Like thee I am a captive; and, like thee,
I have a gentle gaoler. Lack-a-day!

All are sleeping, weary heart!
Thou, thou only sleepless art!
All this throbbing, all this aching,
Evermore shall keep thee waking,
For a heart in sorrow breaking
Thinketh ever of its smart.

Thou speakest truly, poet! and methinks
More hearts are breaking in this world of ours
Than one would say. In distant villages
And solitudes remote, where winds have wafted
The barbed seeds of love, or birds of passage
Scattered them in their flight, do they take root,
And grow in silence, and in silence perish.
Who hears the falling of the forest leaf?

Or who takes note of every flower that dies?

Heigho! I wish Victorian would come.

Dolores! (Turns to lay down her book, and sees the COUNT.) Ha!

Lara. Be not alarmed; I found no one in waiting.

If I have been too bold

Preciosa (turning her back upon him). You are too bold! Retire! retire, and leave me !

Lara.

My dear lady,

First hear me ! I beseech you, let me speak!

Tis for your good I come.

Prec. (turning towards him with indignation). Begone! Begone! You are the Count of Lara, but your deeds

Would make the statues of your ancestors

Blush on their tombs! Is it Castilian honour,

Is it Castilian pride, to steal in here

Upon a friendless girl, to do her wrong

?

O, 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 honour 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.

Preciosa. Because you dare not!
I dare anything ;

Lara.
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.

Preciosa.

If to this

I owe the honour of the present visit,
You might have spared the coming.

Having spoken, Once more I beg you, leave me to my self.

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.

Preciosa.

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.

Preciosa.

Alas!

I have 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.

Oh,

By none?

then, indeed, you are much wronged!

How mean you?

Lara. Nay, nay; I will not wound your gentle soul By the report of idle tales.

Preciosa.

Speak out!

What are these idle tales? You need not spare me. Lara. I will deal frankly with you. Pardon me :

This

And

window, as I think, looks toward the street,

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.) Preciosa. Beware! beware! I am a Gipsy girl! Lay not your hand upon me. One step nearer,

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.

Preciosa. Rise, Count of Lara! this 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 bate 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.

Preciosa.

O sweet angel!

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!

Preciosa.

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

It wounds me deeply.

Victorian.

'Twas not meant to flatter.

Preciosa. Too well thou knowest the presence of that mar

Is hateful to me!

Victorian.

Yet I saw thee stand

And listen to him, when he told his love.

Preciosa. I did not heed his words.

Victorian.

Preciosa.

And answeredst them with love.

Indeed thou didst,

Hadst thou heard all

Be not so angry with me.

Victorian. I heard enough.

Preciosa.

Victorian. I am not angry; I am very calm.

Preciosa. If thou wilt let me speak

Victorian.

I know too much already.

I do not like these Gipsy marriages!

Nay, say no more.

Thou art false.

In my casket.

Where is the ring I gave thee?

Preciosa.

Vict. There let it rest! I would not have thee wear it.

I thought thee spotless, and thou art polluted!
Preciosa. I call the heavens to witness-

Victorian.

Nay, nay, nay !

Take not the name of Heaven upon thy lips!

They are forsworn!

Preciosa.

Victorian! dear Victorian.

Victorian. I gave up all for thee; myself, my fame,

My hopes of fortune, ay, my very soul !

And thou hast been my ruin! Now, go on!

Laugh at my folly with thy paramour,

And, sitting on the Count of Lara's knee,

Say what a poor, fond fool Victorian was!

(He casts her from him, and rushes out, (Scene closes.

Preciosa. And this from thee!

SCENE V.

Enter the COUNT.

The COUNT of LARA's room.

Lara. There's nothing in this world so sweet as love,

And next to love the sweetest thing is hate!

I've learned to hate, and therefore am revenged.

A silly girl to play the prude with me!
The fire that I have kindled--