_Gil._ She says not ill; it better were indeed Had I kept on the mask a little longer, Till they had dropt theirs beyond all denial. She’s right, and I was wrong; but from this time I’ll steer another course.
_Cas._ A gentleman (Of Portugal, he says,) is at the door, And asks for you.
_Gil._ Bid him come in. Away, My troubles, for a while!
_Man._ ’Twas well, Gil Perez, You sent so quickly, or my impetuosity Had overrun your leave.
_Gil._ What, Manuel Mendez! Come to my arms. What! you in Salvatierra?
_Man._ And, I assure you, at no small expense Of risk and heart-ache.
_Man._ Not when ’tis all forgotten in the joy Of seeing you again.
_Gil._ I shall not rest Till I have heard; ill-manner’d though it be To tax a man scarce winded from a journey With such expense of breath.
_Man._ Then listen, Gil. You, I am sure, remember (time and absence Cannot have washt so much from memory) The pleasant time when you were last at Lisbon, And graced my house by making it your home. I need not tell of all we did and talk’d, Save what concerns me now; of the fair lady You knew me then enamour’d of, (how deeply I need not say—being a Portuguese, Which saying, all is said)—Donna Juana, At whose mere name I tremble, as some seer Smit with the sudden presence of his God. Two years we lived in the security Of mutual love, with so much jealousy (Without which love is scarcely love at all) As served to freshen up its sleeping surface, But not to stir its depths. Ah, dangerous To warm the viper, or, for idle sport, Trust to the treacherous sea—sooner or later They turn upon us; so these jealousies I liked to toy with first turn’d upon me; When suddenly a rich young cavalier, Well graced with all that does and ought to please, (For I would not revenge me with my tongue Upon his name, but with my sword in’s blood,) Demanded her in marriage of her father; Who being poor, and bargains quickly made ’Twixt avarice and wealth, quickly agreed. The wedding day drew nigh that was to be The day of funeral too—mixt dance and dirge, And grave and bridal chamber both in one. The guests were met; already night began Loose the full tide of noisy merriment, When I strode in; straight through the wedding throng Up to the bride and bridegroom where they were, And, seizing her with one hand, with the other Struck him a corpse; and daring all, to die Fighting, or fighting carry off my prize, Carried her off; lifted her on a horse I had outside; struck spur; and lightning-like Away, until we reach’d the boundary Of Portugal, and, safe on Spanish ground, At last drew breath and bridle. Then on hither, Where I was sure of refuge in the arms Of my old friend Gil Perez; whom I pray Not so much on the score of an old friendship, So long and warm, but as a fugitive Asking protection at his generous hands— A plea the noble never hear in vain. Nor for myself alone, but for my lady Who comes with me, and whom I just have left Under the poplars by the river-side, Till I had told my news, and heard your answer. A servant whom we met with on the way, Pointed your house out—whither, travel-tired, Press’d for my life, and deep in love with her I bring, as curst by those I left behind, And trusting him I come to—