PAUL. [aside'. What I wonder should I do?

But if I'm her husband, then, As I saw him give the ring, Silence is the proper thing.

LUCY. In these arms I once again Give to you my soul, for I Have no other ring or chain.

PHILIP. Where I ever could remain:-- For such sweet captivity Lures me from the miseries Of remembering my sad fate, Caused, as you have seen, so late, By these crystalline blue seas.

PAUL [aside[. What! a new embrace! Halloo!

Don't you see, sir, Od's my life, That this woman is my wife?

PHILIP. Here's your husband full in view; He has seen us. I must straight Leave you and return -- [Aside.} Ah, me!

Couldst thou this, Polonia, see, Thou mightst mourn, perhaps, the state Unto which I see me doomed.

And. O heaven-aspiring sea, Say in what vast depths can be All the lives thou hast entombed?

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

PAUL and LUCY; afterwards PHILIP.

PAUL [aside]. As he's gone, I'll louder speak.-- This time, Lucy mine, I've caught you, So a present I have brought you: See this window-bar, 'twill wreak My revenge.

LUCY. Oh, how malicious!

Bless me, grumbler, what grimaces!

PAUL. Then to witness two embraces Does not look at all suspicious?-- Was it malice, then, in me, Not plain seeing?

LUCY. Malice merely: For a husband, how so nearly He may pry, should never see More than half his wife doth do.

PAUL. Well, with that I'm quite content, To that condition I a.s.sent, And since twice embraced by you Has that rascal soldier been, Whom the sea spewed out in spite, I will juggle with my sight, And pretend but once to have seen; And as I for two embraces Meant to give a hundred blows, I but fifty now propose For one half of my disgraces.

I have totted up the score; You yourself the sentence gave; Yes, by G.o.d I swear, you'll have Fifty strokes and not one more.

LUCY. I've admitted far too much.

For a husband it would be Quite preposterous; he should see But the quarter.

PAUL. Even as such I acknowledge the appeal.

Patience, and your back prepare, For the now admitted share, Five-and-twenty blows you'll feel.

LUCY. No, not so; you're still astray.

PAUL. Then say what?

LUCY. Between us two, You're to trust not what you view, But what I am pleased to say.

PAUL. Better far, I think, 'twould be, Daughter of the devil, that you Held the stick and used it too, With it well belabouring me; Is't agreed what I propose?

Yes; then let us both change places.

Give to him the two embraces, And to me the hundred blows.

[PHILIP returns.

PHILIP [aside]. Has the peasant gone, I wonder?

PAUL. At the nick of time you're here, So, Sir Soldier, lend an ear.

Obligation I am under For the favours you have meant To bestow so liberally On my cot, my wife, and me; And although I'm well content With you, yet as you're progressing Day by day and getting stronger, It is best you stay no longer.

Take the road, then, with G.o.d's blessing, Leave my house, for it would be Sad in it to raise my hand, Leaving you dead flesh on land Who wert living fish at sea.

PHILIP. The suspicion that you show Is quite groundless, do not doubt it.

PAUL. Zounds! with reason or without it, Am I married, sir, or no?

SCENE VII.

LEOGAIRE, an Old Peasant, and PATRICK.

LEOGAIRE. So 'tis ordered, and that he Serving here from day to day, In the open field should stay.

OLD MAN. Yes; I say it so shall be.

LEOGAIRE. But who's this? O happiness!

Since 'tis Philip's form I greet.

Mighty lord, I kiss thy feet.

PAUL. Mighty lord does he call him?

LUCY. Yes.

Now lay on the blows you owe.

Now, friend Paul, the moment charms.

PHILIP. Give me, good Leogaire, your arms.

LEOGAIRE. Honour in them you bestow.

Is it possible, once more That alive I see thee?

PHILIP. Here, Trophy of a fate severe, The sea flung me on this sh.o.r.e, Where, their willing aid secured, I have lived these peasants' guest, Till I could repair with rest All the sufferings I endured.

And, besides, I thought with dread On the angry disposition Of the king: for his ambition When has it or bowed the head, Or with patience heard related The sad tragedies of fate?

Hopeless and disconsolate In this solitude I've waited, Till some happy chance might rise When no longer I should grieve, And the king would give me leave To appear before his eyes.

LEOGAIRE. That already has been given thee; For so sad was he, believing Thou wert dead, so deep his grieving, All the past will be forgiven thee Since thou livest. Come with me, Fortune will once more embrace thee,-- In his favour to replace thee Let my happy privilege be.

PAUL. For that late unseemly brawl See me humbly bending low; You, my lord Prince Philip, know That I am one Juan Paul.