Chapter 7
LEOGAIRE, an Old Peasant, and PATRICK.
LEOGAIRE. So 'tis ordered, and that he Serving here from day to day, In the open field should stay.
OLD MAN. Yes; I say it so shall be.
LEOGAIRE. But who's this? O happiness! Since 'tis Philip's form I greet. Mighty lord, I kiss thy feet.
PAUL. Mighty lord does he call him?
LUCY. Yes. Now lay on the blows you owe. Now, friend Paul, the moment charms.
PHILIP. Give me, good Leogaire, your arms.
LEOGAIRE. Honour in them you bestow. Is it possible, once more That alive I see thee?
PHILIP. Here, Trophy of a fate severe, The sea flung me on this shore, Where, their willing aid secured, I have lived these peasants' guest, Till I could repair with rest All the sufferings I endured. And, besides, I thought with dread On the angry disposition Of the king: for his ambition When has it or bowed the head, Or with patience heard related The sad tragedies of fate? Hopeless and disconsolate In this solitude I've waited, Till some happy chance might rise When no longer I should grieve, And the king would give me leave To appear before his eyes.
LEOGAIRE. That already has been given thee; For so sad was he, believing Thou wert dead, so deep his grieving, All the past will be forgiven thee Since thou livest. Come with me, Fortune will once more embrace thee,-- In his favour to replace thee Let my happy privilege be.
PAUL. For that late unseemly brawl See me humbly bending low; You, my lord Prince Philip, know That I am one Juan Paul. My suspicion and abuse Pray forgive, your majesty, Think that what I said to thee Was but cackled by a goose. At your service, night and day, Are whatever goods I've got -- Lucy here, myself and cot; And God bless us all, I pray.
PHILIP. For your hospitality I am grateful, and I trust To repay it.
PAUL. If you must, Let the first instalment be Just to take my wife away. Thurs you will reward us two; She'll be glad to go with you, I, without her, glad to stay.
[Exeunt PHILIP and LEOGAIRE.
LUCY [aside]. Was there ever love so vain As is mine, a brief caress Cradled in forgetfulness?
OLD MAN. Juan Paul, as we remain Here alone, 'twere well to greet As a friend this labourer, Newly sent us.
PATRICK. Nay, good sir, I'm a slave, and I entreat That as such you understand me; I, the lowest of the low, Hither come to serve, and so I implore that you command me As a slave, since I am one.
OLD MAN. Oh, what modesty!
PAUL. What humility!
LUCY. What good looks, too, and gentility! I, in truth, can't help being drawn By his face.
PAUL. Came ever here (This is quite between us two) Any wandering stranger who Did not draw you so, my dear? Eh, my Lucy?
LUCY. Boorish, base, Is your vile insinuation 'Gains my innocent inclination For the whole of the human race! [Exit.
OLD MAN. To your sharpness and good will, Paul, I trust a thing that may Cost my life.
PAUL. Then don't delay. Tell it, since you know my skill.
OLD MAN. This new slave that here you see, I suspect is not secure, And I hasten to procure Means by which he more may be. For the present I confide him To your care, by day or night Let him not escape your sight, Ever watchful keep beside him. [Exit.
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