Chapter 11

A Street in Burgos.

[Enter the COUNT OF LEON, followed by ORAN.]

III:3:1 LEON. He has been sighing like a Sybarite These six weeks past, and now he sends to me To hire my bravo. Well, that smacks of manhood. He’ll pierce at least one heart, if not the right one. Murder and marriage! which the greater crime A schoolman may decide. All arts exhausted, His death alone remains. A clumsy course. I care not. Truth, I hate this same Alarcos, I think it is the colour of his eyes, But I do hate him; and the royal ear Lists coldly to me since this same return. The King leans wholly on him. Sirrah Moor, All is prepared?

III:3:2 ORAN. And prompt.

III:3:3 LEON. ‘Tis well; no boggling; Let it be cleanly done.

III:3:4 ORAN. A stab or two, And the Arlanzon’s wave shall know the rest.

III:3:5 LEON. I’ll have to kibe his heels at Court, if you fail.

III:3:6 ORAN. There is no fear. We have the choicest spirits In Burgos.

III:3:7 LEON. Goodly gentlemen! you wait Their presence?

III:3:8 ORAN. Here anon.

III:3:9 LEON. Good night, dusk infidel, They’ll take me for an Alguazil. At home Your news will reach me.

III:3:10 ORAN. And were all your throats cut, I would not weep. O, Allah, let them spend Their blood upon themselves! My life he shielded, And now exacts one at my hands; we’re quits When this is closed. That thought will grace a deed Otherwise graceless. I would break the chain That binds me to this man. His callous eye Repels devotion, while his reckless vein Demands prompt sacrifice. Now is’t wise this? Methinks ‘twere wise to touch the humblest heart Of those that serve us? In maturest plans There lacks that finish, which alone can flow From zealous instruments. But here are some That have no hearts to touch.

[Enter Four BRAVOs.]

How now, good senors. I cannot call them comrades; you’re exact, As doubtless ye are brave. You know your duty?

III:3:11 1ST BRAVO. And will perform it, or my name is changed, And I’m not Guzman Jaca.

III:3:12 ORAN. You well know The arm you cross is potent?

III:3:13 2ND BRAVO. All the steel Of Calatrava’s knights shall not protect it.

III:3:14 3RD BRAVO. And all the knights to boot.

III:3:15 4TH BRAVO. A river business.

III:3:16 ORAN. The safest sepulchre.

III:3:17 4TH BRAVO. A burial ground Of which we are the priests, and take our fees; I never cross a stream, but I do feel A sense of property.

III:3:18 ORAN. You know the signal: And when I boast I’ve friends, they may appear To prove I am no braggart.

III:3:19 1ST BRAVO. To our posts It shall be cleanly done, and brief.

III:3:20 2ND BRAVO. No oaths, No swagger.

III:3:21 3RD BRAVO. Not a word; but all as pleasant As we were nobles like himself.

III:3:22 4TH BRAVO. ‘Tis true, sir; You deal with gentlemen.

[Exeunt BRAVOs.]

[Enter COUNT ALARCOS.]

III:3:23 ALAR. The moon’s a sluggard, I think, to-night. How now, the Moor that dodged My steps at vespers. Hem! I like not this. Friends beneath cloaks; they’re wanted. Save you, sir?

III:3:24 ORAN. And you, sir?

III:3:25 ALAR. Not the first time we have met, Or I’ve no eye for lurkers.

III:3:26 ORAN. I have tasted Our common heritage, the air, to-day; And if the selfsame beam warmed both our bloods, What then?

III:3:27 ALAR. Why nothing; but the sun has set, And honest men should seek their hearths.

III:3:28 ORAN. I wait My friends.

[The BRAVOs rush in, and assault COUNT ALARCOS, who, dropping his Cloak, shows his Sword already drawn, and keeps them at bay.]

So, so! who plays with princes’ blood? No sport for varlets. Thus and thus, I’ll teach ye To know your station.

III:3:29 1ST BRAVO. Ah!

III:3:30 2ND BRAVO. Away!

III:3:31 3RD BRAVO. Fly, fly!

III:3:32 4TH BRAVO. No place for quiet men.

[The BRAVOs run off.]

III:3:33 ALAR. A little breath Is all they have cost me, tho’ their blood has stained My damask blade. And still the Moor! What ho! Why fliest not like thy mates?

III:3:34 ORAN. Because I wait To fight.

III:3:35 ALAR. Rash caitiff! knowest thou who I am?

III:3:36 ORAN. One who I heard was brave, and now has proved it.

III:3:37 ALAR. Am I thy foe?

III:3:38 ORAN. No more than all thy race.

III:3:39 ALAR. Go, save thy life.

III:3:40 ORAN. Look to thine own, proud lord.

III:3:41 ALAR. Perdition catch thy base-born insolence.

[They fight: after a long and severe encounter, ALARCOS disarms ORAN, who falls wounded.]

III:3:42 ORAN. Be brief, dispatch me.

III:3:43 ALAR. Not a word for mercy?

III:3:44 ORAN. Why should’st thou give it?

III:3:45 ALAR. ‘Tis not merited, Yet might be gained. Who set thee on to this? My sword is at thy throat. Give me his name, And thine shall live.

III:3:46 ORAN. I cannot.

III:3:47 ALAR. What, is life So light a boon? It hangs upon this point. Bold Moor, is’t then thy love to him who fees thee Makes thee so faithful?

III:3:48 ORAN. No; I hate him.

III:3:49 ALAR. What Restrains thee, then?

III:3:50 ORAN. The feeling that restrained My arm from joining stabbers--Honour.

III:3:51 ALAR. Humph! An overseer of stabbers for some ducats. And is that honour?

III:3:52 ORAN. Once he screened my life, And this was my return.

III:3:53 ALAR. What if I spare Thy life even now? Wilt thou accord to me The same devotion?

III:3:54 ORAN. Yea; the life thou givest Thou shouldst command.

III:3:55 ALAR. If I, too, have a foe Crossing my path and blighting all my life?

III:3:56 ORAN. This sword should strive to reach him.

III:3:57 ALAR. Him! thy bond Shall know no sex or nation. Limitless Shall be thy pledge. I’ll claim from thee a life For that I spare. How now, wilt live?

III:3:58 ORAN. To pay A life for that now spared.

III:3:59 ALAR. Swear to thy truth; Swear by Mahound, and swear by all thy gods, If thou hast any; swear it by the stars, In which we all believe; and by thy hopes Of thy false paradise; swear it by thy soul, And by thy sword!

III:3:60 ORAN. I swear.

III:3:61 ALAR. Arise and live.

THE END OF THE THIRD ACT.