LITMIR.BIZ

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shame! shame! shame! that you, a nobleman,

      Should be so little noble in your thoughts

      As to send jewels here to win my love,

      And think to buy my honor with your gold!

      I have no words to tell you how I scorn you!

      Begone! The sight of you is hateful to me!

      Begone, I say!

       Lara. Be calm; I will not harm you.

       Prec. Because you dare not.

       Lara. I dare anything!

      Therefore beware! You are deceived in me.

      In this false world, we do not always know

      Who are our friends and who our enemies.

      We all have enemies, and all need friends.

      Even you, fair Preciosa, here at court

      Have foes, who seek to wrong you.

       Prec. If to this

      I owe the honor of the present visit,

      You might have spared the coming. Raving spoken,

      Once more I beg you, leave me to myself.

       Lara. I thought it but a friendly part to tell you

      What strange reports are current here in town.

      For my own self, I do not credit them;

      But there are many who, not knowing you,

      Will lend a readier ear.

       Prec. There was no need

      That you should take upon yourself the duty

      Of telling me these tales.

       Lara. Malicious tongues

      Are ever busy with your name.

       Prec. Alas!

      I've no protectors. I am a poor girl,

      Exposed to insults and unfeeling jests.

      They wound me, yet I cannot shield myself.

      I give no cause for these reports. I live

      Retired; am visited by none.

       Lara. By none?

      O, then, indeed, you are much wronged!

       Prec. How mean you?

       Lara. Nay, nay; I will not wound your gentle soul

      By the report of idle tales.

       Prec. Speak out!

      What are these idle tales? You need not spare me.

       Lara. I will deal frankly with you. Pardon me

      This window, as I think, looks toward the street,

      And this into the Prado, does it not?

      In yon high house, beyond the garden wall—

      You see the roof there just above the trees—

      There lives a friend, who told me yesterday,

      That on a certain night—be not offended

      If I too plainly speak—he saw a man

      Climb to your chamber window. You are silent!

      I would not blame you, being young and fair—

      (He tries to embrace her. She starts back, and draws a dagger

      from her bosom.)

       Prec. Beware! beware! I am a Gypsy girl!

      Lay not your hand upon me. One step nearer

      And I will strike!

       Lara. Pray you, put up that dagger.

      Fear not.

       Prec. I do not fear. I have a heart

      In whose strength I can trust.

       Lara. Listen to me

      I come here as your friend—I am your friend—

      And by a single word can put a stop

      To all those idle tales, and make your name

      Spotless as lilies are. Here on my knees,

      Fair Preciosa! on my knees I swear,

      I love you even to madness, and that love

      Has driven me to break the rules of custom,

      And force myself unasked into your presence.

      (VICTORIAN enters behind.)

      Prec. Rise, Count of Lara! That is not the place

      For such as you are. It becomes you not

      To kneel before me. I am strangely moved

      To see one of your rank thus low and humbled;

      For your sake I will put aside all anger,

      All unkind feeling, all dislike, and speak

      In gentleness, as most becomes a woman,

      And as my heart now prompts me. I no more

      Will hate you, for all hate is painful to me.

      But if, without offending modesty

      And that reserve which is a woman's glory,

      I may speak freely, I will teach my heart

      To love you.

       Lara. O sweet angel!

       Prec. Ay, in truth,

      Far better than you love yourself or me.

       Lara. Give me some sign of this—the slightest token.

      Let me but kiss your hand!

       Prec. Nay, come no nearer.

      The words I utter are its sign and token.

      Misunderstand me not! Be not deceived!

      The love wherewith I love you is not such

      As you would offer me. For you come here

      To take from me the only thing I have,

      My honor. You are wealthy, you have friends

      And kindred, and a thousand pleasant hopes

      That fill your heart with happiness; but I

      Am poor, and friendless, having but one treasure,

      And you would take that from me, and for what?

      To flatter your own vanity, and make me

      What you would most despise. O sir, such love,

      That seeks to harm me, cannot be true love.

      Indeed it cannot. But my love for you

      Is of a different kind. It seeks your good.

      It is a holier feeling. It rebukes

      Your earthly passion, your unchaste desires,

      And bids you look into your heart, and see

      How you do wrong that better nature in you,

      And grieve your soul with sin.

       Lara. I swear to you,

      I would not harm you; I would only love you.

      I would not take your honor, but restore it,

      And in return I ask but some slight mark

      Of your affection. If indeed you love me,

      As you confess you do, O let me thus

      With this embrace—

       Vict. (rushing forward). Hold! hold! This is too much.

      What means this outrage?

       Lara. First, what right have you

      To question thus a nobleman of Spain?

       Vict. I too am noble, and you are no more!

      Out of my sight!

      

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