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 Cornell University Library 
 PQ 2285.H4B86 
 
 Hernani 
 
 3 1924 027 291 016 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book ig in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924027291016 
 
HERNANI 
 
H E E N A I^ I 
 
 A TRAGEDY 
 
 BY 
 
 FREDERICK BROCK 
 
 LONDON 
 
 DUCKWORTH AND CO. 
 
 HENRIETTA ST. OOVENT GARDEN 
 1912 
 
All rights reserved 
 
 :, 1 ! 
 
PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 In putting this work before the public, it is right 
 that I should state exactly the extent of my indebted- 
 ness to Victor Hugo's " Hernani." 
 
 Let me say at once that this play is neither a trans- 
 lation nor, as we commonly understand the term, an 
 adaptation of the French original. I have merely 
 borrowed the story of Victor Hugo's drama, and, with 
 the exception of a few lines, retold it in my own way. 
 There is nothing cosmopolitan about the Drama. 
 Sentiments and actions that appeal to the people of 
 one country may make little or no appeal to the 
 people of another. This is constantly proved by books 
 and plays — which have been decidedly successful in 
 the country of their conception proving quite un- 
 attractive when translated elsewhere. 
 
 It is for this reason that I have disregarded Victor 
 Hugo's treatment of the story of Hernani. I have 
 handled the story just as I should, had I myself in- 
 vented it — with this exception, that I have followed 
 to a considerable extent Victor Hugo's setting and 
 arrangement. 
 
 Whether Victor Hugo's play was based upon any 
 other work I do not know. I have made no inquiry. 
 
vi PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 Neither do I know how much, if any, of it was taken 
 from the historian. 
 
 There are a few passages in this work which might, 
 without a word of explanation, be misunderstood. I 
 refer to those passages in which things are said that 
 would probably not be allowed to be said "on the 
 stage." I ask the reader to accept these as necessary 
 to the definition of character. 
 
 If Don Carlos the King was, as I understand, some- 
 thing of a libertine, then it would follow naturally 
 that his companions would not be over serious nor 
 over proper sort of gentlemen — ^that they would, in a 
 word, be full of much naughtiness themselves, and 
 would express themselves with decided freedom and 
 looseness. 
 
 So, certain remarks made by Don Matias must not 
 be regarded as needless. It mugt not be thought that 
 I have put them into his mouth for the mere sake of 
 making them. Through the character of the man I 
 have tried to define that of the master, and at the same 
 time, because it is the man and not the master who 
 speaks, sufficiently to preserve, as is necessary for the 
 purposes of the play, the outward state and dignity of 
 the king. 
 
 F. B. 
 
 Matfield, Sussex, 
 Mm-ch 1912, 
 
CHARAOTERS OF THE PLAY 
 
 Don Carlos, King of Spain 
 
 Don Ruy, Duke de Silva 
 
 Heenani, an outlaw 
 
 Don Matias 
 
 Don Rodkeioo 
 
 Don Sancho 
 
 Don Francisco 
 
 Steward 
 
 Jester 
 
 Page 
 
 A Mountaineer 
 
 A Gentleman 
 
 Dona Sol de Silva, Don Buy's cousin 
 JOSEPHA, her old nurse 
 A Lady 
 
 Ladies and gentlemen of the court ; soldiers, 
 servants, musicians, ^o, ^'c. 
 
 Period: 1519 
 
ACT I. THE KING 
 Scene : Bona Sol's ledroom in the Palace de Silva 
 
 ACT II. THE BANDIT 
 Scene ; Outside the Palace de Silva 
 
 Act hi. THE DUKE 
 
 Scene : A room in Bon Riiy's chateau a ■'ew leagues 
 
 from, Saragassa 
 
 Act IV. THE BRIDAL 
 Scene I. : A terrace of the Palace de Silva 
 Scene II. : The Iridal-ohamher {same as vn ACT I.') 
 
 Place : Saragassa in Spain, and its neighbovrhood 
 
ACT I 
 
 Scene. Saragossa. Dona Sol's bedroom in the 
 Palace of the Duke de Silva. When the curtain 
 rises Josepha is discovered seated. A knock 
 heard at back. 
 
 Josepha. What ! Here so soon ! 
 
 [Knock repeated. 
 
 Yes, 'tis the secret stair 
 From which the knocking comes. I'll open to him. 
 
 [Goes up to unlock door. 
 
 It is Love's eager haste, which never did. 
 Nor ever will, save 'neath compulsion's hand, 
 Wait its appointed hour, 
 
 [Admits Don Oaelos. 
 
 Come in, young sir. 
 Your love's outsped the clock, and got you here 
 Something too soon. 
 
 [Don Caelos removes his hat. 
 
 What ! Not Hernani ! Oh ! 
 Help ! Help ! 
 
 [Don Carlos seizes her hy the mrm. 
 
2 HERNANI act i 
 
 Don Carlos. Be still ! Cry " help " again — 
 
 Say but two words — you'll never speak them more. 
 
 [A poMse. JosEPHA looks up into his face 
 terrified. 
 
 Is this where Dona Sol de Silva lives, 
 
 The fair betrothed of the old Duke Pastrana ? 
 
 Don Ruy Gomez, Grandee of Castille ! 
 
 [JosEPHA makes no reply. 
 
 Tell me, duenna, is it the old duke 
 Who every night visits your youthful mistress 
 And who, sometimes disdaining doors, will climb 
 , With ancient legs up yonder balcony, 
 And enter through the window ? Is it he ? 
 Or does the fair and youthful Dona Sol 
 Within one lover's house receive another — 
 Whisper her love into a young man's ears. 
 Under an old man's nose ? Say, is it so ? 
 JosEPHA. You have forbidden me to speak two 
 
 words. 
 Don Carlos. This may be said in one. Say " yes " 
 or " no." 
 Is Dona Sol thy mistress ? Answer. 
 
 JosEPHA. Yes. 
 
 Don Carlos. The duke's away from home? Be 
 
 quick, 
 JosEPHA, He is. 
 
 Don Carlos. And the young man's expected ? 
 
 Answer. 
 JOSEPHA. Yes. 
 
ACT I HERN AN I 3 
 
 Don Oarlos. Then quickly — ^hide me. 
 
 JoSBPHA. Hide you ? 
 
 Don Carlos. Ay. 
 
 JosEPHA. In here ? 
 
 Hide you in here ? 
 
 Don Carlos. Why not ? I wish to know 
 
 How far these two have trod their secret path : 
 How deep into love's orchard they are gone. 
 
 JosEPHA. For shame ! 
 
 Don Carlos. If walls could speak — 
 
 JosEPHA. For shame ! 
 
 Don Carlos. I'd question 
 
 them. 
 
 JosEPHA. Their love is pure — pure as the dew of 
 heaven. 
 It is contained in hearts as free of stain 
 As wild flowers freshly blown. 
 
 Don Carlos. I would give much 
 
 To know you speak the truth. 
 
 JosEPHA. I speak the truth. 
 
 Don Carlos. I would give much to know it. Will 
 you hide me ? 
 
 JoSEPHA. No sir, I will not. 
 
 Don Carlos. Will not, woman ! 
 
 JoSEPHA. No. 
 
 What man art thou that under cloak of night 
 Breaks thus upon a young girl's privacy ? 
 
 Don Carlos. A man who sometimes does what 
 others do. 
 You are not always so severe, old lady. 
 
4 HERNANl act i 
 
 Listen to me. Here is a purse of gold, 
 
 And here a dagger. Say, which will you have ? 
 
 JosEPHA. Alas ! what can I do ? Oh, I am help- 
 less. 
 
 Don Oaelos. Take then the purse and hide me. 
 
 JosEPHA. Go in there, 
 
 Don Carlos, Into that cupboard ? Ha ! an empty 
 cupboard. 
 Duenna, is not this unusual ? 
 What does thy mistress here with empty closets 
 So close beside her bed ? Oho ! A rat ! 
 
 JoSEPHA. A rat ? 
 
 Don Carlos. Not in the cupboard. Come confess ! 
 Will my legs be the first unskirted pair 
 That have been pressed in here ? Whoever heard 
 Of naked closets in a lady's chamber ; 
 Without so much as one small shoe to stand 
 As evidence of service ! 'Tis suspicious ! 
 Yet stay. Peijiaps 'tis here, wherein by day 
 You stall your ancient mount. 
 
 JosEPHA. My ancient mount ? 
 
 Don Carlos, I mean your old broom-handle. Fare- 
 well, witch. 
 
 [Gets into cupboard. 
 
 JosEPHA. Methinks thou art the devil. 
 
 Don Caelos. If I be, 
 
 Then rest assured that we shall meet again. 
 Therefore, be careful, 
 
 J08EPHA. O ! What shall I do ? 
 
 A man concealed in my young mistress' room ! 
 
ACTi HERNANI 6 
 
 Don Carlos [looking out of cupboard], Is't then 
 
 a woman whom you are expecting ? 
 JosEPHA. Hush ! hush 1 My mistress comes ! Quick ! 
 Close the door 1 
 
 [Ee closes door of cupboard. 
 
 Enter Dona Sol. 
 
 Dona Sol. Josepha ? 
 
 JosEPHA. Madam. ? 
 
 Dona Sol. Did you call just now ? 
 
 JosEPHA. I may have spoken, madam, in my sleep. 
 
 Dona Sol [with a smile]. Is it so late? 
 
 JosEPHA. The Palace has been still 
 
 This hour past. 
 
 DoNA Sol. I know it, good Josepha. 
 
 And I do wrong to keep you from your rest. 
 My kind old nurse. [Kneels by her side. 
 
 JosEPHA. Where have you been, dear child ? 
 
 Dona Sol. Sitting beside my window in the dark. 
 Watching the valley lights as one by one 
 They disappeared. The last has been put out. 
 And now the stars, like those of some far city, 
 Shine coldly down on sleeping Saragosse. 
 I have been telling to the rustling trees 
 My love for dear Hernani ; which in turn 
 Have whispered it along to one another; 
 And borne it through the night. Ah! You may 
 
 smile ! 
 But, if 'tis not the trees, something it is. 
 That serves as messenger 'twixt parted loves, 
 
6 HERNANI act t 
 
 And carries thoughts that stir, like summer breeze, 
 Our hearts, and give us joy in solitude. 
 How wonderful is love ! Until that day 
 On which mine eyes did first Hernani see, 
 That which I was, was to me but a word. 
 Having no meaning. Bnt since that dear hour 
 When we did meet — ! How each hour since then 
 Has told me what I am. O ! spirit of Love ! 
 How strong thou art, and 'neath thy potent spell. 
 In thy delights what subtle paina do dwell. 
 
 [The clock strikes. 
 Was that the clock ? Hernani should be here. 
 
 [Goes to window. 
 JosEPHA. How can I tell her there's a man in there ? 
 
 [A knock heard at hack. 
 Dona Sol, Hark ! Some one knocks ! Quickly 
 Josepha ! Open ! 
 Art thou asleep ! [Knock'] There, there ! He knocks 
 again. 
 Josepha. Dear mistress, for one moment hear me ! 
 Dona Sol. 
 
 Go to the door ! What ! Must I go myself ? 
 
 [Josepha goes up and admits Hernani. 
 
 Dona Sol. Hernani ! 
 
 Heenani. Ah 1 My love ! 
 
 [They embrace. Exit Josepha. 
 My lovely love ! 
 Cover my dazzled eyes. I have not power 
 Myself to close them. 
 
ACT I H E R N A N I 7 
 
 Dona Sol [smiling]. Is the light so strong ? 
 
 Hernani. Yes. 'Tis the light of heaven that's iu 
 thy face, 
 Which blinds and will not let me look away. 
 
 Dona Sol. Foolish Hernani ! 
 
 [Places her hands across Ms eyes. 
 
 Heeptani. Ah ! What gentle hands ! 
 
 Not nature's self with all her wisdom made 
 More gentle curtains to shut out the light, 
 Than these dear hands, which on my eyelids rest 
 As light as do those lids upon my eyes. 
 
 Dona Sol. Dear foolish love. ! Wliat a lengthy 
 day 
 This day hath seemed. Methinka the sun-god's 
 
 steeds 
 Did not this morn above the eastern line 
 Pull up his flaming car. But, in their stead, 
 Four crawling things, with shells upon their backs. 
 Were harnessed to it. Has the day not seemed 
 Thus long? 
 
 Heknani. Indeed, dear love, it has. And yet 
 To me, 'twere worth a thousand hours of waiting, 
 And then a thousand, and a thousand more. 
 If at their close, one little hour were left, 
 To share alone with thee. How I do love thee ! 
 
 Dona Sol. Dearest, thy cloak is wet ! Is't raining 
 then? 
 
 Heenani [with a smile]. I do not know. 
 
 Dona Sol. It must be. And an hour ago the 
 heavens 
 
8 HERNANI act i 
 
 Were all a-throb with stars. Where is Josepha ? 
 Let me undo thy cloak. Josepha ! 
 
 Heenani. Hush ! 
 
 Dona Sol. No one can hear us. All the Palace 
 sleeps, 
 
 Heenani. What if the Duke — 
 
 Dona Sol. The Duke's away from home. 
 
 Only old Sanoho in his hooded chair 
 Sits nodding by the fire in the hall ; 
 And he's so deaf, we might with safety speak 
 A yard above his head. Josepha ! 
 
 J OSEPB.A [entering]. Madam? 
 
 Dona Sol. Carry this cloak into the adjoining 
 room, 
 And spread it near the fire. [Exit Josepha. 
 
 Oome, sit beside me. 
 
 Hbrnani. How long, dear, may I stay ? 
 
 Dona Sol. I would to that 
 
 That I might answer "till I tire of thee," 
 For then thou'd'st never leave me. 
 
 Hbbnani. How long, sweet ? 
 
 Dona Sol, Not later than the clock's next warning 
 chime. 
 
 Hernani. That's but an hour. 
 
 Dona Sol. Is not an hour enough ? 
 
 Heenani. Enough? — What's that? Did'st thou 
 not hear a noise ? 
 Like some one moving. Are the doors aU locked ? 
 
 Dona Sol. Why should they be ? Who's likely to 
 intrude ? 
 
ACT I H E R N A N I 9 
 
 What need to lock my doors when thou art here ? 
 
 Hernani. Dost think the Duke would smile to see 
 me here ? 
 
 Dona Sol. Still thinking of the Duke ? 
 
 Hernani. There's not an hour, 
 
 Since we first met, I have not thought of him, 
 And with the thought not cursed him. Am I 
 
 wrong ? 
 Shall I not curse the man who stands between 
 Me and my love ; and stands there as my rival ? 
 Shall I not curse him doubly, trebly, when 
 I think upon his years. Love's sweet fulfilment 
 Must ever be an act of spoliation. 
 What shairt be called when the despoiler's hands 
 Are those of wrinkled age ? What's to be said for't ! 
 What joy — that he should mate himself with youth — 
 Has he the power to render or receive, 
 Who has passed o'er life's summit, and descends 
 With stumbling footsteps downward to the grave ? 
 What can he learn in the last hours of life, 
 That he should covet such companionship ? 
 If in his youth he slept, he'll learn no more 
 Of youth's delights and native ecstasies, 
 Than of the morning's splendour he who sleeps 
 The fresh, pulsating, matin hours away, 
 Can learn by looking at the eastern sky, 
 When it is lighted by a dying sun. 
 There's naught upon the earth can vindicate 
 A union such as this. It violates 
 All natural laws. The thing is horrible. 
 
10 HERNANI ACTi 
 
 Dona Sol. Dear heart, why fret o'er what will 
 never be ? 
 
 Hbenani. I sicken, when I think it might have 
 been. 
 How earnest thou, love, to sanction such a thing ? 
 
 Dona Sol. Sanction ? I did not sanction. I 
 obeyed. 
 The Duke's my guardian, and I obeyed. 
 Besides, the king desires it. 
 
 Heenani. The king ! 
 
 Dona Sol. I have been told he does. 
 
 Heenani. Who told thee this ? 
 
 Dona Sol. A l3,dy of the court ; and more than this, 
 She afterwards confided. 
 
 Heenani. More ? What more ? 
 
 Dona Sol. Thou wilt be angry if I tell it thee, 
 
 Heenani. I pray thee tell me what it was she 
 said. 
 
 Dona Sol. She told me that the king had noticed 
 me; 
 Had paid me pretty compliments ; said things 
 Which she would not repeat, lest I grew vain. 
 Then, on the instant, did she break her word, 
 And tell me all the king had said of me — 
 Which I will not repeat, for both our sakes. 
 I noticed that she spoke with smiling lips 
 And all the while did keep her eyes avert. 
 Then, following a silence, suddenly, 
 From under drooping lids she looked at me ; 
 And when I turned away she seemed amused : 
 
ACT I HERNANI 11 
 
 Called me a child and said I should be proud. 
 What did she mean ? — Hernani ! 
 
 Hernani. Heaven and Earth I 
 
 What's this you say ! The king ! You say the 
 king! 
 
 Dona Sol. Alas! Why did I speak of this to 
 thee! 
 
 Heknani. Peace! Peace! 
 
 Dona Sol. Hernani ? 
 
 Hernani. 'Tis the hour — 
 
 The hour that I have waited for is come ! 
 Destiny's hand now knocks upon the door. 
 It is the hour ! 
 
 Dona Sol. What hour ? What hour, love ? 
 
 Hernani. The hour which brings Don Carlos in my 
 path; 
 When he and I, guided by Fate, shall look 
 Into each other's eyes. 
 
 Dona Sol. What dost thou mean ? 
 
 What is the king to thee ? 
 
 Hernani. My bitterest foe. 
 
 Dona Sol. Thy foe ! Thy foe ! 
 
 Hernani. Listen a moment to me. 
 
 For thirty years, more years than I have lived. 
 My father struggled with Don Carlos' father. 
 
 Dona Sol. Thy father ? 
 
 Hernani. Ay ! And in the end was vanquished 
 Upon the scaffold did he bow his head — 
 The'one time in his life he ever bowed it — 
 And so, he died. This happened long ago, 
 
12 HERNANI act i 
 
 When I was still a child. But there's no time, 
 
 Nor circumstance, nor influence can dull 
 
 The memory of a dear father's death. 
 
 How well do I remember that sad eve 
 
 My loss was told to me. There shone that night 
 
 In the cold vault of heaven a blood-red star. 
 
 Sleepless, I watched it from my bedroom window, 
 
 As from its height it made its slow decline, 
 
 And seemed to speak to me until the last, 
 
 I said : " Thou shalt be to me a reminder 
 
 Of this day's bloody work. Each time I meet 
 
 Thy glowing eye bent on me from the heavens, 
 
 I'll think my father speaks, and live these hours, 
 
 These tearful hours again." Then straight I fell 
 
 Upon my knees ; and from my young bruised heart 
 
 I swore avengement 'gainst the house of Carlos ; 
 
 And I will keep my oath. Not I alone 
 
 Am sworn to this. My bugle-horn's clear call 
 
 Has power to summon thirty hundred men 
 
 Unto my side. These are the men. 
 
 Whose fathers died fighting my father's cause. 
 
 Which now is mine. Then let the king beware ! 
 
 Fate draws him in my path ! Let him beware ! 
 
 Dona Sol. Hernani, I'm afraid. See how thy 
 words 
 Have made me tremble. Tell me — who art thou ? 
 
 Heknani. I am what thou hast known me, save in 
 name; 
 And that, while I am what I am, must be 
 Put by. It is, as all names are, my_crown ; 
 
ACT I HERNANI 13 
 
 But I have lost my kingdom. 
 
 Only upon the head of one who wields 
 
 Sovereign power doth kingly crown sit nobly ; 
 
 And so it is with names. A man should be 
 
 That which his name proclaims him to the world, 
 
 Or else suppress it. ! how many there are, 
 
 Who heed not this and their great after-loss. 
 
 We build up reputations ; then, declining 
 
 Either to impotence or disrepute, 
 
 Will still to prominence hang out the flag, 
 
 Which we by high achievement made renowned ; 
 
 Failing to see that by our later acts 
 
 We mar its former lustre. Therefore, now. 
 
 Since what my title says I ought to be 
 
 I have not means to be, I will not wear it. 
 
 I am Hernani. Know me by that name. 
 
 'Tis one that must for ever in my ears 
 
 Be a sweet sound — ^thy lips have made it so. 
 
 Think of me as Hernani of the hUls, 
 
 Hernani, the outlaw, on whose head is set 
 
 A heavy price — Hernani the proscribed. 
 
 The leader of a dreaded banditti. 
 
 These things I am. Hernani is my came. 
 
 So think of me ; and one thing more than all. 
 
 Which I must be to thee until life's end — 
 
 Think of me as thy lover and thy friend. 
 
 Dona Sol. ! broken hour ! With what quick 
 speed you come. 
 Cold care, upon the lonely hours of waiting. 
 Your kind's unwelcome harbinger, you leave 
 
14 HERNANI act i 
 
 No space between, in which may be enjoyed 
 What has been waited for. 
 
 Heenani. My gentle love ! 
 
 Dona Sol. Hernani, in my heart there's come a 
 sadness, 
 Sprung from I know not where, 
 
 Hernani. It was my words. 
 
 The words I spake just now have frightened thee. 
 
 Dona Sol. I do not know. As lives are born ill- 
 fated, 
 So are loves. Their composition oft 
 As if in mockery, most capable 
 Of rich productiveness. Is our love so ? 
 
 Hernani. 0, think it not, except the latter part ; 
 Which we ere long may put to happy proof. 
 Listen, dear Sol. Within the next few days 
 I must away from here. There's news to hand 
 The king makes preparation to attack me. 
 An arm6d force of several thousand men 
 Is gathered in the town. I must be gone 
 Back to my mountain keep. Wilt thou come with 
 me? 
 
 Dona Sol. Go with thee ? 
 
 Hernani. Ay ! Go with me as my bride. 
 
 Nay, make not answer upon Love's quick spur ! 
 Think well before thou sayest. Make contrast 
 Between the life I offer thee and that 
 Which still awaits thee, if we say " good-bye." 
 The duke is wealthy, prosperous, and great ; 
 And all that wealth, prosperity and power 
 
ACTi HERNANI 16 
 
 Have power to give, he will give unto thee. 
 Thou wilt be mistress of his many mansions, 
 And in thy lap fair fortune's hands will pour 
 The last of her abundance. All thy days, 
 Surrounding thee, will be that stately calm 
 Which rank with wealth conjoined have power to 
 
 give. 
 A peaceful prospect ever in the view ; 
 And in the retrospect but this one cloud — 
 Our severed love — whose memory the years 
 Will stealthily dissolve : only this cloud. 
 To steal upon thy heart and wake a sigh. 
 Dona Sol. And if I go with thee ? 
 Hernani. Ah ! Who shall say 
 
 What trials lie before thee. 
 
 Dona Sol. But, is't not 
 
 That way that love lies too ? 0, let the trials 
 Be many as they may ; their sum of pain 
 Can never equal what must be endured, 
 Should we be parted. I will go with thee. 
 I'll go with thee, Hernani, wheresoe'er 
 Thou ask me to. There is no pain, no hardship ; 
 There is no danger, nay, there is no death, 
 That I will not endure for thy dear sake. 
 
 Heenani. If ever in my life I'm harsh with thee, 
 Bemind me of this hour. Now listen, love. 
 To-morrow night at midnight, I'll be here. 
 Be thou prepared to start upon the instant, 
 So that by daybreak we may be secure 
 Upon the mountain slopes that southward lie. 
 
16 HERNANI act i 
 
 I know a holy man who will perform 
 
 That kindliest of priestly offices, 
 
 Which we shall ask of him. So have no fear, 
 
 Either for thy young honour or thy safety. 
 
 Which both to me are dear as life itself. 
 
 [Don Cablos comes from cii,phoard. 
 
 Thou wilt expect me then to-morrow midnight ? 
 Dona [Sol. I shall expect thee, love. Till then 
 good-bye. 
 
 [They embrace. Then Dona Sol, looking upi 
 sees Don Carlos standing near. 
 
 Hernani ! Look behind thee ! 
 
 [Heenani wheels round. Then starts hack, his 
 hand on his sword. A long silence. 
 
 Heenani. Who art thou ? 
 
 What dost thou here ? 
 
 Don Carlos. Those are two questions, sir. 
 
 Which I would ask of thee. Is not this lady 
 The Dona Sol de Silva ? Is not this 
 The room wherein she sleeps ? A lady's bedroom 
 Should be to all men, save her husband, private. 
 Art thou this lady's husband ? If thou be, 
 I'll answer thy two questions willingly. 
 But if thou canst not claim such privilege. 
 Of our respective rights to enter here, 
 Methinks mine are at least as good as thine. 
 
 Heenani. Why then conceal thyself within a cup- 
 board ? 
 
ACT I HERNANI 17 
 
 Don Oarlos. He learns the most who most conceals 
 himself. 
 
 Hernanii Thou art a spy, then. Say — what would'st 
 thou learn ? 
 
 Don Caklos. I said I would not answer ; yet I will : 
 At least, this one of thy two questions. 
 I'd learn, young sir, how far this lady's charms 
 Have tempted thee to go in love with her. 
 
 Hernani. Be careful what you say ! 
 
 Don Carlos. Unfortunately 
 
 I've scarcely heard a word of what's been said. 
 I should have done much better 'neath the bed. 
 Though, faith ! since for this lady's love I sigh, 
 'Tis not beneath her bed I'd ask to lie. 
 
 Hernani. Stand on thy guard ! [Draws sword. 
 
 Dona Sol. Hernani ! 
 
 Hernani. On thy guard ! 
 
 One of us two shall not go hence alive. 
 
 Don Carlos. That's as you please. [Z)mws.J 
 Though, for the lady's sake, 
 I'd rather we had fought elsewhere than this, 
 A dead man's presence here will surely be 
 Hard to account for ! 
 
 Hernani. When I have killed thee, sir, 
 
 I'll bear thee hence and throw thee in the street. 
 
 Don Carlos. Madam, I promise if I do the killing. 
 That I'll perform for thee an equal service. 
 Now let's decide which of us plays the dog. 
 And goes into the kennel. I'm ready, sir. 
 
 [Theyjlght- 
 
18 HERNANI act i 
 
 Dona Sol. Jesu Maria ! ! Merciful heaven ! 
 
 \FaMs on her knees and prays. 
 
 Enter Josepha. 
 
 JosEPHA. Ah ! Gentlemen, desist ! Put up your 
 swords ! 
 Good gentlemen ! My master is returned. 
 
 Don Carlos. [To Hernani,] One moment, sir. 
 
 [Twns to Josepha. 
 What is't you say ? Thy master — 
 
 Josepha. My master is returned. 
 
 Don Carlos, Dost mean the Duke ? 
 
 Josepha. He's in the court-yard, sir, with his esc6rt. 
 And madame, see ! The window is left open ; 
 "Which doth explain their halt this side the house. 
 They have o'erheard the noise. 
 
 Hernani. "What's to be done ? 
 
 Dona Sol. To go at once ! 
 
 Don Carlos. Or hide ! 
 
 Josepha. They cannot go. 
 
 Dona Sol. Why can they not ? 
 
 Josepha. Madam, the door is guarded. 
 
 Dona Sol. That door ? 
 
 Josepha. Ay, madam. 
 
 Dona Sol, Then you cannot go. 
 
 Don Carlos. Lady, you use a word I do not know. 
 Cannot is not in my vocabulary. 
 If twenty thousand men did guard yon door. 
 They would not stay me, did I choose to go. 
 But, sir, we'll neither go nor will we hide : 
 
ACT I HERNANI 19 
 
 I've had enough of cupboards. We'll stay here, 
 And face the old Duke's thunder, which, you'll see, 
 Will not go further than the first loud clap. 
 Old lady, sit, and let some pleasant thought 
 Dispel that scared-hen's look from off thy face. 
 Sir, stand you here, a little way behind me ! 
 And let us, lady, sit together here. 
 
 Heenani. Who are you, sir, that you should ask us 
 this? 
 
 Don Oarlos, You will know soon enough. Stand 
 further off. 
 You are to play a thinking part for once. 
 Remember this, and act accordingly ; 
 Which is to say, say nothing. Gentle lady, 
 The reason I did give for being here, 
 And which did draw and set two swords in play. 
 That reason, if it erred in any way. 
 Did err upon the side of modesty. 
 It was the truth ; yet not the truth it told. 
 To say 'tis love for thee doth bring me here. 
 Is to reveal the truth of my regard 
 No further than thine outward maiden beauties 
 Reveal the sum and centre of thy charms. 
 That is the truth. Wilt thou remember it. 
 When to explain my presence in this room 
 I shall say what is but in part the truth ? 
 
 [Loud knock heard. 
 
 Ah ! Here's the Duke. God send him credulous ! 
 
 [Knock repeated. 
 
20 H E R N A N I act i 
 
 He hits the door again. Are we locked in ? 
 Ah, no ! For see ! Yond comes a pair of legs. 
 
 Enter Don Kuy, Duke de Silva. 
 
 Don Ruy. What scene is this ? How come these 
 men in here ? 
 
 Don Carlos \rising'\. Don Ruy! 
 
 Don Rut [in surp-ise]. What! 
 
 Don Caelos. Be careful how 
 
 you speak, now. 
 'Tis dangerous for a man to loose his tongue 
 In anger till he knows who 'tis he scolds. 
 Therefore speak cautiously. So will you save 
 Yourself the making of apologies, 
 And us the need to hear them. 
 
 Don Ruy. By Saint John ! 
 
 It is the king ! 
 
 Don Caelos [smiKng], It is. 
 
 Dona Sol [aside]. The king ! 
 
 Hebnani [aside]. The king ! 
 
 Don Caelos. 'Tis said that kings can do no wrong. 
 My friend 
 Your thoughts which are writ large upon your 
 
 forehead, 
 Do scarce endorse the saying. You are thinking 
 That nearer wrong than I have gone to-night 
 A king did never go. Is it not so ? 
 
 Don Ruy. My lord, you do not read my brow 
 aright. 
 The finding of your gracious presence here 
 
ACT I HERNANI 21 
 
 Has woke in me no other feeling than 
 
 One of most deep surprise. If you read other, 
 
 'Tis but the afterglow of that hot anger 
 
 With which, I do confess, I was afire, 
 
 When but a moment back, in ignorance 
 
 Who it was here, I made my so rude entrance. 
 
 Don Oaelos. I will explain how 'tis you find me 
 here. 
 
 Don Euy. My lord, I do beseech you, do not so : 
 Else must I think my words are not believed ; 
 And that your Majesty ascribes to me 
 Feelings which no true subject should possess 
 'Gainst what his king may do. If I should ask 
 What thing it is has brought your Highness here — 
 Which were to show at once in that one lapse 
 From reverence forgetfulness of all 
 The reverence that's owing to a king — 
 'Twould be to ask the giver of an honour — 
 To ask, as if in resentment of his kindness — 
 The reason why he gives it. 'Tis enough 
 That it's your Majesty I find in here. 
 
 Don Carlos. Thanks, my good friend. But since 
 'tis business 
 That brings me here, I must do some explaining, 
 I'll tell you how I came into this room. 
 'Twill make you smile. Firstly a question. If 
 I do remember, in the past these walls 
 Used not to serve such pretty purposes 
 As they now do ? This was not then the private 
 Apartment of a lady ? 
 
22 HERNANI act i 
 
 Don Ruy. No, my lord. 
 
 It has been used so only very lately. 
 
 Don Caelos. Since you became your cousin's 
 guardian ? 
 
 Don Ruy. Only since then. 
 
 Don Oaelos. You chose this for the casket 
 
 Wherein by night to hide such loveliness 
 Till you'd the right to wear it at your pleasure. 
 I did not know it. Else I had not been here. 
 In former days this was a library. 
 Do you remember 
 
 The first time I was ever in this room ? 
 Your smUing says you do. It was a trespass, 
 I entered uninvited like a thief — 
 And very like that thief of thieves — I mean 
 Your amorous monkey that climbs balconies, 
 And enters bedroom windows — for I used 
 That sort of stair myself to get in here. 
 Faith ! I was playful then ! A madcap prince, 
 That shunned life's prim-kept i highways when he 
 
 could. 
 To sport amid its brakes. My only wisdom 
 "Was like most women's, wisdom folly-born. 
 I had the sense when I was in a corner, 
 To trust to other heads to pull me out 
 Than what had got me in. I think it was 
 On some such business I was here that night ? 
 To ask advice of you ? 
 
 Don Ruy. It was, my lord. 
 
 Don Oaelos. It is a purpose similar brings me no w 
 
ACT I H E R N A N I 23 
 
 I wished to see you privately, and being, 
 
 As you do know, fond of a walk at night-time 
 
 About my cities, feeling so inclined 
 
 To-night, I set forth with this gentleman 
 
 To visit you. We found the house in darkness, 
 
 Save where one patch of light shone brightly forth 
 
 From a remembered window. With most men 
 
 Our youth dies hard. Some never lose it quite. 
 
 As I have not yet mine. For, seeing this light 
 
 I straightway crossed the courtyard to it, and 
 
 Bidding my 'tendant wait for me below. 
 
 Mounted the balcony and stepped in here. 
 
 Judge my surprise when the first thing I saw 
 
 Was yonder bed, and my discomfort when 
 
 A moment afterwards I found myself 
 
 Looking into a pair of startled eyes 
 
 And those eyes not a man's. Say, good duenna. 
 
 If thou^wast not alarmed to see me here ? 
 
 JoSEPHA. I was, my lord, most thoroughly alarmed. 
 
 Don Carlos. All save her tongue seemed paralysed 
 with fear. 
 That, being a woman's, still had power to wag. 
 And pealed a loud alarum through the night 
 Enough to make the devil prick his ears. 
 Which brought in this sweet lady and her help. 
 What then to do but little choice was left me ; 
 Either to scramble back the way I came 
 Or to disclose myself. I chose the latter ; 
 And so turned fears to smiles. There is my story. 
 With this addition that, being in no hurry 
 
24 H E R N A N I act i 
 
 To bid farewell so close on introduction 
 
 To the most lovely maid in Saragosse ; 
 
 And well aware that ere to-day old ladies, 
 
 Charged with the care of maidens have been known 
 
 To wink at Youth's contrivings — good duenna, 
 
 Think not when I say this I make reflection 
 
 Upon yourself, who, I am sure, would never 
 
 Fail in your duty — still, for appearance' sake. 
 
 And still more for the comfort of this lady, 
 
 I called my gentleman to join me here ; 
 
 And there's my tale complete. [Eises.] Now good de 
 
 Silva 
 Lead me to where we can together talk 
 For a brief while on what has brought me here. 
 You know that the imperial electors 
 That are to fill the throne of Germany, 
 Left vacant by the death of Maximilian, 
 With their selection, have agreed upon 
 Aix-la-Ohapelle for their convention place. 
 I have an eye to this same throne myself. 
 And therefore must away to La Ohapelle. 
 To lay my claim beside what France doth make 
 With that of Saxon Frederick. This will mean 
 I cannot as I did intend direct 
 The operations, for which all's now ready, 
 Against this band of outlaws who infest 
 Our northern provinces, and, I am told, 
 Are grown so bold that even in our towns 
 Do make encroachment. Therefore, in my stead. 
 You will assume command — not to expose 
 
ACTi HERNANI 25 
 
 Yourself to risks o' the field ; but to Instruct 
 And be the brain that guides the expedition. 
 On this we'll further speak. Lady, adieu. 
 And for your entertainment many thanks. 
 
 [Cbck strikes. 
 What 1 Is't so late ? I think, my good de Silva, 
 I'd better ask you lodging for to-night, 
 And send my friend here home. 
 
 Don Ruy. Your Majesty 
 
 Has but to ask it, and a thousand times 
 Swell the glad debt which I am in already 
 By this night's honouring. 
 
 Don Caelos. Then I will stay. 
 
 [Don Ruy bows low, then goes to door L. 
 
 Don Eut. Ho ! there ! Bring lights ! Lights for 
 
 the King, my guest ! 
 Dona Sol [apart — to Heenani]. Until to-morrow 
 
 midnight fare thee well. 
 
 Don Carlos [aside]. Love's ears are keen as are 
 
 his whispers low. 
 " Until to-morrow midnight fare thee well." 
 
 [He goes to Heenani and speaks to him apart. 
 Young man, to-night your king twice honoured you : 
 First when he touched your sword, then when he 
 
 screened you. 
 Will you be wise and listen to a warning ? 
 When to a feast a king doth lend his presence. 
 And to the tables comes a loving-cup. 
 
26 HERNANI act i 
 
 No other lips do drink till his have tasted, 
 Be careful that you cross me not again. 
 
 \They eye each other for a moment in silence. 
 Then the King turns. The curtains on the 
 left are d/rawn wide, and a nwnher of the 
 Duke's retainers carrying torchlights file in, 
 and stand in a row with torches uplifted. 
 Don Ruy. My love, give to his Majesty thy hand, 
 And guide him to my study. 
 
 [Dona Sol gives her hand to the King. 
 Don Carlos. Thanks, gentle lady. 
 
 [ExeuMt all save Heenani, who stands with 
 folded arms, looking in the direction they 
 have gone. 
 Hernani. There was no road I might have trod 
 with honour. 
 Until to-night, except beyond revenge. 
 There was not one. For to have let stand in 
 Between mine oath and what it swore to do, 
 Seeing the cause of it, one single thought 
 That tended to an unenforced delay — 
 That were to prove myself a son indeed ! 
 Nay — to have let my vengeance fall asleep 
 Were not to look a single inch beyond 
 Our life's uncertain edge. It would have been 
 To brand myself most selfish or most craven. 
 A thousand times deeper disgrace 'twould be 
 Than were I to allow unpunished 
 An enemy to injure me with insults — 
 Let him, unanswered, pluck my unsoiled plume 
 
Acr I H E R N A N I __ 27 
 
 From off my cap and stamp it in the mud ! 
 Not Love itself — that gentle love that drives 
 The greys of life away, and paints the world 
 A golden hue — coming into my life, 
 Had this one cloud the power to dissolve. 
 How is it then, when to the former cause 
 Another cause of equal weight and push 
 Doth add itself ? For now this selfsame love, 
 Which I have won^ that man would take from me 
 'Gainst whom already I was fixed in hate. 
 This night has turned my love into a lash 
 That whips an unhealed wound. It is as fuel 
 Put on to glowing fire. As if I wanted 
 Reasons for hating thee, to-night, Don Carlos, 
 Thou givest me a hundred ! What am I ? 
 Dost call me thy attendant ? I will he so. 
 What thou did'st lightly call me, that I'll be. 
 I'll follow thee as keen as ever hound 
 Followed a blood-trail over wind-swept ground ! 
 I'll follow thee till I have played my part. 
 And drawn this dagger, blood-wet, from thy heart ! 
 
 [He goes off ly door at back. 
 
ACT II 
 
 Scene. Outside the Palace. The side of the build- 
 ing is seen on the left. At the hack is the town. 
 On right, down stage, a hig tree with a bench 
 under it. Another seat centre. 
 
 If is night. Don Matias, Don Rodeeigo and 
 Don Sancho are discovered, 
 
 Don Roderigo. Is this the window we're to stand 
 and watch ? 
 
 Don Matias. Nay, nay ! Naught was said about 
 standing. We were told to watch the window — no 
 more. For my part, I'm not so big a fool as to stand one 
 moment for a wench that can never be aught to me. 
 For, mark you, if there be such a thing as loyalty in 
 the land, this damsel is the king's sure property. The 
 king has cast his eye upon her and pronounced her 
 good. Therefore, we, being loyal subjects, 'tis not for 
 us to let our feelings push us one inch in that direc- 
 tion, which, in the eye of the king, is a good direction. 
 We must turn our noses elsewhere. Come, sit we 
 down beneath this tree : and do thou, Roddie, being 
 nearest the window, keep watch upon it. [They sit, 
 
 Don Sancho. What is the hour ? 
 29 
 
so HERNANI act ii 
 
 Don Mathias. Within an hour of midnight. I 
 heard the clock strike as we came along. 
 
 Don Sancho. Then we're too soon. 
 
 Don Rodebigo. Nay ! 'Twas the king's wish we 
 came early. Lovers' doings were never regulated by 
 clock hands. Though the assignation be for midnight, 
 'twere well to anticipate a little. Tell me, good 
 Matias, dost know the king's intention ? 
 
 Don Matias. A quarter before midnight the king 
 will himself lure forth the damsel. Then shall we bear 
 her, willy-nilly, northwards to Arenco, where stands 
 one of the king's summer-houses. 
 
 Don Sancho, Does the king go with us ? 
 
 Don Matias. He does so. 
 
 Don Sancho. For what purpose ? 
 
 Don Matias. For what purpose ? Roderigo ? 
 
 Don Eoderigo. Ay ? 
 
 Don Matias. Sancho is asking me riddles. He asks 
 me for what purpose the king goes with us to-night. 
 Be sure, sweet Sancho, 'tis not to see thee and 
 Eoderigo to bed. 
 
 Don Sancho. But I thought the king did desire 
 this lady wed to the Duke de Silva ? 
 
 Don Matias. Why, so he said. But many men 
 there are who say their prayers and act otherwise. 
 When all's said, a king's mortal with the worst of us. 
 
 Don Rodeeigo. Ay : and the knees of the strongest 
 will give under at times, WUl't be ever so, think ye, 
 Matias ? Shall we never succeed in throwing off this 
 sovereignty of the petticoat ? 
 
ACTii HERNANI 31 
 
 Don Matias. Why, there thou ask'st a quesiion, 
 Roderigo. 
 
 Don Sancho. Answer it to the best of thee, and so 
 keep me from sleep. 
 
 Don Matias. That will I. For our prima duty here 
 is to watch, and 'tis the duty of each of us to keep the 
 others to their duty. Therefore, to save thee, Sancho, 
 from so far forgetting thy duty as to go to sleep, I will 
 answer Eoderigo at length. 
 
 Don EoDERiao. Nay, do not so, else shall we have 
 Sancho going beyond the mere failure of his duty. 
 We shall have him snoring. And that will be to warn 
 the whole neighbourhood of our presence, and so betray 
 the king's purpose. Let Sancho once get into his 
 stride, and, by heaven, the watch will be down upon 
 us to see what all the noise is about. 'Twere well, 
 therefore, not to answer my question too lengthily. 
 Now to it. Art thou awake, Sancho ? 
 
 Don Sancho. I can hear ye. 
 
 Don Roderigo. Then, to thine answer, Matias. 
 
 Don Matias. My answer to thy question, Roderigo, 
 is this: When there's no longer a fool left in the 
 world, but all men are wise men, and women are all 
 honest, then there'll be no more love-making. 
 
 Don Rodbeiqo. Why, 'tis a safe answer. How 
 sayest thou, Sancho ? Did'st hear it ? 
 
 Don Sancho. I heard it. 
 
 Don Rodeeigo. Well, to it again, good Matias. 
 Enlarge. 
 
 Don Matias. When all the world goes to bed 
 
32 HERNANI act ii 
 
 sober, and women cease to grow hair ; when boys are 
 born without noses, and girls without mouths ; when 
 we're all rewarded according to merit, and cockle- 
 shells are rarer than rubies ; when lawyers cease 
 sitting in the parliaments, and wax rich saying what 
 they believe and not what they'd have other people — 
 that is to say, when mice hunt tigers, and elephants 
 run away from frogs — ^why, when these things come 
 to pass there'll be no more love-making. •■ But so long @ 
 as men are the fools they are and believe a woman's 
 words, so long will priests be kept busy. 
 
 Don Eoderigo. Thou art a dull dog, Matias. 
 Were thy true nature not known to us, we should 
 think, to hear thee speak, thou wast a woman-hater. 
 
 Don Matias. I a woman-hater ! Heaven save us ! 
 Why, man, next to meat and wine I place woman 
 second to none in the catalogue of things. They are 
 the very cream of the earth's milking. Without 'em 
 life would be as barren as a fig-tree that grew no figs 
 — as a pea-pod with no pea in it. 'Twould be as slow 
 as hunting for snails. As heaven's my witness, no 
 woman-hater am I. I love the breed too well. 
 
 Don Sanoho. Why, then, did'st thou call men fools 
 for being influenced ? 
 
 Don Matias. When I spake so, I did speak as 
 a philosopher ; and your philosopher is the biggest 
 fool of all. For he is sent to live upon a round earth, 
 and passes his life deeply considering how best it can 
 be made square, God save me from your wise man 
 that never made a fool of himself ! And as to the 
 
ACTji HERNANI 33 
 
 man who sees naught to admire in a woman's waist, 
 and is content to go through life and see no more of 
 her than what she shows o' Sundays on her way to 
 church — why, I'd as soon be born a fish. 
 
 Don Rodeeigo. Peace, peace ! Here comes the 
 king. 
 
 {They rise, 
 Don Caelos enters. 
 
 Don Oaelos [calling softly], De Roxano? 
 
 Don Matias. Your Majesty ? 
 
 Don Carlos. Ah ! [Joins them under tree.] What 
 news? 
 
 Don Matias. Of the best, your Majesty, if, as the 
 proverb hath it, none be good. 
 
 Don Caelos. Have you seen nothing, then ? 
 
 Don Matias. Nothing your Majesty does not. The 
 lady has been most secret. The pink of modesty. 
 Not so much as come to the window to sigh. 
 
 Don Caelos. I trust you have been cautious ? 
 
 Don Matias. As maggots in a hailstorm. No 
 mortal thing has seen or heard us since we left the 
 Palace. 
 
 Don Rodeeigo. Would it not be well, your Majesty, 
 now, while the way is clear, to call forth the lady ? 
 
 Don Caelos. Nay, good Roddie ; we are too soon. 
 Take care we act not hastily. Though Love ex- 
 pectant hath ever been quick to let Love in, too early 
 a signal might wake suspicion. 
 
 Don Sancho. What if the gentleman comes before 
 he ought ? 
 
34 HERNANI act ii 
 
 Don Oaklos. What then, my friend 1 We are four 
 to one. 
 
 Don Sancho. He may bring others. 
 
 Don Caelos. Others ? 
 
 Don Sancho. By your Majesty's description of him 
 this is no townsman. Gentlemen of the town do not 
 carry hunting-horns at the belt. 
 
 Don Oablos. His appearance was certainly not a 
 townsman's. A mountaineer's rather — while, by his 
 demeanour, no rank had been too high. 
 
 Don Rodeeigo. Cannot your Majesty recall the 
 name? 
 
 Don Carlos. I had it a moment back on the tip o 
 the tongue. 'Twas one of the few things the cup- 
 board let me hear. Not a common name. Methinks 
 it did end in i. Erni — 
 
 Don Roderigo. Not Hernani ? 
 
 Don Carlos. That was the name. Hernani. 
 
 Don Matias, Hernani ! Heaven help us ! Quick ! 
 Quick ! Look about ! Look all ways at once ! Up, 
 down, to the right, to the left, in front, behind ! 
 Prick up every shrub, bush, thicket, in a mile. Look 
 round every tree-bowl. Get we away from this one 
 lest the villain be among its branches. 'Tis Hernani 
 the outlaw. We are bird's-nesting for eagles' eggs. 
 Look about there ! 
 
 Don Carlos. Is this the truth ? 
 
 Don Roderigo. 'Tis true, your Majesty, that the 
 leader of these bandits bears the name Hernani. 
 
 Don Carlos. Ha ! Then if outlaw and lover be 
 
ACT II HERNANI 35 
 
 one, the man is by this in our custody. Guards 
 have been set at every entrance to the town with 
 orders that none shall pass in unquestioned, 
 
 Don Matias. Why, then, the nest is ours. The 
 cook-bird's in a trap. "We can take his pretty hen- 
 bird when we choose. 
 
 Don Sancho. Make not too sure. Let us act as if, 
 not one, but many were expected. Birds of prey oft 
 work in company. 
 
 Don Carlos. Good advice, Count — good advice. 
 
 Don Eoderigo [aside to Don Matias]. Count ! 
 He called Sancho Count ! 
 
 Don Sancho. Under what title does it please your 
 majesty I shall be known as Count ? 
 
 Don Roderigo [pidling Mm hy the sleeve\. , It was 
 a mistake, man — a mistake ! 
 
 Don Sancho. Your Majesty called me Count. 
 
 Don Carlos. I did. It is a dark night. [Don 
 Sancho hows.] Well, well, I dropped the title. Since 
 you have picked it up, wear it ; and, for a first service, 
 follow me now. You, Roddie, and you, De Roxano, 
 stay on guard here. Come. 
 
 [Hxeunt Don Caelos and Don Sangho. 
 
 Don Eoderigo. Did'st know a title got easier than 
 this? 
 
 Don Matias. I've known men to get 'em by asking, 
 
 Don Eoderigo. But to be ennobled by accident! 
 
 Don Matias. My friend, are we not all what we 
 are by accident ? Are not our whole lives built upon 
 
36 HERNANI act ii 
 
 an accident? — the accident of birth? Had our 
 mothers conceived us one day sooner or one day later 
 than they did, you and I might never have been 
 born. They might have given birth to a pair of 
 beings as diflferent mentally and corporeally from 
 what we are as one son is from another, got by the 
 same parents. Nay, circumstances being not similar 
 two moments together, 'tis possible they had never 
 conceived at all. There's naught in our lives not 
 accidental, unless you believe 'tis fated when a wench 
 shall prick her thumb. As to this honour of Sancho's, 
 we'll hppe 'twill not discomfort him. For the wearing 
 of uninherited honours is like the wearing of other-day 
 clothes : only the cleverest actors can do it and not 
 seem foolish. A lion's mane is very becoming to a 
 lion. An ass would look fifty times an ass in one. 
 Yet, despite the fact that not one in a million knows 
 how to carry such things, how ready we all are to 
 criticise the few that do. 'Tis an indication of a 
 truly big nature in that man, who, himself dressed in 
 shoddy, can say to one that wears silks and laces ; 
 " Well worn, my friend, thou dost carry thy splendours 
 nobly ! " 'Tis to stamp a man, whatever his station, 
 as true-bred. 
 
 Don Roderigo. There are not many such. 
 
 Don Matias. Nay : for this is a very mongrel age. 
 I could name you men occupying high offices of state 
 with as petty natures as any back-street cur's. For 
 no better reason than that others have what they 
 themselves have not, they'll yap and yap and show 
 
ACT II HERNANI 37 
 
 their teeth, and call upon others of like small natures 
 to join in their low-bred howlings. And there's 
 cunning in it. For they know there is no ladder by 
 which a man may so surely, so quickly, and so highly 
 exalt himself as that of popular wanting. You've 
 but to promise empty bellies' that they shall be filled 
 at others' expense, and they'll vote you, though you've 
 done no more for 'em than lift the lid of the sou^r 
 ■bowl, into the highest places in the land. For myself, 
 I have no patience with your noisy reformer who 
 goes about telling every jackanapes below a certain 
 degree that he ought to be something bigger than he 
 is. I tell you, I would rather pick maggots from a 
 dung-heap than touch the hand of one of those men 
 who nourish envious bodies at the expense of the 
 poor, professing to be their friends. The sun is not 
 more distant from the earth than are the ' aims of 
 true philanthropy from the barkings of such men. 
 If you do know one of this kind, put this question to 
 him next time you meet him. Say to him : " Who 
 will try to earn a shilling knowing that sixpence shall 
 be taken from him ? " And if he gives you an answer 
 bring it to me ; and then I will tell you whether the 
 fellow is a madman or a knave. 
 
 [Window lights up. 
 
 Don Rodeeigo. Hush ! Look you there ! The 
 window is lit up. 
 
 Don Matias. Ay : and a shadow passes o'er the 
 blind. 
 Dids't thou not see it ? Faith, man, it is clear 
 
S8 H E R N A N I act ii 
 
 We steal no bird of ordinary plumage. 
 For if the shade itself is beautiful, 
 What shall the substance be? 
 
 Don Roderigo. Peace, peace. The king. 
 
 Ee-enter Don Carlos and Don Sancho. 
 
 Don Carlos. What light is this? Move very 
 cautiously. 
 
 {They rejom Don Matias and Don Roderigo 
 under tree. 
 
 Don Roderigo. The lady is astir, your Majesty. 
 Only this moment 
 
 Don Matias. Pst ? 
 
 Don Carlos. That was her shadow. 
 
 It must be close on midnight. Listen ! There ! 
 
 [Chimes heard. 
 It is the Pillar's deep-toned gongs that sound 
 Tolling the midnight hour. 'Tis time to act. 
 Go to the, gates and see that all is ready. 
 I shall not need your help. Go quietly. 
 
 [Exeunt Dons Roderigo, Matias and Sancho. 
 The King remains imder shadow of tree, 
 his eyesjixed on the lighted window. 
 
 Don Carlos. The love that ig^'not selfish is not 
 love. 
 The man who hangs bis head in Beajjty's face, 
 And coldly weighs another's rights tq have 
 Against his own — that man is only fit 
 
ACT 11 HERNANI 89 
 
 To work a goose-quill and to write of love ; 
 
 He is not worthy ever to enjoy it. 
 
 What thing is frhere more selfish than a child ? 
 
 The poet mind which formed a god of love 
 
 Remembered this, and, as in the belief 
 
 That since the day when from his magic sheath 
 
 The first of his winged shafts Love sped away. 
 
 He hath his arrows rained upon our hearts 
 
 That he might live in laughter — formed the god 
 
 As a young boy, a careless, laughing boy, 
 
 In typification of Love's selfishness. 
 
 If, then, the spirit who wakens love be selfish, 
 
 Shall not we all, his victims, be forgiven, 
 
 If we do err alike ? And in this £ase 
 
 I do but tender back the coin I'm given. 
 
 Denial can be selfish as desire. 
 
 I am denied, most selfishly denied ! 
 
 If, in reply, I selfishly insist. 
 
 How do I wrong the lady more than she 
 
 Wrongs me ? I but oppose a selfish self 
 
 Against a self as selfish. Why she shrinks. 
 
 That is the thing doth fire me to assail. 
 
 I am no jot more careless of her feelings 
 
 Than she of mine. Then, if a man would say. 
 
 Hearing the case, the maid does naught amiss. 
 
 Then do I nothing either. That is logic. 
 
 As to my rival, what is he to me ? 
 
 Had he been friend I should have cause enough 
 
 To count him friend no more. But he's a bandit ! 
 
 A pest, a vulgar cut-throat. If I leave him 
 
40 HERN AN I act ii 
 
 To wed this maiden, he'll beget more bandits ; 
 
 Breed swarms of further dangers to the state. 
 
 Is it to wrong a murderer to hang him ? 
 
 Nay ; 'tis to do the state a proper service. 
 
 Then, certainly, I cannot wrong this man, 
 
 No matter what I do. That's surely logic. 
 
 Lastly the duke. Who likes to be reminded 
 
 Each hour of the day that he is old ? 
 
 Let the duke take this girl to be his wife. 
 
 And her warm chafing youth must so remind him. 
 
 Sure, if she had to choose between us two, 
 
 She'd have my love in preference to the duke's ! 
 
 To keep her then from marriage with the duke, 
 
 By taking her myself, I do perform 
 
 A double kindness both on youth and age. 
 
 Is that not logic ? — flawless argument ? 
 
 Now with a conscience clear and unconcerned 
 
 I go to steal this fledgling from her nest, 
 
 And may good fortune 'tend me. 
 
 [He goes to the door and knocks. Presently 
 
 window opens cmd Dona Sol comes on to 
 
 hahony. 
 
 Dona Sol. Hernani ! 
 
 Don Caklos \aside'\. Shall I speak ? 
 
 [PoMse. He knocks cbgain. 
 
 Dona Sol. He does not hear me. 
 
 I'll go to him. 
 
 [She re-enters roonu A moment later the door 
 opens and Dona Sol comes out. Instantly 
 
ACT II HERNANI 41 
 
 the King seizes her in his arms and draws 
 her away from door-way. A pause. 
 
 Don Carlos. Now might I speak, had I the need 
 to speak. 
 But Where's there need, while my quick beating 
 
 heart 
 Is held thus to thine own ? 
 Dona Sol. ! Please release me ! 
 
 Don Carlos. Nay, be not cruel, love. Hear what 
 it says. 
 Rest thus a moment, while my heart doth plead ; 
 And let me hear the answer of thy own, [Pause 
 
 Dear, gentle heart. 
 
 Dona Sol [struggling]. I pray you loose me, sir. 
 Don Carlos. I cannot, love. My arms are turned 
 to steel : 
 Two metal bands which thou thyself hast locked. 
 And hast alone the key of. Speak a kind word — 
 But softly look ! — ! give me but one smile — 
 And instantly my arms will lose their grip. 
 And be as gentle to thy gentle self 
 As is the snow unto the thing it rests on. 
 
 Dona Sol. Hernani ! Help ! Help me, Hernani, 
 
 help! 
 Don Carlos. Hush ! You may waken help you do 
 not seek ! 
 You do not wish the duke to find you here ? 
 
 Dona Sol. You mean you fear yourself to be found 
 here. 
 
42 HERNANI act ii 
 
 Don Carlos. Fear, gentle lady? How dost spell 
 the word ? 
 'Tis true I do not wish to be discovered ; 
 For that would mean our tSte-^-t&te concluded. 
 What lovely lips ! Ah ! let mine meet them once. 
 
 [She struggles. 
 My God ! Thou art not over courteous ! 
 Wilt thou withhold from one who is thy king 
 Favours thou grantest to a bandit ? 
 
 Dona Sol. Help ! 
 
 Don Caelos. Hush ! I release you. Nay ! but not 
 to lose you. 
 Come, sit down here, and listen what I say. 
 
 Dona Sol. I do not wish to hear what you've to 
 say. 
 
 Don Carlos. 0, to possess a bandit's winning way ! 
 I must take lessons. Tell me, sweet, will you 
 Be my instructress — teach me how to woo. 
 When beauty's cold — like bold young bandits do ? 
 
 Dona Sol. If I should give such lesson, I would 
 first 
 Warn you to be careful that you did not sneer 
 At any by the lady woo'd held dear. 
 
 Don Carlos. Most just rebuke ; and quite abashed 
 I stand. 
 May I, repentant kneeling, kiss thy hand ? 
 
 Dona Sol. If, sir, you ask this honestly — I mean 
 If you regret that you have roughly used me. 
 And thus would say so — why, then, hei-e's my hand ; 
 And heartily is everything forgiven. [Pause. 
 
ACT II HERNANI 43 
 
 Don Oablos, Listen to me ! I love you. Nay — 
 
 but hear me ! 
 Dona Sol. I cannot, sir. You know my love is 
 
 plighted. 
 Don Carlos. I know that you have pledged it to 
 
 the duke. 
 Dona Sol. That is not true. I never pledged my 
 love. 
 I only did consent to be his wife. 
 
 Don Caelos. And do you still consent to be his 
 
 wife? 
 Dona Sol. Ah ! would you chide me for disloyalty ? 
 Or think that since in this I'm proved untrue, 
 My love's a thing which need not be respected ? 
 The assent I gave was but a girl's assent : 
 The love I've promised is a woman's love. 
 
 Don Caelos. And is such love immutable and 
 
 fixed? 
 Dona Sol. My love is constant as the constant 
 
 stars. 
 Don Caelos. Why then thy love is an inconstant 
 thing. 
 There is no star in all the heavens that's constant, 
 There's nothing constant anywhere, save God. 
 Transfer thy love, dear lady. 
 
 Dona Sol. So I will 
 
 When the inconstant stars transfer their spheres. 
 I pray you say no more. 
 
 Don Carlos. I never thought 
 
 Such lips could be so cruel. 
 
44 HERNANI act ii 
 
 Dona Sol. Please to leave me. 
 
 Dona Carlos. Leave thee ! To what ? Shall 
 kings make way 
 For bandits ? 
 
 Dona Sol. Oh, sir, I pray you 
 
 Don Carlos. What ! Shall I surrender 
 
 What I myself desire unto a robber ? 
 Shall robber's arms hold what a king may not ? 
 Ha ! I forget. I doubt if these same arms 
 Will ever hold thee more. 
 
 Dona Sol. What do you mean ? 
 
 Don Carlos. I mean your lover is my prisoner. 
 
 Dona Sol. Your prisoner ! 
 
 Don Carlos, Ay, either that or else 
 
 Most undeserving of the name of lover. 
 
 Dona Sol. Your prisoner ! 
 
 Don Carlos. The midnight hour hath sounded. 
 If he has not been captured on the road, 
 Then read the love of each of us by this — 
 I come an hour before the appointed hour — 
 He hears the midnight chimes, and stiU is absent. 
 What value shall be set on that man's words, 
 Who says : " ! how I love the sun's bright rays I " 
 And lies a-bed until the afternoon ? 
 
 Dona Sol. Hernani is your prisoner ! What then ? 
 
 Don Carlos. Why, then he goes to prison. 
 
 Dona Sol. For how long ? 
 
 Don Carlos. 0, not for long. His trial will be 
 short. 
 We'll quickly prove him guilty. 
 
ACTii HERNANI 45 
 
 Dona Sol. Guilty of what ? 
 
 Don Cablos. Treason and other capital offences. 
 
 Too long this man hath menaced public safety. 
 
 'Tis time we had him. 
 
 Dona Sol. And — his trial over ? 
 
 Don Caelos. Why then — [pauses] 
 
 Dona Sol. You will not kill him ? 
 
 Don Carlos. Either that, 
 
 Or put him in a dungeon till he dies. 
 
 [A long pause. Dona Sol stands in silence, 
 her face overfed, 
 
 Don Caelos. A little while ago I called him 
 " rival." 
 Who is my rival now ? 
 
 Dona Sol [quietly]. You have a rival. 
 A rival before whom even kings must bend. 
 And unto him, if what you say be true, 
 I'll give myself more wUlingly than ever 
 Bride did to bridegroom on her bridal night. 
 Death cannot have a terror left for me, 
 When once Hernani's dead. 
 
 [ While she speaks Hernani has silently entered. 
 Heenani. He is not dead. 
 
 Dona Sol. Hernani ! ! [She goes to him.] 
 
 Hernani [taking her in his arms.] How now, my 
 gentle love ! 
 Why weepest thou ? Are these sad tears for me ? 
 And have you, sir, in treachery called them forth, 
 Employing lies to aid you to prevail 
 
46 H E R N A N I act ii 
 
 Over a maid's resistance to your will ? 
 
 Your cursed will ! Ay ! 'tis a cursed thing, 
 
 The thing you seek to do. Of all things vile 
 
 Few viler are there than to entice a maid 
 
 To her dishonourment. Within thy court, 
 
 Surrounding thee, are there not women enough 
 
 To be thy toys, thy pkythings of an hour, 
 
 That thou must Tarquin-like steal through the 
 
 night, 
 To act the ravisher ? Return to them ! 
 They, to whom purity's a thing forgot. 
 Who think they are much honoured in thy choice. 
 E'en when they stand but servants to thy lust — 
 With hearts unmoved, and laughter in their eyes. 
 They'll pay thy passions far more generous toll 
 Than purity's enforcement ever can. 
 
 Don Carlos. Robber, thy tongue has learnt much 
 from thy hand. 
 How true's the saying that of others' faults 
 Those most offend which in ourselves do live. 
 @ Thy tongue is violent because thou find'st me 
 Doing a thing which thou thyself dost daily ! 
 I but attempt a robbery, good robber ! 
 Speaking of which, what is it brings thee here ? 
 Is't not likewise to take what is not thine ? 
 Two robbers bent upon the same fair booty. 
 We have surprised each other in the night. 
 
 Hernani. I come to take what is but mine alone — 
 This lady's love. 
 
 Don Cablos. You come to take the casket 
 
ACT 11 HERNANI 47 
 
 Which doth contain that love ! Well, so do I. 
 I really don't know what the duke would say, 
 If he should catch you taking it away. 
 
 Hernani. If what I do my face had cause to 
 blush at, 
 With deeper colour should your own be dyed. 
 The wrong I do the duke is justified. 
 For BO that is which does prevent a greater. 
 And what is more deserving of the name 
 Than marriage based not on a mutual love ? 
 But you who lay rough hands upon this lady. 
 Not only do whatever wrong I do, 
 But most contemptible confess yourself, 
 Unless we value cowards. Ah ! That word 
 Goes to your fingers. Nay, deny them not. 
 They do but itch to do the thing I'd have 'em. 
 I pray you draw, and let our swords decide 
 What words can never. [Draws,] Come 1 Dost 
 hesitate ? 
 
 Don Carlos, I do not fight with you, 
 
 Hernani, Thou wilt not fight 1 
 
 Why, then, in very truth, thou art a coward. 
 
 Don Carlos. That's easily proved. Kings do not 
 fight with robbers. 
 When yesternight I did cross swords with you, 
 I did it knowing not with whom I fought, 
 
 Hernani. And now thou knowest, art thou so 
 afraid ? 
 
 Don Carlos. Now that I know, I wiU not con- 
 descend. 
 
48 HERN AN I act ii 
 
 Heenani. That is a word which proves you do not 
 
 know. 
 Don Cablos. I am your king; and so I do not 
 fight. 
 As to your insult, thus I answer it. 
 
 [Turns his hack to Heenani. Pawse — 
 Heenani plai/s vnth the handle of dagger, 
 Heenani. Begone! That is my answer to your 
 own. 
 [The King turns again, and the two eye each 
 other for a moment in silence. 
 Don Caelos. Lady, farewell. [To Heenani] Sir, we 
 may meet again. 
 If, when we do, your life is in my hands, 
 I warn you look for neither grace nor mercy, 
 
 [He goes out. 
 Dona Sol. Come ! Let us fly ! 
 Heenani. Ah ! Had we but the power. 
 
 Dona Sol. What dost thou mean ? 
 Heenani. The power, love, to fly. 
 
 That, like the strong-winged eagle, I might lift thee 
 Within these arms and bear thee hence away — 
 Bear thee, my loved one, far above the earth 
 Over the valleys to my mountain home. 
 But on that lower road that we must take. 
 Each yard is hedged with dangers and delay. 
 
 Dona Sol. Dangers are made for love to prove 
 
 itself, 
 And love delayed is like a loan renewed, 
 When more must then be given and received. 
 
ACT 11 HERNANI 49 
 
 And in love-debts those who contract them stand 
 Both creditor and debtor of the other. 
 Dangers I do not fear ; and much delay, 
 When shared, is less than much less is alone. 
 
 Heenani. The king knows who I am. After 
 to-night — 
 Thou heard'st his words — his frown will be upon me. 
 His preparations will de hurried on ; 
 And in a few short hours war's thunder peal 
 May shout above us, and its lightning strokes 
 Rive us apart, or shatter us in death. 
 Fortune oft turns her wheel thus mockingly ; 
 Leads us one moment into happy gains, 
 To rob us in the next. 
 
 Dona Sol. So let her turn it. 
 
 In such an order I would be her toy. 
 I do not value life by wealth of years, 
 But by the wealth of joy which Life doth give ; 
 And some there are are given in an hour 
 As much as ag6d eyes look back upon. 
 ! rather would I live for one such hour — 
 Taste so great joy in a so little space — 
 Than have it spread over a length of years. 
 To drain my cup by driblets. Come, my love. 
 To-night at least is ours ; and if to-morrow 
 The hand of Fate shall turn the final leaf 
 Of our life's story we at least can say 
 We lived this night together. Why dost stay ? 
 I almost told my heart-beats o'er to-day. 
 So anxious was I for the night to come 
 
 D 
 
50 H E R N A N I act ii 
 
 That all the glories of a golden day 
 
 Passed by me unobserved. I but remember 
 
 The sun did shine from the fresh morn till eve, 
 
 And that a light wind stirred among the flowers 
 
 And sometimes touched my cheeks. But it was 
 
 shadows, 
 Those of the sombre cypress, lengthening eastwards, 
 Foretelling night's approach, that I did watch. 
 Is it unmaidenly to speak like this ? 
 Wilt think such longing shows my love to be 
 A narrow thing ? Dear love, I scarce do know 
 How much thought of myself is in my love. 
 More that I shall be had than I shall have — 
 ! more than to be loved that I may love thee — 
 To tell thee in those midnight hours of darkness, 
 When everything is silent and the earth 
 Noiselessly wheels its star-lit way to God, 
 The deep, full story of my woman's heart — 
 This, this it was so made me long for night ! 
 ! these weak arms shall be for thee a refuge. 
 Yielding a store of comfort and delight ; 
 And thou shalt be its master, privileged 
 To enter when thou wilt. 
 
 Hebnani. Dear saints in heaven ! 
 
 What shall I say ? 
 
 Dona Sol. Nay, do not wait to say : 
 
 But t^ke me hence that I my words may prove. 
 
 BLeknani. Dear love, I cannot take thee hence 
 to-night. 
 
 Dona Sol. Hernani ! 
 
ACT II HERNANI 51 
 
 Hernani. Hush ! 
 
 Dona Sol. But thou did'st promise me ! 
 
 Hernani, Thee not a half of what I pledged 
 myself. 
 For me there was a promise in that promise 
 Dearer than all things else, whose sweet fulfilment 
 I'd strive toward, though every step between me 
 Did hold a risk of death. But shall I risk 
 Thy life whereon all happiness depends ? 
 
 Dona Sol. But on thine own all happiness 
 depends ! 
 Thou'lt risk thy life without one thought for me t 
 And mine thou wilt not, all for thought of me ! 
 Hernani, Dear sweet ! Nay, listen, love. Outside 
 the city 
 Ambushes lie awaiting my return. 
 They fell upon us as we came along ; 
 And — hark — what was that ? 
 
 Dona Sol. I did not hear a noise. 
 
 Hernani. Like distant shouting borne upon the 
 
 wind. [Horse neighs. 
 
 My horse's neigh! [another] And,thereoneanswershim. 
 
 Either he heard my voice or scents some danger. 
 
 [Pause. Clock strikes. It is followed hy dis- 
 tant cries. 
 There ! Dost thou hear it ? Shouting afar off. 
 
 Dona Sol. ! look, Hernani ! Saragossa lights ! 
 [The town begins^ to light up. Ala/rum hell 
 hea/rd. 
 The town is being woken from its sleep. 
 
68 HERNANI act ii 
 
 Enter a Mountaineee. 
 Mountaineer. Quickly, my lord ! Our entry is 
 
 discovered ! 
 Heenani, Go on without me! Make for the 
 western road ! 
 I'll follow close upon you ! If a guard 
 Is stationed that way also, break it down ! 
 I'll join youjjy the river. 
 
 [Exit Mountaineee. 
 Dona Solb Do not go ! 
 
 Heenani. I must. Good-bye. 
 Dona Sol. I do not leave me here 
 
 Heenani. I leave thee only for a little while. 
 Thou wilt be true to me ? Give me a kiss. 
 
 \8he raises her face to his, and their lips meet 
 in a long kiss. There is a pause, while each 
 looks fondly into the face of the other. Then 
 he twrns away and, goes off quickly. Dona 
 ^oh falls upon seat. 
 
ACT III 
 
 Scene. A room in the Chateau de Siha, a few leagues 
 from Saragassa. Terrace and gardens at lack. 
 
 Present the duke's Steward, a Page and a Jester,] 
 
 Steward \to Page.] Boy, take this box to her 
 ladyship's room. 'Tis from the duke, thy master. 
 
 Page. If this be not a bauble-box, may I be hung 
 with one of her ladyship's garters ! 
 
 Steward. Hung with — Tut, tut! What next, 
 boy ! This is the duke's bridal gift, made to the Dona 
 Sol de Silva who to-day becomes his wife. Open not 
 the lid if you value your sight. There are stones 
 of such water beneath it as might bring water to the 
 mouth of an empress. 
 
 Page. Shall any message be given with the box ? 
 
 Steward. There was a message — a very pretty 
 message — most daintily worded. I had it from the 
 duke hiiuself . 
 
 Page. Shall I take that also ? 
 
 Steward. Nay, I've forgotten it. 
 
 Page. Why, then — happen what may, the duke's 
 gift cannot be delivered worse than his message, 
 
 [Exit Page. 
 
54 HERNANI act m 
 
 Jester. Ha! 
 
 Stewabd. • How now, fool ! What dost thou here ? 
 
 Jester. I think, good Master Steward — I think. 
 
 Steward. Think ! I did not know fools thought. 
 
 Jester. Then thou dost confess thyself a fool indeed : 
 for 'tis only fools who do think. When did thinking 
 make the heart glad ? To be blessed with a merry heart 
 is to have thy bread buttered aU the days of thy life. 
 Therefore he who makes a practice of thinking butters 
 not his bread : and such a man is most surely a fool. 
 
 Steward. By this argument, men being the deeper 
 thinkers, are greater fools than women ? 
 
 Jester. Thou shalt answer that question thyself. 
 Tell me now, which is the more foolish — he who fishes, 
 or he who is fished ? 
 
 Steward. Why, he who is fished. For 'tis folly to 
 swallow a hook to gain a maggot. 
 
 Jester. There thou sayest truly, and so answerest 
 thyself. 
 
 Steward. How do I answer myself ? 
 
 Jester. How ? Thou are simple indeed not to see 
 that ! The woman was never born that let herself be 
 fished ; while the man that was not fished never Uved 
 to wear breeches. When a man says : " I have won 
 this woman to be my wife ! " — he shows himself a fool 
 indeed : for if the matter were put truly, he would 
 say : "I have been won by this woman to be her 
 husband ! " Of all silly fish under the sun there's none 
 siUier than a man. A pretty woman has but to droop 
 an eyelid at him, or show him her ankle, and his gills 
 
ACT III HERNANI 56 
 
 are through the mesh before there's time to say 
 " woman," which, as everybody knows stands for 
 "Woa! man!" 
 Stewabd. I fear thou art a hopeless fool. 
 
 Enter Page. 
 
 Jester. Boy, come here 1 Tell me : why was 
 woman given forefinger and thumb ? 
 
 Page. How should I know ? 
 
 Jesteb. There, now ! He has seen women's fore- 
 fingers and thumbs since the day he first saw his 
 mother's, yet cannot tell what they were given 'em for. 
 
 Page. Women thread needles with forefinger and 
 thumb. 
 
 Jester. A very poor answer, which showeth thou 
 hast not read thy scriptures closely. What use had 
 Adam's wife for a needle, and she was the pattern all 
 women were copied from. 
 
 Page. Forefinger and thumb are useful to women for 
 putting food into the mouth. 
 
 Jester. A better answer ; yet not a good one. For 
 'tis a silly pig that cannot munch acorns without fore- 
 finger and thumb. Nay, shall I tell thee for what 
 reason before aU others women were given forefinger 
 and thumb ? Turn thy head away. [Page twns.'\ 
 In the first place, a woman was given forefinger and 
 thumb, that when her husband pleased her she might 
 stroke him on the nose — thus. And in the second) 
 that when he displeased her she might catch him by 
 the ear — thus. [Pulls Page's ear. 
 
56 HERNANI act in 
 
 Page. O! 
 
 Jester. Ha, ha, ha! Did'sfc hear him, Master 
 Steward., He said " !" [Page goes out rubbing his 
 ear.] What time is the wedding to be ? 
 
 Steward, Within an hour. 
 
 Jester. And the feasting ? 
 
 Steward. Soon after. 
 
 Jester. Shall I sing thee my latest musical-rhyth- 
 mical-rhymical composition ? 
 
 Steward. Is it long ? 
 
 Jester. No more than a few feet. Be not too severe 
 on the wording of it. Rhyme has ever been the enemy 
 of sense; and many a man has been forced by his 
 rhyme to say much that he never would have said but 
 for it. Here goes. 
 
 Maids there are of every sort. 
 
 Handsome, plain and pretty. 
 Every taste may find its sport — 
 
 Proud, demure or witty. 
 Maiden sprightly, maiden slow — 
 
 Short as well as long one — 
 But wherever daisies grow, 
 
 There's no maid like a young one ! 
 
 Men there are of every kind. 
 
 Clever, dull, conceited ; 
 A full list no mortal mind 
 
 Ever yet completed. 
 
ACTiii HERNANI 57 
 
 But of all who beards do grow, 
 
 Be it young or grey one — 
 Wheresoever poppies blow, 
 
 There's no man like a gay one ! 
 
 Fools there are of every sort, 
 
 Simple, educated ; 
 In as well as out of court, 
 
 Single fools and mated. 
 Light and heavy, nimble, slow ; 
 
 Hot as well as cold one — 
 But wherever thistles grow. 
 
 There's no fool like an old one ! 
 
 Steward. And is this to be sung to the duke ? 
 
 Jester. Will it give offence, think ye ? 
 
 Steward. Why, the duke's an old fool if it does not. 
 
 Jester. Then answer me; Why is folly like a 
 lady's stocking ? 
 
 Steward. Nay, I know not. 
 
 Jester. 'Tis like a lady's stocking for this reason, 
 that there's a limit to the height it may go. 
 
 Steward. Tut, tut ! [Exit. 
 
 [Jester strums instrwment. 
 
 Enter Josepha. 
 Josepha. Fool, where is my young mistress ? 
 Jester. In Spain, unless my eyes deceive me. 
 Yonder she comes. I'll to the kitchen to smell how 
 the pastries are doing. [He goes out. 
 
 Josepha. She comes not with Love's careless steps ; 
 but slow, 
 
58 HERN AN I act iii 
 
 As might befit the cloister — head downoast, 
 
 Like a fair flower stricken in its flush, 
 
 And dropping to its death. My tender mistress ! 
 
 Where is the lifted chin, the happy eye. 
 
 That should bespeak thy bridal ? Many a lass, 
 
 Nurtured beneath the thatched roof of a cottage, * 
 
 To-day will be thy richer. Not in beauty, 
 
 Nor in the least of maiden attributes ; 
 
 But richer in the happiness thats beats 
 
 Under her simple frock. Peace, pea^e, old tongue. 
 
 Enter Dona Sol, 
 
 Dona SoIj. What is the hour, Josepha ? 
 JosEPHA. Nearing mid-day. 
 
 I was about to seek your ladyship. 
 
 Dona SbL. I never thought I'd live to hate that 
 
 word. 
 Josepha. What word, dear lady ? 
 Dona Sol, Mid-day — ^yet I do. 
 
 Josepha. Your robes are all prepared. Come, 
 
 shall we go ? 
 Dona Sol. ! Would you haste me into my cold 
 
 shroud ? 
 Josepha. Your shroud ! Ah, madam ! that's a 
 
 hateful word 1 
 Dona Sol. To me not half so as another is. 
 A loathed marriage-bed to one who has loved — 
 Why ! — that's far worse than death ! Shall I allow 
 A thing preventable to be, that I dread more 
 Than what is bound to be ? 
 
ACT III HERNANI 59 
 
 JosEPHA, These are wrong thoughts. 
 
 Dona Sol. Wrong thoughts ? 
 
 JosEPHA. Not a brave girl's. 
 
 Dona Sol. You mean a 
 
 coward's, 
 I know I'm a coward in many things. 
 Had I not been so, I should have not feared 
 In the beginning, nor would even now, 
 To tell the duke I have no love for him. 
 
 JosEPHA. Are you afraid then ? 
 
 Dona Sol. Yes, I am afraid. 
 
 JosEPHA. What do you fear ? 
 
 Dona Sol. I fear the duke himself. 
 
 JosEPHA. You used not so to fear him. 
 
 Dona Sol. Not until 
 
 Love entered me. Ever since then I have. 
 
 JosEPHA. The duke has always been most kind 
 to you. 
 
 Dona Sol. I know he has. 
 
 JosEPHA. And I am sure would be 
 
 As kind a husband as a guardian. 
 
 Dona Sol. I doubt it not. Yet do I shrink from 
 him. 
 I dread him kind far worse than I would cruel ; 
 I dread his smile more than I would his frown, 
 I dread things in his eyes I never saw 
 Until love came to me. 
 
 JosEPHA. What if that love 
 
 Which has so metamorphosed you is wasted ? 
 I mean if he to whom you gave your love 
 
60 HERNANI act in 
 
 Has cast it to the winds. Your lover has not 
 Spoken now many days. Impressionable 
 Youth must, because he is so, e'er be fickle. 
 I'd rather have the even love of age 
 Than taste Youth's plenty for a little while, 
 And then be left to starve. 
 
 Dona Sol. How dare you speak so ! 
 
 JosEPHA. Listen — 
 
 Dona Sol. I say how dare you ! What ! 
 
 my nurse! 
 Whom in my youthful loneliness I chose 
 To be my confidante — to whom I've bared 
 My heart as openly as, night and morning, 
 Ever since childhood I have bared my limbs 
 Without a thought of shame — What ! is it she 
 Who would persuade me to a hateful marriage 
 By planting in me doubts of him I love ? 
 Why, then there's no one left upon the earth, 
 No, not a soul in all the wide wide world, 
 That I may turn to in my misery, [She weeps. 
 
 Josepha. Hush, hush ! There — lay your head upon 
 my breast. 
 The pillow where so oft in years gone by 
 Your little body lay in happy sleep. 
 My lovely child — the joy of my old age — 
 Whom I have watched since first thy baby eyes 
 Looked out in pretty wonder on the world. 
 
 Dona Sol. 0, nurse, look in those eyes, and see 
 what tears 
 Are welling from my heart. What have I done — 
 
ACT III HERNANI 61 
 
 What fault committed in my so short life, 
 To be so punished ? 
 
 [A pause. Then distant firing hewrd. 
 JosEPHA. Hark 1 What was that ? 
 
 \Another volley. 
 There ! There again 1 The crack of musketry 
 Ringing across the valley. This must be 
 What I heard several speak of yesterday ; 
 The king's attack upon this band of outlaws, 
 Which has for so long now molested us. 
 Dona Sol. What do you say ? 
 
 [Another volley heard. 
 JosEPHA. Another volley ! Listen f 
 
 \Morefi/ring, then distant cries. 
 Shouting afar — [Bugle heard.] And there's a bugle- 
 call. 
 Good heavens, child ! What ghost is it you see. 
 That turns your face this epileptic hue ? 
 Dona Sol. Josepha ! 
 JOSBPHA. Well ? 
 
 Dona Sol. My lover's over there ! 
 
 JosEPHA. Your lover ? Where ? 
 Dona Sol. Across the valley yonder. 
 
 Joseph A. What do you mean ? How know you 
 such a thing ? 
 Have you a prey-bird's sight that you say this ? 
 Oan'st see a pebble at a thousand yards ? 
 A grass-blade at a mile ? I see nothing 
 But distant trees and thinning wisps of smoke. 
 Dona Sol. I never told you who my lover was. 
 
62 HERNANI act iii 
 
 JosEFHA. Why. neither did you. Who, then, is 
 
 your lover ? 
 Dona Sol. He is the leader of yon outlaw band. 
 And ! who knows but that some cruel shot 
 Has lodged its leaden weight within his heart ; 
 And that those eyes I loved so, see no more — 
 That his dear hands are coldly clenched in death ! 
 JosEPHA. Be careful what you say. Here comes 
 the duke. 
 And, see, already he is dressed for chapel, 
 He wLU be vexed to find you unprepared. 
 Dona Sol. He will be something more ere he's 
 much older. 
 He'll find me far from amorous to-night. 
 As cold a bride as groom e'er looked upon. 
 I warrant you he'll not disturb my sleep. 
 
 Enter the Duke. 
 
 Don Rut. My love ! How's this ? You are not 
 
 dressed for church ? 
 Dona Sol, I ask your pardon, sir. I'll go at once. 
 Don Ruy. Your cheeks are very pale, child. Are 
 
 you well ? 
 Dona Sol. I'm very well, my lord. Come, Josepha. 
 
 \Eodt with Josepha. 
 
 Don Ruy, Pale on her wedding-day ! What should 
 that mean ? 
 If it were love's fine pallor, that with beauty 
 Equal to hers, and kings might envy me. 
 
ACT III HERNANI 68 
 
 But age wakes not in woman that sweet longing 
 Which turns its subject faint. That is alone 
 Fresh youth's capacity. I'd be a fool 
 To flatter myself so, "What is it then ? 
 She has much changed of late. I have observed it. 
 She droops her eyelids coldly as a nun, 
 Whenever I approach her. It's so long. 
 That I forget when last she smiled on me. 
 And then this present pallor. If these signs 
 Stand for affection's death — as I would have it — 
 Then comes a hateful thought. What she had given 
 She'd now withhold because another asks it. 
 Woman's inconstancy never arose 
 Out of herself. Yet, what's my ground for this ? 
 Whom hath she seen of late ? What other eyes 
 Have looked in hers to rob me of her love ? 
 There was that night when I discovered her 
 So strangely with the king. And I remember 
 Alarm was on her face when she beheld me. 
 Yet, if it were the king — 
 
 Enter Page 
 
 Well ? What is it ? 
 Page. My lord, there is a stranger from Armillas, 
 A holy man, a friar mendicant, 
 Who craves a few hours' hospitality. 
 Don Rut. 'Tis given freely. Say so. Bid him 
 welcome. 
 One moment. He perhaps bears later news 
 Down from the hills — knows how the battle's gone. 
 
64 HERNANI act m 
 
 Page. 'Tis said, my lord, the king has won the 
 day. 
 The main fight ended two full hours ago. 
 
 Don Ruy. Why that's good news indeed. 
 
 Page. Further report 
 
 Declares the band destroyed, all save a few, 
 Who fled in this direction close pursued. 
 
 Don Rut. What of its chief, the man they call 
 Hernani ? 
 
 Page. First rumour said that he was early slain 
 Leading a fierce assault upon the king ; 
 But I be doubtful if there's truth in this : 
 For very recently there came the news 
 That a rewardment of a thousand crowns 
 Is ofiered for his head, ^ 
 
 Don Ruy. What says the friar ? 
 
 Page. He did not speak of this. 
 
 Don Ruy. Bring him to me. 
 
 I'll question him myself. If he has come 
 Along the Armillas road, he must have been 
 Close to the fighting. Bring him to me here. 
 
 [Sxit Page. 
 What says the proverb ? " He who opes his door 
 Unto the stranger lets good fortune in." 
 I wonder if event has proved it true, 
 When its accepted truth has been the cause 
 That makes the stranger welcome ? Not that I 
 Have ever shut my doors on misery ; 
 But I would give to all the world to-day, 
 Though such a giving gave it all I had, 
 
ACT III HERNANI 65 
 
 If in return heaven would give to me 
 The one thing I desire. 
 
 Rc'enter Page, showing in Hernani, who is 
 disguised in a friar's hooded cloak, 
 
 [Exit Page. 
 
 Heenani. Peace and good fortune 
 
 Unto the Duke Pastrana. 
 
 Don Euy. Thanks. To you 
 
 Peace and good fortune also. You are welcome 
 Most heartily. I pray you seat yourself. 
 
 [They sit. 
 One tells me you have journey'd from Armillas. 
 
 Heknani. I have, my lord. 
 
 Don Ruy. That way you must have passed 
 
 Close by the fighting ? 
 
 Hernani. Very close, my lord. 
 
 More than one bullet whistled past my head, 
 'Twas sometimes just as if men aimed at it, 
 So near the bullets passed me. 
 
 Don Ruy. And the fight 
 
 What was the issue? 
 
 Hernani. Not a happy one. 
 
 Don Kuy. Not happy ? But I thought 
 
 Hernani. Not for Hernani. 
 
 Don Ruy. Ha ! You know the villain's name ! 
 
 Hernani. My lord, 
 
 It is a household world. A thousand crowns 
 Have made it so. I never should have thought 
 
66 HERNANI act iii 
 
 A sum so small as this had power to make 
 
 A man so widely known. The king has offered 
 
 A thousand crowns to any one who shall 
 
 Procure Hernani for him. So the country 
 
 Has left its gossip-bowl, its easy chair, 
 
 The plough, the harrows, and the lumbering wain 
 
 And armed with sporting guns, with bows and 
 
 arrows. 
 With pistols, pitch-forks, mattock-axe and spade, 
 "With anything to bore a hole in him, 
 Or crack him on the head — just like a pack 
 Of hounds they run about with noses down 
 Scenting the passage of this golden quarry. 
 He'll have to look about if he'd escape them. 
 Noses are very cunning in the country. 
 I wouldn't give a sixpence for his chance 
 Of gaining the retirement of a town. 
 
 Don Euy. Where are you journeying toward, my 
 friend ? 
 
 Hernani. To Saragossa, sir — there to fulfil 
 A vow but lately made unto a saint. 
 I ask a few hours rest and nourishment, 
 To help me on my way. 
 
 Don Euy. Only your will 
 
 Shall put a limit to your welcome here. 
 What is your name ? 
 
 Heenani [hesitating]. My name ? 
 "Don Ruy. You need not tell it. 
 
 If you wish not to. Should my servants ask it, 
 'Twill be enough to say you are — my guest. 
 
ACT III HERNANI 67 
 
 Enfm' Dona Sol in her bridal roles. 
 
 [Behind her are Josepha, women attendants, 
 pages and retainers. 
 
 Don Rut. But wish me joy, good friar. See who 
 comes. 
 This is my wedding-day, and here's my lady. 
 
 [Takes Dona Sol's hand 
 
 Have you within your pilgrim wanderings 
 Seen of earth's beauties anything more fair ? 
 If you say " yes," I'll not believe you, sir ; 
 For here's the sweet perfection of a maid. 
 
 [Kisses hand. Pause. 
 
 Hernani. Who wishes here to gain a thousand 
 crowns ? 
 
 [Gene/ral astonishment. 
 A thousand crowns ! Who here would earn that 
 sum ? 
 Don Rut. What do you mean, my friend ? 
 Heenani. I mean, my lord, 
 
 My head has had that value put upon it. 
 I am no holy man ; no friar, I : 
 I am Hernani ! 
 
 [Casts from him his friar's robe, and stands 
 forth in the garb of a mountaineer. 
 
 What ! does no one move? 
 In truth, my lord, you're fortunate in your servants. 
 A thousand crowns is not a little sum. 
 
68 HERNANI act iii 
 
 Will no one have it ? Must I go outside, 
 And call my own Tay-ho I across the country ? 
 
 Don Ruy. Is this a madman I hare welcomed 
 here? 
 
 Dona Sol [asitfo]. Nurse, nurse, what must I do ? 
 
 JosEPHA. Speak not a word ! 
 
 I will contrive you something in a moment. 
 
 Hernani [to retainerl. Young man, I like your 
 face. This sum of money, 
 Could buy you many things — your independence, 
 Pleasures innumerable — a woman's love. 
 You hear ? — a woman's love. Are you in love ? 
 You should be with your lips and with your eyes. 
 Perhaps the lady's cold. Tut, tut ! This money 
 Will have the means to make her warm enough. 
 There's few, but gold can make a weathercock 
 Of their affections — point them anywhere. 
 Put gold in women's palms, and you will find them 
 Wonders of sweet attention. So — away ! 
 Hunt for the hunters; and, when you have found 
 
 them. 
 Tell them the place where they may cease their 
 search. 
 
 Don Euy. Let no man stir ! 
 
 Hernani. My lord — 
 
 Don Rut. If any moves, 
 
 By God, that man shall answer with his life ! 
 Sir, you offend me when you ask my servants 
 The thing you do. The first mark of a gentleman 
 Is to respect his word. What I have promised 
 
Acxiii HERNANI 69 
 
 Think you I now retract ? I called you " guest "— 
 
 Assured you shelter. Ignorance of whom 
 
 A pledge is made to cannot justify 
 
 The going back on it. You are secure 
 
 From capture while you stay beneath my roof. 
 
 Hernani. My lord, I thank you deeply, very 
 deeply 
 I thank you, even though occasion, 
 Kindness's valuant, has made of yours 
 One that is profitless. So, I'll say " farewell." 
 
 Don Ruy. One moment, sir. This conduct's strange 
 indeed. 
 From safe disguise you have unmasked yourself. 
 Without apparent cause. Why have you done 
 
 this? 
 What is it has made you with a wide pursuit 
 Still ringing in your ears — a hunted man — 
 Protectedly disguised, declare yourself ? 
 Why would you now 
 Do what no hunted animal will do ? 
 Break from a friendly cover, unsuspected, 
 And end your own pursuit ? 
 
 Hernani. My lord, the sight 
 
 Of yonder lady is the cause of my 
 Indiflference to capture. 
 
 Don Ruy. Why ?— How's that ? 
 
 Do you then know this lady ?_, 
 
 Hernani. No, my lord : 
 
 For, if I did, then should I know a woman ; 
 And that would be to rank myself more wise 
 
70 HERNANI act in 
 
 Than Solomon himself. Yet once I fancied 
 
 Such wisdom mine. I thought a woman loved me, 
 
 Whom I did love. Yes ; in her eyes I thought 
 
 She let me read her spirit. This lady, sir, 
 
 Strangely resembles her. Indeed, she's like 
 
 Externally, as any pair of parts 
 
 That go to form herself are like each other. 
 
 I pray the likeness ends there for your sake. 
 
 For, underneath the fair exterior 
 
 Of her I loved, there worked a heart most cunning. 
 
 Cunning ? How many times that heart has beat 
 
 Against my own, as if in ecstasy 
 
 At being held so — influencing lips 
 
 And eyes, a quartette of conspirators 
 
 Most powerful indeed, to join with it 
 
 In tricking me into a false belief 
 
 That she, their mistress, loved me. Lies, all lies ! 
 
 Smiles, whispers, sighings, pressures — all, all lies. 
 
 And promises of no more substance than 
 
 The breath that-made them. She has given herself 
 
 Unto another — soon will be his wife ; 
 
 And I — my lord, it may be some could bear 
 
 My misery and live ; steeling themselves 
 
 With reason to endure iti But, for me 
 
 Beason is powerless. I cannot live — 
 
 This lady teaches me^^to be reminded 
 
 Of all that faithlessness has robbed me of. 
 
 I do not care how soon my life is ended. 
 
 Since to all happiness I have said farewell. 
 
 Don EuY. Well, I'll not be the instrument to end it. 
 
ACT III HERNANI 71 
 
 I'll not go back upon my given word. ] 
 Though you are what you are, and though it is 
 The king who seeks you, I will not betray you. 
 Do as you please. You're safe beneath my shelter. 
 Unter Page. 
 
 Page. My lord, a mighty army lies in view 
 Across the valley. A small part of it 
 Has left the rest, and now makes its descent 
 In this direction straight toward the ford. 
 The watchman in the look-out with his glass 
 Declares the king is one of this detachment ; 
 And, as their purpose seems directed here, 
 Sent me to give your lordship news of it. 
 
 Don Rut. How far from the ford are they ? 
 
 Page. Some distance, yet- 
 
 Don Rut. My love, return to your room. Sir — in 
 a moment 
 I'll be with you again. I go to see 
 If what's reported's true. While I am gone, 
 Make up your mind, in th'event of its being so. 
 The course you wish to take. 
 
 [Bxit Don Ruy and his retainers. 
 
 JosEPHA [io Dona Sol]. Now is your chance. 
 
 Speak your few words ; then follow quickly after. 
 Take care you stay not long. Act not as if 
 The steps of the watch-tower took an hour to climb. 
 Come with me all. 
 
 [Attendants follow Josepha off. Dona Sol 
 stays behind. 
 
72 HERNANI act m 
 
 Dona Sol [quietly], Hernani ? 
 
 Heenani. Ha ! Who speaks ? 
 
 Did you address me, madam ? 
 
 Dona Sol. Speak to me. 
 
 Heknani. Why — so I •will. 
 
 [ffe turns to her and, his eyes refusing to meet 
 hers, addresses her first mockingly, then 
 passionately. Dona Sol stands facing him, 
 motionless. 
 
 What dress is this you wear 
 That droops its lovely folds upon the ground 
 So modestly about you ? What means this wealth 
 Of sea-stolen treasure lying on your breast 
 Amid this blaze of diamonds ? Why have you thus 
 Sprinkled your hair with flowers ? And on your 
 
 brow 
 Why do you wear this costly diadem ? 
 What hour is it ? Midnight ? Nay, 'tis mid-day. 
 It is the sun that lights these splendours up. 
 Then, 'tis not for the ballroom you are dressed : 
 Unless now mid-day dances are the fashion. 
 So long 'tis since I mingled with the world 
 I am not sure of things. Is't for a dance 
 You are thus rarely decked ? WiU you not speak ? 
 Are you afraid to say with your own lips 
 What has been said already ? Then you are conscious 
 Of your deep wickedness — your silence says it — 
 And there's no blame that I, whom you have wronged, 
 Can lay upon you that yon may resent. 
 Was this the price ? — and this — and this — and this, 
 
ACtiii HERNANI 73 
 
 For which you sold yourself ? What do you give 
 
 Besides your body in return ? What else ? 
 
 Say you give but the finger-tips of love — 
 
 The warmth of one poor spark of it — say but this, 
 
 And I'll not call you worse than common bad. 
 
 But if you cannot say so, there's no name 
 
 In all sin's catalogue that's vile enough 
 
 To call you by. Then you are one of those 
 
 Who think a few words mumbled by a priest, 
 
 A moment's kneeling in a holy place, 
 
 Can sanction harlotry ! What other word 
 
 Is there for it, when woman sells herself ? 
 
 However she may stand in others* eyes. 
 
 For whom convention marks the Right and Wrong, 
 
 Shall she stand higher in the eyes of Heaven, 
 
 Which look beyond convention to the Truth — 
 
 Nay, shall she stand as high in that great Judgment, 
 
 Who sells herself for some luxurious gain. 
 
 As the low wretch that traffics in the night 
 
 Upon the city pavement, offering 
 
 Her sin-smirched body in return for bread ? 
 
 [Suddenly his eyes meet hers, and he throws 
 himself at her feet. 
 
 Mercy I Ah, God ! What have I said ? Mercy ! 
 
 [There is a long silence. Then Dona Sol 
 stoops and lays her hand very tenderly 
 on his head. 
 
 Dona Sol. Dearest ! 
 
74 HERNANI act iii 
 
 Hernani. Ah ! not that word ! My right to it 
 Is forfeited for ever. 
 
 Dona Sol. Never one 
 
 Shall tell as truly what thou art to me. 
 Dearer than all things else since first we met, 
 To me thou wilt be dearest till the end. 
 
 Heejtani. What can I say ? Shame will not let me 
 speaJr. 
 I plucked the fairest flower of the garden 
 And crushed it in my hand. 
 
 Dona Sol. Ah,vspeak not so. 
 
 Hebnani. I struck a woman's heart !— a heart that 
 loved me. 
 The wound I made showed bleeding in her eyes. 
 How can I look into those eyes again ? 
 
 Dona Sol. Look in them now. Hernani, lift thy 
 face. [He looks up. 
 
 See thy mistake : no wound is in my heart. 
 
 [He rises and takes her in his arms. 
 
 Hernani. ! is there anything in the wide world 
 So sweet as woman's patience where she loves ? 
 I'll kiss these lips, thy heart's kind messengers, 
 As I would kiss two pardoners sent from Heaven. 
 Dear lips, accept this penitent's true kiss, 
 And carry it to the kind heart you serve. 
 
 [They kiss. 
 I never thought to hold thee thus again. 
 
 Dona Sol. Alas ! Thou'lt never hold me so no 
 more. 
 
 Hernani, What dost thou mean ? 
 
ACT III HERNANI 75 
 
 Dona Sol, I mean, dear, that to-night — 
 
 How can I say the word ? — How can I let 
 Its poison in thy ear ? Hast thou forgot 
 The meaning of these robes and what I am ? 
 Which as my bridegroom would'st thou have to share 
 My bed with me to-night ? Shall I be held 
 Within the passionate arms of one that I 
 Shrink from by day ? — or shall it be dark Death 
 Who kisses me to sleep ? ! my Hernani ! 
 Hadst thou but been less fearful for my safety, 
 And taken me away that night we parted, 
 Though that had brought me now where I now stand — 
 Near to my death — I should have been content. 
 For I had tasted then life's topmost joy ; 
 And who that has so tasted should lament 
 The aftermath denied him ? But to go hence 
 From life with a sad longing in the heart. 
 
 Hernani. Peace, peace, my love. 0, from thy 
 mind dismiss 
 These dark alternatives, each one of which 
 Balancing to an equal weight of sin, 
 Alike must anger Heaven. 1 will seek out 
 The holy man I once spoke of to thee. 
 His dwelling, a rude cave, is not far oflF. 
 I'll beg his aid to shelter thee awhile. 
 Disguise thyself, and, so soon as thou canst 
 With safety do it, make for the river where 
 A mile away a stone bridge crosses it. 
 Dost know the place? The bridge between the 
 woods. 
 
76 HERNANI acx iii 
 
 One arch of this, at this time of the year, 
 
 Shadows dry ground, thick screened each side with 
 
 rushes, 
 Seek shelter here until the darkness falls. 
 When this good friar will take thee forth and lead 
 
 thee 
 To a secure retreat upon the hills. 
 
 Dona Sol. Can this be done ? Alas ! Thou art 
 forgetting 
 Something which once performed there's no escape 
 
 from. 
 How shall I stay my marriage to the duke ? 
 
 Hernani. There is no need to stay it. Let it be. 
 God heeds not vows made with the lips alone 
 More than a hypocrite's prayer. "We'll ask the friar 
 For his advice on this. With holy aid 
 It may be every hindrance may be moved ; 
 And that this night thou did'st so dread shall see us 
 Mount to the golden zenith of our love. 
 Farewell. I must not linger. One last kiss 
 To bear me over dangers. 
 
 Dona Sol. If this kiss 
 
 Should be what thou hast named it, dear — the last ; 
 Tis not alone the last I give to thee ; 
 It is the last kiss I shall ever give. [They kiss. 
 
 Good-bye. 
 
 Heknani. Dear love — good-bye. 
 
 [Dona Sol is about to turn away when suddenly 
 her eyes become fixed and a look of great 
 fear comes into her face. 
 
ACT III HERNANI 77 
 
 Dona Sol [tw a whisper], Hernani ! 
 Hernani. Yes ? 
 
 Dona Sol. A hand was on the curtain ! 
 
 I saw a hand ! Some one is hidden there. 
 
 [They look in silence towards cwrtain. Then 
 
 Dona Sol sUps qmetly out. 
 [After a fwrther silence Don Kuy comes from 
 
 behind curtmn. He walks up to Heknani, 
 
 and the two men stand looking into each 
 
 other's eyes. 
 
 Don Ruy. Speak I Speak quickly ! In a moment 
 now 
 The king will rap his hilt upon my door. 
 "What reason have I now to stand between you ? 
 Say why I should not now unsheathe my sword, 
 And holding it thus, give orders to my servants 
 To tell the king the traitor that he seeks 
 Is here ! Traitor ! The word's too good. 
 Where is the name 
 Can fit so base a nature as the man's 
 Who strikes a hand that serves him ? 
 There is not one ! The lowest animal — 
 The coldest, spawn-got thing — the slimy serpent, 
 Venomed by nature — the icy-bellied frog — 
 The vilest thing that creeps — has in its nature 
 SuflBcienoy of goodness to respect 
 One that has done it kindness. ! vilest craft ! 
 That, welcomed by another to his hearth. 
 Uses his hands to rob him. 
 
78 HERNANI act in 
 
 Hkrnani. Hear me a moment 
 
 Don Ruy. I ask to hear thee. Speak ! 
 
 Heenani. This is my sin. 
 
 I have these many days loved where you love, 
 
 Don Ruy. These many days ! Ha ! Now I re- 
 member ! 
 We do not meet for the first time to-day. 
 Thy dark face is familiar. Thou art the man 
 Companioned the king that night I — 
 Hell and fury I — 
 
 Then it was not the king, but — answer me I 
 That night — the night I speak of — 
 What was it took thee to my cousin's bedroom ? 
 
 Heenani. 'Twas love that took me there. 
 
 Don Rut. Interpret that ! 
 
 Heenani. Interpret it ? 
 
 Don Rut. Your answer's not enough ! 
 
 Heenani. How ? Not enough ? 
 
 Don Rut. Your answer's not enough ! 
 
 Heenani. What do you mean ? 
 
 Don Rut. Robber ! What should I mean ! 
 
 Heenani. By God ! Thou liest ! 
 
 [Long pause, during which they face each other 
 with gleaming eyes. 
 
 Don Ruy. Well — that is well for thee. 
 
 This sword had else not uselessly been drawn. 
 Unter a Seevant. 
 
 Don RuTi What is thy news ? 
 
 Servant, The king, my lord, is entered in the 
 courtyard. 
 
ACT III HERNANI 79 
 
 Don Ruy. Attend a moment. Be within call. 
 
 [Exit Seevant. 
 
 Don Ruy. Listen to me. You have wronged me 
 so deeply that nothing I did could exceed your 
 deserving. Still — I'll offer you one alternative 
 against capture by the king. You shall yourself 
 decide whether I surrender you or still protect you. 
 
 Heenani. What do you ask ? 
 
 Don Ruy. Your life. 
 
 Hernani. My life ? Most fair alternative ! You 
 will save me from death at the hands of the king 
 on condition that I yield you my life ? 
 
 Don Ruy. That you yield it when I demand it. 
 
 Heenani. Ah ! When you demand it. 
 
 Don Ruy. When I demand it. That's the alterna- 
 tive. Choose. 
 
 Heenani. Goes my liberty with this ? 
 
 Don Ruy. It does. 
 
 Heenani. I shall be as free as before, on this con- 
 dition ? 
 
 Don Ruy. You shall. 
 
 Heenani. For several days perhaps ? 
 
 Don Ruy. Perhaps for ever. 
 
 'H.-ER^ Ami [after a pause], I consent. 
 
 Don Ruy. To consent is not enough. 
 
 Heenani. I give my word. 
 
 Don Ruy [with a faint smile]. Your word. 
 
 Heenani. The word of a Spanish nobleman. 
 
 Don Ruy [incredulously]. Ha ? 
 
 Heenani. Old man, I read nobility on your brow. 
 
80 H E R N A N I act iii 
 
 Are your eyes got so blind you cannot see 
 That word is written here ? 
 
 [Points to Ms own brow 
 Look I the product of a peasant's love ? 
 Sir — the red blood that courses in my veins 
 Might mingle with a queen's and lessen not 
 One purple drop a shade. Spain's noblest sons— 
 The noblest and the best of her fair daughters — 
 Are represented here. I give my word. 
 
 Don Rut. It is enough. You give what a Spanish 
 nobleman 
 Does not betray. I ask no surer bond. 
 You will the moment that I ask your life 
 Surrender it to me ? 
 Heenani. I will. 
 
 Don Ruy. The moment it is asked ? 
 Heenani. That very moment. 
 
 [They bow. 
 Don Rut. Come here ! 
 
 [ffe goes up to a large picture of his father 
 on wall R. On his touching a spring, 
 the pictvjre turns on a hinge, and a hiding- 
 place is revealed in the wall,^ 
 
 This hiding-place 
 Is known to no one else. Step quickly in. 
 
 [Hernani hows <md enters retreat. The 
 picture is closed. 
 Don Ruy. Antonio? 
 
 Seevant enters. 
 Seeyant. My lord ? 
 
ACT III HERN AN I 81 
 
 Don E.uy. What of the king ? 
 
 Seevant. He has twice knocked, my lord. 
 
 Don Ruy. Admit him straight. 
 
 Send too this message to her lady's room 
 That I expect her here. See to it at once. 
 
 [Servant hows and exit, 
 
 Don Eut. Now is she bound to me more firm and 
 sure 
 Than holy church could bind her. She shall be told 
 His life is in my hands ; nay — more than this — 
 That on her own life his does now depend, 
 That I may hold hers too. For with most women 
 Love works in them thus strangely : what they them- 
 
 Will suffer for Love's sake, they cannot endure 
 Those whom they love shall suffer. So, a woman. 
 Though she will follow one she loves to death, 
 Will seldom lead him there. When she is told 
 The day she dies, he dies, wUl she not argue 
 Something like this : " What would it be if I 
 Struck him to death? What could that be but 
 
 murder ? 
 And though in this case I do not deal the blow, 
 Knowing the thing I do, will it not be 
 Myself who kills him ? How shall I answer that 
 Beside my own offence ? What sin is it 
 To set a term upon another's life, 
 When to conclude one's own, to anticipate 
 The intent of God, is a so dreadful act ? 
 What right have I, having the power of death, 
 
82 H E R N A N I act lu 
 
 The moment I am dead, to take my life ? 
 
 Thought cannot justify it." — Then may she not 
 
 Continue on like this : " My years are few. 
 
 Many may pass and leave me still the means 
 
 To love and to be loved. The duke is old, 
 
 And may not be so favoured by Nature 
 
 To live until my autumn." Thoughts like these 
 
 Will serve as check 'gainst outrage on herself 
 
 More than a thousand eyes could. And though I hold 
 
 her 
 Upon such thoughts as these, why should I mind ? 
 To have what I would have but for a day — 
 To have it ! — that's the thing. Age is a fool 
 Ever to look an hour beyond the present. 
 Think as she will, so she is mine to-day, 
 I'U not resent her counting the to-morrows. 
 Besides, I might that way draw comfort too. 
 For oft the gnarled and age-bent tree beholds 
 Many a sapling grow to strength and die. 
 I'll treat her kindly, fill her lap with riches, 
 And trust to Time to turn her to my wisheSi 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Servant. The king, my lord ! 
 Enter Don Carlos, followed by a nvmher 
 of retainers. All wear breastplates, and are 
 fully artned, 
 
 Don Carlos. Aha ! 
 
 Don Kut. Your Majesty ! 
 
 Don Carlos. My good de Silva, 
 
 What villamies are you at in your old age 
 
ACT III HERN AN I 83 
 
 That you employ blind servants on your watch- 
 tower, 
 And deaf men in your halls ? 
 
 Don Ruy. My lord, I have not 
 
 In my employ one either blind or deaf. 
 
 Don Carlos. Then, by St. John, you feed a lazy 
 crew ! 
 A set of kitcheners and mattress-men 
 That will not mind their posts. 
 
 Don Rut. How, my good lord ? 
 
 Don Carlos. How ? Is it customary for a king 
 To be kept waiting ? To have to knock three 
 
 times 
 Upon a subject's door, ere it is opened ? 
 Is't necessary that his followers should announce 
 His presence, as in music-plays, by singing 
 A chorus in the court-yard ? I should have thought 
 The music of our harness and the stamping 
 Of a thousand restive hoofs had been enough 
 To make the dullest of your doormice servants 
 Open his eyes and listen ! Why this delay ? 
 Why is your bolt thus cautiously opposed 
 Against my coming in ? 
 
 Don Ruy. I'm very sorry 
 
 Your Majesty is offended. 
 
 Don Carlos. Well, well, well. 
 
 Perhaps I blame too early. I'm forgetting 
 How dangerous the times are. When armed robbers 
 Infest a conntry, householders do right 
 To double bar their doors. It is this man — 
 
84 HERN AN I act iii 
 
 This rogue they call Hernani I should blame 
 For what else were a slight. I have no doubt 
 'Twas he your bolts were set so firm against ? 
 
 Don Ruy. My lord 
 
 Don Carlos. You heard the villain was at large, 
 And in extremis. Desperate men are truly 
 Not to be smiled on through wide open doors. 
 Besides, 
 
 The last seen of the rogue was very close here. 
 Nay, my informant thought he saw the fellow 
 Actually turn in here — into your courtyard ! 
 Dressed as a friar. Say ! Have you seen this man ? 
 
 [A pause. 
 My good de Silva, have you seen this man ? 
 
 Don Euy. I have, my lord. 
 
 Don Carlos. And spoken with him ? 
 
 Don Rut. Yes. 
 
 Don Carlos. Where is he now ? 
 
 Don Rut. My lord, I cannot tell. 
 
 Don Carlos. D'you mean you do not know ? 
 
 Don Ruy. I mean, my lord, 
 
 I cannot tell you. 
 
 Don Carlos. Cannot ? What prevents you ? 
 
 Don Ruy. My given word. 
 
 Don Carlos. Your word ! 
 
 Don Ruy. I promised him 
 
 Don Carlos. Well ? Well ? You promised him ? 
 
 Don Ruy. Asylum here. 
 
 Don Carlos. Knowing the man he was ? 
 
 Don Ruy. No, my good lord. 
 
ACT III H E R N A N I 85 
 
 Don Carlos. You mean you made ' your promise, 
 thinking him 
 What he professed ? 
 
 Don Ruy. I thought him so, my lord. 
 
 Don Carlos. Well? 
 Don Ruy. My lord ? 
 
 Don Carlos. Where is the fellow ? 
 
 This robber 
 Let him be fetched ! [Pause.] Now, by the holy 
 
 Peter ! 
 Duke, you will make me angry ! [Pause.] What ! 
 
 do you stand 
 Fingering your beard wheu I command a thing ? 
 
 Don Buy. I hesitate, my lord, between two ways — 
 Obedience to my king or to my honour. 
 Don Carlos. You hesitate whether you wUl obey 
 
 me! 
 Don Ruy. I crave your patience, sire. Turn for a 
 moment 
 Your eyes upon these walls. Each way they'll meet 
 The eyes of a de Silva ; men who bore 
 The name which I now bear, and who, by the 
 
 high 
 Nobility of their lives and loyal service 
 Rendered to Spain, have writ their names upon 
 The pages of her history. First Don Silvius, 
 Thrice Roman Consul, great founder of our house ; 
 Then Galceran, the friend of Mauregato, 
 Unto whose memory tribute still is paid 
 By men of old Castile. My famous namesake. 
 
86 HERNANI act m 
 
 Don Ruy, Knight of St. John and Calatrava, 
 Victor of Antequera, Suez, Nijar, 
 With his great son beside him. Noble G-aspar ; 
 The wise Don Vasquez ; here Dom Jayme the 
 
 bold; 
 Don Bias, Don Christoval — who has not heard 
 The name of Ohristoval ? On Escalona's field 
 The king, unhorsed, bleeding, and hemmed about 
 By a deep ring of foes, and his white plume 
 The mark of Bvery eye, cried ; " Christoval ! 
 Come to my aid ! " — Whereat did Ohristoval 
 Spur to his side, cleaving his passage through 
 The waves of steel that surged about his master 
 And, springing to the ground, call to the king : 
 " Give me your plume, my lord, and take my 
 
 horse ! " 
 Would any here believe that that fine blood 
 Ban in these veins, did I betray a man 
 Unto his foe, whom I had promised help to? 
 Nay, did I so betray him, I'd confess 
 I'm not descended from such men as these, 
 But am a thief that's stole a mighty name — 
 A precious diadem for a worthless brow — 
 And prove it by this act. 
 
 Don Carlos. You would be known, then. 
 
 As Buy de Silva, friend of pillagers. 
 Who let a promise made unto an outlaw 
 Stand in the way of duty to his king ? 
 A fine conclusion, truly, to the tale 
 We have just listened to. 
 
ACT III HERNANI 87 
 
 Don Ruy. I would be known 
 
 As one, my lord, who never broke his word. 
 
 Don Cablos. Do you refuse to give this fellow to 
 me? 
 
 Don Euy. I must refuse, my lord. 
 
 Don Carlos. Be careful, sir ! 
 
 Don Ruy. My lord ' 
 
 Don Carlos. Ha ! Roderigo ? 
 
 Don Roderigo. Your Majesty ? 
 
 Don Carlos. Surround the chateau 1 Call more 
 men across 
 To do it thoroughly ! Let every rod of ground 
 Be thickly guarded by them. Go 1 Form a ring 
 The villain cannot break through ; 
 I'm going to burn this fox out of his hole. ] 
 
 [Don Roderigo bows and exit. 
 [To Don Ruy.] By heaven ! I'll teach you to insult 
 
 me, sir ! 
 To keep closed fist when I say " open it 1 " 
 We'll start the bonfire here. These masterpieces 
 Should make a good beginning. Oil and varnish — 
 What could be better ! This fine gentleman 
 Shall be the initial stick that makes the blaze. 
 The founder of your house, I think you called 
 
 him? 
 A fiery-looking personage, in faith, 
 Well suited to our purpose. Rip me that canvas ! 
 
 Don Ruy. Stand back ! My lord, you shall not 
 thus insult me ! 
 Not while I have the strength to hold a sword. 
 
88 HERNANI act iii 
 
 Don Caelos. What! You defy me! Matias— 
 
 arrest the duke ! 
 Enter Dona Sol, ladies in attendance, pages, etc. 
 
 Don Carlos. One moment ! Hold ! What 
 pageantry is here ? 
 Ah ! pretty interruption ! , Whom do I see ? 
 The Dona de Silva, and so dressed ? 
 
 \Pause. 
 By James ! An excellent idea ! Ha, ha ! 
 Duke, you may keep your bandit. In his stead 
 I'll take this lady. She shall be your hostage. 
 Fairest of hostages ! I'll promise, duke, 
 I'll not importune you to make exchange. 
 Hernani's safe while I have Dona Sol. 
 Conduct the lady hither, good Matias. 
 
 [Matias advances towards Dona Sol when the 
 
 picture behind which Hebnani is hidden 
 
 Mes open, and Hernani springs to the 
 
 ground. 
 
 Hernani \to one of the duhe's retainer s^ Give me 
 
 thy sword fellow ! 
 
 [Snatches sword from scabbard and faces 
 Matias. 
 
 Back to thy place, 
 Thou red-faced rogue ! Or fill thy room in hell ! 
 Don Carlos. What's this ? The fox turned tiger ? 
 Give him space. 
 
 [Matias retires. 
 EfiFective bait ! So we have caught you, sir ? 
 
ACT III H E R N A N I 89 
 
 Heenani. If you would not before this company 
 Declare yourself a coward and make your name 
 A by-word through the land, stand forth and meet 
 
 me! 
 "Were I a nameless man, you should not scorn 
 To let your sword touch mine, since you can covet 
 A woman's love which you know well is mine. 
 But to a bloody enmity we two 
 Stand the opposed heirs. Upon the scaffold 
 Your father slew my father, and his wide lands 
 Scattered to strangers — not the first of whom 
 But less deserved, by any quality 
 That makes a man, to hold the smallest division 
 Than he to have the whole. I am the son 
 Of John of Aragon, Duke of Cardona, 
 Marquis of Monroy, Count of Albatera ! 
 Stand forth and draw your sword, or let your fear 
 In the face of this mixed gathering proclaim you 
 Your mother's bastard son ! 
 
 Don Carlos [drawing his sword\. Let no man 
 stir 
 To interfere between us ! 
 
 Dona Sol [throwing herself between them]. Ah ! 
 Stay your hands ! 
 One moment ! Hear me speak ! [Rneels to the king.] 
 
 Your Majesty 
 
 Upon my knees, as I would plead to Heaven, 
 I plead to you. 
 
 Unto God's distant ear our lips do pray ; 
 And He, from whom there are no secrets hid. 
 
90 HERNANI act in 
 
 Who knows what prompts each heart-beat, and doth 
 know 
 
 How little we deserve those things we ask, 
 
 Oan yet in His great clemency stoop down 
 
 From Heaven to answer us. 
 
 I plead to you who fill an earthly throne, 
 
 So far beneath, to stoop as God can stoop. 
 
 To hear as God can hear, so far above. 
 
 To show me mercy 1 
 
 Don Caelos. Lady ! 
 
 Dona Sol. ! my lord. 
 
 What gift is in your hands ! — my lover's life, 
 
 And my life's happiness. Is happiness 
 
 A thing so easily found that you who have 
 
 The giving of it now will turn away, 
 
 Indifferent to my asking ? Happiness — 
 
 A woman's happiness ! — that stands for Love. 
 
 If I were old, with but a little space 
 
 Of life left owing to me — if in that space 
 
 I might be happy — ^would you kill the means ? 
 
 ! if you would — though such an action meant 
 
 Only an hour's loss — you'd have a heart 
 
 More hard, more cold, more feelingless than steel. 
 
 Dead to the hand-touch of humanity. 
 
 But I who kneel to you, sir, am not old. 
 
 It is a young girl's head that bends before you. 
 
 In supplication for her lover's life. 
 
 0, sir ! Be generous ! See — I lift my eyes. 
 
 Would you these eyes strike blind ? For them the 
 earth 
 
ACT III HERNANI 91 
 
 Can never more have light when once the life 
 I plead for is no more. Then, will you take 
 Their preciousness away ? 
 
 [Buries her face in her hands. 
 Alas ! poor words ! 
 How weakly do you fall ! 
 Don Caelos. Lady, arise. 
 
 [He raises her. Then turns to Heenani. 
 
 My cousin Aragon — for so I now wUl call you — 
 Approach. [Heenani advances. 
 
 This lady loves you. Prove yourself worthy 
 To be possessor of a gift so rare, 
 And from to-day, despite of what is past. 
 You shall be held the worthiest of my subjects. 
 
 Heenani. Is it Don Carlos speaks ? 
 
 Don Caelos. It is the king. 
 
 Dona Sol [kneeling]. 1 cannot find one word to 
 speak my thanks. 
 But if a woman's tears can speak for her 
 Let mine so serve me now. 
 
 [She kisses the king's hands. 
 
 Don Caelos [to Heenani]. We will not let the 
 quarrel of our fathers 
 Remain a day more ours. They two have answered 
 Each one Death's dreadful summons ; 'tis not for us. 
 Their sons, to let the effects of their deep hatred 
 Add to their punishments. Receive this collar — 
 And with it wear again those titles freely 
 Which rightly are your own. 
 
92 HERNANI act m 
 
 Hernani [kneelinff]. My anger's gone. 
 
 The cloud that dulled my life is swept away ; 
 And in its stead a blaze of golden joy 
 Bides warmly o'er my heart. What can I say ? 
 How make atonement for the generous loss 
 Of those who fell in my mistaken cause ? 
 God let their faith stand for them in His judg- 
 ment, 
 And all their sins be mine ! 
 
 Don Carlos. Come ! To the chapel, 
 
 I'll see you two made one ere I depart. 
 De Silva ? Ha ! Still frowning ? Worthy cousin 
 What is it offends you now ? 
 
 Don Ruy. Your majesty 
 
 Has scarcely need to ask that question. 
 
 Don Oarlos. I think I have. My friend, there was 
 a time 
 When to have frowned upon a kingly wish 
 Had got you into trouble. I have said 
 I wish this lady wed to this gentleman. 
 I wish it ! [The duke bows.] Understand all. This 
 
 union 
 Of the great houses Aragon and Silva 
 Is ordered by the king. If any man 
 Speak otherwise than properly of it, 
 He disrespects us. The Duke de Silva 
 This lady's hand surrenders by command ! 
 Go I Find a priest. And when the words are said 
 That ratify your love, let's all away 
 To Saragossa, where, at close of day. 
 
ACT III HERNANI 93 
 
 There shall be revelry and what is right 
 To grace the first hours of your bridal night. 
 Oome ! To the chapel, friends ! 
 
 \They all go out save Don Rut, who stands 
 Tnofionless, his brow dark, and an angry 
 gleam in his eyes. 
 
ACT IV 
 
 Scene I. A terrace of the Palace de Silva. Beyond 
 are the gardens, down to which, on the right, run 
 stone steps. It is night, and the terrace is lighted 
 up. Left of stage is the ball-room, approached 
 by steps — right it the bridal chamber. A dance 
 is in progress and the soiond of music is hea/rd. 
 On the terrace richly dressed ladies and gentle- 
 men move about, m,any of them with their masks 
 on, 
 
 Don Matias [seated down L], Our friend the 
 bandit 
 
 Don Rodeeiqo. Pst ! 
 
 Don Matias. I beg his pardon. Our friend, his 
 Grace of the mountains, and his girl-bride will to-night 
 be numbered among those who think being alive a 
 very pleasant experience. Marriage has ever been 
 an amusing pastime for the newly married. Here's 
 to Adam for instituting it. 
 
 A Ladt. What is it you say, Don Matias ? 
 
 Don Matias. I say, dear lady, that cherry-blossom 
 is usually found growing on cherry trees. 
 
 Lady. We need no telling to know that. 
 95 
 
96 HERNANI act iv 
 
 Don Matias. Likewise, if you are searching for 
 apple-blossoms, I'd advise you to look for it on apple 
 trees ; for that is where you are most likely to find 
 it. As to orange-blossom, I never knew it to grow 
 anywhere but on an orange tree. 
 
 Lady. For whom is it you think being alive to-night 
 will be a pleasant experience ? 
 
 Don Matias. Ho I Did you catch so much ! 
 
 Lady. Come now ! 
 
 Don Matias. Why, for all ladies who, rightly 
 or wrongly, wore orange-blossom in their hair 
 to-day. 
 
 Lady, Fie, fie ! You speak naughtily. 
 
 Don Matias. I am endeavouring to adapt my 
 speech to the spirit of the evening. When eyes are 
 bright and lips are laughing, let the tongue be forgiven 
 that takes liberties. 
 
 [Music. Movement. 
 
 A Gentleman. May I dance with you, lady ? 
 
 Lady. What dance is it, sir ? 
 
 Gentibman. Faith, I know not. Whatever it is you 
 may lead me. 
 
 Don Matias. Ay. Put a halter on him and lead 
 him away. 
 
 Lady. May I lead you any dance ? 
 
 Gentleman. Freely. 
 
 Don Matias. Alas, poor mule 1 
 
 Lady. Do you know me, sir ? 
 
ACT IV H E R N A N I 97 
 
 Gentleman. I know some one you are not. 
 
 Don Matias. He means his wife. I never yet met 
 the man that didn't know when it was not his wife 
 he was talking to. Be warned by me, lady. This 
 man is a husband. I recognise him in spite of his 
 casing. Very much a husband, I assure you, for I 
 am acquainted with the lady who made one of him. 
 She would be here to-night herself, dancing fandangos 
 with the best of you, were she not due to make 
 something more of this gentleman before many days 
 are out — and dancing fandangos is not in the 
 prescription. [Lady and Gentleman move away.'\ 
 Where is the king, Roddie ? 
 
 Don RoDERiao. Returned to the Palace. 
 
 Don Matias, So soon ? Or is it so late ? Ought 
 we to be going ? I pray thee, let us not outstay our 
 welcome, which were an easy thing to do. 
 
 Don Rodbkigo. The king left early. He is occupied 
 with state affairs. 
 
 Don Matias. Ha ! He puts it that way, does he ? 
 — state affairs. Well — who would have thought this 
 love-chase would have ended in the way it has? 
 Three men in love with the same woman — a king, a 
 duke, and a bandit. 
 
 Don Roderigo. Hush ! 
 
 Don Matias. I beg his 'pardon. Who wins the 
 lady ? Neither the king nor the duke. You know 
 Roddie, I cannot forgive his Grace of the uplands 
 
98 H E R N A N I act iv 
 
 for addressing me a few hours back as a red-faced 
 rogue. I have called many a man a rogue in my 
 time, but I have never gone so far as to add 
 alliteration to insult. I have called men thieving 
 rogues, which a good many of 'em are, lying rogues, 
 cunning rogues, villainous rogues; but I never 
 went to the length of calling a man a red-faced 
 rogue. 
 
 Don Sancho. Has anything been seen of the 
 duke? 
 
 Don RoDEEiao. The Duke de Silva takes no part 
 in these festivities. 
 
 Don Matias. No. The duke is occupied with state 
 affairs, like the king. Probably more so. Therefore, 
 he Cometh not to look on while another man eateth 
 pastry stolen from his own larder. 
 
 Don Sancho, Nay, do not laugh at him, Matias. 
 The de Silvas are a proud race, and I fear this loss 
 will be taken badly. It will touch de Silva's pride as 
 deeply as it has his heart. 
 
 Don Feanoisco. There is no doubt he loved his 
 cousin, 
 
 Don Sancho. And when a man his age loves 
 
 Don Matias. He is bound to make an ass of himself 
 anyway. 
 
 Don Sancho. I caught sight of him as we left 
 for Saragossa. Sixty years had streaked his hair with 
 grey ; an hour had turned it white. 
 
ACT IV HERNANI 99 
 
 Don Rodeeigo. He loved the lady no more than the 
 king did ; and I swear I can see no change in the 
 colour of his Majesty's hair. 
 
 Don Feancisco. With all respect, a king's love 
 
 Don Matias. Is God-like. 
 
 Don Feancisco. Eh ? 
 
 Don Matias. It ranges over a very wide field. 
 
 Don Feancisco. And like the chameleon is of more 
 than one colour. 
 
 Don Matias. That's to say that when the prettiest 
 woman in his neighbourhood is dark the king's love 
 is dark ; when she is fair, it is fair. When she is 
 fair and married, then it is a fair and a dark love all 
 in one. 
 
 Don Rodeeigo. Nay, but in this instance the king 
 proved his love. 
 
 Don Feancisco. How ? 
 
 Don Matias. Ay, tell us how. 
 
 Don Rodeeigo. By pardoning his rival. Had he 
 loved the lady less, he would never have surrendered 
 her. 
 
 Don Matias. One thing is certain. If the king 
 had taken the lady for himself, he would not be 
 occupied at this moment with state affairs. 
 
 [Movement on stage. General laughter and chat- 
 ter, music. Then all go off into hall-room 
 except Don Matias, Sancho, Rodeeigo, 
 
100 HERNANI act iv 
 
 and Fkancisco. At the hack a figwre in 
 hlach is dimly seen standing wp left. 
 
 Don Sancho. Who is the gentleman in black who 
 stands so silent in the shadow yonder. \They turn.] 
 Does any one know ? 
 
 Don Roderigo. I have asked myself that question 
 more than once to-night, 
 
 Don Sancho. He wears his mask very seriously. 
 One would think he had a reason for not disclosing 
 himself. 
 
 Don Feanoisco. It is the Duke de Soma. He 
 wishes to attract attention, and knows the only 
 way he can do so is by letting no one know who 
 he is. 
 
 Don Roderigo. No. I have spoken with de Soma. 
 
 Don Sancho. Look ! He moves. 
 
 Don Francisco. As if he knew we were watching 
 him. 
 
 Don Sancho. And resented it. 
 
 [Figure moves slowly across hack of stage. 
 
 Don Matias. Speak to him, Roddie. 
 
 [Don Roderigo intercepts figure at hack. 
 
 Don Roderigo. Sir. [Figure halts. Pause.l It is 
 a fine night. [Suddenly Don Roderigo recoils.] Saints 
 in heaven ! [Moves quickly down to his companions.] 
 My friends — we are within a few yards of the devil's 
 own cousin. I have seen hell flames. 
 
ACT IV HERNANI 101 
 
 Don Matias [striding forward]. One moment, 
 sir. My friend here is of opinion that you are 
 somewhat nearly related to the devil. Is that so ? 
 Do you come to us from below — in a word — from 
 hell? 
 
 Figure. I do not come from Hell, sir. I go there. 
 [The figure passes silently off. 
 
 Don Roderigo. Did you hear that ? 
 
 Don Francisco. Let us follow him ! 
 
 Don Roderigo. For what purpose ? You heard 
 where he said he was going. 
 
 Don Matias [still standing centre, gazing in direc- 
 tion in which figure disappeared^. A most inconsiderate 
 fellow, 'pon my soul ! For a man bound direct for 
 Hell to take bridal festivities en route — that shows 
 an unpardonable want of good-breeding. He could 
 have gone round. 
 
 Don Roderigo. Look where he goes, Matias. 
 
 Don Matias [by steps]. He's crossing the gardens. 
 There — now the shadows have him. I can see him 
 no longer. 
 
 Don Sancho [quietly]. This is very strange, 
 Roddie. 
 
 Don Roderigo. Tut, tut! Think no more of it. 
 Come into the light and laugh. 
 
 Don Sanoho. It's very strange. 
 
 Don Roderigo. Some stupid joker that doesn't 
 
102 HERN AN I act iv 
 
 know the meaning of occasion. Come into tlie ball- 
 room. Ha ! 
 
 [From either side enter torchrhearers who stand 
 in line at bach holding their torches above 
 their heads. The stage is now brilliantly 
 lighted. A fanfa/re of trumpets. Then enter 
 from ball-room a great\ strea/m of guests, 
 who form a passage between the ball-room 
 and the bridal chamber: 
 
 Don Francisco. What does this mean ? 
 
 Don Sancho. The bride and bridegroom are going 
 to bid us — Good-night. 
 
 [Another fanfare. 
 
 A Voice. Long life to the Duke and Duchess of 
 Aragon ! 
 
 All. Long life to the Duke of Aragon ! Long 
 life to the Duchess ! 
 
 [Hernani and Dona Sol, holding each other 
 by the hamd, appewr. They stand for 
 several moments at the top of steps and 
 smilingly acknowledge the enthusiastic 
 cheering and good wishes which are uttered 
 on all sides. 
 
 Don Sancho. All happiness attend your marriage, 
 Duke. 
 
 Hernani. If it does not, my friend, there's no 
 such thing 
 As happiness in the world. 
 
ACT IV HERNANI 103 
 
 Don Francisco. Why, that is true 
 
 Since it is Venus' self that is your bride, 
 
 Don Eodeeigo. You wear around your neck the 
 Toison d'Or. 
 Ah ! Duke — a collar far more beautiful 
 Will grace your neck to-night ; two lovely arms, 
 Linked with the clasp of love. 
 
 Hernani. My worthy friends — 
 
 Lady [to Dona Sol]. Accept this gift of lilies. 
 May your love 
 Be still as fresh as these fresh jlily flowers, 
 When time has turned your maiden tresses' hue 
 As white as is their own ! 
 
 DoNA Sol. I cannot find 
 
 One word to speak my thanks. Speak for me, love. 
 
 Hernani. Can I say more than thy dear lips have 
 said? 
 There are occasions when the tongue can do 
 The heart but feeble service ; tell the full 
 Of what is felt no more than for blind eyes 
 It can express the beauties of the world. 
 We who receive your kindnesses to-night 
 Shall think of them long after you, the givers. 
 Have quite forgot them ; and thank you through the 
 
 years. 
 We shall remember them while in our hearts 
 We yet recall the gladness of this night. 
 Your kindness and our present happiness 
 Must ever be associate. From my dear bride 
 
104 HERNANI act iv 
 
 And from myself accept sincerest thanks, 
 And with them our " good-night." 
 
 All. Long life to the Duke and Duchess of 
 Aragon ! 
 All happiness to the Duke and Duchess of Aragon ! 
 
 Don Fbancisco. Light us a way there, linksmen ! 
 Where's the Music ? 
 
 Enter Musicians. 
 We'll make our homeward way not as we came. 
 But in a gay procession. 
 
 [General movement. 
 Strike us a tune, musicians. Let it be 
 Something that speaks of love. Starlight and song — 
 Love cannot ask for more ! 
 
 [To the accompaniment of music the guests 
 
 pass offstage, descending hy the steps up R, 
 
 down to the gardens, Don Matias is the 
 
 last to leave. 
 
 Don Matias. Sir, a word in your ear. Nay, 'tis not 
 
 a challenge. Do you know me, sir ? 
 
 Heknani. The Duke of Roxano, I believe. 
 Don Matias. I am very glad to hear you say so. 
 Good-night. [Shakes hands.] Lady ! 
 
 [He bows low, and goes off after the others. 
 [Torchlights are seen tvinding through the 
 gardens. Then, as if at a little distance, 
 the voices of men and women are heard 
 singing. Heenani and Dona Sol stamd 
 listening. 
 
ACT IV HERNANI 105 
 
 Song. 
 When Beauty's eyes are lit with love, 
 There are not in the heavens above 
 
 Two stars so bright, 
 
 So filled with light. 
 As Beauty's eyes when lit with love. 
 
 When Beauty's lips do softly sigh 
 In glad content, her lover nigh, 
 
 Can anywhere 
 
 A sound compare 
 With Beauty's lips, that softly sigh ? 
 
 When Beauty's limbs do rest in sleep, 
 Then lover's eyes glad vigil keep. 
 
 Not anywhere 
 
 Is sight so fair 
 As Beauty's self, when she's asleep. 
 
 \The voices of the singers die grad/ually away. 
 There is a pause ; then DoNA Sol raises her 
 face to Hebjuani, and their lips meet in a 
 passionate hiss. 
 
106 HERNANI act it 
 
 Scene II, The hridal-chamher. Same as in Act I, 
 Hernani is standing hy open windoiJO, looking out 
 into the night. 
 
 Heenani. How near to Heaven am I. You gentle 
 stars 
 That sited your silver gleams upon the earth, 
 Is there in all God's space beyond your lights 
 A joy comparable with this great joy 
 My love doth lead me to ? If now my life, 
 However short, should be my substitute 
 For Heaven, should I complain? How calm the 
 
 night is ! 
 It is as if all nature knew my love. 
 And in kind sympathy thus fair did make 
 The consummating hour. Let me not think ! 
 Hark ! What is that ? A nightingale's soft note 
 Rising from yonder coppice to the moon. 
 Sweet bird, there is unkindness in your song ; 
 For unto hearts beating with ecstasy 
 Melody's touch is pain. Ha ! Do you cease ? 
 Did you then hear my words ? Sweet bird, sing on 
 Your tuneful pipe doth lift me from myself 
 In light distraction. When a man's heart with joy 
 Is full as mine is now — sing on, dear bird. 
 And pain me that way rather. Still he's silent. 
 As if my finding fault offended him. 
 What little cloud is this moves o'er the sky, 
 Like a dark ship-sail on a moon-lit sea ? 
 
ACT IV HERN AN I 107 
 
 A cloud upon my sky ! Look through it stars ! 
 
 Let it not mask the beauty of this night 
 
 Even by such a little as itself. 
 
 The bird is silent still. It must have been 
 
 Alarm put off his song. The nightingale 
 
 Is lovers' own sweet songster — his a song 
 
 "Which never should be broken. It may be 
 
 Some passing step did fright him, and anon 
 
 He will be heard again. My bridal night ! 
 
 Make haste, make haste, my love ! 0, I might 
 
 think 
 By this long waiting that it was not love 
 For which I waited. I will think instead 
 It is thy maiden beauties that are envious 
 Which do bewitch thy hands and make delay, 
 To keep thee still some moments more from me. 
 
 [The door at hack opens quietly, and Don Ruy 
 enters. He descends noiselessly dovm stage, 
 and stands silent a little behind Hernani. 
 
 Heenani. How loudly ticks the clock ! It could 
 not beat 
 Time's passing louder if, instead of joy. 
 It were some dreadful doom I went towards. 
 
 [Don Ruy touches him on the shoulder. 
 Heenani tivms quickly. Then seeing who 
 it is, recoils. The two men look into each 
 other's eyes for several moments in silence, 
 
 Heenani [in a whisper]. "What do you want ? 
 
108 HERN AN I act iv 
 
 Don Ruy. Have you forgot your promise ? 
 
 Heenani. [As before.] What do you mean ? 
 
 Don Kuy. This is the hour I choose 
 
 When you must do the thing you promised me. 
 
 Hernani. The thing I — promised you ? 
 
 Don Rut. Did you not say 
 
 Upon the instant I demanded it 
 You would yield up your life ? The time is come. 
 
 Hernani. Yield up my life ! What ! Yield my 
 
 life to-night ! 
 Don Rut. To-night. 
 
 Heknani. Ah, no ! Not — not to-night ! 
 
 Don Rut. To-night. 
 
 Hernani. If you possess one spark of human 
 
 pity- 
 
 I beg you show me but so much of mercy, 
 To let me live until the morning breaks. 
 
 Don Rut. As well to ask for all as for so much. 
 Live till the morning ! Live until the morning ! 
 How would you spend the hours my mercy gave ? 
 Clasped in a woman's arms whose love was mine 
 Until you stole her from me ! Live until morning ! 
 Why then I give you all life has to give ! 
 And at my own deep cost. I who am robbed — 
 Robbed of a woman's love ! Cheated by stealth — 
 To show such kindness to the man that robbed me 
 Live till the morning ! Ha ! And I ? And I ? 
 How should I spend to-night ? A thousand years, 
 
ACT IV HERN AN I 109 
 
 Kacked on the rack of hell, could not exceed 
 Those hours of agony. 
 
 Hernani. hush 1 My God 
 
 [Dona Sol has entered clad in her nightrohe. 
 Her hair hangs loosely, d/rawn behind her 
 neck. She stands in silence L., a look of 
 fear upon her face. The two men are 
 turned towards her. There is a long pause. 
 
 Dona Sol. What does this mean ? What brings 
 you here, my lord ? 
 
 YAnothm' poMse, Heenani's eyes are fixed 
 upon her. Suddenly he cries out, going 
 towards her. 
 
 Hehnani. I will not do the thing you ask of 
 me! 
 I will not do it ! No ! I will not do it ! 
 
 Don Eur. You will not keep your promise ? 
 
 Heenani. I have said ! 
 
 You ask me more than I have strength to do. 
 
 Dona Sol. Hernani ! Speak to me ! ! speak my 
 love ! — 
 Ah, God ! What fearful look is in thine eyes ? 
 Tell me what thing it is this man doth ask thee ? 
 
 Heenani. It matters not, since I have said to 
 him 
 I will not do it. 
 
 Don Rut. You will not keep your promise ! 
 
 Have you forgotten then the hour you made it ? 
 
110 HERNANI ACTiv 
 
 Must I remind you ? And my words : " You give 
 
 me 
 That which a Spanish nobleman does not betray." 
 Is thy blood noble? Dost know the sense of 
 
 honour ? 
 Is thy blood noble ? Is thy name Aragon ? 
 Did I fulfil the compact that we made ? 
 I pledged you my protection. Did I falter ? 
 I braved the king's own anger — stood between 
 
 you 
 And those who sought your death ; and when they 
 
 threaten'd 
 By ways dishonourable to drive you forth, 
 I drew my sword prepared to give my life 
 In your defence, rather than prove myself 
 A traitor to my word. Ay ! Silva's towers, 
 Her lofty battlements should from their height 
 Have crashed to earth in ruin o'er my head 
 Ere I had done what vilely shalt thou do. 
 If thou dost break thy word ! 
 
 Dona Sol. Alas ! What word ? 
 
 Don Eut. He promised me his life — to yield it 
 me 
 The moment it was asked. 
 
 Dona Sol. Yield you his life ! 
 
 It is not his to give. His life is mine. 
 This day 'twas given me. 
 
 Don Rut. His life is mine. 
 
 Dona Sol. No, no ! 
 
ACT IV HERNANI 111 
 
 Don Euy. 'Tis mine. I hold the prior claim. 
 
 [He turns to Heenani. 
 Fulfil your promise, or consent to be 
 Dishonoured evermore. 
 
 Heenani. How must I do 
 
 This dreadful thing you ask me ? 
 
 Don Eut. Here's the means. 
 
 [Hands phial. 
 Dona Sol. Ah ! — no ! Hernani ! Stay ! One 
 
 moment hear me ! 
 Heenani. Dear love, my word is given. I must 
 
 obey. 
 Dona Sol. Mercy, my lord I I kneel to you for 
 mercy. 
 Release him from his word ! 1 let him live. 
 Don Rut. Dost kneel to me, clad for thy bridal 
 bed? 
 Extend to me white arms, bared for his joy 
 That stole thee from me? Dost thou entreat me 
 
 now 
 That I shall show thee mercy ? 
 
 Dona Sol. Yes, my lord. 
 
 A maiden wife, I kneel to you to spare 
 My husband's life. 
 
 Don E-uy. I will not listen to thee ! 
 
 Eise from thy knees ! Thou dost but madden me. 
 Thy virgin beauty only mocks my loss. 
 
 [Turns to Heenani 
 Fulfil your promise. Drink ! 
 
112 HERNANI act iv 
 
 Dona Sol. Hernani ! No ! 
 
 One moment yet ! 0, hear me yet a moment I 
 I have so much to say — so many things. 
 I cannot think ! Alas ! You make me tremble ! 
 One moment ! 
 
 Don Rut. Drink ! 
 
 Dona Sol. No! No! No! No! 
 
 Hernani ! — Ah ! — [She seizes him ty the arm. 
 
 What would'st thou do ? 
 
 Hernani. My love 
 
 Dona Sol. Thou would'st not do this thing ! 
 
 [JPanting. 
 Didst thou not say ? 
 Hernani, dear ! — My husband ! — \_Salf turning.] ! 
 in pity ! 
 
 Heenani. Hush, hush ! Thou art my wife. To 
 thee my honour, 
 The honour of the house of Aragon, 
 Now thou dost bear its name, must be as dear 
 As it is to myself. We must not stain it. 
 Give me thy hand. Dear love, my sleep to-night 
 Must be the sleep of death. I must obey 
 This stern command, or be for ever shamed. 
 It was thy hurt just now did so unman me, 
 That I should bring such sorrow where I loved. 
 Made me forget how deeply I was pledged. 
 
 Dona Sol. Alas ! What ill-discerning spirit was 
 it 
 Enticed thee to this hour ? 
 
ACT IV HERNANI 113 
 
 Hernani. That of revenge ; 
 
 Which blinded me and led me on through darkness 
 Along a madman's way. Thus are we visited 
 Who arrogate ourselves God's punishers. 
 In vengeance' name I raised an angry hand 
 To kill my brother : my arrow is come back 
 To lodge in my own heart. 
 
 Dona Sol. ! think not so. 
 
 Disprove his words, my lord — open the store 
 Of kindliness I know is in your heart ; 
 Cancel the bond ; give back the fatal word. 
 Don Ruy [to Hebnani]. Fulfil your promise ! 
 Dona Sol. Ha ! Now is well proved 
 
 The worth of thy nobility ! It is no more 
 Than a fair mask, a gilded imitation 
 That I mistook for true. A practised pretence — 
 A seeming noble structure from without. 
 But rotten from the core ! Cruelty never 
 Lived with nobility. It cannot dwell 
 Save in corrupted bloods. Thou'rt called de Silva ! 
 It is a name — I'll say it to thy face — 
 Thou hast not right to ! 
 
 Don Ruy. What ! 
 
 Dona Sol [beside herself]. I'll say't again ! 
 
 If thou wilt show this cruelty, thy blood 
 Is basely tainted ! 
 
 Don Ruy. Ha I 
 
 Dona Sol. Dost know the secret ? — 
 
 What wife it was that bore the name de Silva 
 
114 HERNANI act iv 
 
 That let a base born fellow in her bed 
 And helped him breed his kind ? Canst answer me ? 
 Don Eut. Ay ! Thus ! [Stabs her.] There is thy 
 
 answer, 
 Hernani. Ah ! Thou villain ! 
 
 Dona Sol. Hernani 1 Ho ! To me ! — to me I 
 Hernani ! 
 
 [Throws hersdf into Ms arms. 
 
 Don Eut. What have I done ? What drops of 
 blood are these 
 Drip from my gleaming knife upon the floor ? — 
 hateful jealousy ! ! chill remorse ! 
 Now what wild rage exacted let my shame ; 
 And with the selfsame instrument that sends 
 A young girl's soul to heaven, hurl headlong down 
 My murderer's soul to hell. Here is my place — 
 Here at the foot of this unstained bed ; 
 So let the morning find me, O ! this blow, 
 Better shall tell than any tongue could tell it 
 My story to the world ! 
 
 [He stabs himself and falls dead at the foot of 
 bed. 
 
 Dona Sol. May Heaven forgive him, 
 
 Hernani, I am dying. O'er my life 
 Death's icy hand is closing, 
 
 Hernani. O, my love ! 
 
 Dona Sol. My dearest husband ! Lift me in thine 
 arms 
 And bear me to my bed. 
 
ACT IV HERNANI 115 
 
 Heenani. Why, so I will. 
 
 And then beside thee will I lay myself 
 To be thy fellow in eternal sleep. 
 
 Dona Sol. Not in eternal sleep, but in such life — 
 Where all is understanded and is peace 
 For ever ever more. ! Fare thee well. 
 
 [Dies. 
 Hernani. What! Wilt thou leave me? 0, her 
 spirit's fled ! 
 Darkness is in her eyes : their light is gone ! 
 Now might I look and look in them and never 
 Eead one poor syllable there. All's empty now — 
 All's set, all's cold, all's dark and meaningless. 
 It is as if God's hand had from bright sunshine 
 Passed o'er the heavens and put out every light. 
 Dear lids, be closed. Stay. One last loving kiss 
 Here where I've seen thy tender spirit share 
 My every joy and sorrow — smiles and tears — 
 Sunlight and shadow. 0, my love was gentle — 
 The dearest trait in woman's fellowship^ 
 Yet could she be so bold in my defence 
 That she lies stricken here. Come to thy bed : 
 Then quickly will I rid me of the gloom 
 Of this sad caravansery, and go 
 Into that mystery-world where thou hast gone. 
 
 [He comes her to hed and lays her tenderly 
 down. 
 How like a fresh-cut flower does she lie. 
 Upon whose maiden blanch a drop of blood 
 Has splashed its crimson stain. ! busy Death, 
 
116 HERNANI act iv 
 
 Thou hast not from Life's garden ever cut 
 
 A flower half so fair. This was the queen 
 
 Of all fair things that breathed upon the earth, 
 
 And thou hast taken her ! 
 
 But ! she was much more : she was my love. 
 
 And ! so much, much more ; she was my bride. 
 
 Now, may'st thou. Death, be such a friend to me 
 
 As thou' hast been mine enemy. Come here, 
 
 Thou poison-loaded cup which jealousy 
 
 With his mad fingers filled. Oome ! quickly do 
 
 Thy evil work that now my will makes good. 
 
 I'll drain thee to the dregs. [Drinks.] 
 
 ! lightning drug ! 
 Thou art a proper servant ! — All is done — 
 Save to do this — to give my dying kiss. 
 
 [ffe kisses Dona Sol and dies. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
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