SCENE IV.

       Table of Contents

      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