The Painter of His Own Dishonour · 1853
Act III, Scene 4
Translated by Edward FitzGerald (1853)
[A room in DON LUIS’ Villa.]
[Enter LUIS and ALVARO.]
ALV.
Now, sir, that (thanks to Porcia) you have open’d
Your arms to me once more, I cannot rest
(So favour ever calls for favour) till
You tell me what the inward trouble is
That mars your outward feature. I was cause
Of so much trouble to you, that I dread
Lest of this also, which with troubled looks
You still keep speaking to yourself apart,
Like people in a play.
LUIS.
Alvaro, no.
Thank God, this trouble lies not at your door.
Let that suffice.
ALV.
You will not trust me, sir?
LUIS.
Why will you press me? since you must be told,
It is about my friend—Don Juan Roca.
ALV.
Don Juan!
LUIS.
Yes, Don Juan.
ALV.
What of him?
(I’ll drink the cup at once!) (aside).
LUIS.
What evil star
Made him my friend!
ALV.
Too true! (aside). But what has happen’d?
LUIS.
Why will you know? and should I dare to tell
My friend’s dishonour? Well, no more than this—
Some wretch—some villain—some accursed—but
Be there bad name enough to brand him by,
I have not breath for it—nor is it well
For you or for myself—has ravisht from him
His wife, his Serafina.
And I, O God! not able to avenge him!
ALV.
(aside) Does he know all? and knowing whose the crime,
Cannot, he says, avenge it on his son?
Shall I then tell, and gain at least the grace
Of a confession? Hear me, sir.
LUIS.
Nay, nay,
I know what you would say, how vain it is
To vex myself who cannot help my friend—
We neither knowing who the villain is,
Nor whither both are fled: heaven! if we did,
I should not now be idly moaning here.
ALV.
All’s safe! (aside). Nor I, sir; give me but a clue,
(Not only for Don Juan’s sake, but yours,)
I’ll track the villain through the world.
LUIS.
Alvaro,
Your words are music to me.
ALV.
Still, my father,
I will say what to say you said was vain.
Until some clue be found, let not this grief
Consume you so.
LUIS.
Such wounds are hard to heal.
Yet, quicken’d by your courage, and to show
How well I like your counsel—come, Alvaro,
I will with you to your hill castle there;
That which has been your banishment so long,
Shall witness now our reconciliation.
We’ll go this evening—now—together.
ALV.
Good, sir.
But pardon me, let me go on before
To apprize Belardo of your going thither—
And also Serafina! (apart).
[Exit.]
LUIS.
Be it so!
JULIA.
(entering) My lord, Don Pedro is without, and fain
Would speak to you.
LUIS.
Admit him, Julia.
The wound re-opens—Serafina’s father!
No doubt upon what errand.
[Enter DON PEDRO.]
PED.
Ah, Don Luis,
Your arms! (They embrace.)
LUIS.
Don Pedro, I must surely thank
The cause to which my poor retirement owes
This honour.
PED.
Yet a thankless cause, Don Luis.
These many days I have heard nothing of
Don Juan and my daughter; they neither write
Themselves, nor any one to whom I write
To ask about them answers to the purpose.
What may this mean? I have come hither thinking
That you, who are the model of all friends,
May deal more clearly with me. You may think
What I endure from this suspense. In mercy
Relieve me from it quickly.
LUIS.
(aside) Poor old man;
What shall I say? tell his grey hairs at once
The ruin of his honour and his love?
PED.
You pause, my lord!
LUIS.
And yet I need not wonder,
I nothing hear of them if you do not.
PED.
And you know nothing of them?
[Enter PORCIA hurriedly.]
POR.
Sir, I hear
You are going (are you not?) this evening
To the castle, with my brother.
But who is this?
PED.
Ever your slave, sweet lady.
POR.
Oh, pardon me, my lord.
LUIS.
Nay, pardon me
That I cut short your compliments, Porcia.
(This interruption, come so opportune,
Shall carry what ill news I have to tell
Into the open air at least.) Don Pedro,
I am going to the mountain, as she says;
You to the city; for some way at least
Our roads are one, and I would talk with you
About this business without interruption.
Will ’t please you come?
PED.
Your pleasure’s mine. Adieu,
Fair lady.
POR.
Farewell, sir.
LUIS.
Porcia, you
Will follow in the carriage.
[Exeunt LUIS and PEDRO.]
POR.
And should go
More gladly, were my lover there to meet me.
[Exit.]
Cite this text
MLA
Barca, Pedro Calderón de la. The Painter of His Own Dishonour, Act III, Scene 4. Translated by Edward FitzGerald. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/work/painter-of-his-own-dishonour-fitzgerald/9/.
Chicago
Barca, Pedro Calderón de la. The Painter of His Own Dishonour, Act III, Scene 4. Translated by Edward FitzGerald. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/work/painter-of-his-own-dishonour-fitzgerald/9/.