The QUEEN, PRINCESS EBOLI, MARCHIONESS OF MONDECAR, and
MARQUIS OF POSA.
QUEEN.
I bid you welcome, sir, to Spanish ground!
MARQUIS.
Ground which I never with so just a pride
Hailed for the country of my sires as now.
QUEEN
(to the two ladies).
The Marquis Posa, ladies, who at Rheims
Coped with my father in the lists, and made
My colors thrice victorious; the first
That made me feel how proud a thing it was
To be the Queen of Spain and Spanish men.
[Turning to the MARQUIS.
When we last parted in the Louvre, Sir,
You scarcely dreamed that I should ever be
Your hostess in Castile.
MARQUIS.
Most true, my liege!
For at that time I never could have dreamed
That France should lose to us the only thing
We envied her possessing.
QUEEN.
How, proud Spaniard!
The only thing! And you can venture this—
This to a daughter of the house of Valois!
MARQUIS.
I venture now to say it, gracious queen,
Since now you are our own.
QUEEN.
Your journey hither
Has led you, as I hear, through France. What news
Have you brought with you from my honored mother
And from my dearest brothers?
MARQUIS
(handing letters).
I left your royal mother sick at heart,
Bereft of every joy save only this,
To know her daughter happy on the throne
Of our imperial Spain.
QUEEN.
Could she be aught
But happy in the dear remembrances
Of relatives so kind—in the sweet thoughts
Of the old time when—Sir, you've visited
Full many a court in these your various travels,
And seen strange lands and customs manifold;
And now, they say, you mean to keep at home
A greater prince in your retired domain
Than is King Philip on his throne—a freer.
You're a philosopher; but much I doubt
If our Madrid will please you. We are so—
So quiet in Madrid.
MARQUIS.
And that is more
Than all the rest of Europe has to boast.
QUEEN.
I've heard as much. But all this world's concerns
Are well-nigh blotted from my memory.
[To PRINCESS EBOLI.
Princess, methinks I see a hyacinth
Yonder in bloom. Wilt bring it to me, sweet?
[The PRINCESS goes towards the palace, the QUEEN
softly to the MARQUIS.
I'm much mistaken, sir, or your arrival
Has made one heart more happy here at court.
MARQUIS.
I have found a sad one—one that in this world
A ray of sunshine——
EBOLI.
As this gentleman
Has seen so many countries, he, no doubt,
Has much of note to tell us.
MARQUIS.
Doubtless, and
To seek adventures is a knight's first duty—
But his most sacred is to shield the fair.
MONDECAR.
From giants! But there are no giants now!
MARQUIS.
Power is a giant ever to the weak.
QUEEN.
The chevalier says well. There still are giants;
But there are knights no more.
MARQUIS.
Not long ago,
On my return from Naples, I became
The witness of a very touching story,
Which ties of friendship almost make my own
Were I not fearful its recital might
Fatigue your majesty——
QUEEN.
Have I a choice?
The princess is not to be lightly balked.
Proceed. I too, sir, love a story dearly.
MARQUIS.
Two noble houses in Mirandola,
Weary of jealousies and deadly feuds,
Transmitted down from Guelphs and Ghibellines,
Through centuries of hate, from sire to son,
Resolved to ratify a lasting peace
By the sweet ministry of nuptial ties.
Fernando, nephew of the great Pietro,
And fair Matilda, old Colonna's child,
Were chosen to cement this holy bond.
Nature had never for each other formed
Two fairer hearts. And never had the world
Approved a wiser or a happier choice.
Still had the youth adored his lovely bride
In the dull limner's portraiture alone.
How thrilled his heart, then, in the hope to find
The truth of all that e'en his fondest dreams
Had scarcely dared to credit in her picture!
In Padua, where his studies held him bound;
Fernando panted for the joyful hour,
When he might murmur at Matilda's feet
The first pure homage of his fervent love.
[The QUEEN grows more attentive; the MARQUIS continues, after
a short pause, addressing himself chiefly to PRINCESS EBOLI.
Meanwhile the sudden death of Pietro's wife
Had left him free to wed. With the hot glow
Of youthful blood the hoary lover drinks
The fame that reached him of Matilda's charms.
He comes—he sees—he loves! The new desire
Stifles the voice of nature in his heart.
The uncle woos his nephew's destined bride,
And at the altar consecrates his theft.
QUEEN.
And what did then Fernando?
MARQUIS.
On the wings
Of Jove, unconscious of the fearful change,
Delirious with the promised joy, he speeds
Back to Mirandola. His flying steed
By starlight gains the gate. Tumultuous sounds
Of music, dance, and jocund revelry
Ring from the walls of the illumined palace.
With faltering steps he mounts the stair; and now
Behold him in the crowded nuptial hall,
Unrecognized! Amid the reeling guests
Pietro sat. An angel at his side—
An angel, whom he knows, and who to him
Even in his dreams, seemed ne'er so beautiful.
A single glance revealed what once was his—
Revealed what now was lost to him forever.
EBOLI.
O poor Fernando!
QUEEN.
Surely, sir, your tale
Is ended? Nay, it must be.
MARQUIS.
No, not quite.
QUEEN.
Did you not say Fernando was your friend?
MARQUIS.
I have no dearer in the world.
EBOLI.
But pray
Proceed, sir, with your story.
MARQUIS.
Nay, the rest
Is very sad—and to recall it sets
My sorrow fresh abroach. Spare me the sequel.
[A general silence.
QUEEN
(turning to the PRINCESS EBOLI).
Surely the time is come to see my daughter,
I prithee, princess, bring her to me now!
[The PRINCESS withdraws. The MARQUIS beckons a Page. The QUEEN
opens the letters, and appears surprised. The MARQUIS talks with
MARCHIONESS MONDECAR. The QUEEN having read the letters, turns to
the MARQUIS with a penetrating look.
QUEEN.
You have not spoken of Matilda! She
Haply was ignorant of Fernando's grief?
MARQUIS.
Matilda's heart has no one fathomed yet—
Great souls endure in silence.
QUEEN.
You look around you. Who is it you seek?
MARQUIS.
Just then the thought came over me, how one,
Whose name I dare not mention, would rejoice,
Stood he where I do now.
QUEEN.
And who's to blame,
That he does not?
MARQUIS
(interrupting her eagerly).
My liege! And dare I venture
To interpret thee, as fain I would? He'd find
Forgiveness, then, if now he should appear.
QUEEN
(alarmed).
Now, marquis, now? What do you mean by this?
MARQUIS.
Might he, then, hope?
QUEEN.
You terrify me, marquis.
Surely he will not——
MARQUIS.
He is here already.
MARQUIS OF POSA.
QUEEN.
I bid you welcome, sir, to Spanish ground!
MARQUIS.
Ground which I never with so just a pride
Hailed for the country of my sires as now.
QUEEN
(to the two ladies).
The Marquis Posa, ladies, who at Rheims
Coped with my father in the lists, and made
My colors thrice victorious; the first
That made me feel how proud a thing it was
To be the Queen of Spain and Spanish men.
[Turning to the MARQUIS.
When we last parted in the Louvre, Sir,
You scarcely dreamed that I should ever be
Your hostess in Castile.
MARQUIS.
Most true, my liege!
For at that time I never could have dreamed
That France should lose to us the only thing
We envied her possessing.
QUEEN.
How, proud Spaniard!
The only thing! And you can venture this—
This to a daughter of the house of Valois!
MARQUIS.
I venture now to say it, gracious queen,
Since now you are our own.
QUEEN.
Your journey hither
Has led you, as I hear, through France. What news
Have you brought with you from my honored mother
And from my dearest brothers?
MARQUIS
(handing letters).
I left your royal mother sick at heart,
Bereft of every joy save only this,
To know her daughter happy on the throne
Of our imperial Spain.
QUEEN.
Could she be aught
But happy in the dear remembrances
Of relatives so kind—in the sweet thoughts
Of the old time when—Sir, you've visited
Full many a court in these your various travels,
And seen strange lands and customs manifold;
And now, they say, you mean to keep at home
A greater prince in your retired domain
Than is King Philip on his throne—a freer.
You're a philosopher; but much I doubt
If our Madrid will please you. We are so—
So quiet in Madrid.
MARQUIS.
And that is more
Than all the rest of Europe has to boast.
QUEEN.
I've heard as much. But all this world's concerns
Are well-nigh blotted from my memory.
[To PRINCESS EBOLI.
Princess, methinks I see a hyacinth
Yonder in bloom. Wilt bring it to me, sweet?
[The PRINCESS goes towards the palace, the QUEEN
softly to the MARQUIS.
I'm much mistaken, sir, or your arrival
Has made one heart more happy here at court.
MARQUIS.
I have found a sad one—one that in this world
A ray of sunshine——
EBOLI.
As this gentleman
Has seen so many countries, he, no doubt,
Has much of note to tell us.
MARQUIS.
Doubtless, and
To seek adventures is a knight's first duty—
But his most sacred is to shield the fair.
MONDECAR.
From giants! But there are no giants now!
MARQUIS.
Power is a giant ever to the weak.
QUEEN.
The chevalier says well. There still are giants;
But there are knights no more.
MARQUIS.
Not long ago,
On my return from Naples, I became
The witness of a very touching story,
Which ties of friendship almost make my own
Were I not fearful its recital might
Fatigue your majesty——
QUEEN.
Have I a choice?
The princess is not to be lightly balked.
Proceed. I too, sir, love a story dearly.
MARQUIS.
Two noble houses in Mirandola,
Weary of jealousies and deadly feuds,
Transmitted down from Guelphs and Ghibellines,
Through centuries of hate, from sire to son,
Resolved to ratify a lasting peace
By the sweet ministry of nuptial ties.
Fernando, nephew of the great Pietro,
And fair Matilda, old Colonna's child,
Were chosen to cement this holy bond.
Nature had never for each other formed
Two fairer hearts. And never had the world
Approved a wiser or a happier choice.
Still had the youth adored his lovely bride
In the dull limner's portraiture alone.
How thrilled his heart, then, in the hope to find
The truth of all that e'en his fondest dreams
Had scarcely dared to credit in her picture!
In Padua, where his studies held him bound;
Fernando panted for the joyful hour,
When he might murmur at Matilda's feet
The first pure homage of his fervent love.
[The QUEEN grows more attentive; the MARQUIS continues, after
a short pause, addressing himself chiefly to PRINCESS EBOLI.
Meanwhile the sudden death of Pietro's wife
Had left him free to wed. With the hot glow
Of youthful blood the hoary lover drinks
The fame that reached him of Matilda's charms.
He comes—he sees—he loves! The new desire
Stifles the voice of nature in his heart.
The uncle woos his nephew's destined bride,
And at the altar consecrates his theft.
QUEEN.
And what did then Fernando?
MARQUIS.
On the wings
Of Jove, unconscious of the fearful change,
Delirious with the promised joy, he speeds
Back to Mirandola. His flying steed
By starlight gains the gate. Tumultuous sounds
Of music, dance, and jocund revelry
Ring from the walls of the illumined palace.
With faltering steps he mounts the stair; and now
Behold him in the crowded nuptial hall,
Unrecognized! Amid the reeling guests
Pietro sat. An angel at his side—
An angel, whom he knows, and who to him
Even in his dreams, seemed ne'er so beautiful.
A single glance revealed what once was his—
Revealed what now was lost to him forever.
EBOLI.
O poor Fernando!
QUEEN.
Surely, sir, your tale
Is ended? Nay, it must be.
MARQUIS.
No, not quite.
QUEEN.
Did you not say Fernando was your friend?
MARQUIS.
I have no dearer in the world.
EBOLI.
But pray
Proceed, sir, with your story.
MARQUIS.
Nay, the rest
Is very sad—and to recall it sets
My sorrow fresh abroach. Spare me the sequel.
[A general silence.
QUEEN
(turning to the PRINCESS EBOLI).
Surely the time is come to see my daughter,
I prithee, princess, bring her to me now!
[The PRINCESS withdraws. The MARQUIS beckons a Page. The QUEEN
opens the letters, and appears surprised. The MARQUIS talks with
MARCHIONESS MONDECAR. The QUEEN having read the letters, turns to
the MARQUIS with a penetrating look.
QUEEN.
You have not spoken of Matilda! She
Haply was ignorant of Fernando's grief?
MARQUIS.
Matilda's heart has no one fathomed yet—
Great souls endure in silence.
QUEEN.
You look around you. Who is it you seek?
MARQUIS.
Just then the thought came over me, how one,
Whose name I dare not mention, would rejoice,
Stood he where I do now.
QUEEN.
And who's to blame,
That he does not?
MARQUIS
(interrupting her eagerly).
My liege! And dare I venture
To interpret thee, as fain I would? He'd find
Forgiveness, then, if now he should appear.
QUEEN
(alarmed).
Now, marquis, now? What do you mean by this?
MARQUIS.
Might he, then, hope?
QUEEN.
You terrify me, marquis.
Surely he will not——
MARQUIS.
He is here already.
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