Act the Third: Scene I

PAUL. Yes, the day would come I knew,After long procrastination,When a word of explanationI should ask to have with you."Come with me," you said. Though dark,Off I trudged with heavy heartTo point out to you the partWhere at morn you could embark;Then again, with thundering voice,Thus you spoke, "Where I must flyChoose to come with me, or die."And, since you allowed a choice,Of two ills I chose the worst,Which, sir, was to go with you.As your shadow then I flew'Cross the sea to England first,Then to Scotland, then to Francethen to Italy and Spain,Round the world and back again,As in some fantastic dance.Not a country great or smallCould escape you, 'till, good lack!Here we are in Ireland back:--Now, sir, I, plain Juan Paul,Being perplexed to know what drawsYou here now, with beard and hairGrown so long, your speech, your air,Changed so much, would ask the causeWhy you these disguises wear?You by day ne'er leave the inn,But when cold night doth beginYou a thousand follies dare,Without bearing this in mind,That we now are in a landWholly changed from strand to strand,Where, in fact, we nothing findAs we left it. The old kingDied despairing, and his heir,Lesbia, now the crown doth wear,For her sister, hapless thing!Poor Polonia . . . .

LUIS. Oh, that nameDo not mention! do not kill meBy repeating what doth thrill meTo the centre of my frameAs with lightning. Yes, I knowThat at length Polonia died.

PAUL. Yes; our host was at her side(He himself has told me so)When they found her dead, and . . . .

LUIS. Cease!Of her death, oh! speak no more,'Tis sufficient to deplore,And to pray that she's at peace.

PAUL. Leaving heathen sin and crime,All the people far and nearAre become good Christians here.For one Patrick, who some timeNow is dead . . . .

LUIS. Is Patrick dead?

PAUL. So I from our host have heard.

LUIS [aside]. Badly have I kept my word!--But proceed.

PAUL. The teaching spreadOf the faith of Christ, and gave,As a proof complete and wholeOf the eternity of the soul,The discovery of a cave.--Oh! it's the very name doth sendTerror through me.

LUIS. Yes, I have heardOf that cave, and every wordMade my hair to stand on end.Those who in the neighbourhoodDwell, see wonders every day.

PAUL. Since, 'mid terror and dismay,In your melancholy moodYou will no one hear or see,Ever locked within your room,It is plain you have not comeAught to learn, how strange they be,Of these things. It doth appearOther work you are about.Satisfy my foolish doubt,And say why we have come here.

LUIS. to your questions thus I yield:Yes, I forced you, as you mention,From your house, and my intentionWas to kill you in the field;But I thought it best insteadYou to make my steps attendAs my comrade and my friend,Shaking off the mortal dreadWhich forbad me to endureAny stranger, and in fine,That your arms being joined with mine,I might feel the more secure.Many a land, both far and near,Passing through you fared right well;And now answering I will tellWhy it is that we come here.And 'tis this: I come to slayHere a man who did me wrong,'Tis for this I pass along,Muffled in this curious way,Hiding country, dress, and name;And the night suits best for me,For my powerful enemyCan the first position claimIn the land. Since I avowWhy I hither have been led,Listen now how I have spedIn my project until now.I three days ago was broughtTo this city in disguise,For two nights, beneath the skies,I my enemy have soughtIn his street and at his door;Twice a muffled figure cameAnd disturbed me in my aim,Twice he called and stalked beforeHim I followed in the street;But when I the figure neared,Suddenly he disappearedAs if wings were on his feet.I this third night have brought you,That should this mysterious shapeCome again, he sha'nt escape,Being caught between us two;Who he is we then can see.

PAUL. Two? who are they?

LUIS. You and I.

PAUL. I'm not one.

LUIS. Not one? How? Why?

PAUL. No, sir, no. I cannot beOne, nor half a one. These storiesFaith! would frighten fifty Hectors;What know I of Lady Spectres,Or of Lord Don Purgatories?All through life I've kept aloofFrom the other world's affairs,Shunning much superfluous cares;But, my courage put to proof,Bid me face a thousand men,And if I don't cut and runFrom the thousand, nay, from one,Never trust to me again.For I think it quite a caseFit for Bedlam, if so high,That a man would rather die,Than just take a little race.Such a trifle! Sir, to meLife is precious; leave me here,Where you'd find me, never fear.

LUIS. Here's the house; to-night I'll be,Philip, your predestined fate.Now we'll see if heaven pretendsTo defend him, and defends.--Watch here, you, beside the gate.