_Palermo. Reception-room in the Palace._
_BLASCO and FERDINAND._
_BLASCO._
Have you not been in Sicily before?
_FERDINAND._
Never.
_Bl._ And, sir, what think you of Palermo?
Have you as fine cities in Spain?
_Fer._ Your city,
Approached by sea or from the roofs surveyed,
Smiles back upon the gazer like a queen
That hears her praise. Nearer to speak I’ll grudge not,
When I may nearer know: but since we came
There’s been no hour a stranger might dare shew
His face in the streets.
_Bl._ The time is now unquiet.
_Fer._ Rather I’d say government given over 10
To murderous bandits, who range up and down
Unchecked: to whom the king’s commissioners
Were just the daintiest pricking. If I may brag
Of home, our cities are more orderly.
_Bl._ ’Tis a hot-blooded race, sir, full of stirrings,
Subject to fermentation, and like good wine
Ever the better for it.
_Fer._ But can you tell me
The real cause of these disturbances?
_Bl._ Nothing is easier, sir. Your viceroy, Hugo,
This is the point, is plunged in disesteem. 20
He has lost the fear and won the hate of the people.
Already, ere ye came, the news ye bring
Of the king being dead, was buzzed. Since at his death
His viceroy’s office falls to ground, our townsmen
Seize on this interval, wherein they hold
He hath no jurisdiction, to discredit him,
Kill him maybe, if nothing else will hinder
His reappointment. They but make the most
Of their occasion: that is all.
_Fer._ But how
Can a mere handful of such ruffians hold 30
The city, when the loyal troops are his?
_Bl._ ’Tis known to the people that their cause hath found
An ear in Spain: and here among the barons
Are many who wish well to the revolt.
Should Hugo push to extremes he might discover
Most potent enemies. Remember, sir,
’Twas a street scuffle in this very town,
That drave the French from Sicily.
_Fer._ The thought
Brings me no comfort.
_Bl._ Wherefore ’tis his policy
To meet the present rage by such concessions 40
As may be popular, and to give forth
The king is ill, not dead. ’Tis for this reason
No mass is sung nor mourning liveries worn:
To-night’s festivity, such as it is,
Hath only this pretence.
_Fer._ Are the two ladies
His daughters both?
_Bl._ The taller and the fairer,
The lady Constance, is his only daughter.
Your fine duke Philip, who comes now from court
With such a mightiness, was once her lover.
_Fer._ That doth not single her.
_Bl._ But then it did. 50
She was his first. ’Twas when duke Philip’s father
Was viceroy here; Hugo was then chief justice,
And Manuel, who succeeded him, was only
Young Philip’s tutor;—he succeeds moreover
Now to his pupil’s leavings, and will marry
The long-forgotten Constance.
_Fer._ ’Twas the other
I asked of, in white satin, she who sat
On Philip’s right at supper; who is she?
_Bl._ That, sir, is Margaret.
_Fer._ And who is Margaret?
_Bl._ Sister to Manuel.
_Fer._ She far outshines 60
Her future sister.
_Bl._ They that can see have thought it:
And, sir, ’twill tax your better wit to add
A tittle to her full accustomed homage.
Your broken heart were but a pinch of pepper
Sprinkled on porridge. Now for full two years
Her reign hath made a melancholy madness
The fashion ’mongst our youth.
_Fer._ I should much like
To be presented.
_Bl._ O, sir, at your will.
Judge for yourself. See, here they come. (_Aside._) A moth!
_Fer._ (_aside_). A very civil fellow.
[_They retire to back._
_Enter_ R. _Hugo_, _Philip_, _Manuel_, _Margaret_,
_Constance and Livio_.
_HUGO._
I am sorry, your grace,
We make so small a party. For our poor 71
Reception, and for all shortcomings else,
Accuse the occasion.
_PHILIP._
I think, your excellence,
I cannot play the guest. This house was once
So long my home, that here I look to find
As little ceremony as I fear I have shewn.
_Hu._ So should it be. Make it your home again.
_Ph._ I shall forget I have ever been away.
_MANUEL._
Five years.
_Ph._ Ay, but five years of wandering,
Such as can but endear one’s home the more. 80
My memory still would serve me to walk blindfold
From any point of the city to these doors.
_Man._ What is your memory for our studies, Philip?
_Ph._ Too slippery for my profit. Yet the pleasure
Lives very brightly;—nay, I could but name
One deprivation I have more regretted.
_MARGARET._
But now
My brother has a new philosophy.
_Ph._ Ah! If you share the secret, and I be thought
Worthy of initiation, may I hear it?
_Mar._ And welcome. Manuel, in his deep research
For the first cause and harmony of things, 91
Hit upon both together—they are one:
’Tis love. And now, since I profess it not,
And since ’twas learnt of you...
_Man._ (_to Mar._). Hush, sister, hush!
_Ph._ I am very proud of such a pupil. (_Aside._) Since
He has learned my love so readily, it may be
That he may catch my jealousy—
_Hu._ Come, duke,
Sit here by me. There’s more to talk of. Livio,
Fetch us the papers.
_Philip crosses to_ L. _and sits by Hugo_.
_Man._ (_crossing to_ R.). They must grant us, Constance,
A moment now. All day I have been away, 100
And yesterday I saw you not at all.
Can you forgive a lover so remiss?
_CONSTANCE._