The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Генри Уодсуорт Лонгфелло

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СКАЧАТЬ whole arm's length, drinking the blood-red wine.

       Hyp. What news from Court?

       Vict. He brought this letter only.

      (Reads.)

      O cursed perfidy! Why did I let

      That lying tongue deceive me! Preciosa,

      Sweet Preciosa! how art thou avenged!

       Hyp. What news is this, that makes thy cheek turn pale,

      And thy hand tremble?

       Vict. O, most infamous!

      The Count of Lara is a worthless villain!

       Hyp. That is no news, forsooth.

       Vict. He strove in vain

      To steal from me the jewel of my soul,

      The love of Preciosa. Not succeeding,

      He swore to be revenged; and set on foot

      A plot to ruin her, which has succeeded.

      She has been hissed and hooted from the stage,

      Her reputation stained by slanderous lies

      Too foul to speak of; and, once more a beggar,

      She roams a wanderer over God's green earth

      Housing with Gypsies!

       Hyp. To renew again

      The Age of Gold, and make the shepherd swains

      Desperate with love, like Gasper Gil's Diana.

      Redit et Virgo!

       Vict. Dear Hypolito,

      How have I wronged that meek, confiding heart!

      I will go seek for her; and with my tears

      Wash out the wrong I've done her!

       Hyp. O beware!

      Act not that folly o'er again.

       Vict. Ay, folly,

      Delusion, madness, call it what thou wilt,

      I will confess my weakness—I still love her!

      Still fondly love her!

      (Enter the PADRE CURA.)

      Hyp. Tell us, Padre Cura,

      Who are these Gypsies in the neighborhood?

       Padre C. Beltran Cruzado and his crew.

       Vict. Kind Heaven,

      I thank thee! She is found! is found again!

       Hyp. And have they with them a pale, beautiful girl,

      Called Preciosa?

       Padre C. Ay, a pretty girl.

      The gentleman seems moved.

       Hyp. Yes, moved with hunger,

      He is half famished with this long day's journey.

       Padre C. Then, pray you, come this way. The supper waits.

       [Exeunt.

      SCENE IV. — A post-house on the road to Segovia, not far from

      the village of Guadarrama. Enter CHISPA, cracking a whip, and

      singing the cachucha.

       Chispa. Halloo! Don Fulano! Let us have horses, and quickly.

      Alas, poor Chispa! what a dog's life dost thou lead! I thought,

      when I left my old master Victorian, the student, to serve my

      new master Don Carlos, the gentleman, that I, too, should lead the

      life of a gentleman; should go to bed early, and get up late.

      For when the abbot plays cards, what can you expect of the

      friars? But, in running away from the thunder, I have run into

      the lightning. Here I am in hot chase after my master and his

      Gypsy girl. And a good beginning of the week it is, as he said

      who was hanged on Monday morning.

      (Enter DON CARLOS)

      Don C. Are not the horses ready yet?

       Chispa. I should think not, for the hostler seems to be

      asleep. Ho! within there! Horses! horses! horses! (He knocks at

      the gate with his whip, and enter MOSQUITO, putting on his

      jacket.)

       Mosq. Pray, have a little patience. I'm not a musket.

       Chispa. Health and pistareens! I'm glad to see you come on

      dancing, padre! Pray, what's the news?

       Mosq. You cannot have fresh horses; because there are none.

       Chispa. Cachiporra! Throw that bone to another dog. Do I look

      like your aunt?

       Mosq. No; she has a beard.

       Chispa. Go to! go to!

       Mosq. Are you from Madrid?

       Chispa. Yes; and going to Estramadura. Get us horses.

       Mosq. What's the news at Court?

       Chispa. Why, the latest news is, that I am going to set up a

      coach, and I have already bought the whip.

      (Strikes him round the legs.)

      Mosq. Oh! oh! You hurt me!

       Don C. Enough of this folly. Let us have horses. (Gives

      money to MOSQUITO.) It is almost dark; and we are in haste. But

      tell me, has a band of Gypsies passed this way of late?

       Mosq. Yes; and they are still in the neighborhood.

       Don C. And where?

       Mosq. Across the fields yonder, in the woods near Guadarrama.

       [Exit.

       Don C. Now this is lucky. We will visit the Gypsy camp.

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