SCENE IV.—_An apartment in DON FELIX’S House.

_DONNA ANNA and ELVIRA._

_Elv._ Well, have you finisht writing?

_Anna._ I have written, Not finisht writing. That could never be; Each sentence, yea, each letter, as I write it, Suggesting others still. I had hoped, Elvira, To sum my story up in a few words; Took pen and paper, both at the wrong end:— Tried to begin, my mind so full I knew not What to begin with; till, as one has seen The fullest vessel hardly run, until Some inner air should loose the lingering liquid, So my charged heart waited till one long sigh Set it a flowing. I wrote, erased, re-wrote, Then, pregnant love still doubling thought on thought, Doubled the page too hastily, and blotted All that was writ before; until my letter, Blotted, erased, re-written, and perplext, At least is a fair transcript of my heart, Well, the sum is, he is to come, Elvira, To-night, when Felix, as I heard him say, Goes to our country house on business; And all will be more quiet. But here, read it.

_Elv._ My lord! my lord!—the letter!

_Enter FELIX._

_Anna_ (_hiding the letter_). Heavens!

_Fel._ Too well The traitorous colour flying from your cheeks Betrays your illness and my cause of sorrow. What is the matter?

_Anna._ Nothing, brother.

_Fel._ Nothing! Your changing face and your solicitude To assure me there is nothing, but assure me How much there is. I have been told in fact, And hurried home thus suddenly, To hear it all.

_Anna._ (_aside_). Alas! he knows my secret! Felix, indeed, indeed, my love Shall not dishonour you.

_Fel._ Your love? I’m more at loss than ever. But perhaps You feign this to divert me from the truth. What is the matter, truly?

_Anna._ Be assured I never will disgrace you.

_Fel._ Ah, she rambles, Quite unrecover’d yet.

_Anna_ (_apart to ELVIRA_). What shall I do?

_Elv._ (_apart_). Deny it all, there’s many a step between Suspicion and assurance.

_Fel._ You, Elvira, (My sister cannot) tell me what has happen’d.

_Elv._ Oh, nothing but a swoon, sir: My mistress fainted: that is all: accounts For all her paleness and discomfiture.

_Fel._ ’Twas that I heard.

_Elv._ I do assure you, sir, We thought her dead—however she dissemble Out of her love for you.

_Fel._ ’Twas kind of her: But yet not kindness, Anna, to delude me Into a selfish ignorance of your pain. Enough, you are better now?

_Anna._ Indeed.

_Fel._ That’s well. But, by the way, what meant you by ‘_your love_,’ And ‘_not dishonouring me_?’

_Anna._ ‘_My love_,’ and ‘_not_ _Dishonouring_!’ did I say so? I must mean, My senses still half-drown’d, my love for you That would not have you pain’d. A true love, Felix, Though a mistaken, may be, as you say, Yet no dishonour.

_Fel._ Still I have not heard What caused this illness.

_Anna_ (_aside_). He presses hard upon me, But I’ll out-double him. (_Aloud._) The cause of it? Why—sitting in this room, I heard a noise in the street there: went to the window, And saw a crowd of people, their swords out, fighting Before the door; and (what will foolish fear Not conjure up?) methought that one of them Was you—and suddenly a mortal chill Came over me, and—you must ask Elvira For all the rest.

_Elv._ (_aside_). Why ever have the trouble Of coining lies when truth will pass as well?

_Enter LAZARO._

_Laz._ So far so good.

_Fel._ Lazaro?

_Laz._ (_seeing FELIX_). It’s his ghost? for certainly I left his body at the palace.

_Anna._ My evil stars bear hard upon me!

_Laz._ I’m done for, unless a good lie——(_Aloud._) Ruffian, rascal, scamp!

_Fel._ How now?

_Laz._ Murderer! villain!

_Fel._ Softly, softly, breathe awhile! what’s the matter?

_Laz._ Nothing, nothing, yet had I not exploded incidentally, or as it were superficially, I had altogether burst. Oh the rascal! the slave!

_Fel._ But tell me the matter.

_Laz._ Oh the matter—indeed the matter—you may well ask it—indeed you may—Oh the murderer!

_Fel._ Come, come, tell us.

_Laz._ Ay, well, look here, my lords and ladies, lend me your ears; I was at cards: yes: for you must know, my lord, I sometimes like a bout as my betters do: you understand this?

_Fel._ Yes—well?

_Laz._ Well, being at cards, as I say: ay, and playing pretty high too: for I must confess that sometimes, like my betters—you understand?

_Fel._ Go on—go on.

_Laz._ Well, being, as I said, at cards, And playing pretty high too—mark me that— I get into discussion or dispute, (Whichever you will call it) with a man, If man he may be call’d who man was none— Ye gods! to prostitute the name of man On such as that!—call him a manikin, A mandarin, a mandrake, Rather than man—I mean in _soul_, mark you; For in his outward man he was a man, Ay, and a man of might. Nay, more than man, A giant, one may say. Well, as I said, This wretch and I got to high words, and then (Whither high words so often lead) to blows; Out came our swords. The rascal having seen What a desperate fellow at my tool I was, Takes him eleven others of his kidney, Worse than himself, and all twelve set on me. I seeing them come on, ejaculate, ‘From all such rascals, single or in league, Good Lord, deliver us,’ set upon all twelve With that same sword, mark me, our gracious Prince Gave me but yesternight, and, God be praised, Disgraced not in the giving— Beat the whole twelve of them back to a porch, Where, after bandying a blow with each, Each getting something to remember me by, Back in a phalanx all came down on me, And then dividing, sir, into two parties, Twelve upon this side—do you see? and nine On this—and three in front—

_Fel._ But, Lazaro, Why, twelve and nine are twenty-one—and three— Why, your twelve men are grown to twenty-four! How’s this?

_Laz._ How’s this? why, counting in the shadows— You see I count the shadows—twenty-four, Shadows and all—you see![4]

_Fel._ I see.

_Laz._ Well, sir, Had not that good sword which our gracious Prince Gave me but yesterday broke in my hand, I should have had to pay for mass, I promise you, For every mother’s son of them!

_Fel._ Indeed! But, Lazaro, I see your sword’s entire: How’s that?

_Laz._ The most extraordinary part Of all—

_Fel._ Well, tell us.

_Laz._ Why, I had first used My dagger upon one: and when my sword Snapt, with its stump, sir, daggerwise I fought, As thus; and that with such tremendous fury, That, smiting a steel buckler, I struck out Such sparks from it, that, by the light of them, Snatching up the fallen fragment of my sword, I pieced the two together.

_Fel._ But the dagger You fought with first, and lost, you say—why, Lazaro, ’Tis in your girdle.

_Laz._ I account for that Easily. Look, sir, I drew it, as I said, And struck amain. The man I drew it on, Seeing the coming blow, caught hold of it, And struck it back on me; I, yet more skilful, With God’s good help did so present myself That, when he struck at me, my own dagger’s point Return’d into its sheath, as here you see it. Enough, I heard the cry of ‘Alguazils!’ Ran off, and, entering the first open door, Now ask for sanctuary at your feet.

_Fel._ I think it is your trepidation Makes you talk nonsense.

_Anna._ Surely, my brother, this was the riot that so frighted me.

_Fel._ And was I then the man, ‘if man it could be called who man was none,’ that Lazaro fought with?

_Anna._ I know not, I only know ’twas some one of a handsome presence like yours.

_Fel._ (_aside_). Perhaps his master—I much suspect it was Cesar that was dicing, and afterward fighting; and his servant, to cover him, invents this foolish story——(_Aloud._) I will look into the street and see if it be clear.

[_Exit._

_Elv._ Now say your say.

_Anna_ (_giving LAZARO her letter_). And quickly, Lazaro; taking this letter—

_Laz._ (_giving CESAR’S_). And you this premium upon it.

_Anna._ Bid him be sure to come to me this evening; I have much to say. And thus much to you, Lazaro; your quarrel came in the nick of time to account for a swoon I had occasion to feign.

_Elv._ Quick! quick! he’s coming back.

_Laz._ Madam, farewell.

_Anna._ And if my plot succeed, Feign’d quarrel shall to true love-making lead.

[_Exeunt._