________________________________________________
_ ACT II - SCENE III
A Chamber in the Royal Palace. The INFANTA SOLISA alone.
SOL.
I can but think my father will be just
And see us righted. O 'tis only honest,
The hand that did this wrong should now supply
The sovereign remedy, and balm the wound
Itself inflicted. He is with him now;
Would I were there, unseen, yet seeing all!
But ah! no cunning arras could conceal
This throbbing heart. I've sent my little Page,
To mingle with the minions of the Court,
And get me news. How he doth look, bow eat,
What says he and what does, and all the haps
Of this same night, that yet to me may bring
A cloudless morrow. See, even now he comes.
[Enter the PAGE.]
Prithee what news? Now tell me all, my child,
When thou'rt a knight, will I not work the scarf
For thy first tourney! Prithee tell me all.
PAGE.
O lady mine, the royal Seneschal
He was so crabbed, I did scarcely deem
I could have entered.
SOL.
Cross-grained Seneschal!
He shall repent of this, my pretty Page;
But thou didst enters?
PAGE.
I did so contrive.
SOL.
Rare imp! And then?
PAGE.
Well, as you told me, then
I mingled with the Pages of the King.
They're not so very tall; I might have passed
I think for one upon a holiday.
SOL.
O thou shalt pass for better than a page
But tell me, child, didst see my gallant Count?
PAGE.
On the right hand--
SOL.
Upon the King's right hand?
PAGE.
Upon the King's right hand, and there were also--
SOL.
Mind not the rest; thou'rt sure on the right hand?
PAGE.
Most sure; and on the left--
SOL.
Ne'er mind the left,
Speak only of the right. How did he seem?
Did there pass words between him and the King?
Often or scant? Did he seem gay or grave?
Or was his aspect of a middle tint,
As if he deemed that there were other joys
Not found within that chamber?
PAGE.
Sooth to say,
He did seem what he is, a gallant knight.
Would I were such! For talking with the King,
He spoke, yet not so much but he could spare
Words to the other lords. He often smiled,
Yet not so often, that a limner might
Describe his mien as jovial.
SOL.
'Tis himself!
What next? Will they sit long?
PAGE.
I should not like
Myself to quit such company. In truth,
The Count of Leon is a merry lord.
There were some tilting jests, I warrant you,
Between him and your knight.
SOL.
O tell it me!
PAGE.
The Count Alarcos, as I chanced to hear,
For tiptoe even would not let me see,
And that same Pedro, who has lately come
To Court, the Senor of Montilla's son,
He is so rough, and says a lady's page
Should only be where there are petticoats.
SOL.
Is he so rough? He shall be soundly whipped.
But tell me, child, the Count Alarcos--
PAGE.
Well,
The Count Alarcos--but indeed, sweet lady,
I do not wish that Pedro should be whipped.
SOL.
He shall not then be whipped--speak of the Count.
PAGE.
The Count was showing how your Saracen
Doth take your lion captive, thus and thus:
And fashioned with his scarf a dexterous noose
Made of a tiger's skin: your unicorn,
They say, is just as good.
SOL.
Well, then Sir Leon--
PAGE.
Why then your Count of Leon--but just then
Sancho, the Viscount of Toledo's son,
The King's chief Page, takes me his handkerchief
And binds it on my eyes, he whispering round
Unto his fellows, here you see I've caught
A most ferocious cub. Whereat they kicked,
And pinched, and cuffed me till I nearly roared
As fierce as any lion, you be sure.
SOL.
Rude Sancho, he shall sure be sent from Court!
My little Ferdinand--thou hast incurred
Great perils for thy mistress. Go again
And show this signet to the Seneschal,
And tell him that no greater courtesy
Be shown to any guest than to my Page.
This from myself--or I perchance will send,
Shall school their pranks. Away, my faithful imp,
And tell me how the Count Alarcos seems.
PAGE.
I go, sweet lady, but I humbly beg
Sancho may not be sent from Court this time.
SOL.
Sancho shall stay.
[Exit PAGE.]
I hope, ere long, sweet child,
Thou too shalt be a page unto a King.
I'm glad Alarcos smiled not overmuch;
Your smilers please me not. I love a face
Pensive, not sad; for where the mood is thoughtful,
The passion is most deep and most refined.
Gay tempers bear light hearts--are soonest gained
And soonest lost; but he who meditates
On his own nature, will as deeply scan
The mind he meets, and when he loves, he casts
His anchor deep.
[Re-enter PAGE.]
Give me the news.
PAGE.
The news!
I could not see the Seneschal, but gave
Your message to the Pages. Whereupon
Sancho, the Viscount of Toledo's son,
Pedro, the Senor of Montilla's son,
The young Count of Almeira, and--
SOL.
My child,
What ails thee?
PAGE.
O the Viscount of Jodar,
I think he was the very worst of all;
But Sancho of Toledo was the first.
SOL.
What did they?
PAGE.
'Las, no sooner did I say
All that you told me, than he gives the word,
'A guest, a guest, a very potent guest,'
Takes me a goblet brimful of strong wine
And hands it to me, mocking, on his knee.
This I decline, when on his back they lay
Your faithful Page, nor set me on my legs
Till they had drenched me with this fiery stuff,
That I could scarcely see, or reel my way
Back to your presence.
SOL.
Marry, 'tis too much
E'en for a page's license. Ne'er you mind,
They shall to Prison by to-morrow's dawn.
I'll bind this kerchief round your brow, its scent
Will much revive you. Go, child, lie you down
On yonder couch.
PAGE.
I'm sure I ne'er can sleep
If Sancho of Toledo shall be sent
To-morrow's dawn to prison.
SOL.
Well, he's pardoned.
PAGE.
Also the Senor of Montilla's son,
SOL.
He shall be pardoned too. Now prithee sleep.
PAGE.
The young Count of Almeira--
SOL.
O no more.
They all are pardoned.
PAGE.
I do humbly pray
The Viscount of Jodar be pardoned too.
[Exit SOLISA.] _
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