know,
199
And though I the fact admit,
That it was for him you flatter'd,
Did I not expressly say,
That you should his highness mention
Only when I spoke of him?
HENRY.
Yes, Señora, but I never
Fancied the condition was,
That if you were always silent,
I for ever should not speak.
FLERIDA.
If I am to speak, then, Henry,
Some time, let it be to-day,
To declare to you how vainly
Doth the duke attempt to cross
Waves of fire with oars of feather,
Or with wax wings seek the sun.
Now, withdraw, before I answer—
Rather pride will speak for me—
With accumulated anger,
Henry, to the duke and you.
HENRY.
I obey you, madam, fearing
Greater punishment may come,—
If the greatest is not leaving
Loveliness like thine: 'tis death!
Exit.
FLERIDA.
Deeply has this sudden boldness
Given me food for thought: O love,
Leave, oh! leave a little moment,
My imagination free
To examine ...... But who enters?
Who has ventured here?
200
FABIO.
'Tis I:—
O most prating of princesses!
I, whose heart is overflowed
With the many-billowed load
Of the weight that it oppresses,
For my being such a prater;
And, although 'tis rude in stating,
Yet I must assert, in prating
That your highness is a greater.
FLERIDA.
What would you tell by this? confess.
FABIO.
What did you tell by that? avow,
In your late conversation?
FLERIDA.
Now
I understand your meaning less.
FABIO.
Did it arise from your believing
That what I told you would have rotted,
If in your noddle you had got it
An hour or so without revealing?
FLERIDA.
Who, was it then I told it to?
FABIO.
To no one if it was not he,
Who, full of rage and cruelty,
When you had just got out of view,
Attack'd me in so fierce a way,
201
He would have killed me.
FLERIDA.
Why?
FABIO.
Because
Your highness has too much to say.
FLERIDA.
But if I spoke not to him since,
How can it be that he has got
The news from me?
FABIO.
Why then, if not
He learned it from the infernal prince,—
Which is unpleasant; as I swell,
I burst with news I fear to tell.
FLERIDA.
Say what it is.
FABIO.
I do not know.
FLERIDA.
Did he another letter get?
FABIO.
Oh! I know nothing.
FLERIDA.
Has he gone?
FABIO.
Oh! I know nothing.
FLERIDA.
Any one
Been here to see him, whom he met
In secret?
202
Still I nothing know.
FLERIDA.
Then I am forced to think that you
Repent of what you vowed to do—
Lately to serve me; and thus show
More zeal for Frederick's sake, by such
Refusals, than for mine.
FABIO.
Not this
The cause explains.
FLERIDA.
And what?
FABIO.
It is
Because your highness talks too much.
If he finds out this time, in glory
Soon, by his hand, I rest.
FLERIDA.
As yet
He has killed you not, and may forget.
FABIO.
'Tis true: but hear a little story!—
A gay gallant and sprightly dame
Were once engaged in conversation;
When, enjoying the occasion,
An insect that I need not name
Thus astutely thought and said:
“Now as he can scarcely scratch,
I methinks had best despatch
203
The gentleman, with great politeness,
Bore it long: but then the gnawing
Grew so fearful, that with drawing
His right hand unseen, with lightness
Attacked the enemy con amore,
And with his fingers, ere in flight
He could escape from out the fight,
Bore him prisoner from that foray!—
The lady, turning time enough
To see her lover's fingers press'd
Against each other, so compress'd
As if they held a pinch of snuff,
Asked him with a look serene,
A serious air her mockery screening,—
None being by to know her meaning,—
“And did he die, that cavalier?”
Quite unembarrass'd—self-possess'd,
Holding his hand thus—he replied,
“No, Señora, he has not died,
Though he is dreadfully hard press'd.”
And so this matter, as I view it,
Admits the same reply being made:
'Tis little matter not being dead,
When I am just the next thing to it.
And so I am afraid to say,
What all this time I had been saying,
But for your treacherous betraying;
That, in his hands, I saw to-day
A portrait, whence you may discover,
If you can get a peep at it,
The face and form and every bit
Of her of whom he is the lover:—
This and more would I endeavour,
Lady mine, to tell thee here,
But so much your tongue I fear,
That expect not I will ever
Tell thee this or aught I know:
204
Though my tongue runs fast, yet faster
Well I know that yours can go.
[Exit.
FLERIDA.
Ah! he then doth wear a portrait:
Now my subtle wit and skill
Find some proper mode for drawing
Forth the secret from his breast;
But with only this precaution
That I shun a public place.
Enter FREDERICK.
FREDERICK,
aside.
After all, it is the safest
Plan, the subject to avoid
Until she doth speak about it:—
Since you ordered me to come
[Aloud.
For that purpose, say, Señora,
Does your highness wish that I
Lay before you the despatches?
FLERIDA.
Yes; but then the open garden
Is not an appropriate place,
More especially when sinking—
Lo! in sapphire sets the sun;
At his birth an amber cradle,
At his death a golden tomb:
Bear them to my presence-chamber,
And before you enter there,
Bear in mind that you this evening
Many things for me must write;—
If that lady doth expect you
Whom so secretly you serve,
You should send to her to tell her
Not to wait for you to-night;
205
Than the one you lately made,
Still the absence is more certain.
FREDERICK,
aside.
What is this, O Heavens! I hear?
Enter LAURA.
LAURA,
aside.
Frederick and Flerida here!
Since an opportune occasion
She deprived me of, so I
Shall of one deprive her also:—
Has indeed your highness made
[Aloud.
Compact sweet with April weather,
Giving to that beauteous time
Lasting loveliness?
FLERIDA.
How so?
LAURA.
Since the live-long day you scarcely
Leave this gladsome garden sweet,—
Giving to the rose its purple,
To the jessamine its snow.
FLERIDA.
Now at least I wish to leave it;
Let us, Laura, go: do you
Follow soon with the despatches;
And whilst you retire for them,
You upon the way may proffer
The advice of which I spoke.
FREDERICK.
I, indeed, am not so favoured
As your highness doth presume.
Draws out his handkerchief.
206
I, methinks, can send from this:
For ......
LAURA,
aside.
I see he makes the signal,
I must now observe his words.
FREDERICK.
My bliss—hath almost wholly faded;
My soul—is but the seat of pain;
My life—is but death's dreary prelude,
Señora—since love's cruel reign.
LAURA,
aside.
“My bliss, my soul, my life, Señora,”—
These are the words that he has said.
FREDERICK.
This—tyrant Love usurps each feeling,—
Cruel—thus to pierce my heart,
Enemy—of all my dreamings,
Of mine—hopes and all my joys.
LAURA,
aside.
What he further says is plainly—
“This cruel enemy of mine.”
FREDERICK.
To-day—the anguish of my spirit
Prevents—the tranquil flow of thought,
My speaking—is with fear embarrass'd
With thee—lest I had failed in aught.
LAURA,
aside.
“To-day prevents my speaking with thee.”
207
Do not—blame me, do not leave me,
To the—thought that thou'rt displeased;
Garden—thou wilt be my graveyard!
Go—not, lady, angry forth.
FLERIDA.
Good—sufficient.
LAURA,
aside.
All he uttered
Must I, if I can, repeat;—
“My bliss, my soul, my life, Señora,
This cruel enemy of mine
To-day prevents my speaking with thee;
Do not to the garden go.”
FLERIDA.
Laura, come with me, do thou
[To Frederick.
Follow also on the moment.
FREDERICK,
aside.
Is there any love so wretched?
FLERIDA,
aside.
Is there pain so unrequited?
[Exit.
LAURA,
aside.
Is there jealousy more open?
[Exit.
Enter FABIO.
FABIO,
aside.
Is there any way of leaving
Without meeting with my master?—
Ah! no sooner said than done,
There he standeth.
208
Fabio!
FABIO,
retiring.
Beat me
Not in cold blood now, I pray.
FREDERICK.
Why thus fly me?—What vexation!
To dissemble with this knave.
[Aside.
FABIO.
Why the reason is, I fear me,
That the civil demon who
Whispers now and then such stories
In your ear, may now have said
Something to my disadvantage,
Just as true as was the last.
FREDERICK.
I have come to learn the real
Truth about it, and I know
You were faithful.
FABIO.
Ay, so faithful,
That I would to God that some
In Madrid were half as honest.
FREDERICK.
I will give thee a peace-offering,—
A new dress.
FABIO.
A dress?
FREDERICK.
'Tis so.
209
May your soul for this be covered
In a cloak of scarlet hue,
With fine pantaloons of crystal
And a vest of ambergris,
In the life that's everlasting.
FREDERICK.
But you must inform me this ......
FABIO.
What?
FREDERICK.
And quickly, for I hasten
With some papers to her grace ......
FABIO,
aside.
God now gift my tongue with cunning!
FREDERICK.
Has Flerida questioned you
Aught about my love?
FABIO.
No surely:—
But I have made up my mind,
That you are the prince of dunces
Not to understand her wish.
FREDERICK.
Said she something then about me?
FABIO.
Ay, enough.
210
Thou liest, knave:
Wouldst thou make me think her beauty,
Proud and gentle though it be,—
Which might soar, even like the heron,
To the Sovereign Sun itself,—
Could descend with coward pinions
At a lowly falcon's call?
FABIO.
Well, my lord, just make the trial
For a day or two, pretend
That you love her, and ......
FREDERICK.
Supposing
That there were the slightest ground
For this false, malicious fancy
You have formed; there's not a chink
In my heart where it might enter:—
Since, a love, if not more blest—
Far more equal than the other
Holds entire possession there.
FABIO.
Then you never loved two women
At one time?
FREDERICK.
No.
FABIO.
Then avow ......
FREDERICK.
What?
211
That you were very lazy.
FREDERICK.
That is falsehood, and not love.
FABIO.
The more the merrier.
FREDERICK.
In two places
How could one make love?
FABIO.
Why thus:—
Near the town of Ratisbon
Two conspicuous hamlets lay,
One of them called Ageré—
The other called Macárandón;
These two villages, one priest,
An humble man of God, 'tis stated,
Served, and therefore celebrated
Mass in each on every feast:
And so one day it came to pass,
A native of Macárandón
Who to Ageré had gone,
About the middle of the mass
Heard the priest in solemn tone
Say, as he the Preface read,
“Gratias ageré,” but said
Nothing of Macárandón.
Then to the priest, this worthy made
212
“You give but thanks for Ageré,
As if your tithes we had not paid!”
When this sapient reason reached
The noble Macarandonese,
They stopp'd their hapless pastor's fees,
Nor payed for what he prayed or preached.
Seeing his dues had taken wing,
He asked his sacristan the cause;
He told him wherefore and because:—
From that day forth when he would sing
The Preface, he took care to intone,
Not in a smother'd or a weak way,
“Tibi semper et ubique
Gratias—Macárandón.”
If from love—that god so blind—
Two parishes thou holdest, you
Are bound to gratify the two;—
And after a few days you'll find,
If you do so, soon upon
You and me will fall good things,
When your lordship wisely sings
Flerída et Macárandón.
FREDERICK.
Think you I have heard your folly?
FABIO.
If you listened, why not so?
FREDERICK.
No, my mind can only know
Its own tale of melancholy.
FABIO.
Since you stick to Ageré
And reject Macárandón,
Every hope I fear is gone
That love his generous dues will pay.
[Exeunt.
The words of the Preface on which Calderon has founded this lively little story are as follow: “Vere dignum et justum est, æquum et salutare, nos tibi semper et ubique gratias agere,” &c.
213
SCENE III.
—A ROOM IN THE PALACE OF THE DUCHESS:—EVENING.Enter FLERIDA and LAURA; LIVIA and FLORA attending with lights.
FLERIDA.
You can here set down the lights,
And then leave me for a little;
No society I want,—
Even mine own I could dispense with.
LIVIA
to Flora.
What strange sadness!
FLORA
to Livia.
It is more
Even than sadness, 'tis delirium.
Livia and Flora go out. Laura is about following.
FLERIDA.
Laura, do not thou retire.
LAURA.
How, Señora, can I serve thee?
FLERIDA.
By a little kindly act,
Since alone your faithful friendship
I can trust.
LAURA.
And your commands?
214
Are, when Frederick hither cometh,
That you stay behind this door,
And by every means that caution
Can devise, prevent the chance
Of a listener.
LAURA.
Be certain
I shall fail not in due care,
As you'll see; but has there happened
Aught that's new?
FLERIDA.
I have resolved
To find out by a manœuvre,
Who his mistress is.
LAURA.
Who is
His mistress?
FLERIDA.
Yes.
LAURA.
I cannot fancy
[Aside.
In what manner:—oh! if I
Can but make her tell the method,
When he enters here, I can
Secretly apprize him of it.
FLERIDA.
Hear, then, Laura ......
LAURA.
Yes, I hear thee.
215
That I know, he carries hid ......
But he comes, and now I could not
Tell without his hearing me;
But I give thee leave to listen
To the plan that I have formed:—
Now conceal thee.
LAURA.
I will do so:—
Giving little thanks, I own,
[Aside.
For the licence you have given;
Even had you not permitted,
I had taken leave to hear.
Conceals herself.
Enter FREDERICK with a portfolio and papers.
FREDERICK.
Here, Señora, are the papers.
FLERIDA.
Leave them there, for I no longer
Can permit that you should hold them;
Or that you should act henceforward
As my confidential agent.
Faithless servant—base betrayer
Of my interest and honour.
FREDERICK.
Lady, how have I been wanting
In my duty, as to merit
For my long and faithful service,
Such an infamous reproach?
FLERIDA.
Dost thou dare to ask me wherefore,
Knowing that I have sufficient
Evidence to prove thy guilt?
216
Let me know on what foundation
Rests the notion of my guilt ......
LAURA,
peeping.
I am curious to discover
How by such a charge, Flerida
Means his lady's name to learn.
FREDERICK.
And I trust to exculpate me.
FLERIDA.
I will tell you; information
Has been given me of collusion
'Twixt my greatest foe and you!
FREDERICK.
Ah; Señora, if I harboured
In my house the Duke of Mantua,
It was but the night he sought me
Here at Parma in disguise.
FLERIDA,
aside.
How is this?—the duke! All-seeing
Heaven, that knows I only sported
With a fond, fictitious anger,
Now has sent a real cause!
FREDERICK.
He has lived within the palace
Since your highness spoke unto him.
FLERIDA.
Was the duke the cavalier whom
I admitted to my palace?
FREDERICK.
Yes, Señora.
217
aside.
Oh! how often
Is a truth the child of falsehood!
LAURA,
at the door.
Scared by terror after terror,
Still I cannot see her meaning.
FLERIDA.
Why from me was this kept secret?
FREDERICK.
As the suitor of your highness,
I believed that you would pardon
What was but love's indiscretion,
Not the dark crime of a traitor.
FLERIDA.
Now, I understand 'twas easy
To present my letter to him.
FREDERICK.
Yes, Señora; at the moment
I was going on my journey
He arrived: and I was able
Without going out of Parma,
Thus to execute my mission.
FLERIDA.
Well, allowing that to be so,
Tell me, whence came Laura's letter?
FREDERICK.
That—the duke himself brought with him.
218
at the door.
He has answered most adroitly;
But I yet cannot discover
How she means to gain her object.
FLERIDA.
Do you think my information
Endeth here? Produce the letters
Which you have received this morning
From his grace the Duke of Florence,
On the subject of the ancient
Claim he makes upon my kingdom.
FREDERICK.
Humbly I entreat your highness,
That at least you will remember
Who I am: if I have acted
Wrong in giving my assistance
To a lover who adores you,
Do not think that I am guilty
Of a crime, so much unworthy
Of my stainless blood and honour.
FLERIDA.
He who finds one crime when starting,
May find many on the journey.
Give the letters I have asked for.
FREDERICK.
Letters! Take, oh! take, Señora,
All the papers that I carry.
Take the keys of all the others
In my house; and if in searching
You can find the smallest cypher
Of disloyalty or treason,
Then my life shall be the forfeit.
He draws out a handkerchief, a bunch of keys, and a small box, or miniature-case, which last he conceals.
219
What is that you seem so anxious
To conceal?
FREDERICK.
A box.
FLERIDA.
Permit me
To examine it.
FREDERICK.
I plainly
[Aside.
Now can understand her meaning.—
As this box cannot, Señora,
Be the proof of any treason,
I implore you to excuse me.
LAURA,
at the door.
Gracious Heavens! it is my portrait.
FLERIDA.
I insist at once on knowing
What this box contains.
LAURA,
aside.
We're ruined!
FREDERICK.
'Tis a portrait; and if only
This you wish to know, Señora,
Now you know it.
FLERIDA.
Till I see it
I will not believe: produce it.
220
If, Senora—
LAURA.
What a trial!
FREDERICK.
It were this—
LAURA.
What dreadful danger!
FREDERICK.
That did make me—
LAURA.
How I tremble!
FREDERICK.
Traitor to your grace,
LAURA.
What terror!
FREDERICK.
Rightly—
LAURA.
Oh! what bitter anguish!
FREDERICK.
Would you call me.
LAURA.
Cruel torture!
FREDERICK.
But before I—
LAURA.
What confusion!
221
Would expose it—
LAURA.
What misfortune!
FREDERICK.
I a thousand deaths would suffer!
Laura slips from her hiding-place, snatches the portrait from his hands, changes it instantly for the portrait of Frederick, which she herself had, and gives the latter to Flerida.
LAURA.
Traitor! wilt thou now refuse it?
FREDERICK.
Laura, how is this?
LAURA.
'Tis simply,
That I heard your conversation—
Heard her grace demand to see it,
And your ungallant refusal.
Take it from my hands, Señora.
FLERIDA.
Never in my whole existence
Did you do me greater service.
FREDERICK,
aside.
Doubtless, Laura takes this method
Of proclaiming our affection.
FLERIDA.
Bring the candle hither, Laura.—
Now at length I'll see this wonder
[Aside.
That awakes my jealous fears.
222
When she recognises Laura,
What will be her wrath!
[Aside.
FLERIDA.
Oh! heavens!
What is this I see?
LAURA,
to Flerida.
No question—
'Tis the gentleman's own likeness!
FLERIDA.
Why so anxious to conceal this?
FREDERICK.
Do you wonder, when it gives
To my eyes the dearest object
That the world contains?
FLERIDA.
Aye, true,
Since you love it as yourself;
Laura, what is this has happened?
[Aside to Laura.]
What can be its meaning, say?
LAURA.
How can I know aught about it
More than you have seen?
FLERIDA,
aside.
I can
Scarce restrain my rising anger.—
She gives the portrait to Laura and retires.
Take it, for I must withdraw
To avoid an open rupture.
Give the picture back to this
Self-adoring new Narcissus—
223
To say naught:—My heart is Etna—
Serpents brood within my bosom—
Basilisks within my soul!
[Exit.
FREDERICK.
Tell me, Laura, how it happens,
That her grace, your portrait seeing,
Does not seem to be offended,
Nor with thee, nor yet with me?
LAURA.
See, I merely changed the pictures,
Giving thine, and keeping mine!
FREDERICK.
Wit like thine could only draw us
From a danger so extreme.
LAURA.
Yes, but then she still continues
Apt and able as before.
FREDERICK.
Would that we were once in safety.
LAURA.
I, to-morrow shall advise
What 'tis best we should decide on:—
Take this picture, and adieu!—
Gives him one of the portraits.
FREDERICK.
Of the two self-seeming portraits
Which is this that now you give?
LAURA.
It is thine, lest she should ask it
Back again.
[Exit.
224
Thou'rt right; O Heavens!
Never was there equal danger!—
Who could e'er have thought ......?
Enter FABIO, with two dresses on his arm.
FABIO.
My lord,
Which of these two handsome dresses
Am I to put on?
FREDERICK.
Thou wretch!—
Base-born, vile, atrocious villain.
FABIO.
It is this that now I get?—
FREDERICK.
Yes, for through thy fault, I see me
Almost lost without redress.
FABIO.
And I too without a dress.
FREDERICK.
Did you think then, that this portrait
Was a lady's, and not mine?
FABIO.
No, my lord, for I was certain
That you loved yourself right well.
FREDERICK.
As God lives! you die this moment
'Neath my hands!
FABIO.
O Lord! I'm off.
225
aside.
But this rage is injudicious,
Having just escaped so well:
It is best not drive things farther:—
Fabio!
FABIO.
Master!—
FREDERICK.
Come with me,
And select what dress doth please you,
Since I know that in this matter
Thou art true, and not to blame.
FABIO,
aside.
Such caprice was never equalled!
Well, by Heaven, if I had any
Sense to lose—I'd lose it now.
[Exeunt.
| The Secret in Words | |