Chapter 10

Chamber in the Royal Palace.

The INFANTA seated in despondency; the KING standing by her side.

III:2:1 KING. Indeed, ‘tis noticed.

III:2:2 SOL. Solitude is all I ask; and is it then so great a boon?

III:2:3 KING. Nay, solitude’s no princely appanage. Our state’s a pedestal, which men have raised That they may gaze on greatness.

III:2:4 SOL. A false idol, And weaker than its worshippers. I’ve lived To feel my station’s vanity. O, Death, Thou endest all!

III:2:5 KING. Thou art too young to die, And yet may be too happy. Moody youth Toys in its talk with the dark thought of death, As if to die were but to change a robe. It is their present refuge for all cares And each disaster. When the sere has touched Their flowing locks, they prattle less of death, Perchance think more of it.

III:2:6 SOL. Why, what is greatness? Will’t give me love, or faith, or tranquil thoughts? No, no, not even justice.

III:2:7 KING. ‘Tis thyself That does thyself injustice. Let the world Have other speculation than the breach Of our unfilled vows. They bear too near And fine affinity to what we would, Ay, what we will. I would not choose this moment, Men brood too curiously upon the cause Of the late rupture, for the cause detected May bar the consequence.

III:2:8 SOL. A day, an hour Sufficed to crush me. Weeks and weeks pass on Since I was promised right.

III:2:9 KING. Take thou my sceptre And do thyself this right. Is’t, then, so easy?

III:2:10 SOL. Let him who did the wrong, contrive the means Of his atonement.

III:2:11 KING. All a father can, I have performed.

III:2:12 SOL. Ah! then there is no hope. The Bishop of Ossuna, you did say He was the learnedest clerk of Christendom, And you would speak to him?

III:2:13 KING. What says Alarcos?

III:2:14 SOL. I spoke not to him since I first received His princely pledge.

III:2:15 KING. Call on him to fulfil it.

III:2:16 SOL. Can he do more than kings?

III:2:17 KING. Yes, he alone; Alone it rests with him. This learn from me. There is no other let.

III:2:18 SOL. I learn from thee What other lips should tell me.

III:2:19 KING. Girl, art sure Of this same lover?

III:2:20 SOL. O! I’ll never doubt him.

III:2:21 KING. And yet may be deceived.

III:2:22 SOL. He is as true As talismanic steel.

III:2:23 KING. Why, then thou art, At least thou should’st be, happy. Smile, Solisa; For since the Count is true, there is no bar. Why dost not smile?

III:2:24 SOL. I marvel that Alarcos Hath been so mute on this.

III:2:25 KING. But thou art sure He is most true.

III:2:26 SOL. Why should I deem him true? Have I found truth in any? Woe is me, I feel as one quite doomed. I know not why I ever was ill-omened.

III:2:27 KING. Listen, girl; Probe this same lover to the core; ‘tmay be, I think he is, most true; he should be so If there be faith in vows, and men ne’er break The pledge its profits them to keep. And yet--

III:2:28 SOL. And what?

III:2:29 KING. To be his Sovereign’s cherished friend, And smiled on by the daughter of his King, Why that might profit him, and please so much, His wife’s ill humour might be borne withal.

III:2:30 SOL. You think him false?

III:2:31 KING. I think he might be true: But when a man’s well placed, he loves not change.

[Enter at the back of the Scene Count ALARCOS disguised. He advances, dropping his Hat and Cloak.]

Ah, gentle cousin, all our thoughts were thine.

III:2:32 ALAR. I marvel men should think. Lady, I’ll hope Thy thoughts are like thyself, most fair.

III:2:33 KING. Her thoughts Are like her fortunes, lofty, but around The peaks cling vapours.

III:2:34 ALAR. Eagles live in clouds, And they draw royal breath.

III:2:35 KING. I’d have her quit, This strange seclusion, cousin. Give thine aid To festive purposes.

III:2:36 ALAR. A root, an egg, Why there’s a feast with a holy mind.

III:2:37 KING. If ever I find my seat within a hermitage, I’ll think the same.

III:2:38 ALAR. You have built shrines, sweet lady?

III:2:39 SOL. What then, my lord?

III:2:40 ALAR. Why then you might be worshipped, If your image were in front; I’d bow down To anything so fair.

III:2:41 KING. Dost know, my cousin, Who waits me now? The deputies from Murcia. The realm is ours,

[whispers him]

is thine.

III:2:42 ALAR. The church has realms Wider than both Castilles. But which of them Will be our lot; that’s it.

III:2:43 KING. Mine own Solisa, They wait me in my cabinet;

[aside to her]

Bethink thee With whom all rests.

[Exit the KING.]

III:2:44 SOL. You had sport to-day, my lord? The King was at the chace.

III:2:45 ALAR. I breathed my barb.

III:2:46 SOL. They say the chace hath charm to cheer the spirit,

III:2:47 ALAR. ‘Tis better than prayers.

III:2:48 SOL. Indeed, I think I’ll hunt. You and my father seem so passing gay.

III:2:49 ALAR. Why this is no confessional, no shrine Haunted with presaged gloom. I should be gay To look at thee and listen to thy voice; For if fair pictures and sweet sounds enchant The soul of man, that are but artifice, How then am I entranced, this living picture Bright by my side, and listening to this music That nature gave thee. What’s eternal life To this inspired mortality! Let priests And pontiffs thunder, still I feel that here Is all my joy.

III:2:50 SOL. Ah! why not say thy woe? Who stands between thee and thy rights but me? Who stands between thee and thine ease but me? Who bars thy progress, brings thee cares, but me? Lures thee to impossible contracts, goads thy faith To mad performance, welcomes thee with sighs, And parts from them with tears? Is this joy? No! I am thine evil genius.

III:2:51 ALAR. Say my star Of inspiration. This reality Baffles their mystic threats. Who talks of cares? Why, what’s a Prince, if his imperial will Be bitted by a priest! There’s nought impossible. Thy sighs are sighs of love, and all thy tears But affluent tenderness.

III:2:52 SOL. You sing as sweet As did the syrens; is it from the heart, Or from the lips, that voice?

III:2:53 ALAR. Solisa!

III:2:54 SOL. Ay! My ear can catch a treacherous tone; ‘tis trained To perfidy. My Lord Alarcos, look me Straight in the face. He quails not.

III:2:55 ALAR. O my soul, Is this the being for whose love I’ve pledged Even thy forfeit!

III:2:56 SOL. Alarcos, dear Alarcos, Look not so stern! I’m mad; yes, yes, my life Upon thy truth; I know thou’rt true: he said It rested but with thee; I said it not, Nor thought it.

III:2:57 ALAR. Lady!

III:2:58 SOL. Not that voice!

III:2:59 ALAR. I’ll know Thy thought; the King hath spoken?

III:2:60 SOL. Words of joy And madness. With thyself alone he says It rests.

III:2:61 ALAR. Nor said he more?

III:2:62 SOL. It had found me deaf, For he touched hearings quick.

III:2:63 ALAR. Thy faith in me Hath gone.

III:2:64 SOL. I’ll doubt our shrined miracles Before I doubt Alarcos.

III:2:65 ALAR. He’ll believe thee, For at this moment he has much to endure, And that he could not.

III:2:66 SOL. And yet I must choose This time to vex thee. O, I am the curse And blight of the existence, which to bless Is all my thought! Alarcos, dear Alarcos, I pray thee pardon me. I am so wretched: This fell suspense is like a frightful dream Wherein we fall from heights, yet never reach The bottomless abyss. It wastes my spirit, Wears down my life, gnaws ever at my heart, Makes my brain quick when others are asleep, And dull when theirs is active. O, Alarcos, I could lie down and die.

III:2:67 ALAR.

[Advancing in soliloquy.]

Asleep, awake, In dreams, and in the musing moods that wait On unfulfilled purposes, I’ve done it; And thought upon it afterwards, nor shrunk From the fell retrospect.

III:2:68 SOL. He’s wrapped in thought; Indeed his glance was wild when first he entered, And his speech lacked completeness.

III:2:69 ALAR. How is it then, The body that should be the viler part, And made for servile uses, should rebel ‘Gainst the mind’s mandate, and should hold its aid Aloof from our adventure? Why the sin Is in the thought, not in the deed; ‘tis not The body pays the penalty, the soul Must clear that awful scot. What palls my arm? It is not pity; trumpet-tongued ambition Stifles her plaintive voice; it is not love, For that inspires the blow! Art thou Solisa?

III:2:70 SOL. I am that luckless maiden whom you love.

III:2:71 ALAR. You could lie down and die. Who speaks of death? There is no absolution for self-murder. Why ‘tis the greater sin of the two. There is More peril in’t. What, sleep upon your post Because you are wearied? No, we must spy on And watch occasions. Even now they are ripe. I feel a turbulent throbbing at my heart Will end in action: for there spiritual tumults Herald great deeds.

III:2:72 SOL. It is the church’s scheme Ever to lengthen suits.

III:2:73 ALAR. The church?

III:2:74 SOL. Ossana Leans much to Rome.

III:2:75 ALAR. And how concerns us that?

III:2:76 SOL. His Grace spoke to the Bishop, you must know?

III:2:77 ALAR. Ah, yes! his Grace, the church, it is our friend. And truly should be so. It gave our griefs, And it should bear their balm.

III:2:78 SOL. Hast pardoned me That I was querulous? But lovers crossed Wrangle with those that love them, as it were, To spite affection.

III:2:79 ALAR. We are bound together As the twin powers of the storm. Very love Now makes me callous. The great bond is sealed; Look bright; if gloomy, mortgage future bliss For present comfort. Trust me ‘tis good ‘surance. I’ll to the King.

[Exeunt both.]