The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Vi Part 67

For do but see these eyes-- Yes, see the eyes, the body, neck, and form!

G.o.d made them verily with master hand; 'Twas she _herself_ the image did distort.

Let us revere in her, then, G.o.d's own work, And not destroy what he so wisely built.

QUEEN. Oh, touch it not!

KING. This nonsense now again!

And if I really take it in my hand,

(_He has taken the picture in his hand_)

Am I another, then? I wind the chain In jest, to mock you, thus about my neck,

(_Doing it._)

The face that 'frights you in my bosom hide-- Am I the less Alfonso, who doth see That he has err'd, and who the fault condemns?

Then of your nonsense let this be enough!

[_He draws away from the table._]

QUEEN. Only--

KING (_wildly looking at her_).

What is 't?

QUEEN. O G.o.d in heav'n!

KING. Be frighted not, good wife! Be sensible!

Repeat not evermore the selfsame thing!

It doth remind me of the difference.

(_Pointing to the table, then to his breast._)

This girl there--no, of course now she is here-- If she was foolish, foolish she would be, Nor claimed that she was pious, chaste, and wise.

And this is ever virtuous women's way-- They reckon always with their virtue thus; If you are sad, with virtue comfort they, If joyous is your mood, virtue again, To take your cheerfulness at last away, And show you as your sole salvation, sin.

Virtue's a name for virtues manifold, And diff'rent, as occasion doth demand-- It is no empty image without fault, And therefore, too, without all excellence.

I will just doff the chain now from my neck, For it reminds me-- And, then, Leonore, That with the va.s.sals thou didst join thyself-- That was not well, was neither wise nor just.

If thou art angry with me, thou art right; But these men, my dependents, subjects all-- What want they, then? Am I a child, a boy, Who not yet knows the compa.s.s of his place?

They share with me the kingdom's care and toil, And equal care is duty, too, for me.

But I the _man_ Alfonso, not the King, Within my house, my person, and my life-- Must I accounting render to these men?

Not so! And gave I ear but to my wrath, I quickly would return from whence I came, To show that they with neither blame nor praise Shall dare to sit in judgment over me.

[_Stepping forward and stamping on the floor._]

And finally this dotard, Don Manrique, If he was once my guardian, is he still?

[_DON MANRIQUE appears at the centre door. The QUEEN points to the KING, and wrings her hand. MANRIQUE withdraws with a rea.s.suring gesture._]

KING. Presumes he to his sov'reign to prescribe The rustic precepts of senility?

Would he with secret, rash, and desp'rate deed--

(_Walking back and forth diagonally across the stage_)

I will investigate this case as judge; And if there be a trace here of offense, Of insolent intent or wrongful act, The nearer that the guilty stand to me, The more shall boldness pay the penalty.

Not thou, Leonore, no, thou art excused!

[_During the last speech, the QUEEN has quietly withdrawn through the door at the right._]

Whither, then, went she? Leave they me alone?

Am I a fool within mine own abode?

[_He approaches the door at the right._]

I'll go to her--What, is it bolted, barred?

[_Bursting open the door with a kick._]

I'll take by storm, then, my domestic bliss.

[_He goes in._]

[_DON MANRIQUE and GARCERAN appear at the centre door. The latter takes a step across the threshold._]

MANRIQUE. Wilt thou with, us?

GARCERAN. My father!

MANRIQUE. Wilt thou not?

The rest are gone--wilt follow them?

GARCERAN. I will.

[_They withdraw, the door closes. Pause. The_ KING _returns. In the att.i.tude of one listening intently._]

KING. Listen again!--'Tis nothing, quiet all!-- Empty, forlorn, the chambers of the Queen.

But, on returning, in the turret room, I heard the noise of carriages and steeds, In rus.h.i.+ng gallop, hurrying away.

Am I alone? Ramiro! Garceran!

[_The page, comes from the door at the right._]

KING. Report! What goes on here?

PAGE. Ill.u.s.trious Sire, The castle is deserted; you and I Are at this hour its sole inhabitants.

KING. The Queen?

PAGE. The castle in her carriage left.